I’m not much of a fan of the human billboard look. Don’t get me wrong, I went through that phase once. The whole spotlights in my face all the time and giant boards hanging over both sides of my body seriously hindered my mobility. I was forced to go to a special school, and money was tight at home, so when my family had to choose between installing human billboard-friendly doorways or hiring someone to care for Granny they opted to put ole Grams  in the garage with the car running. All night.

Actually that never happened. But I do remember a time, probably when I was in middle school, where it seemed like everyone was posting a brand name on the front of their shirts. Tommy, GAP, Abercrombie & Fitch, Fubu, bebe- they were everywhere! I’ll admit that I bought one. But after really thinking about it I realized I’m not so much into advertising, unless I’m getting paid for it. And that hasn’t happened yet, so today I buy items that I like.

And I really like Threadless.com T-shirts. They’re quite artistic… the graphics are great.  Some shirts are witty, others are just aesthetically pleasing. But they’re really different from a lot of other stuff out there.  For starters, Threadless.com works as an open community website (dude, who doesn’t love open community. Wikipedia, anybody? ) Anybody can go online and download a submission packet for designing a T-shirt. You do what you do all over the T-shirt templates then upload your design, allowing the community to vote on their favorite designs. The weeks top six designs are then printed. For the designer this means your name goes on the tag and you get $2500 for the first printing. For Threadless this means they basically avoid printing shirts that nobody would want, cutting a risk that traditional apparell companies are forced to take.

Their designers are encouraged to blog on the site, fostering a sense of community (let’s hear it for togetherness!), and links to their personal (okay, they’re probably more professional than personal, but whatever) websites are offered.  Also, there’s a whole page dedicated to designer interviews, so you really get a feel for the artist whose brainchild is plastered on that piece of cloth covering your torso. That’s  assuming you’re wearing a Threadless.com T-shirt designed by the artist you’re reading about when you’re scrolling through the interview, of course.

Oh, and did I mention the prices? Their shirts start at $6 for some designs, and shipping is completely reasonable ($6.96 for two shirts… sounds good to me).

So go on out and get you some of that Threadless.com goodness. You won’t be disappointed.

Have you heard the newest Animal Collective album? You should definitely get your hands on this album, I can’t stop listening to it. And the album artwork is trippy as hell!

If you don’t already know who they are, Animal Collective is the musical stylings of Avey Tare (David Portner), Panda Bear (Noah Lennox), Deakin (Josh Dibb), and Geologist (Brian Weitz). But records made under the name Animal Collective might have any or all of these guys, their lineup isn’t uniform.

This album is really a huge step forward for Animal Collective, and I’m guessing will be one of their more successful albums. Almost anyone regardless of taste can get into a groove or trance out listening to Merriweather Post Pavilion. It seems like they were seeing the success of Panda’s Bear’s solo album released on March 20, 2007, and attempted to not only recreate the sound, but make it better by far. In  a interview prior to the release of the album, Panda Bear stated that Merriweather Post Pavilion is the band’s best recorded album.

And it’s hard to disagree with a Panda Bear. Listen to the album.

You can watch Animal Collectives My Girls video on their site, which is rad.

Okay, so we all know that election season for the 2008 election was the longest one in history. I mean really, we’d been watching this Obama guy since his historic speech back in 2004! So although the fervor leading up to his inauguration has somewhat died down, that doesn’t mean we should go quietly! Surely we’ve all seen the art work by Shepard Fairey. You know the one, the high contrast red white and blue portrait of Obama …it’s all over T-shirts, posters, stickers… anything! And now you can do the same thing with your own mug.

Pastemagazine.com ( a great source for indie music, if you weren’t aware. I’ll post on them in the future) has come up with Obamicon.me . Just upload your photo and the flash program will automatically “obamiconize” your photo to that beloved style we’ve seen throughout election season. It’s fun. Obaiconize your mom, your dog, your boyfriend, your baby… I’m addicted. Today in class I Obamiconized an image of Panco Villa, the Mexican revolutionary…

Ok, just to clarify and start this rant off,

I am a Christian and I do go to church regularly.

However! Nothing make me quite as angry as someone who forces their religious beliefs on you by getting in your face where you are working and telling you that you are going to hell and so is your friend/friends/coworkers.

I was at work a few days ago and a guy that checked out at the register asked me and a few of the girls I was working with if, “We had heard the good news?” Well it was January 20th, the day Barack Obama was inaugurated as president.  So we naturally thought, “The inauguration of the first African American president happened today”, we just witnessed history being made.  Something our kids will be reading about in text books in school. And most likely a special day will be marked as a holiday to commemorate this historic event.

But that is not what he said.  He said, “Jesus Loves You!”

Totally cool! I love Him too.  I have no problems with that! Show your faith, wear it on your sleeve and show the world you are happy.

But then he started telling us we are going to hell, if you died in an awful (he did say awful) car crash where would you go? So on, so on.

I politely told him we were working (with customers) and I would appreciate it if he stopped yelling at us.  But he didn’t stop.  He got in our faces and told me that I was sending all my friends to hell! Meanwhile inching closer and closer and getting louder and louder!

This went on for about 5 minutes!

I am a spiritual person, I believe in God, and I know where I stand with him.

But I find it very tacky to yell at a group of girls in the middle of a retail store, WORKING, about how they are all going to hell, when you have NO idea where they stand in the faith nor anywhere else for that matter!

I am NOT deaf and I DO hear you!  Yelling at me only makes me want to hit you.

Honestly it is people like that who turn so many people off from religion and God.  That is not the way to approach it! Just like killing is not the best way either.

My parents are the most faithful honest Christians I have ever met.  Anything to lend a hand, anything to help out, to spread joy, and to show God’s love to anyone! They have never done it by yelling, never condemned someone to hell.  They give until their hearts hurt, they go out of their way to help anyone in need, and they do it with a smile and true joy in their hearts.  And when you know when you meet them that they know a love and a ’secret something’ that’s amazing!

What ever happened to walking the faith you believe and people seeing from your actions? Knowing there is hope, faith and love; and living it so that others can see it.  You shouldn’t have to scream at someone to make them see that you possess a radiating love from something much higher then yourself.  Screaming and condemning people only pushes them further away.  They think you are a crazy lunatic.  Fair enough, I would, and do too.

Actions speak louder than words.  And I believe God thinks the same.

I could never believe that He would actually want people condemning other people.  Isn’t that His job?

So stop yelling!

I hear you loud and clear! Unfortunately, I can’t see your actions because you are to busy yelling at me to actually show me your actions!

So in searching for recipes for Inauguration day, I decided I need some recipes that were quick and easy, but also logical choices for this historic day. Below are my menu selections and their recipes.

So, I have decided on :

1. Chicago-Style Hot Dogs (Our next president is from Illinois, of course. Chicago deep dish pizza is also an option, especially the frozen kind, but it’s not on sale this week at the grocery store, and hot dogs and buns are.)

2. Molasses Whipped Sweet Potatoes (Obama will be eating this tomorrow. He’s also eating seafood stew, but who wants that? Ew!)

3. Apple Pie (I mean come on, what’s more American? And today I feel like I can be proud to be an American!)

So for the main course, the hot dogs, to go true Chicago style, use mustard, onion, sweet pickle relish, tomato, and celery salt for on top. And absolutely no ketchup. From what I hear, the typical yellow mustard is preferable, but I’m going with spicy brown… I find it to be so much tastier.

The sweet potato recipe comes from the official gov’t recipe website. Check it out!  It’s super easy, and only calls for 3 sweet potatoes!

http://inaugural.senate.gov/documents/doc-2009-recipes.pdf

And finally, for the apple pie, I found a super easy recipe that uses a pre-made pie crust and  canned apple pie filling prepared according to the directions on the package, but adds 2 peeled, cored, and diced apples plus 1/4 tsp. vanilla extract  and 1/4 tsp ground cinnamon. You can add that extra crunch and tang of real apples without all the time of making your own filling from scratch.

Does it get any easier?

And I’m thinking blue Koolaid to drink. Spiked with Vodka, if you like

Happy Inauguration Day 2009!

Woo Hoo!

Update:

So I went with the hot dog and apple pie, and then opted for Hawaiian Rolls and Barack Obama Onion O’s (fried onion rings). Bon Appetit!

For the most part. I really enjoy living downtown. Living ITP (that’s inside the perimeter for suburban dwellers…) is typically pretty sweet.  I’m within walking distance to a half-dozen restaurants, I walk literally downstairs for work, there’s ample shopping and nightlife within a five minute drive, and I’m almost never bored.

But living in the city does have its drawbacks.  Like the increased crime rates, smog, noise pollution, etc. But there’s one aspect of downtown life that I’m strangely thankful for. It’s our homeless population

Now I’m not saying I’m happy people are homeless. That’s just sick. But I am thankful for the strange ways they frequently impact my life in a positive way.

Take Copper John, for example. He’s this kick-ass homeless guy who lives in Little Five Points (the neighborhood for dirty hippies and poseur punksters… There are always tattoos, piercings, and crazy hair colors in Little 5). So Copper John is really great at making jewelry from stripped copper wire. Now I don’t ask how he got the copper. My guess is that some of it’s from the pizza place that closed down a couple months ago… I heard they got broken into last week. Some of it he may find. I don’t really care how he gets it, because what he does with it is pretty spectacular. He sells them for a few bucks, but the conversation is really the best part. While he’s braiding your copper and hammering it into some unique piece of jewelry he’ll tell you how red meat makes your poop stink or about how he just got out of jail again. Ah yes, the conversation.

So the other day I was on my way to get a tasty medium-rare Blue Shroom burger from the Vortex (if you haven’t tried you, you really should. Blue cheese crumbles, sauteed mushrooms, yum!) and I was stopped by this homeless guy. Well actually he didnt really stop me. Instead, I was kinda leaning sideways trying to see how poor of a job I did parallel parking, and over and told me that I should move my car inside the lines because the cops will get me for that because of the cutbacks and Shirley Franklin and the Obama election…. dude what?

So I thank him and move my car and when I get out he’s still there. So we get to talking some more. He asks me where I’m going and he suggests this bar down the road across from that kickin (his word, not mine) club Halo. They have a fire pit, he says. I actually know exactly what he’s talking about, and agree that it is a nice place.

And it’s romantic, he says. Dude, is he trying to hit on me? I think he sees the look of fear in my eye, and he says “yeah, I’d like to go over there and get me a little honey, you know, but she’s gotta be at least fifty. That’s what i need.” I nod and smile.

He stops for a second and then tells me that I’m really special. Seriously? Am i getting hit on by a homeless man? I mean i’ve had two different bums tell me that they loved me and that i was beautiful (yeah, just out of the blue. Not after coffee or a conversation. Nope. They just make eye contact and tell me they love me as they walk by. What?) I’m not afraid of the guy, just wondering what it is about me that homeless men find so appealing. The fact that I bathe, maybe?

No, he tells me that I’m special for listening to a homeless guy. He then tells me that  he’s college educated, and I believe he is.  Associates, probably. Maybe some college. But he’s quite articulate. Then he tells me about how his family tricked him and his wife left him and the kids, how he’s been out of a job for eight months though he keeps looking. He tells me he think he’s here for a reason. Maybe because people listen to him. But there’s a reason, he says. And I want to believe him.

He said he’s been staying down at the Salvation Army. He shows me this backpack and blanket some woman gave him earlier that day. He  asks me for five dollars and offers me the backpack in exchange, but he needs the blanket, he says.  I give him five dollars.  He says he thinks one day he’ll write about his experience. It’s the economy, he says. Nobody can get a job these days. He had a solid job for years. He’s college educated. He can’t get work.

I tell him goodnight and he blesses me and tells me again that there’s a reason he’s on the streets, even if he doesn’t know what that reason is yet. Then he tells me I’m going to have great luck in about 8 mos.

Maybe I will.

I hope that he will, too.

I first saw Liquid Limbs at the Gainesville Fest in Gainesville, FL in 2007. They are a 2 piece, Chase Permann on drums and Kevin Nowak on guitar. But don’t think that this is another boring 2 piece band. They pull from all their influences, Torche, Incubus, Big Business, The Jesus Lizard and so on. They go from clean to heavy to mathy to grunge while keeping it all very catchy and easy to listen to. Kevin’s vocals are super smooth and it’s just easy to listen to. I was privileged to see them a few more times since my friends in Benard take me on road trips and they opened for them in Gainesville, FL.

My band, Vegan Coke, will be playing with them in March @ Lenny’s and I’m super excited about that.

Go check out their MySpace - www.liquidlimbs.com and give them a listen.

If you are a vinyl collector, get the vinyl…it comes with a CD too. I got the limited edition maroon cream haze vinyl.

You can order it here - www.soundstudyrecordings.com

Atlanta - an amazing city to live in. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else in Georgia (unless it was some crazy cabin in the mountains up North with an abundance of psychedelics, a girl to do those psychedelics with, a guitar and my dog). Right now kind of sucks. Desperate times due to our economy is fueling the Atlanta crime wave. In almost 2 months there has been murders, kidnaps, robbery’s, assaults, rapes and much more almost everyday. These things are happening to everyday people who are part of a community that they work on to make better for everyone. It’s a very sad time for all of this. The Atlanta Police Department hasn’t been doing much about this either. No leads or suspects or clues or anything! I don’t get it…how can all of this keep happening? They are now saying Josh Henderson’s murder was an “accident”. So the fuck what!? He was murdered…for what? Because some broke ass kids got his money from the restaurant he worked at to pay his bills and “accidentally” killed him while leaving. Doesn’t matter, these people need to be stopped.

Last year my roommates were held up on our front porch. Yes, our front porch…the dude just ran up on them and tried to steal my roommates car. Which is kind of funny because he drives a 5 speed 2001 VW Beetle. You know the kid would NOT know how to put that shit in gear. You have to push down then throw it in the 1st gear position so it will go in reverse! Do you really think this kid could figure it out??? - SURVEY SAYS - “HELL NO!” Luckily no one was hurt. The robber did not realize people were inside the house so when he did he ran away into the dark to never be seen again.

The city is also cutting down funds going toward the APD. That means there will be less patrol cars on the roads taking care of the people. I know I know…we are all hurting for money due to our amazing economy (thank you Bush and friends). But Georgia has 1 little thing that could possibly help out the APD, legally…the taxes from Sunday beer sales! We are one of the only states that does not sell alcohol on Sunday’s. Yes, you can go to the bar and drink and get a D.U.I on your way home but if we tapped into the taxes from Sunday alcohol sales from stores then that could give us a little extra to spend…some of it could go to our APD for example.

So as of now the community meets and share stories and contacts in hopes to protect ourselves at this point. If you are walking somewhere, walk in groups no less than 3, know your neighbors (3 houses side to side and front and back), lock your doors, tell your roommate where you will be for the night if you are going out, call the cops if something seems suspicious in your neighborhood.

Who am I? Who are you?

Who or what makes you who you are?

Things, substances, situations, people, and/or addictions?

Does that make a personality?

Is that who I am? Is that what makes me, or you?

You or Me as a person, as a personality?

People inspire me, they anger me, they make me long and desire, they make me question, they make me wonder, and they make me strive, regardless of their intentions or knowledge.

Where does it inspire and do good, and where does it make you …..

well…. Not be you?

I have people speckled all throughout my life that inspire me, make me think out of my head, and push me. And honestly, I don’t know, is that good or is it bad? How do you tell?

Really?!? I don’t know! As I’m writing I still don’t know! Take it as you receive, I guess?

Where does it turn from challenging you to be a better person, to being a different person, to being the person they want to form you into?

Number one, of course, well, for me, anyway, was my Mamma. Don’t mess with a girl’s Momma! She always and will forever want the best for you! Even if you don’t or can’t see it, trust me! And so will the Daddy of his little girl! Especially the first! I am!

Talk about unconditional love that I will never know until I have a little one of my own. It is a love that can not and will not be explained until you have your beautiful adoration of a baby. I honestly can not fathom it. Maybe imagine,but never wrap my head around it until it actually happens. In quite a time people! I’m waaay too much of a kid myself right now

There are few and far between people that grab my attention enough to make an impression. I’m refusing to name names here, but there are a few, regardless of their knowledge.

Ha, People!

Such a strange species that God has laid across this magnificence Earth!

How can someone walk into your mere existence and make such a large impact?

I am still wondering that as I type to you.

People pass through, (and usually for a moment), people stay, people go, people support, people use you, and people change.

And they change YOU forever! In one way or another.

Your thoughts, your patterns, your way of thinking, and your way of doing.

Is that good? Does that make you, well, you? Or does that make you, not, you?

Do you pick up pieces of every person that passes through your life, and does that makes an impact on it? Does that make you, you? Does that form your personality? Does that change your ultimately true to yourself persona? Do you incorporate that into your self? Your personality? You?

Are you a million different pieces of different people broken off and molded into one personality? You!

Let me tell you of one person that inspires me. No names. Just inspiration.

Someone that has lasted through the years….

Which in my life is few and far between…

Engagements, breaking off of that engagement, work, being hit on by the ex-fiancé, truthfulness, true love and marriage, and so many things I can’t even begin to mention…. We would be here all night! ………..

Cheering me on through the very good, and carefully warning me about the very bad that I never wanted to see (Or hear, and she told me! Thank You!).

Someone that I could never let go of, no matter where we lived, or where our lives took us.

A person that dances to their own drum, which is why I love her in the first place!Again, Inspiration, and THANK YOU!

Someone that could care less of the world at large.

At least from the outside looking in, that is how I see it.

How does one person have such a impact that it punches a hole through every logic that you ever believed?

Someone that you admire and hold on such a Pedi stool that no will ever touch. No matter how high they reached?

How can someone hold such an admiration to you? Such an inspiration?

Because, they touch you. Regardless of their knowledge of doing so .

In a way that is felt in your soul.

Someone that walks into your life and turns it upside down. In a very positive and free thinking way. Someone that lets you know that it’s ok to be you without trying, without anything other than simple and yet fantastic friendship. Someone that never judges and simply sees you as you stand. And that’s ok!

People change you. People form you. True friends change you for life. In a good way! And in a positive way!

They see what is good, and they carefully warn you of the bad.

Hold onto them! And hold onto for dear life!

Good and true friend are so hard to come by.

Please, please don’t take them for granted.

Many times I have. I hope my friends now don’t think I do.

If I do, that is a resolution that I will desperately need a makeover for.

This is from the heart ya’ll.

Enjoy, and take from this what you will and what you can.

Peace and love from the heart,

Valerie

I’m Lindsay, I’m 23 I live in Midtown, I enjoy long walks on the beach, picnics in the… you know what? The heck with the standard introduction. I’d rather you simply dive into my quirky, sometimes dark, but always entertaining world. And what better way to do that than to share with you an exciting short story about a couple of young lovers from the fifties, and the crazy things their parents tell them…

Tim’s parents were gone for the weekend, away to Virginia to visit Aunt Edna in the hospital. They left that afternoon when he returned from school. Aunt Edna had fallen earlier Friday morning while taking her Lhasa Apso, Scrumptious, out for a walk. Tim hated that dog, but at the moment he was praising her name. It was homecoming weekend, and the absence of his parents meant that he and Peggy would finally get some time alone. Sure there were those nights in the backseat, but he always felt awkward unbuttoning Peggy’s blouse in the back of his mother’s ’57 Cadillac. Something wasn’t right about it. And it was so cramped. Sure, it was the largest sedan on the market, but even the most spacious back seat couldn’t compete with the empty house he now found himself in.

Around seven, after tying and retying his baby blue bow tie several times, he took one more look at the mirror, and grinned approvingly at his reflection. Hair slicked back, three-piece baby blue tuxedo, shiny patent leather shoes— Tim knew he would be the best looking guy at the homecoming dance. If they made it there. Just the thought of getting Peggy over to his house made him smile. He would gladly skip the dance for that.
Tim drove his mother’s Cadillac across town and picked up Peggy, who was waiting by the door for Tim to arrive. Boy did she look great in her party dress. Peggy whined for a moment when Tim told her his plans for the night: If they skipped the dance and went back to his house they would have plenty of time to “hold hands” on the sofa and enjoy the leftover pot roast his mother had left him. They would still go to Randy’s party after the dance, he told her. That would still give her the chance to see her girlfriends and catch up on homecoming gossip. Peggy agreed that she could go for some pot roast, so it was decided. They would skip the dance and go to Tim’s house.

It started out innocently enough. Tim put the pot roast in the oven, just like his mother had instructed, and while they were waiting for it to warm up he put on one of his father’s nice jazz records. She was seated at the kitchen table, admiring his mother’s hand-stitched napkins, when Tim told her to go over to the living room. He had a surprise for her, he said. She walked into the living room and sat on the edge of the antique armchair in the corner. Tim’s mother recently had it reupholstered to match the yellow sofa she had purchased at auction. The yellow paisley pattern was also repeated on the footstool and the throw pillows on the other arm chair. Peggy figured if she stayed with Tim long enough maybe one day he would buy her furniture like his parents had. She was so busy daydreaming about the color palate of their future home that she didn’t notice Tim until he was right on top of her. Literally. She moved to the arm of the chair, and he joined, holding a bottle of beer in each hand. Cheers, he said. Peggy hated the taste of beer, but sipped it anyway. She didn’t want to be rude. Tim let out a belch after talking two huge gulps of the frothy beer. Peggy looked up and giggled, and Tim leaned in for a kiss. Peggy could taste the bitter beer on his lips, but she didn’t mind. Tim put his hands on her waist, but soon they began to wander.

And just then his parents walked in. Tim’s mother screeched at the sign of the barely-clad teens. His father just coughed uncomfortably. The two teens scrambled for their clothes while Tim’s parents took their seats at the kitchen table. Peggy made a beeline for the door, but the night was not over. Tim’s mother let her know that she would be in contact with Peggy’s parents within the hour.

Tim saw Peggy to the door, and then joined his parents at the dinner table. His father rolled two cigarettes and gave one to Tim’s mother. They say in silence for what seemed like an hour, his parents puffing away while he sat with his head bowed. His mother finally spoke. Tim looked up for a moment, but couldn’t keep eye contact. “Tim, how could you do this?” his mother said. “How could you let the devil in your heart like this? You know that fornication is a sin. You watched that film your father and I ordered from the church. You know what happens when you have sex before marriage.” Her voice began to quiver. Her temples were sprinkled with sweat. “Fornicators face an awful future. The girls… their…their…their legs fall off!” she stammered. “And the boys, oh, God has an awful punishment for boys like you. Boys who engage in these kinds of behaviors… their…you know…their…” She looked at her husband uncomfortably, nodding to him, signaling that he should take over the conversation. She couldn’t even get herself to say the word. “Their Johnsons,” said his father. “You know Tim, their penises. Your penis. It’s going to fly off. Just like that. I don’t know when, but when it does I don’t want to be there, that’s for sure. Once the devil gets inside of you, you never know when he’s going to strike again. You only know that he will. And just like that toy airplane you got from grandma last year, just like that your penis will leave your body.” “That’s right,” said his mother. “But Tim, you already know all this. What I don’t understand is why, if you knew the consequences of your actions, you would still choose to disobey the Lord like this?”

Tim couldn’t answer. He sat in his chair, still bowing his head, as his parents smoked two more cigarettes. When he felt it was safe to go to his room, his mother stopped him. “Tim, before you go to bed, please take that filthy arm chair out front. You and Peggy have tainted that chair, and I can’t stand to have something like that in my home any more. This is a home of God. That chair doesn’t belong here any more.”

Tim took the chair to the curb and sat it next to the lawn clippings while his mother watched from the window. He turned back to return inside, but the door was locked. He looked for his mother, but she was already ascending the stairs. His father turned out the lights, and they retreated to their room. Tim just stood there, alone on the front porch, trying to make sense of it all. It still wasn’t too late for Randy’s party, he thought.

Think you know me yet?