Formally Trained

I've Moved

2009-04-09T18:14:00.002-05:00

All blogging will now happen in one of these places:

My Twitter (for short updates)

My Tumblr (for regular bloggery)

Radio Sweethearts (Public radio blog that I share with Matthew)

The Memphis Blog (my blog for work about all things Memphis)

Keep up!

Just to say

2009-01-25T23:03:00.001-06:00

My writing has gone to crap. I need more poetry. I need more interesting life experiences. I need to come around here more often.

Hello, I got my camera fixed.

2008-11-08T22:09:00.002-06:00

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.

2008-09-27T17:04:00.006-05:00

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.

2008-08-27T20:56:00.003-05:00

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

2008-07-30T22:24:00.002-05:00

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

2008-07-02T21:45:00.006-05:00

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

2008-06-23T21:44:00.006-05:00

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

2008-06-16T21:28:00.017-05:00

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

2008-06-13T07:46:00.003-05:00

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

2008-06-05T00:01:00.002-05:00

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

2008-04-25T21:41:00.003-05:00

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

2008-04-18T12:29:00.005-05:00

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

2008-04-11T12:39:00.002-05:00

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

2008-03-27T20:25:00.003-05:00

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!

2008-03-13T07:20:00.002-05:00

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

2008-03-02T16:55:00.002-06:00

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

2008-02-29T08:07:00.001-06:00

I'm participating, and so should you.

I'll post pictures tomorrow.

Meanwhile - new OTM recap at Radio Sweethearts.

2008-02-27T07:21:00.002-06:00

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

2008-02-19T11:10:00.003-06:00

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

2008-02-17T19:49:00.003-06:00

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

2008-02-14T10:25:00.004-06:00

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.

2008-02-10T15:57:00.001-06:00

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.

2008-02-08T10:04:00.000-06:00

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

2008-02-05T07:14:00.002-06:00

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

Jury Duty Live Blog - Day 1

2008-02-04T10:37:00.000-06:00

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

2008-01-27T20:53:00.000-06:00

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

2008-01-23T08:33:00.001-06:00

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

2008-01-22T18:12:00.000-06:00

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.

2008-01-20T20:39:00.000-06:00

"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

2008-01-19T12:52:00.000-06:00

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"

2008-01-13T20:34:00.000-06:00

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

2008-01-07T21:29:00.000-06:00

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.

2008-01-03T19:58:00.000-06:00

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

2008-01-02T20:43:00.000-06:00

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

Kind of Like "Twas the Night Before Christmas", Only, Y'Know, Not.

2007-12-24T14:15:00.000-06:00

If you've seen the movie "A Christmas Story" (the venerable holiday cautionary tale about a kid, a BB Gun, and what happens when a tongue is stuck to a frozen pole), you know that every family has some hilarious holiday story that usually involves some crazy old person and/or a wild animal.

My family seems to have more than enough - there was the year when the organist at the stately presbyterian church was drunk off his ass, playing "Joy to the World" and "Go Tell it on the Mountain" in a minor key and refusing communion. We've gotten the giggles at inopportune times, had a specific Christmas party guest who showed up inebriated and in sweatpants and called told another guest she looked like a skunk, and most recently, the sweet Mormon carolers. But the best Christmas story to come out of our house involves a classic formula: One crazy old lady, an attic, and an animal.

Flashback to roughly 2001.
It's Christmas morning, and my mom, my brother and I were up relatively early, having our small family gift giving time. Our stockings were filled with the usual mix of obscure candy and toys from the Archie McPhee catalog. Things were going well. Finally, we started getting into the wrapped presents from our extended family.

The boxes from my grandmother were uncommonly large that year, and Kevin and I were excited. In retrospect, we should have known better, but we were young and optimistic. Had we taken a moment to think back to years prior , maybe we would have been a little more realistic, but Christmas morning has a way of sucking the realism out of most situations.

We tore into the wrapping paper gleefully, hoping that this year, our grandmother had actually visited a retail establishment for our gifts, rather than trolling her attic for yuletide booty.

Unfortunately, we were wrong. Very, very wrong.

What was contained in the packages was, well, interesting. Mom captured this look of surprise and delight:

Here was what was in the box:

Clockwise, we have: a random metal thing in a box, broken miniature telephone-shaped music box, a wax apple (wtf?), two Girl Scout glasses, an old bottle covered in wax, pig-shaped cream pitchers, "The Intelligent Woman's Guide to Art", a sketchy vinyl cosmetics bag, an unidentified purple thing, the riveting pamphlet "Interesting Origins of English Words", and a toy hammock.

Also in the package was a...well, we weren't sure exactly what it was, but judging from mom's shrieks of horror, it was nothing good. It was blue, lumpy and made of papier mache. Mom grabbed it and explained that it was a skunk, the questionable result of her eighth grade art class. She also explained that she hated the thing, and was glad to finally have it in her possession so that it could be thrown away after years of captivity in my grandmother's attic.

A trash bag was produced, and mom made a big show of throwing the thing away.

And no sooner did our poor misshapen friend land with a thud at the bottom of the empty hefty bag, when the phone rang.

I shit you not, this is an exact transcript of the dialog:

Mom: Merry Christmas, Mom
Grandmother: Kim, DON'T YOU THROW THAT SKUNK AWAY!"

Frantic hand motions were made, the skunk was retrieved and given a name, and it's been a permanent fixture in our house ever since. My mom and my aunt take it on vacation with them every year. It's been present at major events, like my college graduation. It even gets decorated for special occasions and has a little paper car that it sits in when it moves from the fireplace.

Here it is today, looking extremely excited to have been rescued:

So, Merry Christmas, y'all. I hope your grandma has a better attic stash than mine does.

Like her mother, enjoys a festive hat,
Kerry

Oddities

2007-12-23T11:25:00.001-06:00

At the counter at Otherlands, there's a bowl full of granola bars with a little sign sticking out of them that says that five percent of profits from the snacks goes to support "One Voice", a charity working to eliminate extremism in the Middle East. I find it a little strange that a group that is bent on ending totalitarian beliefs calls itself "One Voice".

Anyway.

I'm sitting here, about to begin the Sunday Ritual (tea, bagel, NYT), and it just hit me: holy crap, it's Christmas. Since just before Thanksgiving, I haven't really been feeling very festive. It just didn't seem right. There was no snow! No nine-hour drive! It was almost 70 degrees outside! (When I was in college, the lack of snow and the high temperatures were one of the bonuses of the holidays in Memphis.)

But somehow, sitting here in the coffee shop (which smells like ginger), knowing that I don't have to go to work for the next ten days, it suddenly feels like Christmas.

Mom's open house last night probably helped. I got there about an hour before it started, and mom was freaking out. There had been a plumbing disaster earlier in the day, and the dishwasher was full but not running, so when I showed up, mom was pitching dirty dishes into a rubbermade in the garage. At one point, she told me to ice down the beer. When I asked her for a container, she produced the crisper drawer from the second fridge.

The party was good - full, but not crowded. About mid-way through the evening, I was talking to my brother when mom came in and said that there was someone at the door for him. He went, and came back with two soggy Mormon missionary boys who were there to carol. So there we were, beers in hand, listening to two squeaky clean LDS dudes singing Joy to the World in glorious two-part harmony. It was kind of cool. We offered them food, but they said they couldn't stay. It was just as well - we had been drinking.

But really, who does that happen to, other than us?

Ok, I need to get to the paper if I ever want to get anything else done today. Expect another update tomorrow.

festively,
Kerry

Hello Honesty, Goodbye Indie Rock Street Cred

2007-12-17T20:10:00.000-06:00

Today, I was listening to the excellent All Songs Considered 2007 wrap up podcast. Bob Boilen, Carrie from Sleater-Kinney, and some other people were talking about the best (and most disappointing) records of the year. Somewhere between the innovations and the disappointments, parts of Radiohead's "In Rainbows" got played.

And I can't lie - I instinctively hit skip on my iPod, and then had to backtrack when I realized that it was a podcast, and the Radiohead would be over soon.

You can tell me over and over again how great Radiohead is, and how they're hugely influential and fantastic, but I'm not going to believe you. Everything I've heard from them is just kind of meh. I can't bring myself to care about it, which is a bad sign.

If I'm going to have music on (which is most of the time), I want it to be something that I care about. Entire albums aren't required to be great, but I do want them to make me feel something other than ambivalence.

Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal. However, my feelings about Radiohead are sort of putting me in a bit of an existential crisis. I like good music, and though I have very definitive tastes, I'll try anything twice. The message that keeps getting pounded into my head is that if one likes good music, they like Radiohead, because it is good. While I admire their unique take on record sales and the longevity of their career, I just can't really get behind it.

Until I hear a Radiohead song that makes me feel the way that Stereolab's "Peng!33" or Andrew Bird's "Masterfade" makes me feel, I'm going to have to say that they do nothing for me.

Whew.

All better. I'm going to listen to Thee Headcoatees and do the dishes now.

hooked on a feeling,
Kerry

Further Evidence of Their Great One-Sided Love

2007-12-10T21:44:00.000-06:00

The following is from an email I sent to Matthew this afternoon, regarding my speculations in the last post about certain NPR reporters.

I just finished listening to On The Media, and omg, we're so right! Did you hear when Brooke interviewed Bob about Comcast Must Die? When Bob said "It's really nice being interviewed by Brooke" and Brooke giggled like "Bob. Seriously. Your schoolgirl crush has got to stop." And the piety in his voice when he said the program was edited by Brooke.

We're so right. They're doing it. Or, at least, Bob wants to. I don't think Brooke is that kind of girl. Though, if she's not, she should quit leading him on.

Seriously. Get this week's On the Media podcast, free on iTunes. Listen to it, and tell me if you don't seriously get the feeling that every time Brooke turns around, Bob is totally trying to reach out and pick the lint off her sweater. I think he wants on her media. Awwww yeah.

And while we wait for next week's installment of our story, let's take a moment to meet the cast!

First, there's Brooke Gladstone, the Peabody Award-winning smooth talker that's captured the hearts of millions (most notably, Bob's):

And our hero, a man (possibly) filled with longing desire:

She's so cute! He's so...Bob Vila-esque! True Love! *squee*

Stay tuned for more, next week.

keep on playing:
Kerry

(Um...does anyone else find it weird that I'm essentially writing NPR Fan Fic?)

(Quick notice: Photos from Google Image Search. If you object, let me know, and I'll be happy to take them down.)

Complicated Theorems

2007-12-09T19:15:00.000-06:00

I'm recovering from a nasty cold that started mid-afternoon on Friday, and is just now starting to clear up. With the exception of buying groceries and going to see the fantastic "No Country for Old Men", I haven't really left the house this weekend.

However, I have watched an embarrassing number of episodes of the Gilmore Girls.

I think the cold came from a combination of the crazy weather, not turning my heat on, and blues dancing with JohnnyMac. I've been loaded up on a dose of cold medicine that the Walgreen's pharmacist promised would take the cold out back behind the dumpster and beat the shit out of it. So far, it's working, I think. Two nights ago (and hell, last night) I tried to clear the sinuses the good old fashioned way - with everyone's favorite Big Scottish Bad Idea: Ginger Tams (let it be known that this was only a temporary fix).

Oooh! It's the first appearance of the Town Troubadour on Gilmore Girls. He kind of looks like Matthew.

Speaking of Matthew - he and I developed a complicated theory about the sordid affairs that are probably happening behind the scenes at NPR. I want to go to their Christmas party just to see who hooks up, and if it proves us right. For example, Bob Garfield totally has it bad for Brooke Gladstone. Just listen to On the Media. When she is there, and he's responding to her reporting, he sounds like he's been staring at her, dreaming of touching her hair. When he says that she edited the show for the week, he sounds so reverent. And, when she's out of town, the tiniest note of sadness can be heard in Bob's "...Brooke is on vacation."

Also, I think Terri Gross is engaging in a long-term flirtation with Ira Glass, but she won't come clean about it, and he'll never notice, because he's Ira Glass.

Clearly, I have too much time on my hands. Time to do the dishes, pop some more cold and sinus meds, and work on the liner notes booklets that I'm making.

secret public radio lovers,
Kerry

This Begins The Next 30 Years

2007-12-05T19:41:00.000-06:00

I just made my first student loan payment...and there go my savings. And all future income. And my record habit.

Since I graduated in May, I'd been feeling pretty good about things. I have a great apartment, a job, a fantastic boyfriend, and a trivia team I can count on. This is the first Big Adult Freak Out.

It's a little embarrassing. When I logged in to the student loan website to make my first payment, I made the mistake of looking at the total amount, which is just over 50 grand. I burst into tears.

Hell, I didn't know what else to do. That's a crushing amount of debt for someone with my salary. Suddenly, it hit me that I've had no formal training at this, and I feel like I'm making a terrible mess of it. I'm worried that people can tell that I'm faking it, and any day, I'm going to be exposed. Really, I hope I can just hold things together. Most days, I'm fine, and I can handle it, and I'm proud of how far I've come. Other days, how far I have to go is so strikingly apparent.

fakes it till she makes it,
Kerry

P.S.I've heard rumors that there have been several attempted throwings away of the Ball Bearings Official Office Christmas Decoration. This decoration happens to be a plaster statue of Santa kneeling at the manger. Um, can you ethically throw away Jesus?

We Just Have A Couple Questions

2007-12-04T18:33:00.001-06:00

Apparently, there is a better way.

My mom called today to tell me about this magical loophole in the jury selection system that allowed me to select my week of service today instead of reporting to the convention center on the 12th with thousands of my closest registered voter friends.

Visiting the jury commission office was incredibly painless. They asked all the usual questions (are you a felon? have you been arrested in Shelby Co. in the last year? do you have court cases pending?), handed me a sheet of paper, and sent me on my way.

The sheet of paper specified the jury duty dress code. Here's what you're not allowed to wear: shorts, skorts (who wears those anymore), capris, tank dresses, sleeveless tops, t-shirts and sweatshirts with vulgar logos. And, jeans and pants must go below the ankles (being 5'2, I don't think this will be an issue for me).

And, apparently, I can't bring crochet needles. I'm assuming knitting needles are alright.

The jury commission has also been so helpful as to list the locations of "discount" parking. That's very sweet of them.

disappointed that she can't wear her vulgar t-shirt,
Kerry

A Letter from the Sheriff

2007-12-02T12:22:00.000-06:00

A few days ago, my mom called to tell me that I had received some mail that I wasn't going to be really happy about. Naturally, I assumed it had something to do with my student loans. It didn't.

The offending piece of mail was a slip of paper from the Shelby County sheriff, requesting the honor of my presence at the convention center for jury selection. I have to go on the 12th, and I've been told that from there, I'll look at a calendar and pick the week that I actually want to serve.

I've never had jury duty before, and - call me a freak- I'm actually kind of excited about it. Then again, I'm the sort of girl who has the constitution (in it's entirety) in her iPod. Part of me is kind of hoping I get called. If I do, I hope it's for something minor - I don't think I'd do well with being sequestered.

Anyway - I think the jury room has wi-fi. If it does, I'll be live blogging the experience. Live blogging is kind of a lame concept. It's really meant for more exciting situations than jury duty, but I think it'll be alright. I'm working on setting up some "No Formal Training" style projects right now, but I don't want to share them just yet.

I'd better get off here and get to the Sunday Ritual. My mom got me a subscription to the New York Times for my birthday, and I'm way too excited about the fact that it comes to my house now. I may never go to the coffee shop again.

ritualized,
Kerry

Now With 30% More Sequins

2007-11-28T21:48:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, I mentioned a showdown at a McDonald's involving some local drag queens facing off against store management.

The Memphis Flyer has a snappy little write up here.

Part of me is surprised, and part of me isn't. This is Memphis after all, and these things sometimes happen. I just wonder if it was any of the same lovely ladies who frequent the gay bar behind my apartment.

also takes off her shoes before she fights,
Kerry

Incredible Things Are Happening In This World

2007-11-27T18:23:00.000-06:00

For the last year, on just about every Tuesday night I've spent in Memphis, I've come up to the P&H to play trivia.

P&H Trivia is pretty much the gold standard of Memphis pub quizzes. It happens in a barely-lit hole-in-the wall bar. For three dollars, teams of 2-6 people answer five rounds of 12 questions (which are read by real live people). There's a usual host team, but guest host teams are frequent.

Anyway - I used to play on a team with Colin and some of the friends I had made through him. Now I play with Benferno, and whoever else we can convince to join us. We rarely have the same people twice. We always have a good team name, though - once, we were "Frampton Comes Inside You". This week, we're "Ural: A bunch of Mongoloids."

Tonight, when I walked in at 6 p.m. to hold our table for the game that starts at eight, I was surprised to see Colin sitting at the host table. This is not a bad thing - the better one knows the host team, the more likely they are to be able to answer the questions (as they're made up by the host team and largely based on personal preference). It was just strange - that used to be my team. I was one of them.

Sometimes (tonight being one of those times), seeing all of the people that I used to play with brings back a lot of memories - good ones. But I've been thinking a lot about everything that's happened since I moved back to Memphis (the Big Memphis Freak Out, the job, the breakup, the new friends, the shows, the Matthew), and for the first time in a long time, I can honestly say that I'm happy.

Unlike New Coke, New Kerry is everything that was cool about the old one, but not, you know, too improved. It's just enough so that I notice, really. Things have settled, and it feels great.

Enough of the sappy. I've just been informed that there was some sort of Drag Queen Attack incident that's made CNN that I need to be informed about. And apparently, said Drag Queen Attack happened in Memphis. I must know more. Expect a full report later.

explodes into a cloud of sequins,
Kerry

Pretty Is As Pretty Does

2007-11-25T20:54:00.000-06:00

So, things are looking a little different (and dare I say, cleaner) around here. As much as I liked the cheerful green, I felt like it was a little overwhelming. If I'm going to start updating as much as I intend to, I want Formally Trained to look just right. And with the addition of my sexy new masthead (brought to you by my wonderful Matthew), things are looking very crisp and pretty around here.

Also tonight, I had a brave experiment in recipe-free cooking. Normally, I'm a little scared of meals of my own invention. Keep in mind, I am a woman who believes that most kitchen problems can be solved by putting the offending item into the toaster oven and turning the dial to "dark". I once tried this with an undercooked cupcake, with predictably bad results. Anyway, this meal was entirely better than I hoped it would be, so I have to brag on it.

Behold my dinner!

Make The Dinner:

Sunday Soup

(If you live alone, congrats - you've now got lunch for the next few days!)

Chop up a white onion. Throw it in a skillet with some spicy Italian ground sausage. When it's good and brown, add it to a can of chicken broth in a good sized soup pot. Drain a can of diced tomatoes, add those. Chop up a bell pepper and a handful of snap beans. Season with whatever's handy. I used a healthy dose of chili powder, some cumin and a little Trader Joe's 21 Seasoning. Heat the stuff on medium for 30 minutes or so. Then, open up a can of beans of your choice, drain and rinse them, and add them to the pot. Cook 15 more minutes, turn the heat off, add grated cheddar and a plop of sour cream and eat up!

bow to my domestic abilities,
Kerry

Just Wait Until He Finds Out About Her Thing For Leather

2007-11-24T18:29:00.001-06:00

Overheard at Starbucks:

Dude: "She really likes sourdough bread. I really like sourdough bread. I think we're perfect for each other!"

eavesdropping,
Kerry

We Do What We Like and We Like What We Do

2007-11-24T18:04:00.001-06:00

Or, an admission of some recent guilty pleasures:

1. Andrew W.K.

Maybe it was the recent Bust article, or perhaps, I'm just in a mood to party really hard, but against all logic, I've been pulling Mr. W.K.'s songs from the Hype Machine with a zeal usually reserved for semi-pretentious indie rock bands.

The guilt doesn't come from the fact that it's not "intelligent" music. What it lacks in complexity, it makes up for in pure infectiousness. It's just that he seems to have kind of a one-track mind (songs on his first record include tracks like "Party Hard", "Party Til You Puke", and "Party Party Party"). And sure, all of the songs kind of sound alike, but at least he's consistent, and you get the sense that he really believes every word he sings (even if there are only three of them).

2. Gossip Girl

I think I'm going to blame this one all on Ira Glass. On this year's This American Life tour, Ira opened the show by talking about his affinity for The O.C., admitting that he was a "grown-ass man" who loved a Fox show about teenagers (he also inadvertently admitted to liking the Gilmore Girls).

Anyway, Gossip Girl is made by the same nice people who brought you The O.C. Only, it's set on Manhattan's Upper East Side. All of the characters are rich, and gorgeous and able to get served in bars despite the fact that they're in high school. They're also entirely too scandalous for anyone's good (including mine), but I just can't stop watching the free episodes that are on The CW's website.

Seriously - I dare you to watch the pilot episode and not want to watch the next one. And the one after that. And the one after that. If Ira Glass can be ok with his O.C. love, I can be ok with Gossip Girl. Plus, it uses Peter, Bjorn and John's "Young Folks" as it's theme song. I double dog dare you not to sing along.

doesn't care about the young folks,
Kerry

Do Not Try To Defeat This Feature

2007-11-22T19:28:00.001-06:00

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! Is everyone else in a turkey-induced coma right now? Rather than going dancing tonight, I'm sitting at home in my pyjamas with the space heater cranked to 11, listening to Belle and Sebastian. My belly is poking out. I may never eat again.

Normally, my holidays are a marathon event. I'm sure this is true for a lot of children whose divorced parents live in the same town. My younger brother and I usually kick off the day with my mom at a big potluck for wayward souls. There's a ton of food, styrofoam cups with our names written on them in sharpie, and football on the big screen. Only, Kevin and I never get to stay for the football. We drive to Midtown for round two, with our dad and stepmom. Last year, following the second meal, we took food to Granddad, which meant we ate again. The next morning, I went to Colin's family's day after brunch and ate again. For those of you playing along at home, that's four Thanksgivings in 24 hours.

This year, we veered from the usual format a bit.

Before I talk about that, though, I have to point out that Thanksgiving was a little weird for me this year, in that it didn't feel like a holiday at all. When I was in school, we had three days off. In college, every holiday was neatly punctuated by the nine-hour drive to or from Muncie. Yesterday, I worked a full day. Tomorrow, I will work. This adult thing kinda sucks sometimes, eh?

This morning, I met my family at the Wayward Souls Potluck, where Kevin and I sat at the kids' table. Again. (I swear - I will be married, and have my own children, and will still be sitting at the kids' table.)

Following that, I drove downtown to my friend Martin's apartment. Martin is from Indiana, and rather than going home, he had a handful of people over for food, football, booze and dancing. A few people were going to go to Beale Street for blues dancing, but I just couldn't do it. I know I'm missing the gym or whatever today, but dancing on all of that food just didn't seem like a good idea.

Because this is a holiday about being thankful, here's a short (probably kind of random) list of things I'm really glad to have in my life:

- A strangely-knit (but really fun) family made up of my actual parents, a few fake parents, my kick-ass brother, and assorted others. They let me do my laundry in their houses, have taken care of me for years, and give me the giggles at inappropriate times. I love them all.

- The greatest group of friends a girl could have, The Black Glasses Brigade. Even though you're all up there, and I'm all down here, you're still some of the most fantastic people I know. Thanks for being around, and being my best friends.

- The car I saw the other day advertising a local burger place. There were all of the usual car ad decals (albeit small ones). On the roof, however, was some of the most magnificent DIY work I've ever seen: a red rubbermade stuffed with yellow swimming pool noodles (aka french fries), bungy corded to the car. It was amazing, and I'm so glad that there are creative people in the world.

- My cozy little apartment. Sure, on the weekends, it sounds like a techno dance party (thanks, neighboring gay bar!), and it's a bit drafty, but it's mine, and I'm happy here.

- The New York Times. NPR. This American Life. Ira Glass. Reuters. The Associated Press. The BBC. News in general. I love news. I eat it for breakfast.

- Records, and the sound that needles make when they touch down on the vinyl. And my iPod. Pop music in general, really.

- My really, really kick-ass best-friend-turned-boyfriend, Matt. He's cute, and smart, and hasn't let the fact that he thinks I'm cute distract him from talking at length about records with me. And he calls me "dude." I'm thankful that we finally, finally figured out that we should date.

- Good books and bad TV.

- You. Thanks for reading, for commenting, for being you. Whether you've been around since the big idea that lead to No Formal Training (and Trent's drinking problem), or you're just joining the party, thanks for reading. If you weren't around, I'd just be journaling. It would kind of be like being a crazy cat lady. And really, where's the fun in that?

ready for anything,
Kerry

FYI

2007-11-20T14:16:00.000-06:00

I'm on technorati now. Awww yeah.

Technorati Profile

Joining the rest of the internets,
Kerry

I'm Glad Someone Is Concerned About Our Sedintary Lives

2007-11-20T11:58:00.000-06:00

Having finished a frozen "healthy" meal from Target that was better than it should have been, I went to the work vending machine for some lunch supplements. I put in some change, and got a pack of peanut butter M&Ms. I still had some money left, so I scanned my other options.

I'm not sure when this happened, but someone replaced all of the typical vending machine goodness with lots of 100 Calorie Packs and light popcorn and other healthyish snacks. Even the brownies are whole wheat!

I know Memphis has a weight problem or whatever, but geez, do you think the runners that stock the vending machine are trying to tell us something?

munching on some 100 calorie goodness,
Kerry

The State of my Heart, He Was My Best Friend

2007-11-15T19:46:00.000-06:00

I went to the grocery store last night, and bought a ton of tasty food that I can translate into real meals. Why is it, then, that tonight's dinner consists of chicken egg rolls and little pear and brie pastry puffs? Don't get me wrong - it's delicious, but there just seems to be something a little weird about it.

Anyway. You know what there's nothing weird about? Birthday proms.

Last Saturday was my 23rd birthday, which was celebrated by throwing a ridiculously themed semi-dance party in a church. With lots and lots of booze.

Unfortunately, I don't have all of the photos yet. Rest assured, though, that a good time was had by all. There were indeed cupcakes, and a giant stuffed fish suspended from the ceiling in net lights. My mom made two lobster hats (which, admittedly, looked more like crabs, and led to a lot of terrible jokes about having crabs).

To make the weekend even better, my best friend Matt came to Memphis. Only, he's not just my best friend anymore. He's my boyfriend, too.

He got to Memphis on Friday night, and we spent the evening destroying my kitchen. We made several dozen cupcakes (including some red velvet, which has to be the messiest kind of cupcake ever - there are still little red batter stains everywhere). We also watched Spinal Tap (as a result, I've had a delightful combination of "Big Bottom" and "Sex Farm" stuck in my head for the last week).

At one point, Matt was sitting in one of the pale green wooden chairs that (like everything else in the house) was inherited from my grandma. He grabbed me and pulled me towards him. And then the chair gave. We crashed backwards, and one of the chair legs flew awkwardly into the air.

So there we were, three hours into our relationship, tangled on my batter-stained kitchen floor, unable to get up because somehow, arms and legs were slipped awkwardly through the chair back. And we laughed. We laughed until we were red, until our faces hurt.

I'm still trying, but I can't think of a more perfect, and fitting, way to begin a relationship with one of the most awesome people I've ever met.

Unfortunately, I'm not sure if the chair feels the same way.

Team Clumsy,
Kerry

The One Where the Two Meet

2007-11-12T19:19:00.000-06:00

Last Monday afternoon, my grandfather passed away after not doing very well for quite a long time. He was 85, and it wasn't by any means sudden, but it was still pretty sad, as he and I were close.

The funeral was Thursday, and it was a pretty interesting experience. I hadn't seen much of that side of the family in a really long time. It was also the first time I got to meet the elusive Other Brother Jimmy, my dad's half brother.

The fact that I have a half-uncle that I've never met wouldn't be so weird if he didn't have the same name as my dad's older brother (my real uncle). I'm not sure what Granddad was thinking when he named his first two sons both James - it's a little weird. What was even weirder was the fact that my real uncle (for all intents and purposes referred to here as "James") had no idea that he even had a half brother, much less one with the same name. Throughout the funeral, strangers kept coming up to James and saying things like "Jimmy! It's so good to see you!" and then making very Jimmy-specific comments while James stood there, looking confused.

The funeral itself was moving, and complete and everything that I think Granddad would have wanted. That is, except for the open mic. Crawfords, as a rule, tend to be silent at times when big emoting is expected. We prefer stoicism and sarcasm in a lot of instances, and it works for us. Apparently, Other Brother Jimmy missed out on this part of his genetics, because he stealthily went to the funeral director before the funeral and insisted that there be a portion of the program where family could get up and express their feelings about my granddad. He also had his wife type up a speech.

As soon as we saw this in the program, my brother immediately freaked out and started asking my dad and my uncle if we have to talk. They assured us that they had nothing to do with the open mic, we were relieved, and all was well. That is, until we realized that Other Brother Jimmy looks just. like. Dwight Schrute from The Office.

My brother and I have a long history of getting the giggles at really inappropriate times (like in church, on Christmas eve, and at funerals). When Other Brother Jimmy got up to give his talk about Granddad, it sounded just like something Dwight would write about Michael Scott if he ever thought that Michael had passed away. And though we managed to hold it mostly together, there were some stifled giggles.

And though it still seems strange that I'll never see Granddad again, I'm alright. Thank you to everyone who expressed sympathy. It totally helped, and I appreciate you all.

I have other Big Things to talk about (like my Prom party, and the goings on of my birthday weekend), but I've got to get to U of M for dance. You'll just have to wait.

Definitely not naming her kid James,
Kerry

Remember, Remember the Fifth of November

2007-11-06T07:22:00.000-06:00

James Hester Crawford
1922-2007

(more to come later)

K

A Night to Remember - Under the Sea

2007-11-05T12:25:00.000-06:00

Will you be my date to the prom?

Halloween Via Office Depot

2007-11-01T20:06:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my work Halloween party. There's always a costume contest with cash prizes. My costume was pretty simple - it only took about 20 minutes and a single trip to Office Depot to complete. And I totally came in second, for dressing up as a project folder.

We have thousands of these in the office, one for each project that is created. Sometimes, more than one per project. Here's a picture of me taunting our traffic dude (he takes care of making sure the folders get to the right people), and his retaliation:

Slightly richer,
Kerry

And She's Only Had Her License for 34 Years

2007-10-31T19:30:00.000-05:00

Tonight is my weekly date with my mom and her washing machine. We decide to call in dinner from a local Mexican place, and I stay at home to hand out Halloween candy while she goes to get the food.

I'm sitting in the kitchen, and I hear her car start, and the garage open. A few seconds later, I hear a really loud noise. A loud, something-has-gone-very-wrong noise. I wait a few more seconds and go outside.

Mom's small, brand new blue SUV is stopped in the driveway, about a foot from my car. She's standing between her car and the Fightin' Focus, looking at both of them. And then I realize what's just happened: my mom backed into my parked car. In the driveway. The car which I had intentionally parked at a weird location so that she wouldn't hit it.

The bumper of her car is all messed up. The front end of the Fightin' Focus is a little jacked up, but it still runs fine. Mom is laughing, but I can tell she's upset with herself. And I understand that - once, when I was 18, I sideswiped my brother's parked car, also in the driveway.

But the difference in those two incidents? I was 16. Mom's 50.

I think it may be time to start thinking about taking her driving privileges away.

You got your SUV in my hatchback!,
Kerry

I Turned My Camera On

2007-10-28T15:21:00.000-05:00

Friday, after work, the Benferno and I went to Nashville to see Spoon. While I can't say much for the opening band (other than that all of the songs had what appeared to be the exact same bass line), Spoon kicked ass.

They played pretty much everything I had wanted to hear (with the exception of "The Way We Get By"). The venue was weirdly laid out, but very spacious. Here are some more pictures, before I start sounding like a dork.

In other news, I'm up at the coffee shop, and the choice of radio station is a little interesting today. It's a soul station, which is great. For every good song they play , there are at least three terrible ones. Like right now, there's a song that reads like a how-to guide for what to do once the girl has a agreed to go home with you. Seriously - "Let's take a shower. Shower together," followed by "Rub some hot oil all over me, baby!"

I really should get out of here. I've got other things that I should be doing, but this song...it's like glue that's welded my jeans to this old dinette chair.

Rub some hot oil on me!,
Kerry

The Girl Who Made the Prank Calls

2007-10-24T19:07:00.000-05:00

Since we graduated, my good friend Kristin has been a "professional intern" at Jarden Home Brands. If you've ever wondered where things like plastic forks, toothpicks, lighters and coctail stirrers come from, it's Jarden. Kristin's desk is right next to the canning hotline, and she often overhears people calling in to ask a posse of older women their toughest canning questions.

But Kristin's got a better job now, and will be leaving Jarden at the end of the week. And there's only one way to make your friend's last week at a kind of crappy job a little more tolerable: prank calls.

Yesterday, I called in on my lunch break and asked how to can a kumquat. It was funny and all, but today...well, today was awesome.

Again, it was my lunch break, and I was the only person in the PR suite. Kristin suggested that I call in and ask about something silly for her amusement. At a loss, I asked my friend Benferno for something to can. He suggested possum, but it was later changed to Sturgeon (as he photoshopped one for me the other day for my bithday party fliers).

I thought up a clever backstory and called in. I said that I had been recently gifted a sturgeon by a very caring young man. It was no ordinary sturgeon, though - it was an engagement sturgeon, complete with a diamond ring in its fishy mouth. I wanted to preserve it forever - just like my love for my (non-existant) fiancee.

Some of the dialog, with Marge, the Call Center Lady.

Me: I want to preserve it forever, just like our love.
Marge: You shouldn't keep it for more than a year.
Me: Well...I mean, can I still eat it after that?

Marge: Is a sturgeon like a tuna or a stard (or something that sounded like that)
Me: It's kind of a shark-like tuna.
Marge: Let me look one up on the internet.

Meanwhile, Kristin was sending me things to ask. I was also telling Benferno what was going on - he absolutely could not believe that I had this lady on Google Image Search.

The best part of the call came when Kristin suggested that I ask how much pectin to use. Apparently, pectin is what you use when you want to make jelly. So this happens:
Me: So, how much pectin should I be using?
Marge: Honey, you're not trying to make fish jelly are you?
Me: Can you? I want to make something for my fiancee to show him that I really care. I was hoping that we could eat it at our wedding.
Marge: Well, if you do that, he may run for the woods.

Among other things, I asked if I should can the sturgeon whole, and how exactly should I go about canning something so large. Marge finally put me on hold to look up some answers, and I hung up. I couldn't keep it up - the traffic manager had walked in, and he knew exactly what I was doing. My eyes were welling up with tears from trying not to laugh at the call, at the comments from Benferno, and at Kristin im-ing back commentary from Jarden.

Apparently after I got off the phone, Marge turned around to everyone in the room and told them about my call. She then declared me "Call of the year," and told everyone that she talked to for the rest of the day about it.

Later in the day, Kristin's g-chat status message was "I don't think you're ready for fish jelly."

I don't think anyone is.

caller of the year,
Kerry

Delicious

2007-10-24T12:15:00.000-05:00

The apple I'm eating right now (a honeycrisp from Wild Oats) is quite possibly the best apple I've ever eaten. It tastes like fall.

I just had to share.

When Things Go Wrong, Try Explosives

2007-10-17T20:24:00.000-05:00

Girl, it's Wednesday, and you know what that means...

I'm at my mom's, doing my laundry. It also means that I'm watching Mythbusters (having missed America's Next Top Model). They're doing myths related to snow - sticking re-animated pig tongues to poles, trying to cause avalanches, that sort of thing. Anyway, they're having a hard time getting the avalanche to go - they've tried yodeling, firing machine guns at the snow, and cracking a bullwhip. It's commercial break, and the preview for the latter half of the episode has footage of snow, um, being blown up. Watching that, I can't help but think that those people have the best jobs in the world. They get to wake up every morning and make things, and when those things go wrong, they get to blow them up...for science!

And omg, they're trying to teach Carrie how to drive in the snow. It's totally making me think of my first times driving in the snow in Muncie. They're having to dislodge cones from the car's undercarriage.

Speaking of snow, I bought a winter coat suitable for Memphis tonight. It's nice - and thin.

In other news, I've been writing poetry again. A few days ago, I was talking with a friend about how I was a total slacker with regards to my poetry. He said the same thing about this songwriting. So, we placed a ridiculous, stake-less bet on our abilities. One song/poem, completed in the time between 7 p.m. and midnight, to be emailed / read upon completion. The first night, he won, finishing a dark and lovely piano song with lyrics by 9:30. I countered an hour later with a poem called "I thought I liked you, turns out I was just lonely."

Last night, we decided to go for round two of the Creative Gauntlet. By 8:30, I had cranked out two poems: one a cautionary tale about a boy, a girl, and a half-gallon of milk, and the other about Neil Diamond (because Diamonds are indeed, forever). he emailed me a song with hand claps that sounded a little like Bright Eyes' "I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning".

As strange as the arrangement is, I'm enjoying being forced to be creative. I think it works for me because at my job, and in college, I got used to functioning on tight deadlines. It works well for me. Eventually, I'm hoping to somehow compile all of the songs and poems written for the Creative Gauntlet, and maybe post them here. I'm not sure yet - what I do know is that deadlines or not, it feels good.

watch your speed in reverse,
Kerry

Shoes: 1, Kerry: Nil

2007-10-17T08:39:00.000-05:00

On Monday, I wore my shiny new pair of black heels to work. They're slightly taller than my other work shoes, and have a much thinner heel. So, I'm sitting in my desk chair, my right leg tucked under me, trying to get some estimates finished (for the fourth time - I'm still not sure why I get to do math). I finished the estimate, hit print, and then got up to go to the printer. Only, the heel of my right shoe had lodged itself comforably around the arm of my chair, and instead of getting up and walking out of the room like a normal person, I faceplanted. And since I have huge windows that look into the art department, and they were all gathered around one computer, my accident had an audience.

And it was awesome.

Only now, I have raging carpet burn, on my knees. Thanks, shoes!

gracefully,
Kerry

Letter to Memphis

2007-10-14T22:27:00.000-05:00

South Main, Sunday, Oct. 14, 2007:

Just photos today - there will be more real writing soon. Sadly, I haven't really got anything to say about this weekend, other than that Friday night, I went to bed at 9:30. Granted, maybe I shouldn't announce that new height in lameness. More soon. Promise. For reals.

let us be free,
Kerry

Double Whammy Cardigan Love

2007-10-08T22:27:00.000-05:00

So, if you've been around me lately, you know I'm more or less obsessed with Okkervil River's "The Stage Names", particularly the song "John Allyn Smith Sails". It's another fantastic song about John Berryman offing himself, only with a generous portion of the folk song "Sloop John B."

For those unfamiliar, "Sloop John B." is a classic tale of familial turmoil set on the high seas. Everything was going delightfully for the narrator, who was sailing to Nassau with his grandpa. Everything was lovely, that is, until they got drunk, and the narrator engaged in some fisticuffs with Grandpa. Then the captain of the ship steals the narrator's grits, and the trip immediately becomes the worst trip that the narrator has ever been on.

This leads me to believe that there is possibly an entire sub-genre of music about family vacations gone terribly awry.

Really, I wish I had discovered these songs sooner - I could have used them as a kid on some of the family vacations I went on.

****

Enough record geeking.

-In other news, I made my first post-Nasty Couch Incident trip to Graceland, Too this past weekend with a friend who had never gone before. I told him very little, and he thoroughly enjoyed himself despite the 20 or so loud, drunk Ole Miss douches that showed up in the middle of the tour.

- Tomorrow night, the greatest trivia team ever, "Frampton Comes Inside You" will rise again. And hopefully, this time there won't be around on airport codes. We must have been the only person in the room without a FedEx pilot or scheduler or something. However, the 80's One-Hit-Wonder round was incredible. Here's to more of the latter and less of the former.

It's late, and I think I'm going to be a good girl and try to go to bed before midnight. I think I'm finally starting to feel like staying in my house again, and reading books or watching movies, or knitting. I don't think I'll revert back to the homebody I was four months ago, but I think I've struck a nice, happy balance. Here's to that.

raises a glass to grandpa,
Kerry

PS - Happy belated birthday to my brother, Kevin. He's 21 now! Woot!

Friendly Reminders

2007-10-04T08:48:00.000-05:00

If you live in Memphis, and you haven't already, go vote in the city elections.

That's all.

doing her civic duty,
Kerry

The Porches Were the Rooves of Other Buildings

2007-10-03T22:03:00.000-05:00

On Saturday, after a long walk in Overton Park and some delicious homemade food, my friend Taco and I decided that we wanted to get dressed up and see Superbad. We split up for an hour, and I put on a bright red tea-length dress and cowboy boots. When we met up at the Deli an hour later, he had on a suit and purple shirt and a purple bow tie.

Following the movie, we both kind of wanted dessert. The Cheesecake Corner was closed, so we had to settle for the bakery aisle of the midtown Schnucks. The midtown Schnucks is a special place (aside from the fact that "Schnucks" is a terrible name for a business). It's situated on one of the busiest streets in Memphis, with no clear way into and out of it's nightmare labrynth parking lot. The store itself is tiny, dimly lit and cramped. Ceiling support columns are situated in the middle of the soup aisle. There's no way that this store can really handle the volume of people that shop there, and only minimal renovations have been made since...well, ever. I guess they can get away with this because midtown has such limited grocery options. Sure, there's the Piggly Wiggly, and the Kroger (more commonly referred to as the Kroghetto), but if you want to grocery shop without being panhandled or scared of some of the food offerings, the Schnucks is where it's at.

Anyway - so we're there after midnight, which is generally the best time to be at the most poorly designed grocery store ever, trying to find something adequate for dessert. And of course we can't agree on what we want. I'm attracted to the cake slices while Taco is craving cream puffs. He was also particularly attracted to these:

He decided that he wanted to steal the overly descriptive label. So he set about gently peeling it from the plastic, while I paced around, trying to look busy in a very "nope, nothing to see here" kind of way. The whole time, I was telling Taco that he was going to get busted, not that you really can get busted for trying to de-label some cream horns. I'm the kind of person who's never been in any sort of real trouble, though, so I tend to be a little too cautious sometimes.

Eventually, we had to rock-paper-scissors for it, and he won. Cream puffs, cannolis and Colt 45 in hand, we went back to the church. Taco decided that desserts like ours were best enjoyed at great heights, so we climbed out a window and up a round runged ladder onto the roof.

It was quite enjoyable - a little chilly, but with the fun 80's dance music from the bar across the street and the sounds of airplanes. I'd totally do it again.

In other news, I played P&H trivia last night for the first time since the break up. My team, Frampton Comes Inside You, didn't do very well, but we did have a great time. And a very dirty team name. It was nice to see my friends, too. I hate that sometimes, I get too caught up in my own mess to remember to take the time to see the people I care about.

Anyway, it's about time for me to go to bed. In the meantime, check this out. It'll change your life.

every now and then, I fall apart,
Kerry

Thinking the Big Thoughts

2007-09-28T08:45:00.000-05:00

I think I'm going to run for city council next term. Really.

Happy Friday!
K

In The Way I Had Planned

2007-09-27T18:27:00.001-05:00

A few quick notes while I wait on my mom to meet me at the deli:

Right this second:

*** I'm convinced that HD is something that only men can see, like those high pitched sounds that only dogs can hear. Honestly, I can't tell the difference between HD and regular TV.

*** Last entry, I mentioned that fall makes me want new records. I bought the new Okkervil River, and holy crap. It's too early to call, but it's totally Top 5 of 2007 material. And I'm not sure what the trend is, but there seem to be an awful lot (ok, three) of really great songs by awesome bands about John Berryman's suicide. I've also been listening to a lot of the World/Inferno Friendship Society. I'll admit it - I'm a little embarrassed, because...well, I don't know, really. Maybe because it sounds exactly like something Trent would love. Anyway, the live record has been the soundtrack to my workweek, and it makes me want to dance.

*** I can't seem to make it through a book. I was on a roll with "Water for Elephants", but I set it down for a few days, and I'm worried I'm never going to get started again. About the only thing I've had the attention span for recently is the Sunday NYT, which I read in one voracious sitting. I haven't even managed to read the new GQ, which has been in my bag for days.

*** Sunday night, I watched a few hours of the new Ken Burns WWII documentary. I've heard people say that it's not nearly as good as the others, and I'm not sure if I agree or not. It lacks a lot of the trademarked Ken Burns Slow Pan Over A Still Photo. That seems to have been replaced by lots of grainy video. I'm already working out the rules to the drinking game, though, and they involve crying old people and explosions. No word on when the DVD release is.

*** Dude, my mom is late.

*** A revolution was born in my apartment the other night. My friend Taco came over with PBR, Scrabble, and the best of intentions. Somehow, after drinking all of the PBR and neglecting the Scrabble, we had pieced together the beginnings of a revolution. There will be more about this later, but here's the readers' digest version: Shows in Memphis start too late on weeknights. On weekends, I don't mind staying out most of the night to hear a really great band. But during the week? Dude, I have a day job. And we're not suggesting that shows start at 6:30 or anything ridiculous like that. Maybe 8. That way, people with kids and jobs and responsibilities don't have to sacrifice the music that they love. It's the 8 p!m! revolution. And...there are T-shirts. You'll see them soon.

Early to bed, early to RISE!!!!

- Kerry

Latey McLatersons, aka my mom:

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

2007-09-23T14:40:00.000-05:00

Next weekend marks the annual GonerFest - a week-long rock'n'roll party put on by a local record store / label that features the best of local music, as well as some fantastic touring bands. My platonic soul mate Matt was supposed to come down next weekend so that we could go see Mr. Quintron and Miss Pussycat.

Friday morning, I had just gotten to work when I got an email from Matt asking for my address so that he could print directions to Memphis. I sent it, and got a reply that said "Great! I'm leaving now, see you in a few hours!"

This weekend wasn't Goner Fest. It wasn't anything special at all. I had no plans, so I didn't really mind.

When he got into town, we met some friends at the P&H for karaoke night. Normally, I try to avoid any singing in public, but something about Friday night took away most of the normal inhibition. It could have been the alcohol, it could have been that I was in a really good mood - I don't know. But what I lacked in talent, I made up for in enthusiasm.

During karaoke, I saw a flyer that said that Muncie favorites Everything, Now! would be playing at the P&H the next night. So Matt and I, bottle of champagne in hand, went to see them.

I've always had a weird fear of opening champagne corks. Maybe it was because once, I watched as one flew across the room and slammed into a picture frame, shattering it. Maybe I'm scared it'll shoot my eye out. So, I had Matt open the bottle, and somehow, half of the contents wound up all over his pants. The remaining was delicious, though, and we had a good time watching e,N!

The whole week was pretty uneventful - there was blues dancing, and Talk Like A Pirate Day. I celebrated the latter by going to the Buccaneer to hear a band called the Pirates. Before that, I went to the Deli. At the Deli, there was a boy who looked suspiciously like Craig Finn, who is almost the ultimate in dreamy. So, I passed him a note written on a napkin that read: "You look like Craig Finn. I think that's dreamy. We should hang out. Phone Number:" He never called. I mean, what sort of crazy person has the balls to hand a boy a note, but not really say hello. I suppose that person would be me, and maybe next time, I should say hello. Ah well - win some, lose some.

Today though, I'm exhausted. I wish I had more to say for myself, but there's not a whole lot going on. I'm sitting on my bed, watching Mad Hot Ballroom (thanks, Netflix!) and listening to a car horn that's gotten stuck in the on position. (oh wow - as I typed that, it magically stopped!) I'm also trying to find somewhere to watch the first part of the new Ken Burns WWII documentary. If you've got PBS, I've got homemade chili.

name and number,
Kerry

Sometimes, an On/Off Switch Would Sure Come In Handy

2007-09-18T20:36:00.000-05:00

Weirdly enough, it's still sort of feeling like fall in Memphis. Fall is always a problem for me. I love it - love watching the leaves change, love feeling the need to wear a hoodie, love sleeping with the windows open (except on Saturday nights, when my little apartment is filled with the sounds of airplanes, dairy, and the aural thrills that the local gay bar provides). Fall is also problematic because it makes me want two things (ok, three): to buy new records, to fall in love, and to drink whiskey ciders. Unfortunately, I'm broke and falling in love is the last thing I need right now. The whiskey ciders are fine, though.

Saturday, I went to the annual Cooper-Young Festival. It's not so much a festival as a big drunken street party with vendors, though. I arrived around noon, was handed a can of High Life, and started walking around, shopping for vintage clothing with Karen. It's impossible to park at this thing, so I had biked to a friend's house and then walked from there. CY Fest is such an insane thing - there are bands, and corndogs, and people you haven't seen in years. After, there are usually parties of some kind.

After all of that excitement, I felt the need to stay in bed for a good portion of Sunday, and then spend the rest of it reading the NYT and being a record dork.

In other news, nothing has really been happening. I go to work daily, go dancing twice a week, and fight the urge to be horribly boring in the meantime. I think that's what being an adult is like, unfortunately.

So, I'm looking for suggestions. What do you want me to do and subsequently, write about? What do you think I should try? Let me know - no suggestion is too ridiculous.

making a mess,
Kerry

Ps - Partner Dancing is the new black (photos from Red Hot Lindy Hop:

So Many Bad Ideas, So Much Fun

2007-09-13T17:55:00.000-05:00

I'm going to be honest here and say that no matter how delighted I am by the cool weather, I'm a little freaked out. I live in Memphis. It's mid-September. We should still be standing in front of our window units, naked, beers in hand. Instead, I'm sitting at my kitchen, wearing a hoodie and making tea.

This week has been a little busier than most, which is really no excuse for not having blogged about the Millington Goat Festival and Anvil Shoot yet.

To preface, anvil shooting is apparently a pretty big deal. There are teams of people that compete in shooting anvils (which must be solid steel and weigh 100 pounds). As you can imagine, there is great danger in doing this. Here's why:

The anvil is placed on one of these, which is packed with black powder:

A fuse is then lit, and the lighter of the fuse runs away as quickly as possible. Ideally, a few moments later, the anvil is launched skyward. And as is the nature of gravity, while the anvil goes up quite slowly, it falls much faster. And sometimes, this happens:

Anyway.

We got to Goat Fest just in time for the start of the anvil shoot, having driven aimlessly around Millington for about an hour trying to find the festival site. We weren't sure where exactly the anvil shoot was going to take place - one would think that something like that would scare the goats. (Just imagine the horror of a wayward goat wandering into the blast range.) As soon as the first anvil was shot, it wasn't hard to find the blast range.

As soon as we got there, however, there were some problems. We watched a dude light the fuse and run, which was according to plan. But when after about 10 minutes, no anvils were airborne, the contest organizers realised that there might be a problem. First, they had to wait for the fuse to quit smoking. After about 10 more minutes, they sent someone over to the anvil to investigate.

The process for disassembling a misfired anvil is apparently a lengthy one. From what I could understand of the crazily moustachioed emcee, it involves two people pulling the anvil from the base with ropes, then waiting for the fuse to sort of die on its own. Thankfully, this situation didn't require that kind of precision and care. Within 15 minutes, the anvil was fired, and it was pretty spectacular.

Originally, I had worried than anvil shooters were going for distance, not height. I'm still not entirely sure what the point is, you know? Like, are the anvils supposed to land somewhere specific? Is success measured by how deeply the anvil sinks into the ground upon landing?

I'd love to actually try it sometime. I'm not sure how anvil shooting is a team sport, but it would be awesome to find a team that would let me play along sometime.

The rest of the goat fest was a little bizarre. There were Civil War Reenactors, coverd wagons, and teepees. I'm sorry, but you can't have all three. The covered wagon can go with either, but teepees and reenactors shouldn't mix. Because this was a goat festival, enjoy some gratuitous pictures of goats. I'm going to eat some food.

Baaaaa!
- Kerry

By Far the Funniest Thing to Happen to Me Today

2007-09-07T18:49:00.000-05:00

I have a sheet of paper taped to my cubicle that says "Shake the Haters Off". Today, my co-worker (a charming middle-age woman from the 'burbs) looked up the lyrics to the rap song "Shake the Haters Off." Then, she read them out loud to me.

And it was awesome.

Have a great weekend!
Kerry

They Always Used To Read Us Our Rights

2007-09-04T22:14:00.000-05:00

I'm back in Memphis after my Muncie Marathon Weekend. My apartment (which was sort of clean when I left) is now an explosion of dirty clothes, 45s and music magazines purchased from the News Cafe. And it was worth every mile on I-65, and every shot of espresso I took to stay awake for said drive, and every night spent throwing Kristin's tiny, hyper puppy off of the futon so I could get some sleep.

I left Friday as soon as work was over, and got into Muncie about 3:30 a.m. Kristin had notified the Black Glasses Brigade, and they were all at her house, watching the Muppet Movie and waiting for me. I had figured I would just get there and pass out, but the two espresso shots I had done at the all night Starbucks worked entirely too well, and after much talking, I finally fell asleep sideways on the futon between Matt and Andy.

The next morning, we all went to Eva's Pancake House for breakfast and sat at the same table that we sat at the morning I left Muncie for the last time. Matt and I made the mistake of starting a discussion about records that would last until the five minutes before I left town on Monday morning. If I were a dude, I would be Matt - he loves pop music like I love pop music. He understands the visceral pleasures of the Sunday New York Times. His favorite sound is that of a printing press (mine being the sound after the needle drops onto the record, but before the music starts).

But I digress.

Saturday night, I DJ-ed Village Green Records, which is the awesome record store owned by the lovely Josh Caldwell. He was nice enough to host the return of the dance party, which, despite some overzealous dancing knocking the needle around on the turntable and causing skips, was an awesome time. So many people came out, and it was great to see everyone. It was also great to have an entire room dancing to Fatboy Slim's "Rockefeller Skank" in a non-teen movie context. Saturday also marked the return of "Meat and Potatoes Cabaret Theatre", which is something that originally happened when my former editor and I should have been working, but were listening to Belle and Sebastian's "Meat and Potatoes" instead.

Sunday, after brunching at Puerto, I went to Indy to record shop and have dinner with Crotch Rocket Aaron. I bought Mirah's "C'mon Miracle" and the Silver Jews "Natural Bridge". Then I took some pictures:

When I got back to Muncie, I met the Brigade at the Heorot. They were all inexplicably dressed business causally, with the exception of Kyle, who thought he was wearing his only shirt with no holes (upon further inspection, this proved false). Since I had narrowly missed last call, we all went back to Kristin's to watch Big Lebowski. I use the word "watch" very loosely, because when Matt showed up, he showed up with some Anchor Steam and something called Ginger Tams.

A little back story - when I lived in Muncie, I had a small bottle of Rebel Yell at my house. Rebel Yell is made in Kentucky (which, I remind you, never officially entered into the Civil War), and it's about the nastiest excuse for whiskey ever. It makes Wild Turkey seem like something you'd actually want to drink. Anyway, I used to pass it around when I had people over, or it was a special occasion that required some bonding time (Valentine's Day, parties, etc.).

So Matt proudly produced the bottle of Ginger Tams, which his well-meaning sister had brought back from a trip to Scotland. The bottle described it as "Extra Strength Liquor", and damn, were they right. I could tell from the smell alone that it was going to be extra strength. I could not tell, however, that it would taste so bad. The bottle also described it as being ginger and honey flavored whisky, illustrated with a drawing of a cat that looked like it was being electrocuted so badly that it's tail had split in half.

So, I took a sip, and holy crap, it was the single nastiest thing I've ever put in my mouth. The liquor of my ancestors is disgusting, plain and simple. I don't reccomend it - the Ginger Tams is a Big Scottish Bad Idea. It will, however, make the rest of the evening just a little more fun.

That night, I slept on the futon again, crowded with Andy and at least two of Kristin's pets, surrounded by my favorite people in the world. I didn't realise until I left Memphis what an insane past few months I've had. Between graduating, and moving, and getting a job, and ending the relationship that was part of the reason I had moved, there have been a lot of changes. But you know, they're not bad changes, and I'm actually pretty happy.

Coming up later this week - the Millington Goat Festival. I'm going to be going to this fabulous event (which includes an anvil shoot - doesn't that sound like the worst idea ever?) and writing about it here. There's also blues dancing on Thursday, as well as a meal with someone I haven't seen in four years that should be pretty entertaining. Check back soon for more photos, stories, and bad ideas.

Little Scottish Bad Idea,
Kerry

But You Won't Find Any of That Here

2007-08-29T22:25:00.000-05:00

For the four years I lived in Muncie, I had roommates. It made sense - that's what you're supposed to do in college, right? I shared tiny dorm rooms for my first two years before moving into a ridiculous apartment with a rotating roster of roommates (oooh - alliteration!). We each had our own bedrooms and bathrooms, but that didn't ease the tensions that come from personalities that mix about as well as vinegar and baking soda.

Like most people, I don't like being told what to do. It's not that I have an authority problem - I'm fine with certain people (my boss, my mom) giving instructions, but I'm just way not cool taking orders from someone that I live with by choice. I got sick of a world where leaving the coffee maker off, but plugged in was a major offense and cooking dinner for friends was almost inexcusable.

When I moved to Memphis, living with people wasn't even an option. I just didn't have the patience for it any more. So now, I live alone in an apartment that sometimes feels too big for just the one of me, but would feel entirely too crowded if there were two.

And somehow, even though I didn't intend to, I feel like I'm constantly an anecdote in "Sex and the Single Girl" or some other book about the brave women who chose to live by themselves.

Tonight, for example, I got home and did the dishes. Then I sat at the kitchen table in my underwear, ate some left over chocolate peanut butter cake, and read Television Without Pity recaps of "Big Love".

Sure, sometimes it's kind of lonely. After days like today, I wish I had someone to come home to, someone who would let me properly vent. And there are nights like last night, when all I want to do is get the damn lid off of the tomato sauce so that I can eat some spaghetti, and it won't budge. Short of banging on it repeatedly with the butt end of a steak knife and then running hot water over it, I didn't know what to do. I was plotting what I could possibly add to the noodles that were almost finished in the event that the jar wouldn't open. Then I thought about smashing the jar, gently against the counter. I started to imagine what I would do in a desperate Survivor Man type situation, in which the only sustinance I had was a tightly sealed jar of Prego.

But despite all of that, I like living by my lonesome. Because living alone means never having to say you're sorry. It also means never having to unplug the coffee maker.

In matters unrelated, I'll be in Muncie from late Friday night through earlyish Monday morning. I'm DJing at Village Green Records on Saturday night, and you should come out. You have no idea how much fun we'll have.

meet me by the vending machine,
Kerry

Everything I Know, I Learned From GQ

2007-08-27T19:03:00.000-05:00

When I was in high school band, I used to get nominated for the best dressed award every year. I found it not only strange that I got nominated for such a thing, but also that a high school band had superlatives. Granted, I think my nomination for Best Dressed was largely a joke. I rarely look like total crap, but I think I could use a little help. I've often fantasied about going on What Not To Wear, not only for the chance to totally rebuild my wardrobe with fabulous things, but also to just get a little help.

So last week, when JohnnyMac asked me to come shopping with him and help him pick out some nice work clothes, I was a little surprised. First of all, he works in IT. He doesn't have to dress up for work every day. But, I'm all for lending any sort of hand to a guy that wants to dress nicely. It seems like so many men think that they don't even have to try, or that their clothes are just something that they wear so that they don't get arrested.

I picked JohnnyMac up on Sunday, and we drove out to the fancy open-air mall in Collierville. I had called my brother on the way to JohnnyMac's house to find out exactly where I should take a man shopping. JohnnyMac had agreed to try just about anything, with the exception of horizontally striped thick cotton polo shirts. Apparently, those shirts are the shirts of douchebags, and I was not about to allow JohnnyMac to look like a douche.

We went in Banana Republic, where by the end of half an hour, I had every sales person in the store fawning over JohnnyMac, bringing in sizes, making suggestions, and passing judgment on each new outfit. At one point, I passed a thin sweater and a button down shirt with a small pattern on it over the dressing room door and instructed JohnnyMac to try them on at the same time. When he opened the door, he had the button down on over the sweater and unbuttoned, which is absolutely contrary to the way layering is usually done. Hell, maybe he should have bought both items and worn them like that. Maybe it would be the Next Big Fashion Thing. Male models in New York and Milan would be strutting catwalks in reversed layers. Fashion spreads in men's mags would tout the inventiveness of it. It could be amazing.

But, I digress.

We went to Express, where I had a hard time picking out clothes that weren't overtly douchy. There were lots of cargo shorts and printed t-shirts and really fugly polos. But among all of the fugly, I managed to find this outfit:

Yes, that's a sweater vest, and yes, I think it looks damn good.

After trips to several more stores, (including a trip to the Gap that made me experience a moment of temporary insanity in which I decided that man cardigans were where it's at sartorially), JohnnyMac was starting to look less like a 16 year old computer dork and more like a highly trained adult. He bought some pants, a shirt, and the most awesome non-dryer-safe sweater ever. I'm glad I thought to explain that cashmere blends should be hand washed before there was a washing machine disaster.

The whole experience was a really good one, and I'd gladly do it again. JohnnyMac was easygoing, and tried on everything I brought him, no matter how questionable my taste was. I'm apparently way more qualified to dress other people than I thought I would be. It doesn't hurt that I tend to know what I like, or that I'm pretty strongly opinionated. It also probably helps that I have at least two years of GQ back issues in my apartment and a healthy addiction to Go Fug Yourself. All I know is that if JohnnyMac ever needs a suit, I want to go with him to pick it out.

Sartorially yours,
Kerry

You Would Know, Wouldn't You....

2007-08-22T22:41:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I went to buy a six pack of beer from the local grocery store. Excerpts from a real conversation with the clerk at said grocery store:

Her: I need to see some ID.

Me: Here you go. (hands over ID)

Her: Oooooh....Scorpio!

Me: Yeah. I guess. Not really sure what it means, though.

Her: It means you're secretive....and freaky. Like, sexually. But you're a thinker.

Me: Um, right. Ok, then.

Check back this weekend for a very special update. A work friend has enlisted my help in finding some new clothes. I guess he could tell by looking at me that I'm an avid reader of GQ and Esquire. Anyway, I'm taking him shopping, and am planning to take him from regular IT dude to grown up, employed, adult dude. I plan to take a bunch of pictures and write about it here. Think of it as an episode of What Not To Wear, only with a stylist who can barely dress herself. Check for that update early next week.

In the meantime, I'll be getting a little freaky. Or something. I'll probably just go to sleep.

ever the scorpio,
Kerry

And The Good News Is

2007-08-19T16:25:00.000-05:00

The other night, I met a dude while I was out with some friends. The dude works in a medical research lab in a hospital, so he deals with biohazards. He told me that recently, he had been trying to find a cure for ferrets infected with bird flu. Thus, we shall call him the Ferret Wrangler.

So the Ferret Wrangler and I start hanging out. Tuesday, I called him as I was leaving work to see if he wanted to have dinner with me. He had told me that he had a really bad day at work on Monday, but was feeling better and wanted to hang out. I went to his house to collect him, and things were going fine. That is, until he stopped me and said, "I have something kinda serious I need to talk to you about."

This being the third time we had hung out, I was a little concerned. He continued..."So, the reason I had such a bad day at work Monday was because there's the tiniest of tiny chances that I may have, uh, contracted the bird flu."

He went on to explain that one of the filters on his respirator had come off, and as soon as he noticed, he got out of the room and got some medical attentions. Then he goes on to say:

"So, um, I asked pretty much every doctor I could find if I was going to be alright, and they said I was. So, then I told them that I was supposed to hang out with a girl, and didn't want to give her bird flu. So, um, I just thought I should let you know. You do have health insurance, right?"

The good news is, it's Sunday, and I'm bird flu negative.

And I just typed "Sunday" as "Stunday". Right.

God, why am I so awkward?

number one stunna,
Kerry

Nobody Stands Between Me and My Man

2007-08-12T20:36:00.000-05:00

Does anyone else ever have those days when you're working, or reading, or watching lots of CNN video on the internet and it just doesn't occur to you to turn any lights on? I always wonder why my MLGW bill is so low, and I really think it's because half the time, I forget to turn my lights on. Maybe it's some sort of inner Al Gore quietly whispering that I don't need to be able to clearly see in the living room if I'm sitting at the kitchen table.

I went out last night with one of my friends, and we met up with some other people, and the night stretched into this morning, and next thing I knew, I was up at Barksdale's eating breakfast with one of the kids from Red Hot Lindy Hop.

Yesterday, I also went to the gym, and I did more crunches that should probably be legal. Who invented the crunch? Why is it so aptly named? My abs feel like an aluminum can that's been run crushed on the forehead of a rather large man with a beer gut. If I keep up the crunches, my own small beer gut will soon be replaced with actual muscles. I've never considered myself to be athletic, or to even really care what I looked like, as long as I was eating healthily and happy with myself. And it's not that I care about that now, but the act of going to the gym just feels really good.

Speaking of cans, my mom saw an armadillo in her back yard the other day. Alive. Like, running around. I was always under the impression that armadillos sprouted from the pavement at the shoulders of interstates on their backs, little legs sticking out of their tin can bodies, already dead. I'm also a little concerned that there are armadillos in Memphis. My mom's back yard isn't exactly the interstate, so I'm not sure what the little dude was doing so far from home.

While I was out at my mom's yesterday, we started watching the family videos that Andybond had put onto DVD for us. I watched myself, at age three, run around the house, constantly talking, often with no pants on. Even though I couldn't physically dress myself, my mom started letting me pick out my own outfits at a very young age, and I had some very interesting ideas about what matched. Between my incessant talking and running around and questioning everything, it's a wonder my mother survived. It's also a wonder my parents didn't realise that I had ADD until I was 14.

whenever you want your direction to switch,
Kerry

Learn How to Smile and Divide Up Our Friends

2007-08-08T17:56:00.001-05:00

I feel like I should offer everyone a little heads up about my current situation, just so the last post isn't so maudlin.

After three years together, Colin and I have split up. It ended as well as it could have, and I'm confident that one day, we will be able to reconstruct our friendship. In the meantime, I just want to say that I enjoyed our relationship, and if I had it to do over again, I would. He's a wonderful person, and I hope nothing but good things happen for him.

That said, I've been quite a mess today. I did go to work, but I was allowed to work from my apartment this afternoon.

Thank you to all of the people who have called, or emailed, or offered to help me through this. Your generosity is overwhelming, and every time I think about it, I cry.

Then again, today, I'm crying about almost everything.

I'll get through this, but it may take a while. Please be patient with me.

is this how it ends,
Kerry

The Girl Who

2007-08-07T23:59:00.000-05:00

Um...I could really use some friends right now.

k

And If It's Quite Alright, I Need You Baby

2007-08-06T22:19:00.000-05:00

I've had the Frankie Valli song "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" stuck in my head all day. Normally this wouldn't be a big deal - I always have some song stuck in my head. The problem with this particular song is that I feel compelled to sing it out loud, with hand motions. Jazz hands, in particular. Because of this, it's now stuck in Kristin's head, too.

This comes after last night when I couldn't sleep because I had that Lordi song from the last entry stuck in my head.

Last night was pretty awesome, though - Kristin (who's in town for a few days) and Andy (his last night in town) spent the night, and we had a little slumber party. We watched "Mean Girls" and "Little Miss Sunshine", and threatened to give Andy a make-over and play Truth or Dare.

After the movies, Kristin went to bed, and Andy and I stayed up chatting and giggling (that was mostly me) about really stupid things (like Lordi). I could not get to sleep - I tried almost everything. Kristin was asleep on my futon, so I couldn't do the Simon & Garfunkel Sleep Aid. Instead, I took a Tylenol PM, which didn't work either. As a result, getting up and being a functional employee this morning was a little difficult.

It was also difficult to say goodbye to Andy. He's one of my best friends, and though I know his last semester will be brilliant, it's still a shame that I can't call him for a beer or a drive, or when I need a Himmler for my cockroach holocaust.

After I got home from work today, Colin and I went to the gym for the second time. It's going pretty well - I ran on the treadmill, rode the bike, and did some weights. I've been feeling it the next day, so I know I'm doing something. Weirdly enough, I'm kind of enjoying it. I was in an absolutely wretched mood this afternoon, and after I worked out, I felt worlds better. I'm not sure when the results will be visible. I'm actually a little scared - I want to firm up a bit, sure, but I don't want to look like Lady Rambo (or Rambette). I've grown to like my foodbaby, and I'm not sure I'm ready to lose it. I've been told it's cute.

In other news, today's entry is the first one from my brand new MacBook! It's quite the sexy computing machine, and though I haven't had a lot of time to play with it yet, I'm sure it will be soon. In the meantime, though, I have to get to bed. Tonight, I'm going to sleep like a...sleeping thing.

all we need is lightning,
Kerry

The Arockalypse is NOW!

2007-07-29T09:37:00.000-05:00

I was under the impression that when one plays paintball, one wears some form of padding. But yesterday, when we got to Memphis Paintball Park and rented equipment, the college kid behind the counter just handed us guns, paintballs and face masks.

My friend Eric decided that the only proper way to celebrate his birthday was to get a bunch of people together and go play some paintball, an activity that most of us had never participated in.

I was a little apprehensive, but for some reason, I didn't think it would actually hurt when I got hit. So, when Colin shot me in the elbow in a course that reminded me of Children of Men, I wasn't prepared for the sting. Once I knew what to expect, it was a lot more fun. I was on a team made up of two girls, Colin's brother-in-law, and three very fit dudes that had all shown up (independently of each other) in matching outfits. We did fairly well - there was one game where we didn't lose a single person.

In another game, K.K. and I (the last representatives of our team) exhausted our rounds on each other until she finally hit me in the other elbow. She had a clear advantage - she was in a tower, I was in a ditch. The ditch was kinda nice, though - I did a lot of crawling around. It was one of the only times in recent memory that I've felt like a bad ass.

After six games, we went to lunch, exhausted, dirty and bruised. Colin and I went home and took a nap that lasted until 7:30. Eric and Linsey went to bed around 8. Would I do it again? Hell yes. It was awesome, even though I'm still sore today.

In other news, Andy came over late last night and we made spaghetti. After a long discussion of things you probably shouldn't do whilst naked, the conversation turned to one of the best French pop songs ever, "Ca Plane Pour Moi", sung by a fabulous man named Plastic Bertrand. Plastic Bertrand looks like he really, really wanted to be a member of Flock of Seagulls, but it just didn't quite work out. He also dances like a deranged Jazzersize instructor. Observe:

Plastic Bertrand led to Andy and I scouring YouTube for videos of the Eurovision Song Contest. The Eurovision contest is about the craziest thing ever. It's a multi-national "American Idol"-style program complete with voting, costumes, and back-up dancers. Only, it's really nothing like American Idol, though I'm sure it does inspire lots of national pride. Here are some of the 2006 Highlights: (Note - these are all very worth watching. Make sure you're not drinking anything while you watch them, because beverages shooting out of one's nose can be a little painful)

Israel's Entry, "Push the Button".

Firstly, I can't believe this band is called Teapack. Secondly, I think this song is about terrorism. Unfortunately, the lead singer can't quite decide what style of music he really wants to be playing.

Then, there's the 2006 second place winner, a drag queen from Ukraine:

Um, I don't know about you, but I feel like I'm being commanded to dance. Or listen to Danzig . I'm not sure which. What I do know is that I want that headdress. They can keep the shorts.

The winner of last year's contest was a Finnish band called Lordi. They won for their song "Hard Rock Hallelujah". You just have to watch it. If you've skipped over all of the other videos, watch this one. It will make your life. Even if you don't like the music, glam rock sung in broken English is about the greatest thing ever. As is the lead singer's Finnish Pride.

Why are we Americans so geographically unfortunate? Why doesn't BBC America broadcast this here? I think we need to start a letter writing campaign to the EU. Who's with me?

Today is the day of Rockening,
Kerry

Given and Taken in Ink

2007-07-25T23:51:00.001-05:00

Today involved:

- my job.

- book club.

- swing dancing with the smartest kid from middle school.

Let's start with the book club - before you judge me, please know that Oprah is in no way involved. I haven't started reading the first book yet, but it's something about learning all of one's girlie lessons from Judy Blume. It makes sense - I learned a lot of my girlie lessons from her, even though I read "Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret" entirely too early and was thouroughly confused about womanhood for a good number of years following.

The book club seems like a good idea - meet some new people, drink some margaritas, have some intelligent conversation. I've been in Memphis for almost three months now, and I'm starting to feel that itch of wanting to be super busy again. When I'm busy, I'm more productive, more fun, and less likely to take naps in the middle of the evening.

Following book club, I went to the University of Memphis to meet up with my friend David, who was by far the smartest kid I knew in middle school. I hadn't seem him since 8th grade, save for one night when he was volunteering at Live at the Garden when I was on production crew.

Anyway, he wanted to go swing dancing, and sent out a very last minute email about it. I met him at the weekly Red Hot Lindy Hop lesson, and we danced a few songs and then had drinks. There's another dance tomorrow night in my neighborhood, and I think I'm going to get a little dressed up and go.

It's typically a little disarming to have reunions like that one, but it wasn't awkward at all. I think I took care of that by saying things like "I only like agriculture I can see over," and "I used to be able to throw my leg over my partner's head, no problem." (mind you, the first was in reference to corn mazes, and the second in reference to how out of practice I am at doing swing arials.)

Coming up this weekend, I'm going to be playing paintball for the very first time, so expect a weekend update on my very first paintball experience. This weekend also marks the end of a bit of a tradition - The Ken Burns Civil War Drinking Game. If you're in Memphis and would like to play along, just email me, and we'll work something out.

In the meantime, me and senor Zombie Cucaracha are going to bed. Have good dreams, everyone!

scared of agriculture she can't see over,
Kerry

I Should Have Gotten A Delicious Fruit Pie

2007-07-23T22:05:00.000-05:00

I just got back from having drinks at Bosco's with my former photography professor. His daughter is about to start grad school at the University of Memphis, and they wanted to meet me for a drink to talk about living in Memphis. After giving the usual advice (don't leave it in your car if you don't want it to get stolen, lock your doors, local politics are for your ammusement), I wasn't really sure what to say. I tried some feeble suggestions for where to get the best Thai food, and where to go for live music, and where to avoid, but beyond that, I wasn't sure what to say. It's hard to sum up a city, especially this one. I've been back for almost three months now, and I'm still adjusting. It's strange to feel like the new kid in a town that's as familiar to you as the bottoms of your feet, or the zombie cockroaches in your kitchen.

I suppose the cockroaches aren't really zombies, but Andy's at my house right now, and the one that he thought he killed just kinda popped back up and started making a break for the sink. Apparently, despite its guts hanging out, it's still trying to move.

Despite the cockroaches, and the feeling that I'm still trying to figure out exactly what I'm doing at work, I really am starting to feel at home again. I play trivia, I go swimming, we've joined Hope and Healing (which is pretty awesome - it's a Christian gym for broke people!)Granted, Colin and I aren't too excited about the prospect of getting healthy, but our intentions are good. I don't want to look like my grandmother, and he wants to avoid some of the health problems that run in his family. Plus, if we work out, we can drink beer and not feel too bad about it. We're supposed to go back this week to complete registration, and then, two of the most unathletic people ever will be full time gym members. I'm sure we'll both dread it for a few weeks, and then it'll get easier. This is one of those things my mom would call a "character building experience." We'll see how it goes.

But back to tonight, and Bosco's - one of the waiters, who's a roller derby ref, came up to me and asked if I was "Colin's girlfriend." Apparently, my blog about taking Andy to the roller derby got linked on the MRD forums. So, if you're reading from there, hello. I think you're awesome.

This update begins a self-imposed regular update schedule. Without an editor (or two) expecting my blogs by a certain time (and if they didn't get them, I'm convinced that one or both would have shown up at my house to make sure I was alright), it's been more of a challenge to write here. My writing tends to go to shit when I don't do it very often. I'm trying to be good now, though - check back for regular updates on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Sundays.

In the meantime, I'm going to go back in my kitchen and get a glass of water. Hopefully, my zombie cockroaches are really dead this time.

Braaaaaiiiinnnnsss,
Kerry

Forever

2007-07-16T18:11:00.000-05:00

It feels like I haven't updated in, well, forever. I know it's only been a week, but I used to be much better about this. That's why next week, I'm going to be going back to scheduled updates - no more checking to see if I've updated and finding nothing. No more of me feeling guilty for you finding nothing. Updates will most likely happen Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, but I'll keep you posted.

Hopefully, in a much more timely manner.

editor's note,
Kerry

I Can Get You On My Wrong Side

2007-07-09T21:05:00.000-05:00

This past weekend, my mom and I went to Morristown, Tenn. to watch my semi-cousin Amy get married. I say semi-cousin, because technically, we're not particularly related, but my very extened family has been gracious enough to include us in their festivities, which always involve lots of Bud Light and at least one round of the Hokey Pokey.

On the way to the wedding, we stopped in Knoxville to pick up my younger brother. He lives in an apartment that's both newer and nicer than mine (though, I will say that mine has more charm). Unfortunately, my brother enjoys cooking. More unfortunately, he does not enjoy doing the dishes. He also doesn't seem to be in the market for toilet paper, which left mom yelling from the bathroom for someone to bring her a paper towel. My mom (like most moms) usually has a huge bag of useful items, among which is a roll of oh-so-handy Charmin To Go. She left that bag at home.

The wedding was on Saturday, 07-07-07. It was held at Amy's parents' farm, and it was mostly put together by the family. On Saturday morning, we all got up early and went to the house to wrap hay bales in white butcher paper, arranged daisies in mason jars, spread pimento cheese on bread, and set up tables. I took pictures before and during the ceremony.

On Sunday, we made our way back to Knoxville to return my brother to the pile of unwashed dishes and the three random dudes sleeping on his couch. In the back of the car, we had a lot of photos from my grandmother (see previous entry about cleaning her garage). Most of them were handed off to my aunt in the Holiday Inn parking lot, but there were a few large framed portraits of Civil War-era bearded ancestors that were to be dropped off at an aunt's house in Knoxville. When we got to the house, my mom tried the door several times, but no one was home. Operation Ancestor Drop was not to be deterred. Clearly, we couldn't take them home with us. My mom has little use for bearded dudes, and as much as I love them, they don't match my decor. So, we did the only thing we could do - we left them in a place where my aunt and uncle were sure to find them:

So, Elsie, Bill - those are from us. We probably should have left a note.

drop it like it's hot,
Kerry

I Don't Wanna Dance With Your Shaddow No More

2007-07-04T17:28:00.000-05:00

This is really strange - as I type in blogger, the "Save Now" button is getting longer. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be doing that or not. Regardless, it's kind of cool.

Happy Fourth, everyone. I haven't really done anything terribly patriotic today, save for listen to a few people shoot fireworks off across the street. People get really into fireworks here, even though technically, they're not allowed within the city limits. The Fourth of July, like New Year's Eve is a great time to play one of the favorite games of Memphians - "Fireworks or Gunshots?"

I've been celebrating my independence in my usual sedate fashion. I slept in, ate cookies, had lunch with my mom, and went to a small cook out at Linsey and Eric's. It's possible that I'm trying to save all of my rambunctiousness for tomorrow, when I DJ at Printer's Alley (Shameless plug - it's at 10 p.m., and you should totally be there). I went last night to make sure I had the right cables and such, and there was a very very tall guy DJ-ing with cds and a big fancy set up. He was like Attack of the Nine Foot Tall Hipster. I can't promise that I'll be especially hip, but I will be playing some damn good music. I think my mom will be there, too, so if you only read my blogs to hear about the antics of my mother, you should come out and meet her.

Right now, I'm sitting at my house, listening to my playlists for tomorrow, and wondering if I should go out, or just stay here for now. I think "stay here" is winning.

As settled as I am, I'm still a little lonely. I have friends, and my work, and all of that, but I dearly miss the people that I befriended in college. I miss how comfortable I was around them, how many great ideas we had, how free I felt. A lot of this is coming from the fact that I'm not quite comfortable here yet. It'll get better with time, I know.

In other news, I talked to Dorsey today, and she told me that her dad still reads my blog. Hi Mike!

I have this little container of Mango Sour Altoids on my desk, and I keep reaching over and eating them, trying to decide if they're nasty or not. I'm bordering on not, just because I keep eating them.

Anyway. If you're in Memphis, you should come to Printer's Alley tomorrow. I'll be playing records, maybe doing a little dancing, and generally kicking ass, because I'm off on Friday.

Sparks and fireworks,
Kerry

Your Right To View My Moustache

2007-07-01T22:51:00.000-05:00

When I updated earlier, I forgot to post links to the two shorts that Kristin and I were in for Andy's internship. I think I mentioned it here earlier, but for those playing along at home, these are part of a little series of shorts representing the rights laid out in the First Amendment. It was filmed for the Live From Memphis Li'l Film Fest, and though they didn't win the prize, they totally should have. Behold:

Live From Memphis

Live From Memphis

And after you watch the videos, you should check out Live From Memphis. It's pretty awesome.

(and by the way, Trent, if you're reading this, I coded that link all by myself. You should be proud.)

In very random other news, there is a cockroach in my apartment. I'm not too fond of cockroaches, so I've adopted a live-and-let-live sort of policy about them. I let him chill in my kitchen sink at night, and he doesn't crawl in my bed. It's cool. In the meantime, I'll be investing in some roach and ant spray. I'm not sure why Bo Duke (that's his name) is in my house - I live a relatively clean lifestyle. There's no food left out, or anything like that. I think it's just one of the hazards of living in midtown in the summer. Dude, they freak me out, though. I think it's because I'm a bit wary of something that could outlast me in an apocalypse type situation. It's the same reason I'm wary of Keith Richards and Spam.

Anyway - watch the videos, donate cans of bug killing agent, or just be like me, and go to bed so you can get up and go to work in the morning.

living comfort eagle,
Kerry

Had I Witnessed A Live Birth, I Would Have Seen It All

2007-07-01T09:48:00.000-05:00

I was going to start this blog seriously (as yesterday was a pretty serious day), but in my ADD, I checked CNN.com instead. Firstly, they've done a re-design, and it looks pretty good. It's a little more simple, and the stories have more space. I scanned the headlines, and this one jumped out at me: "Man Pummels Vampire Peacock."

Right. Anyway. Moving on.

Yesterday, I attended Kylen's funeral. He was a kid I was in band with in high school. He died in a car wreck while turning out of the neighborhood that I grew up in. He was 22, like me. And I know funerals aren't supposed to be in any way happy, but y'all, this was the saddest funeral I've ever been to. It's always harder to lose someone who's so young. A lot of the people I marched with were there - it was the first time I had seen so many band parents since senior year. Steven was there, and it was good to see him, even under such sad circumstances.

After the funeral, I went to the wedding of a childhood friend that lived on the corner where Kylen was killed. She married the guy she's been with for seven years. It was lovely cerermony, but I was unable to attend the reception because it was raining so hard on the walk back to my car that my skirt was soaked and stuck to my legs.

In other news, Colin has gone on tour with the Antique Curtains. He called me last night from a merch table in Asheville. Which I just accidentally typed as "Assville." Having only been there once, I can't make that judgement call.

My Grown Up Job is going well. At least, I think it is. I'm really not sure how I'm doing, other than that I'm feeling more comfortable by the day. Strangely enough, I'm also realising how useful some of that stuff that I learned in school was. So yeah - go team.

Tonight is the fourth installment of Civil War Drinking Game, and I've been meaning to post pictures here for weeks and haven't managed to take a single one. Today, I will. And I'll post them. And you'll like it. If you're in Memphis and want to play, let me know. In the meantime, I'll be getting my playlists together for Thursday and maybe going thrift shopping.

That is, if I can find the will to put clothes on.

Have a great Sunday!

stubborness breaks hearts,
Kerry

Tell Me What, Tell Me What You Want

2007-06-26T23:07:00.000-05:00

This is a quick update to inform you of the following:

- I love my new apartment, and I'm all moved in. It's quite pretty, and you're welcome to visit any time you like. There was a housewarming party last weekend, and it was a great time. Here's Colin and I, enjoying my new (free!) futon:

- I've been at my new job for a little over a week. It's been a little better this week than last because at least this week, people are talking to me. It was a little weird to just be at work with no one talking to me other than the few people in my department. I like it, though, and I get my first grown up paycheck soon. Yay!

- I'll be forcing my musical taste upon Memphis on July 5th at Printer's Alley, starting at 10 p.m. I'll be playing the usual mix of indie rock, old pop songs, girl groups, and French goodness. As far as I know, there's no cover, which means you should be there.

- Most importantly, I have internet at home now, which means that this blog will be updated regularly again. Yay!

it never happened to me,
Kerry

I May as Well Get a Job at Target

2007-06-17T19:02:00.000-05:00

I've been to Target three times in the last four days. As much as I love Target, that seems a little excessive. It's amazing the things that I didn't have. Like a bottle opener, or a sharp knife.

Anyway, I'm pretty much all moved in now. I still need to get a slipcover for my couch and have two of my chairs reupholstered, but that all has to wait until I get a paycheck. Here's what it looks like:

Who wants to come visit?

In other news, Colin, Andy and I went to watch a Memphis Roller Derby double header. It was really awesome, and when I get paid, I think I'm going to get some skates and start going to the MRD open skate nights and learning how to play in the hopes that eventually, I'll feel comfortable enough to try out for the team. Most of the girls seemed pretty cool. The league seems to have concentrated all of the scariest girls onto one team. One or two looked like they may have joined roller derby not for the team sport aspect, but for the fact that they had agression issues. They faced off against a team of cute girls in pink shirts. Needless to say, the girls in the pink shirts got their asses kicked. I've already got some names picked out, but I don't quite want to share them yet.

I start my job tomorrow, and I'm pretty excited about it, mostly for the fact that I'll have something to do during the day. Tomorrow will probably consist of filling out all sorts of forms and reading the handbook and such, but I'm still excited about getting up, getting dressed, and going to work. The whole grown-up thing is starting to feel right, and that makes me happy.

Tomorrow (or maybe Tuesday), I'll have a First Day of Work post. Yay!

gotta go to work, gotta go to work, gotta have a job,
Kerry

Welcome To The Old Apartment

2007-06-15T13:09:00.000-05:00

Sorry I haven't really updated this week. It's been a little hectic. On Tuesday afternoon, I went to look at an apartment near Overton Square, and I fell in love with it. It was really big for a one bedroom in Midtown, and very affordable. I filled out my application, and on Wednesday afternoon, the leasing office called to tell me I had gotten the apartment. I spent all of yesterday moving, and I'm still not quite unpacked. It was nice to finally get to open all of the boxes that I packed two months ago.

With moving also came one of the biggest, most expensive trips to Target of my young life. I'm now the owner of some very nice new appliances and bedding, though.

Colin, Jamie, and my mom drove a lot of the bigger things that wouldn't fit into the back of the Fightin' Focus. Linsey and Eric walked over to help get things into the house. I'm on the second floor of my building, and though it wasn't bad moving some of the smaller boxes, there was almost a disaster with my antique china cabinet. I don't have many pictures yet, but I'm going to take some more once I get everything properly situated.

So, to recap, somehow in the last week, I've become a functional adult. I have a car, and an apartment, and a job. I have a power bill. I have a toaster oven and lots of button down shirts. I don't really feel any different, which I suppose is probably a good thing. A few months ago, in the Ball Bearings office, Trent took an informal office poll to see who thought I would ever be a grown up. It was unanimously decided that it would never happen. I'm not sure if this counts or not.

Wednesday was Andy's birthday, so Colin and I took him out for some delicious cheesecake from Cheesecake Corner and a run through the Bum Wash. The Bum Wash doesn't wash butts, but it does function as a chlorinated public shower for lots of downtown's homeless. It's also really fun to run through. I don't have any pictures of the three of us splashing around, but I wish I did. Afterwards, Colin and Andy took their shirts off in my car so that they would be less soggy. We were almost back to Colin's house when we caught two frat boy looking dudes in a car with a W sticker on the back laughing at us. It wasn't mean laughing, it was more like they felt some sense of camraderie with the soggy girl and two shirtless boys. It made us laugh, too.

The aftermath:

Anyway. I need to find a putty knife and get back to my apartment. The combination of humidity and new paint made my cabinet doors stick together. Later this weekend or possibly Monday, expect thrilling tales of the Lil' Film Festival and Memphis Roller Derby. There will also likely be pictures of my furnished goodness.

up the stairs,
Kerry

Living Among the Bears

2007-06-11T11:22:00.000-05:00

This morning, I logged onto my favorite internet soul sucker, Facebook, to do the usual sorts of Facebook things when something caught my eye. A guy I know wanted me to add something called an "Honesty Box". Apparently, this handy little device allows others to annonymously comment on you for all of Facebook to read. Intrigued, I added it to my profile. Now, before anyone even comments, I'm wondering if maybe that was a bad idea. Even though its annonymous, just think of all of the potential drama this could lead to. This is not a tool that should be placed in the hands of 16 year old girl. Cliques will disband! Entire high schools will crumble! It'll be MAYHEM!

Right. Yes. Anyway.

I got back from Paducah yesterday just in time for the second installment of the Civil War Drinking Game. The good news about the trip to Paducah is that we found my grandmother's driftwood without having to visit the dump. The auctioneer that had taken loads of things from the old house had it. And for some reason, he gave it back to her. My mom and I spent at least three hours in her garage trying to find a place to put all of the driftwood. During that time, we came across all sorts of fun things: at least two sets of crystal, my great grandfather's WWI gas mask, helmet and boots, a box of human hair, some baby shoes, and a bottle of Creme de Cocao that had a price sticker for $2.33, which means it had to have been purchased before 1970. Ew.
The rest of the weekend was spent watching my grandmother read every Christmas card she's recieved since 1940.

And I learned something from watching all of this go down - I really don't want to turn out like that. It was enough to make me want to come home and throw away any personal correspondance I've ever recieved just so that my kids never have to try to do it for me.

I'm going to look at apartments today, and thankfully, they'll likely all be too tiny for me to keep much of anything there. I'm not even sure if I'll be able to take all of the furniture that is crowding my mom's car out of her garage and into her driveway. I'm excited about apartment hunting, but I've got such monetary restrictions that it's going to be a little difficult. I'm going to look at one today, and a few more tomorrow.

In about a week, I'll probably start my job.

Somehow, I've managed to turn into a grown up really quickly. A grown up with an "honesty box" on her Facebook.

annonymously,
Kerry

When it Rains it Pours

2007-06-06T15:18:00.000-05:00

First of all, I'm happy to announce that my team came in third at Trivia last night. There were 27 teams, and we won about 65$. So, yay! Go us.

About a month ago, my packrat grandmother moved out of the house that she had lived in for about 50 years. She moved into a smaller duplex, and thus was forced to get rid of some things. I inherited furntiture as well as some fabulous hats and old books. It's hard to really describe just how much stuff was in that house. The woman had pickled duck eggs in her pantry from when she went to SanFransisco in the 1960's She had recipts from 1952. She was holding on to baskets full of pinecones.

Anyway, right after I graduated, she sold her house, moved into the duplex, and seems to be happy. However, last week, she noticed that the driftwood that she uses in flower arrangements is missing, along with some of the pinecones. A normal person would chalk it up to moving error and go, I don't know, find some more driftwood. There's got to be tons of it out there, right? Instead, she called my mom and asked where the local dump was.

This weekend, my mom and I are going to Paducah for a night. Mom suggested that we might be going dump diving in order to find my grandmother's driftwood. The thought of poking around a dump sounds kinda cool (I'm really into found items), but I think it might be easier just to go down to the river and scavenge for driftwood. I'm not sure how I feel about all of that, but I'm sure I'll come back with stories.

Anyway.

I got a full time job offer today. I also got a call from my internship, saying that I would be able to start soon. I have no idea what to do.

It's exciting, though.

Of two minds,
Kerry

Protecting My Head and My Reputation

2007-06-03T11:31:00.000-05:00

Call me dorky or whatever, but I'm about to buy the coolest bike/roller derby helmet ever. After a friend of mine's dad got in an accident last week, I decided that maybe it was time to invest in a cool helmet. That, and some of the people who drive in Memphis treat bikers like target practice. I just need to figure out what size my head is so that I can order it.

Sorry I haven't been around much this week. After the unfortunate foamy accident of last Tuesday, it was a busy week. The newspaper called me on Wednesday to offer me a paid internship at their website. I start in about a week, and it'll last through August. Following that, I'll have to find a real job. This internship is for a job that's pretty much my dream - I'll be working on a website, taking pictures, working on stories, possibly blogging, and learning a whole lot. I start in about a week, and I couldn't be more excited.

Other than that, my week was filled with such good times as locking myself out of my dad's house for 2 hours (with no shoes on), drinking with Zach, and buying work clothes. Buying decent clothes for work was hard - everything I liked was too expensive, and everything else was either too casual or too ugly. It's as if designers forget that during the summer, people still have to go to work. Maybe you can go to work in shorts and halter tops, but I don't think I can.

Last night, Colin and I (along with assorted friends) went to see Knocked Up. I liked it just as much, if not slightly more, than "40 Year Old Virgin". Maybe it's just because I think that Seth Rogen is dreamy. Anyway, the movie was funny, and I highly reccomend it.

I'd better get going, though. I need to leave the coffee shop and go home. We're cleaning up the house so that we can host the first installment of the Ken Burns Civil War drinking game. There are rules, and they are complicated, and I'll post pictures of it soon.

Have a great Sunday, everyone!

maintaining my sexy,
Kerry

ADD: 1, Cleanliness: Nil

2007-05-30T13:08:00.000-05:00

Let me preface this by saying that I a) had only the best of intentions, and b) am glad my parents don't read this.

I'm at my dad's house in Midtown because he's gone for the week. He and my stepmother asked me to do some cleaning up while I'm here in exchange for some money. It's not a bad deal.

Anyway, after I finished lunch today, I noticed that the dishwasher was quite full, so I decided to run it and then put away the dishes. I scrounged around for some dishwasher soap, but couldn't find any. Instead, I grabbed the tomato-scented dish soap from by the sink and loaded the dishwasher's soap dispenser, turned it on, and went upstairs to check my email and such.

A few minutes later, I noticed that the house smelled like tomatoes. I ran downstairs, and the kitchen was slowly filling with tomato-scented foam.

Lesson of the day: dish soap that goes by the sink does not go in the dishwasher.

I got most of the soapy water off of the floor with some towels, but there's still quite a bit left in the dishwasher. I'm letting the soap settle, and then I'm going to...well...I'm not sure. Try to mop it out? Use a ladle? Run the dishwasher again? I have no idea what to do.

What I do know is that I feel pretty ridiculous right now. Proof that years of schooling doesn't buy common sense.

I should go back on my ADD meds. For reals.

foam party!
Kerry

Floating in my Tin Can

2007-05-28T11:25:00.000-05:00

Ever since a particularly terrible rendition of T Rex's "Bang A Gong" combined with "If You're Happy and You Know It", I've been really reluctant to sing in public. It's not that I'm a terrible singer, but I'm not a very good one, either. Singing in the Fightin' Focus is one thing, singing with an audience is another matter entirely. Somehow, I always manage to forget about that one time when it's P&H karaoke night.

Friday, after drinking weak vodka lemonade and getting caught up in a zombie walk at Trolley Tour, a bunch of us went to the P&H for some cheap beer and comedy gold. For possibly the first time ever, the host was having a hard time convincing people to sing, so Linsey and I got up to sing Tiny Dancer. We tried our damnedest - there were parts sung as William Shatner would have sung them, some commentary, and light pelvic thrusting. Colin sang (very appropriately) "She Blinded Me With Science". Other than that, it was the ususal mixed bag of dudes drunk on Maker's Mark singing "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and large team efforts singing "YMCA". All in all, a great time.

Kristin got to Memphis on Saturday, and that night, she and Andy got to join the the completion of one of my life goals. I finally got to see The Reverend Horton Heat. Until last Saturday, every time he played in Memphis, I was either underage or in Muncie. The one time he made it to Muncie, I was in Memphis for a job interview. But Saturday night, in a crowd of people with bad tattoos, I finally lived the dream.

Before the show started (which was at least two hours after doors opened), I started talking to some cool people that were standing near us. It turns out that they work at the ad agency that I tried to walk into a few weeks ago. When I told my sad tale of braving Cooper only to face a locked door, they laughed and told me I should have rang the doorbell. Anyway, all of us had a great time drinking and dancing and trying to figure out if the ginormous individual with shedding, over-dyed pink hair was a man or a woman.

Yesterday, Kristin and I spent the afternoon starring in a movie that Andy has to make for work. The movie is about the most wonderful of all Constitutional ammendments (the first one). Yesterday's shoot was about the freedom of the press. This involved Kristin opening a bathroom door only to be confronted with a reporter (me) and a photographer (Andy). You'll have to ask Andy if you want a better explanation.

Anyway, the shoot involved lots of things, including ridiculous drawn-on facial hair.

I've got to go back on Wednesday for more filming (I also get to represent your right to assembly).

In the meantime, I should probably head over to the little Memorial Day extravaganza that's happening this afternoon. I'm not even going to job search - it's a freakin' holiday.

lick the pen,
Kerry

There's A Kind of Hush

2007-05-25T15:47:00.000-05:00

This may be totally wrong of me, but I find couples who fight in public to be quite intriguing. There's a couple in the coffee shop who have been fighting loudly on and off for the last half hour. It's a little weird. Did they have a conversation before they left their house that went something like this:

Dude: I'm so mad at you!
Chick: I want some coffee!
Both: Let's go fight at Otherlands!

Also ammusing was the church sign I saw on my way to have lunch with my mom. It was at a church that's notorious for sermon comedy gold. On Psalm Sunday, the sermon was titled "Jesus Said 'Bring Me That Ass'. Anyway, this week, the sign says "Sunday's Message: Gangbanging with the Lepers." I'm not even sure what that means. I have to believe that Jesus wouldn't want us to gangbang anyone. Are there even lepers in Memphis? Does the person who wrote that sign even know what gang banging is?

Anyway. Moving on.

I went downtown today to apply for some part time work so that I'll have both an income and something to do with myself. I applied at a clothing store, a coffee shop, and a restaurant. If I hear nothing by next Friday, I'm going to call them. I've worked in retail (I sold band instruments for a while in high school), but I've never been any sort of barista or waitress. With my ADD, I'm not so sure it's advisable. Anyway, I want to give it a shot, if for no other reason that it'll be entertaining for you to read about.

I also authored a brutally honest cover letter and sent it along with my resume to the West Memphis Evening Times. Hopefully, I'll hear back. If I can find a story in West Memphis, I can find one anywhere. I'd really enjoy the position, and I hope they email me back.

In other news, tonight is Trolley Tour night. Trolley Tour is pretty fun - riding the trolley is free, and all of the art galleries and shops in the South Main Arts district stay open late. They also serve free booze. Yay for free booze. It's a nice way to get some culture for very little cash, and I'm all about that. Plus, the people watching can't be beat. Tonight is also Karaoke night at the P&H. (Dude, it sounds like I live at the P&H - I swear I'm only there 1-3 nights a week. That's not so bad!)

Kristin is coming to Memphis this weekend because she can. I'm not sure what we're going to do, but I'll chronicle the whole thing in meticulous detail right here. In the meantime, I'm going to get off here and get this weekend started. But before I go - some upcoming features: My Weekend With Kristin! The Job Search Continues! Funny Vintage Photos of My Family!

Check back often.

Have a great holiday weekend!

interrobangin',
Kerry

The Long Awaited Photographic Evidence of The Beer Hunting

2007-05-23T17:24:00.000-05:00

So, there we are, in the woods. Kristin took all of those photos, and there are more of the actual hunting on my camera, which is, well, elsewhere.

In other news, I had an interview at a nursing home today. The job was a marketing assistant position that was currently being occupied by an elderly woman named Maudie. I wasn't too interested in the position, but they overly tan woman who interviewed me is going to pass my resume on to the PR department.

This nursing home was like...woah. It was nothing like any other nursing home I've ever been to. The lobby was huge, with a ginormous glittering chandelier and crazy floral patterns on every available surface. There are apartments, and townhomes, and a nursing home. Apparently, it's where the Memphis elite go to retire. It was pretty impressive.

Despite hearing back from the PR position that I had originally wanted and finding out that they couldn't hire me, I'm feeling a little better about my job search. There's a chance I can still get in at this agency but in a slightly different capacity. I don't really want to say too much. So, let's talk about other things instead.

We played P&H trivia last night, and we tied for fourth. It was a little strange, though, because right before the game started, several kids that I marched with in high school showed up. They were all freshmen and sophomores when I was a senior, which means that they were entirely too young to be in a bar. And it's always strange to run into people that you went to high school with, but its even stranger when they show up in midtown, looking older than you.

Anyway - my mom and Kevin and I are going to have a fun family dinner. I'll be back tomorrow.

eat your weevils,
Kerry

Chupacapras are Nocturnal, Guys!

2007-05-21T13:55:00.000-05:00

It's hard to belive that I slept almost 12 hours last night and am still pretty tired. It's also difficult to understand why I'm still so sore. Colin, Andy and I made our sluggish return from the Easter Beer Hunt yesterday, and I'm still in recovery mode.

We arrived Friday night after almost nine hours in my car (a trip which included a ride through Elnora, Ind., Stankiest Place on Earth). Matt, Kristin and Kyle were already there, and had passed the hour between their arrival and ours with drinking and some mild campfire building. While Colin, Matt and Kyle pitched our seven-person tent in the dark, Kristin and I drank green tea Smirnoff (who knew there was such a thing!) and caught up over the making of dinner.

The first night was pretty typical camping - there was booze and food and scary stories (i.e. the last entry here) told around the campfire. Around 2 a.m., we stumbled into our tent for some rest. I know that camping isn't supposed to be super comfortable, and that was alright - we all made peace with the uneven ground and the cold. We did not, however, make peace with the child who ran around the campsite switching between maniacal laughter and cooing like a retarded turtle dove.

The next morning was a little rough, given the lack of sleep and the hangovers, but we woke up and cooked a slightly different version of the meal we had made the night before. Matt got out his guitar, and he and I sang a rousing rendition of Belle and Sebastian's "Meat and Potatoes" to complement breakfast. Kristin and Kyle left shortly after that because Kristin (lamely, I might add) had to make jelly with soccer moms for her internship. She didn't respond to my guilt trip (I'll admit, it wasn't my best, as it was delivered pre-coffee), and I was a little bummed, because though she left me a few bottles of Green Tea Smirnoff, she missed the best part of the weekend - the Easter Beer Hunt.

Matt's parents and some of their friends from college have been conducting this fantastic activity for the last 31 years. This is an awesome tradition that starts out with a keg, because it's important that one be slightly drunk before hunting. The actual hunt only lasts a few minutes. It starts with some announcements read by a man named Roger who was wearing a referee shirt, then a whistle is blown, and about 20 drunk adults and several sober, underage "apprentices" go racing down a hill. The running stops after about the first two minutes and turns to slow ambling. However, I will say that Matt had a sweet power dive for a bottle of Little King that resulted in him tumbling over onto a second Little King.

After the hunting, there was an awards ceremony complete with bizarre prizes (president masks, beer shaped sunglasses). Colin, Andy and I won the award for the hunters who had travelled the greatest distance, and Matt won "Bringer of the Most Rookies." Prizes for these two great achievements included light up fake teeth, a rubber Blues Brother mask, and a small can of roadkill possum.

Following the hunt and subsequent drinking, we decided to relocate our campsite to the backyard of the cabin that Matt's parents had rented. There was plenty of room, and it was free. We didn't want to disassemble the tent, so the four of us picked it up and walked it about a mile uphill to the cabin. I wish I had pictures of it, because it was pretty ridiculous. Cars kept coming and the drivers would stare at us like they'd never seen four people carrying a tent that I could have parked my car in before.

Once at the cabin, there was pizza and (surprise!) more drinking.

We woke up the next morning hung over and sore from once again thinking that our campsite was much flatter than it really was. Andy looked like Morrissey, and my hair sort of had a charming Thomas Jefferson thing going on. We finally left around 11 a.m., and made the long drive back to Memphis.

The weekend as a whole was fantastic, and there are tons of details that I'm leaving out because they would just be too difficult to explain. It was an awesome time, though, and I'm already looking forward to next year.

Maybe the turtle dove kid's family will have learned their lesson about taking their child camping.

that's what she said,
Kerry

PS - Blogger is having difficulties uploading pictures today, so I'll try again later .