Hello, I got my camera fixed.

I have a fixed camera, which means more Viet Hoa Fo Sho soon.

I would totally write about the wedding planning, only I haven't done very much. The place is booked, the photographer is hired, and I have a dress. Other than that, we haven't gotten very far. Since wedding planning is all new, I've treated it just like any other fun new project and started doing loads of research and finding all kinds of fun facts. Like, did you know that the CEO of theknot.com is a dude? That kinda freaks me out. Matthew suggested going to a seminar for young engaged couples at the local megachurch, but I'm not sure if I'm up for it.

Some new friends had us over to make sushi tonight. It was awesome.

Also, I have a new plan, but it's not ready to be unveiled yet.

And I'm 24 on Monday.

Feeling Like a Tulle.

Since Matthew and I have been engaged for a whole week now, I decided that today would be a good day to start trying to figure out what to wear to our big party.

We've already chosen a location for the reception (Earnestine & Hazel's, a former brothel that's Memphis' oldest bar) and the ceremony (the cute empty lot next to said bar) and figured out a democratic way to decide what music gets played. It seems a little crazy - we have six months to get this thing nailed down - but I want to get the planning done so that I can kick back and enjoy being engaged to the most awesome guy ever.

I had started looking at some dresses online, but I didn't really know what I was looking for, so I decided to start by trying a few on. Unfortunately, it's after labor day, and most normal stores don't have a lot of white dresses in stock. Plus, sometimes it's easier to make a decision once you know what you don't like.

With that in mind, I walked into the suburban David's Bridal this morning. That's not quite true. Apparently, you can't just casually stroll into a wedding dress store and poke around a little bit. I was intercepted at the door and offered a seat at the "welcome table". They got my name and asked what my new last name would be, and I realized for the first time that for the rest of my life, I'm going to have to explain how to spell both my first and my last name.

I told the assistant the date of the wedding (March 21), and said that I was just looking, because I had plenty of time. "No, no," she corrected me. "Six months is no time at all! It takes 3 months to get a dress fitted and altered! And you want to look perfect on your special day!"

Anyway, she had me flip through a catalog and pick a few dresses to try on. I picked two - one was a cute tea-length strapless dress, and the other was a big, poofy, trained monstrosity with a sash. Go big or go home, right?

I was passed to a second assistant who found one of the most substantial bras I've ever seen (but um, damn, I looked good) and sent me to a fitting room. It was a little weird - there were no mirrors in the fitting room. I think the theory is that you walk out of the room to your waiting mom and grandma and sisters and then you stand on a platform and everyone cries.

I walked out in the shorter dress, stood on the platform, looked in the mirror and realized that I look cute in tea-length dresses. No one was with me - I didn't realize you were supposed to bring people on the first round.

The second dress was a lot harder to get on. First, the thing was huge. I unhooked it from the hanger and it stood up on its own tulle. I had to climb into the thing clumsily, and then waddle out of the dressing room, trying not to shut the train the door.

I hopped up on the platform, and yet another assistant went and grabbed some tulle that had been glued to a comb (I think it was supposed to be a veil) and stuck it to the back of my head. I looked in the mirror, and I didn't feel any different. It was me, barefoot, in a ginormous white dress, thinking of all the things I could accidentally spill on said dress over the course of an evening.

I couldn't try on any more dresses. They wanted me to, and I made up an excuse, pulled my jeans back on and made for the exit, realizing that this whole idea of what a bride should be just doesn't work with who I am.

Coming Soon....Lobster Balls.

In the last installment of "Viet Hoa Fo' Sho", I put the next food item to a vote. Would it be the doughy, frozen chicken and bamboo dumplings? Would it be the curry soup that we apparently all like? Or would it be the lobster balls?

If you said the lobster balls, you're totally right. But here's the thing - I have to work up the nerve to eat them. And when I do, you'll be the first to know.

In non-taste-test news, a lot has been happening. Matthew started working at the Apple store, which means he's not around as much. It also means he gets a sweet discount and to hang out with nerdy people of his ilk all day.

I have a banjo now, and I'm slowly learning to play it. Thus far, I can play most of one Sufjan Stevens song, Bob Dylan's "You Ain't Going No Where", and the very first song I've ever written: an informative ode to supermanning that ho.

We had a rock show in our back yard last week. I made curry for 30 people and three bands played on the porch. If you missed it, don't worry - we'll do it again sometime.

And to those of you who voted for the lobster balls, stay tuned. As soon as the pilot light on my stove gets re-lit, it's on. Aww yeah.

Viet Hoa Fo Sho: Taste Test No. 4 - Jimmy Carter Would be Proud

This week's offering was a box of popsicles with absolutely no indication of what flavor they might be, save for a picture of a handful of what looked to be peanuts.

Also this week, I decided to do the taste test as a video, so that you could see exactly how the taste test went down:




Viet Hoa Fo Sho: Taste Test No. 4: You got my peanut butter in my freezer from Radio Sweethearts on Vimeo.


I'm still trying to figure out exactly what the popsicles reminded me of. They had one of those flavors that I swear I've had before, but I couldn't put my finger on it. As a whole though, they were delicious, if a bit too rich.



Viet Hoa Fo Sho - Taste Test No. 4 part 2. from Radio Sweethearts on Vimeo.

Next up, it's audience choice!

Here are your options:

- steamed white space pods, er, dumplings, filled with chicken and bamboo shoots
- lobster balls
- Masaman Curry Soup The Taste of Curry That You All Like

Viet Hoa Fo Sho: Taste Test No. 3: Mommy Drinks Because Job Cries

On Monday, I was sent to Viet Hoa for three things and three things only: chicken breasts, catfish, and eggs. These items together should have cost no more than $15. Despite this, half an hour later, I left the market with $40 less than I had entered with and four bags of goodies.

A trip to the VH doesn't count unless some kind of surprise is brought home.






This week, that surprise was a green bag of cookies from the sweets aisle called "Chlorella Job's Tears Wafer". The only other English on the package was the information on the back (information that I actually took the time to read for once). They include: flour, cornstarch, milk powder, Chlorella powder, sugar, glucose, vegetable oil, Job's tears, leavening agent.

Everything seems normal, except the Job's Tears. I just thought that was the brand - I had no idea it was something that people used for cooking.

A quick wikipedia search reveals the following: Job's Tears is a tropical plant commonly used in Asian food. Matthew was a bit nervous that it referred to the Job of biblical fame, who likely cried because he was infested with all manner of sores, boils and plague.

Having taken a bite, I'm glad it tastes more like a plant, and less like pestilence.

The cookies came individually wrapped for easy lunchbox packing and looked like the creme-and-wafer cookies that my mom used to buy when I was a kid. To be honest, part of why I bought them was because they looked like they might taste like green tea.



I know, I've been misguided in the past when making purchases at the Viet Hoa that look like they would taste like green tea.

Texturally, they were just like those cookies. Granted, the wafter to creme ratio was skewed in favor of the wafer, which is a shame, as the creme is actually pretty tasty. When surrounded by all of that wafer, it's easy to miss out on its subtle sweet, nutty, (and dare I say) green tea flavor.

They were kind of tasty. So kind of tasty, in fact, that I ate more out of the sheer joy that they didn't taste as bad as some of the other things we've eaten.

Viet Hoa Fo Sho: Taste Test No. 2 - Do the Mantou

For this week's installment of Viet Hoa Fo Sho, we decided to stick with desserts. Granted, after last week, I'm not entirely sure why we would ever want to eat another baked good from the Viet Hoa.

This week's offering was frozen, chocolaty and emotionally conflicted. Behold the chocolate Mantou.



The packaging reminds me of a worksheet I had in my Sociology 100 class. The professor gave us pictures of faces and we had to label the emotion expressed on the face. They were all ambiguous, and I got most of them wrong. I can't tell if these little cartoon mantous are really happy to see me or maniacally angry that I'm about to eat them.

To cook the mantous, we took them out of the freezer, set them in a bowl, spritzed them with water and microwaved them on medium. Sadly, they didn't grow to twice their size or otherwise mutate.



They looked kind of delicious. And edible (which, after that last item, I was thankful that we could at least identify most of the ingredients with a cursory once over).





The good news is that they're not bad. Not as chocolaty as I had hoped for, but not bad. The bad news is that they seem to be mostly texture and no flavor. I'm not sure what it is about these desserts. Is all the spiciness and flavor wasted on curries and ramen noodle seasoning packets?

These tasted less like chocolate cake than a weird combination of bread and spray foam. We did try them topped with whipped cream, which seemed to help the overall consistency.

Like the little mantous on the packaging, I'm conflicted. On the one hand, they weren't the best thing I've ever had. But they weren't terrible, and they sure as hell weren't as disgusting as that thing we ate last week.

I have a feeling that everything we eat will be held to the standard of "It wasn't great, but it definitely wasn't as bad as that green thing."

Viet Hoa Fo Sho: Taste Test No.1 - It's all fun and games until somebody eats the sponge

A few days ago, our wonderful friends Brandon and Amanda turned us on to the Viet Hoa Market. They had been exposed to the wonder of the Vietnamese market because of it's crazy cheap food and overwhelming shopping experience.

We went there straight from Brandon and Amanda's, full of excitement and hope for delicious cheap curry and fresh fish. We were expecting good things, but what we found was amazing. The Viet Hoa is the grocery of my dreams. And it is because of this that I bring you my new weekly tribute to my local sketchy dream grocery: Viet Hoa Fo Sho.

This week: Green Spongy Mystery Food.



When I picked up this 89-cent loaf of fun, I thought that it looked kind of tasty, maybe like a green tea-flavored coconut cake. Then I gently pressed down on the top of it. It was bouncy, like Jell-o.



We set a ground rule - the food must be chewed and swallowed. No giving up and spitting it out. The food cannot win.

I took a bite, expecting it to taste like, well, something. Instead, my mouth was assaulted with the texture of fake plastic grass with a piquant styrofoam cup aftertaste. I may forget the taste, but I'll never forget trying to swallow it.




I made Matthew take a bite, and this happened:




He's all smiles now, but just wait until he sticks it in his mouth.



Since the thing was inedible, we decided to perform some experiments:

No.1 - If you can't eat it, befriend it!





It's sponge-like. Can it remove tough stains?






Matthew tried to set it on fire, but instead of igniting, it just smelled like burning plastic. Which lead us to a very important question - was this thing even meant to be eaten?




In frustration, we abandoned it on our back porch. We'll check up on it in a few days. Hopefully, it won't stain the porch or grow to ten times its size.

Next time: Emotionally conflicted cakes.

Left Behind

On Wednesday, we started the process of moving from my adorable bachlorette apartment into a duplex more suited for two people. It's a three-legged dog of a house. The stairs are wide, then suddenly narrow, no two door frames are alike, and though the bedrooms are tiny, it has the biggest bathroom I've ever seen.

When we first got the keys, we came over and sat on the back porch, eating masaman curry out of the take out container, grinning about the fact that we had a porch.

Seeing the house empty was weird. The two times we had been in before we got the keys the previous tenant had been here. She had a lot of stuff, and it nice to see the house empty and ready for us.

I say empty, but really, I mean mostly empty. She left the fake flower decorations at the tops of the kitchen windows, and a light switch cover shaped like some kind of fruit (I'm not entirely sure if it's supposed to be mango or squash), and a comically nasty hardcore porn movie review magazine on the top shelf in the downstairs bathroom.

We're finishing the move today and tomorrow, and you're all welcome to stop by and have a beer with us or unpack a box on Saturday. There will be a formal new house party later this month.

I Fly Like Paper

Hello.

To those of you that have sent worried emails (though most of you know exactly what I've been up to) I'm still here.

I can explain my absence several ways, and none of them are very good excuses.

The first one is that I work at a Web site. When one works at a Web site all day, it's hard to come home and want anything to do with the internet. Also, I've been working on this pretty awesome package for said site that I want you all to see. There will be more details later, but here's a hint: it's me, at a wrestling match.

I'm also getting ready to move. Matthew and I found a duplex in Cooper-Young, and we're moving in within the next two weeks. Given that both of us are pack rats and neither one of us particularly enjoys packing, we've made very little progress. My lease is up in 26 days, and it feels like we'll never leave here.

I haven't forgotten this blog. Really, I promise. Can we still be friends? I'll update more, I swear.

Why You'd Want To Live Here

It's Friday night, and I'm alone at home. The windows are open, as is a beer, and I'm knitting a scarf that never seems to get any longer and watching "Ugly Betty."

The scarf is my first lace. I started it a few months ago, and until recently, I've been neglecting it. It's blue mohair on size two needles. There was definitely an error in needle judgment made - the needles are about the same color as the yarn. It's coming along though.



In just under three weeks, Matthew will be moving to Memphis and into my apartment. I'm excited. I've got to be honest, though - I'm freaking out a little bit. This has been my home for almost a year, and things are as I like them. I've been almost comically resistant to moving my green couch (it's where I read the paper - right under a lamp, near the turntable, but not too close, and by a window). The major point of contention in our relationship is a shelf that we desperately need to tame the our sizable record and book collections, but won't really fit in my apartment unobtrusively.

Thankfully, we'll be looking for a bigger place once he finds a job.

Though he's my best friend, living with a boy is going to be a big adjustment. When he was here over spring break, I came home one day to find that Matthew, in a valiant effort to bring some order into my life, had looped all of my plastic bags together and placed them in a paper bag. The paper bag was supposed to serve as a dispenser for the plastic ones, which would unfurl one at a time with a gentile tug. This system somehow works at Matthew's house, under his sink.

Now, every time I go to get one plastic bag, I wind holding a long string of them.

But it makes me happy. It reminds me that though I'm not going to live alone anymore, I'm gaining Matthew, who always tries to make things easier.

I'm still freaking out a little. Any advice for a pair of first-time cohabitors?

This Is Really Cool

Matthew and I were interviewed for NPR a few weeks ago about our side project.

And today....it's up!

Check out the Bryant Park Project's blog here.

You can hear the interview here.

Seriously. Best. Day. Ever.

- k

Team Building Excersize '99

Hello!

I'm in Muncie for the weekend between jobs, visiting Matthew. It's supposed to be about 40 degrees outside tomorrow. And because there's something so wrong about wearing a wool pea coat in April, I didn't bring it with me. Ah well.

Monday, I start work at the Commercial Appeal, and I'm excited. But it's the sort of excited that you get before getting on some sort of sketchy carnival ride. I have a feeling that this will be a dare to be great situation, and I want to make the most of it.

Anyway- I'm at the Blue Bottle with Matthew, who is editing my latest r/s post. Kids, if anyone ever asks if you want to essentially start a business with your significant other, say no. It's not that we're not having fun, it's that editing each other's work is hard when feelings are involved. Like last week, when I started an editorial meeting phone call by saying "Dude, this is crap. I can't put this on the internet." Or when he just made fun of me for using "totally" and "thusly."

I'm kind of disjointed today. I'm headed to the Heorot for lunch. Mmmmm.

More later.

-k

The Collective Will of a Math Class Can Make the Snow Fall Faster

When I was in college, I worked at the most kick-ass student run Web site ever. Before I went to work as a reporter there, I had no real interest in new media journalism. After being there for a few weeks, I noticed that I had turned into a raging internet dork. Unfortunately, I hadn't had the foresight to choose "raging internet dork" as my major, and I graduated and went to work in public relations.

Today, though, I accepted a job with the Memphis Commercial Appeal's new media department. I'm going to be working for the internet, and I couldn't be more excited.

It's started to feel like spring here, and it's strange. For the last four years, I've spent spring in Indiana, where the shift from cold to warmish is entirely more noticeable.

When you're in college, spring feels so hopeful. The year is almost over, all of the hot dudes have started going shirtless on the quad again, and it's no longer too unbearably cold to stand outside between classes and eat apples while your best friend smokes. Spring feels like a promise when you're in school - it's almost done, you're almost done, and everyone is in a good mood.

As a grownup, though, it's kinda weird. The weather is there, but now, when I'm outside, it's walking from the parking garage to work. When I find time to eat lunch, it's at my desk. When you're an adult, it's a lot harder to say "screw it, eff my responsibilities, I'm going to skip those and run through that fountain, or drink beer, or stay out all night."

I've been really stressed out this week, and I didn't notice until today that the trees were green and the dogwoods had exploded, and that it was nice enough outside this morning that I didn't need my hoodie.

In two weeks, I start my new job. In two months, Matt moves here. Right now, it's 8:34 p.m., and I'm finally sitting down to a dinner of yellow Zatarains and basil-seasoned fish.

Spring is pretty great.

- K

(Hi Rachel!)

We're Gonna Get So Busted!

Matthew is in town (yay!), and yesterday, he made a promise to an NPR employee at the "Bryant Park Project" that we would take pictures of where Jeff Buckley died. We did, and then they totally put it on the NPR Web site.

How insane is that?

It's almost as insane as the green snake-shaped loaf of bread that's sitting on my kitchen table. I think it's supposed to relate to St. Patrick's day, but I haven't seen anyone but the Midtown Schnucks celebrate thusly.

Anyway. Dude! NPR? They totally put us on their site. Weird.

- K

Picture Your Day: The Photos

The photos from Feb. 29th are here.

I didn't do very well - I could have taken more pictures, or better ones. I'm going to do it again in about a month, and maybe I'll have had more time to prepare.

Enjoy!

Leap Day Photo Project

I'm participating, and so should you.




I'll post pictures tomorrow.

Meanwhile - new OTM recap at Radio Sweethearts.

I'm normally not a huge fan of sports journalism. It seems to remove all of the excitement from sports, focusing too much on the who-what-when-where-by-how-many-points. However, Geoff Calkins is brilliant.

He wrote this piece about last Saturday's Memphis basketball game against Tennessee.

Look out, Frank Deford. You may make more educated comments about wonderful and bizarre things like cricket, but Geoff Calkins makes me feel just like I did when I was standing in the Deli, watching the Tigers lose.

How you like them apples,
Kerry

Unemployment Fest '08 - Day 10: I Won't Be Taking It To Eleven

I was offered a really fantastic job yesterday, and I'm accepting! I'll have benefits, a much shorter commute, and a regular paycheck. This means I can buy groceries again! Woot!

I'm starting tomorrow, and I really couldn't be more excited.

Also, on Radio Sweethearts, Carl Kassell croons, everyone swoons, and a new OTM recap goes live.

Viva, viva,
Kerry

Unemployment Fest '08 - Day 9: Tackling the Great Reorganization

Tomorrow morning, I have my third interview for a position that I'm very interested in.

In times of stress, or when I'm feeling freaked out, or like everything is beyond my control, I tend to do one of three things - bake, drive around, or re-sort my record collection.

So, here I am, on my living room floor, trying to figure out if I'm in an alphabetical, chronological, or autobiographical mood.

I have found that Ray Charles' "Unchain My Heart" is entirely fitting for this moment. It just sounds right.

Tomorrow, I'll put on my swank new suit, listen to Jay-Z's "Dirt Off Your Shoulders" and Mr. Quintron's "Swamp Buggy Bad Ass", and go to my interviews. Kiss your lucky what have you for me.


Ineffably,
Kerry

I'm Gay Like a Choir Boy For You

You make me want to hide under a sink on a daily basis.

Happy Valentine's Day.

- K

They Can, In Fact, Take Away Your Dignity: Unemployment Fest '08 - Day Three.

On Friday, after I got laid off from my job, I tried to call the only person I knew who was unemployed and would come hang out with me during those first horrible hours. That person? My ex boyfriend.

I actually stopped by his house, figuring hell, he's probably home at 9:30 a.m. Never mind that he would likely be terrified by the sight of his business casual ex-girlfriend, face streaked with mascara that was supposed to be waterproof.

He wasn't home. So I left, arating his yard with my shoes as I went. I was going to go home. I was a big girl. I was going home, and damnit, I was going to find another job. I was gonna be alright!

And then my heel found the little gap between the grass and the sidewalk. My body kept going. I face-planted, outside my ex-boyfriend's house, in front of a whole crew of MLGW dudes, minutes after being laid off.

I really hope that's the lowest point.

That said, I'm trying to feel better about all of this. I've got a few interviews lined up, and some leads.


But dude? This unemployment thing? It really sucks. I don't recommend it. I'm not a person who deals with uncertainty well (see the earliest entries here). But there's a 95 percent chance I'll be alright. I think.

My friends, my family, and Matthew especially, have been absolutely wonderful to me. I'm so lucky that I moved back to Memphis after college rather than going to Chicago or New York.


At least I've got basements to sleep in, cable to watch, and Cheetos to mooch.

Hopefully, I won't need them.

- k

All things go.

I just got laid off from my job.

I'm not sure what to do now. Act like an unemployed person? Drink lots of whiskey early in the morning, watch some cable, move back in with my parents?

Maybe now would be a good time to leave Memphis.

k

Strangers on This Road We Are On

(Photo by Brandon Dill, February 3, 2007. If you ever need a photographer, I highly recommend him.)

Jury Duty Live Blog - Day 1

4:19 p.m. - I'm done! After sitting in a courtroom listening to the lawyers try to select a jury, the bailiff let us go home. Alas, my participation in the democratic process will have to be limited to voting this year.

12:51 p.m. - I'm at a deli, eating lunch. I got called in the second round of jurors to civil court. They're still trying to seat, but haven't made a lot of progress. After lunch, I'll either get seated on this jury, sent home, or sent back to the pool. I'm hoping for the second option, but knowing that the third is more likely.

10:38 a.m. - After a two hour orientation, the fun has officially started. I had no idea that it would take two hours to sufficiently orientate jurors, but I guess the process is more complicated than I had originally thought.

The good things, so far:

- Music is being piped in. Granted, it kind of sucks, but they did just play Lionel Ritchie's "Say You, Say Me." We're allowed to have iPods, laptops, etc.

- If I have to be here tomorrow, I don't have to be here until 9:30.

- The people watching is pretty incredible. There's a woman wearing a snood, as well as one wearing a shirt made entirely of gold sequins. Unfortunately, they're not the same woman.

I'll be making periodic updates throughout the day. In the mean time, if you're as bored as I eventually will be, you should check out Radio Sweethearts. It's a silly public radio commentary blog that Matthew and I launched on Saturday. We still have a little work to do before it's as pretty to look at as we'd like, but we want you to go ahead and take a look.

judiciously,
Kerry

Talking 'Bout His Generation

Tonight, after sushi with my parents, I went back to my dad's house, where a bizarre instance of father-daughter bonding occurred.

My stepmom was having trouble with her stereo receiver, so dad was trying to get her to understand what was going on. He had the stereo cabinet open, and I noticed some records, including an original release Beatles LP I had found in a thrift store before I had a turntable.

This led to a discussion of records, which led to my dad showing me his vinyl for the first time. He has quite a bit, all meticulously alphabetized in a window seat on the landing of the stairs.

I went through them one at a time, with my dad standing over me, telling me about the records. For example, he has a nearly pristine copy of "Thriller" that he said he bought because everyone was saying how great it is, and it broke some record. I pointed out that it was the number one selling record of all time.

Tucked among the Rod Stewart, Grateful Dead and CCR records were some things I'd actually like to have. He has a copy of "Sgt. Pepper's" with the original inserts. He has T Rex, and "Abbey Road", and "Born in the USA".

There was some overlap - we both own Jethro Tull's "Aqualung", and my copy of "The White Album" is in much better shape than his is. We talked about records we had missed - he had sent back a copy of John Lennon's "Imagine" with a B-side that was apparently nothing but John and Yoko making noises, and over the holidays, I passed up a copy of Dangermouse's "Grey Album" on vinyl.

It wasn't all sunshine, though - I made fun of him quite a lot when he deserved it. Supertramp? My dad is a Supertramp fan. He might be Ian from High Fidelity in disguise. Also, though he has lots of Dylan, he doesn't own "Blonde on Blonde."

Sometimes, it's all too easy to forget that my parents are people. For Christmas, I gave my dad three mix tapes with handmade liner notes. He said that he wanted to talk about them, but he wasn't quite finished absorbing them.

The whole evening reminded me how much I'm like my dad. Normally, when I say that, I'm thinking of the traits that we share that I'm not too proud of. But tonight was good - it reminded me that there's a lot of him in me that's good. And though he is quick to point out that of course my musical taste came from him, (because if he hadn't been around, I'd still be listening to the Beach Boys) I'm ready to remind him that he hasn't ever listened to "Pet Sounds", and that he should give the Beach Boys another chance, in mono, with headphones.

just like Brian Wilson,
Kerry

Shiny Cool Things

This is from a kick ass advertising Web site that Katie showed me. It's ads from around the world, and some of them are absolutely gorgeous.

You should take a look.

Meanwhile, I'm going to get to work, and try to keep a straight face listening to Savage Love on my iPod.

taped epistles,
Kerry

Permanent Marker With a Fat Tip

It's Tuesday night, so right after work, I came to the P&H to hold our table for trivia. I had to go to the bathroom, so I went, and while I was in there I noticed a few things: first, the bathroom is grossly underheated. Secondly, my ex-boyfriend is now immortalized in three separate graffiti incidents, in three different handwriting styles (none of which are mine).

And they're not anything particularly salacious or damning or, hell, interesting, but I can't help but feel a little weird trying to get on with my bathrooming surrounded by fun facts like "Colin and Queequeg have a hatchett [sic] baby".

there's just no privacy anymore,
Kerry

Yeah. It's Just Like That.

"Growing up a boy in Indiana, there are certain things you're afraid of."

"John Cougar Melancamp?"



- Matthew and I, on the phone.

If You're Going to Throw Your Life Away, He'd Better Have a Motorcycle

There's been a lack of updates recently, largely because I've got the flu, and my major activities over the last few days have included sleeping, watching bad TV on the internet, and having crazy Tylenol PM dreams (like the one where it was my birthday, and my ex gave me a copy of "69 Love Songs" and a Scottish fold kitten).

This is the first time I've ever had the flu, and let me tell you kids - you don't want it. Get up from your computer right now and go get a flu shot. If you don't, you'll be like me, quarantined in your house for 3-5 days, not eating solid food, wearing sweatpants and drinking lots of Gatorade.

Some good things have happened, though. A local coffee shop / bar is looking for DJs, and I've volunteered myself. I've been asked if I can do a 2 hour set of lounge with dance music to follow. I'm not sure I can bring quite the brand of lounge / dance that they're wanting, but I told the guy what I typically play, and he seems alright with it. I'm thinking some Feist / Stereolab / Kid Koala type songs followed by the usual girl groups, garage bands, French songs, and songs that make people want to shake their asses.

I'm really hoping that this works out. It's been a long time since I've been able to DJ. My record collection has grown exponentially since the last time I played in Muncie. If you've got any song suggestions for the lounge part, I'd love to hear them, as I tend more toward the dance party end of the spectrum.

My stepmom showed up this afternoon with British Cosmo and Australian Vogue. I don't typically read either of those magazines in their American versions, but I think I can justify them today. I'm sick. And if the trashy girl mags are foreign, then they're a cultural learning experience.

Besides - this Jordan lady on the cover of Brit Cosmo is just too campy not to be awesome. She's more camp than a row of tents.

Have a great weekend, everyone. I'll be here, in my house, watching lots of Gilmore Girls and trying to figure out if I have any songs that qualify as lounge.

like a Hello Saferide song,
Kerry

And I Always Say "I love you" When I Mean "Turn Out the Lights"

Since about mid-November, it seems like every weekend involves some sort of small home improvement. I'm not sure if it's the back issues of Readymade and Blueprint that I have, or if my desire to nest has finally kicked in but lately, I've been intent on making my small rental feel even cozier. I bought a throw blanket and cilantro scented candles. I went to Pier One. I think someone needs to stage an intervention. But before you do that, take a look at my fancy kitchen mood lighting:



In other news, I was supposed to go dancing at the Blue Worm (or, the club formerly known as the Blue Worm) last night with some of the Red Hot Lindy Hop people. I had looked forward to coming back and blogging about my exciting night of blues dancing in Orange Mound. I had never been to the Blue Worm, and I was hoping that it would be kind of like my other favorite juke joint, Wild Bill's, but with a little more room to dance.

So, with visions of raffles for bottles of Canadian Club and dancing to some pure Memphis blues playing out in my head, I got myself looking pretty and met up with everyone at Cory's house. We got into cars, a caravan was formed, and no sooner had I rounded the block than a call was made to come back to the house. Some brave person who had gone before said that there was nothing going on - no band, no DJ, nothing. Instead, furniture was shifted, drinks were poured, and we danced in Cory's living room to an iPod.

I'm hoping we'll try to go to the Blue Worm again soon, though. I've heard good things, and I want to find out if this mythical nice dance floor of hearsay is for real.


hopes have been dashed,
Kerry

Cast In the Image

Mondays are typically kind of slow news days. The papers are skinny, CNN slaps headlines on silly things and calls them important, and you and I, the bored cube lackeys of America sit back and enjoy. I've always kind of wanted to be a CNN.com headline writer. Though, I would hate to deprive the person who does it now, as they're clearly a master of writing headlines that are so silly, so grammatically skewed, and yet, so riveting that I just can't help but click.

Headlines at the moment of this blogging: "Machete attacks the 'work of the devil", "Moos: Ch-ch-ch-change the slogan please", and "Bill: I can't make Hillary 'younger'".

But fellow Black Glasses Brigadier Kristin pointed out this almost headline-less gem of a story: I-Reporter's Wedding Cake is a...

Well, it's certainly a lot of things, most notably, creepy. Thoughts?

would hesitate to take a bite,
Kerry

Just Because Your Caucus is Held in a Middle School Doesn't Mean You Have to Act Like It.

Happy caucus night, everybody!
It's the first night of the real election season. Everything up to this point - the polling, the backstabby commercials, the name calling - has just been practice. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Iowa caucus. And while a big deal has been made about all of this as an indicator of who will earn party nominations, not nearly enough of a big deal has been made out of the fact that the Iowa Democratic caucus is bad ass.

While their Republican counterparts show up to their polling place, scribble a name on a sheet of paper and head back home to watch some football or milk a cow or what have you, the democrats can't be kept down on the farm.

I had no idea how this worked until today, but people, the Democratic caucus is just like middle school.

The basic premise is this: The voter shows up to the polling place at 7 p.m. The ringleader of this madness instructs people to clump with other supporters of their candidate of choice in specific areas of the room. A count is taken, and those candidates with 15 percent or more are considered "viable" and allowed to stay in the race. The candidates with less than 15 percent are allowed to align themselves with a viable candidate and vote again.

But - before the re-vote, a representative from each viable candidate is allowed to stand up and try to convince the supporters of non-viable candidates to support their candidate. Confused yet?

It gets better. After every camp has been allowed a few minutes for convincing speeches, there's a "realignment" period where the polling place is turned into a giant clusterfuck of people trying to figure out who to cast their re-vote for.

I'm watching the streaming, anchor-free video from CNN.com, and here are some of the things that have happened. (Mind you, I came in right before the pre-realignment speeches).

- The lady giving the Re-Vote Obama speech stood on a table and pointed her finger at the crowd while yelling that Obama is the CANDIDATE FOR EVERYBODY! The speech was short, sweet, and emphatic, managing to draw a loud chorus of booing from every non-Obama supporter in the room as she lightly insulted several of the candidates.

- When Bill Richardson's name was called, a woman who is probably the librarian at the middle school where this particular caucus is taking place read aloud a letter from Richardson. She couldn't have sounded more bored.

- The Caucusmaster (the guy yelling the rules) said that there would be a "30 minute re-alignment period". Someone yelled for it to be shortened to 10 minutes. A vote was taken by yelling "yay!" or "no!", and when that was unclear, a second vote was taken by show of hands. It got voted down, but after more yelling, everyone agreed to a compromise of 20 minutes.

That's where we are now. The Caucusmaster just gave the ten minute warning. I'm anxiously munching on my beefstick, hoping that these nice midwesterners are able to stop yelling for a few minutes and make a decision.

OMG! The Edwards guy has all of his supporters raising their hands, and is making them sit down when he points at them! John Edwards for middle school class president! The Edwards guy is crafty! He's trying to talk Clinton and Obama people into switching.

Five minutes left!

Can I just say that I wish I lived in Iowa right now? Or that Tennessee had a primary process that was just as kick-ass?

Enough blogging. I'm going back to my CNN live feed.

Proud to be an American,
Kerry

He Should Have Been a Posion Tester in Medieval Times

While I was in Indiana visiting the irrepressible Matthew, Benferno looked after my house. I had left him a note telling him to eat whatever looked on the verge of going bad (which was pretty much nothing given that my house could operate as a fridge). I'm notorious for allowing my milk to go bad, and when I got home, Ben had left this on the kitchen table.





More on the trip later, and the freight train, and what being back at work after 11 days off feels like (hint: it kinda sucks).

considers herself saved,
Kerry