Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Amberance - Now Available in Stripes

I get bored easily. So even though I loved loved loved my last haircut, I found myself back in Melle's chair last week begging her to cut it all off. Melle loves to cut my hair because I pretty much let her do whatever she wants. My theory is that I don't cut hair for a living. She does. So who am I to be telling her what would look good on my head? I don't know; it's not my job. It's Melle's job and so I just go in there assuming that she knows what she's doing. People don't really get this, I think because people tend to get hyper-sensitive about their hair. When people ask how I'm going to get my haircut I have to tell them I don't know, because I honestly don't. Every time I've thought I knew how it would turn out I was wrong. The most direction I've ever given Melle is "do something asymmetrical". So when I went in last Thursday night on the way to the bar (did I mention how great it is to get your hair cut next door to your bar?), I found Melle rubbing her hands together maniacally. Well, OK, she was really washing some other girl's hair, but trust me, I could see the wheels turning.

She had nearly completed the haircut when she got this "Eureka!" look on her face and asked me "Can I put lines in it?" I explained to her my theory of haircuts, and so she set to work on carving stripes into my head, giggling to herself "Teehee! You're an investment analyst!" the entire time. Here is the result:

It's a little different as you can see. I am in love with my head now, except that I can't get used to the fact that it looks really cool. Because I am not really cool. My hair is much much cooler than I am, in my opinion.

Though not everyone's opinion, as evidence by my brother's reaction upon my arrival at Tai's:

He's not drunk, just exasperated.

Thanks Melle!

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

More From Amber's Deranged Slumbers

The bartender called at midnight last night. I'm sure he had a reason, but I don't know what it was because I wasn't listening to him. Noticing my unresponsiveness, he asked if he'd woken me up (he had).

"I'm sorry. I'm trying to process this dream I just had. I dreamed I was at a midget wedding." Actually, a little person wedding, as I was corrected in the dream. I also remember one normal sized person talking about her midget son who was not in attendance. "He has a huge head," she was telling us. "He always has. When he was young all the other kids on the soccer team made fun of him for it and it was hard for him to hold it up because it was so heavy. But he's used to it now."

I've determined I need to stop eating whole blocks of cheese just before I go to bed.

Monday, April 17, 2006

Night of the Living Douchebags

Happy Easter y'all. How was it this year? Mine sucked rancid eggs.

The plan was for me, the bartender and the bartender's roommate to drive out to Galena in my car for Easter dinner. A fine plan to be sure, except that the bartender's roommate is a complete smacktard. I hereby christen him with the blog name Fuckwit.

About a week ago, Fuckwit got it into his head that it would be a much better idea for him to drive instead. Fuckwit's driving record is less than perfect. He's had himself a motorcycle accident, had his license suspended for three years, and last Wednesday received a speeding ticket that probably should have also included a bonus DUI. Needless to say, I was loathe to get in a car with him behind the wheel and the bartender shared my opinion. Fuckwit wouldn't budge, and so it was decided we would take separate vehicles for the three hour trip. This appears even more stupid when you know that part of Fuckwit's reasoning for not wanting to ride with us is because he wasn't sure how much money he should bring for gas and tolls. So clearly since he doesn't know, he should drive by himself and pay three times as much.

We got off to a weak start almost immediately. Because, you know, it NEVER EVER rains in Illinois so no one knows how to drive when it does. Really people, why is this such a difficult skill? You are FROM here, you should be used to this by now. Combine that with your typical holiday traffic in Chicago and it took us an hour and a half to get out of the city. It continued to rain on us for the entire trip. Fuckwit got, we thought, pretty far ahead of us since we ended up stopping twice. So we were a little surprised when we got a call from Fuckwit who had missed an exit, blown right through Rockford, and was now lost. Only a little surprised though, because it's Fuckwit and he's not known for being the sharpest knife in the drawer. It would not be the last time I said "He just HAD to drive himself, didn't he?" on this trip.

The bartender and I arrived at the restaurant in Galena, and to prove he has a sick sense of humor, God allowed the heavens to open and turn regular rain into a torrential downpour just as we got out of the car. Ha ha God. You're hilarious.

We wetly entered the restaurant where the bartender's family was already waiting, and then proceeded to wait another 45 minutes for Fuckwit's lost ass to show up. After all that, dinner turned out to be pretty good. I had king crab legs, which were delicious, and I traded the bartender one leg for one of his ribs, which was also delicious. Meanwhile, Fuckwit ordered what seemed to be an entire cow and had himself a few cold beers. We'd predicted that would be his beverage of choice; yet another reason why we didn't want him driving us.

After dinner, we drove to the bartender's mother's house, where we had cake and ice cream in honor of his sister's birthday. It was here that I experienced the highlight of my day - tiny little kittens! Really tiny. A month old and they squeak like mice when you pick them up. So cute.

After about 8.2 seconds of being at the house, Fuckwit started pestering us to head back to Chicago. Now, he'd driven himself, so why he couldn't just leave without us any time he felt like it is beyond me. But he insisted and so we headed out with him following behind us. He had mentioned he was kind of tired (maybe because he came home at 7:30 in the morning?) and might stop for a Red Bull, so when we lost sight of him behind us we figured he'd pulled into the gas station. We drove along companionably, mooing at the cows we saw and singing along with the NoFX cover of Gin and Juice. Traffic was light and the rain had even stopped. All was right with the world.

Forty minutes out of Galena, the bartender's phone rings and I hear the following half of a conversation: "Yeah._____Wait, you WHAT?______By the look out tower?________Fuck.________HOW DID YOU DRIVE YOUR CAR INTO A DITCH?__________Well, it's going to be a while, we're a half hour past that._________FINE." As it turns out, Fuckwit hadn't gone after a Red Bull. Instead he'd relied on the beer he had at dinner and his fabulous driving skills to lose control of his car, run off the road, down a hill and smash his car into a fence. Correction, make that smash his FATHER'S car into a fence. Additionally, he had $30 in his wallet which was obviously not enough for a tow truck, and so could we turn around and come ALL THE WAY BACK and give him some more money?

As the bartender turned around, an uncomfortable silence filled the car. A minute later I couldn't hold it in any longer: "He just HAD to FUCKING DRIVE, didn't he?!?!?" As I heard earlier in the week on my favorite podcast, Punky Radio, saying we were angry is like saying that Hitler was mildly annoyed by the Jews. We now found ourselves parked on the side of the road behind a police car watching the sky get dark and the rain start falling again, staring down an embankment at Fuckwit's car, wondering how the hell it didn't roll over, seething, and waiting for the tow truck. The bartender briefly got out to speak with his roommate; I did not as I was afraid I might invert his nutsack. The tow truck took 45 minutes to arrive and then cleaned the bartender and I out of an additional $100 with Fuckwit's $30. I can't really blame the guy, if some complete fuck up interrupted my Easter dinner, I'd make him wait and rape his wallet too.

An hour and a half after we left the first time, we got back on the road. It was now pitch black, raining like a monsoon and we had about $1.37 in loose change left over from an episode that 1) was not our fault and 2) SHOULD NEVER HAVE FUCKING HAPPENED IN THE FIRST PLACE. Additionally, we had waited just long enough for the milk trucks to leave the farms and head to where ever they take the milk, so we were stuck behind a convoy of them with no passing lane. It's so much fun to drive in the dark when it's raining, but oh, it's even MORE fun to drive in the dark when it's raining and the spray from the trucks in front of you cuts what little visibility you do have in half. We could not cut a break the whole trip. When the road briefly opened up into two lanes so we could pass the trucks, we got cut off by a truck trying to pass the other ones and ended up passing nobody. Some shithead thought it would be a good idea to pull over to the side, half on the shoulder and half still in the road and shut off all his lights. We were repeatedly blinded by people going the other way who didn't have the courtesy to turn off their brights when they passed.

When we finally got to my house, I turned to the bartender and we hugged each other for a long time. "Happy Easter," he said to my neck.

"Happy Easter to you," I said pleasantly. "This was terrible. Let's never do this again, as long as we live."

Heather and Amber Have Finally Cracked

PGS DenMILF: i made a gay Easter egg last week
PGS DenMILF: it's a rainbow
VelociHeather: did it go clubbing?
VelociHeather: :-)
PGS DenMILF: yeah, in the fridge. all the straight eggs went with it because everyone knows that gay eggs are the most fun
VelociHeather: hahaha
VelociHeather: it woke up the next morning in the butter tray, hungover
VelociHeather: "Shit - what did I DO last night?"
PGS DenMILF: throwing up yolk
VelociHeather: covered in ketchup
VelociHeather: shell slightly cracked
PGS DenMILF: "i'm never going to The Scramble again!"
VelociHeather: then he looks over and sees his friends fried
VelociHeather: "NOOOOOOOO!!!!!"
PGS DenMILF: shouldn't have given them that mayonnaise. he knows they can't handle the hard stuff
PGS DenMILF: quick! get the tabasco sauce!
PGS DenMILF: but it's too late. the tragedy is he was so young
VelociHeather: and delicious

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Expensive Taste

Last night I dreamed that I tried on a little black strapless dress at Abercrombie when I was out shopping with Kelly. The price tag said it was $3600.

I put it back on the rack.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Dresden Dolls

A week ago, if you'd told me I was going to see a rock show that was stranger than Hank III, I would have laughed in your face. Even though you didn't, and I didn't, I take it back.

The bartender bought me tickets to see the Dresden Dolls on Friday night for no apparent reason other than he knew I wanted to go. I say tickets because he bought me two, but I ended up going alone because there's been a rash of douchebagotry going around.

The first thing I noticed was that I didn't get the memo about the dress code. Apparently at Dolls shows you're meant to show up dressed as a creepy doll. Even if you're a dude. Also, there was a couple dressed up as a doctor and a nurse handing out vials of something I was pretty sure I didn't want to drink.

I also had not been expecting the strippers. The first thing I saw when I walked in was a girl wearing nothing but panties and pasties prancing around onstage. Turns out the opening act was a burlesque show. It also turns out they got in a little bit of trouble for it, because they found out after the fact that it's illegal to have women in pasties where alcohol is being served in Chicago. Though less trouble than they got in for the same thing in Salt Lake City, they pointed out. Oops.

The next act was a band called Reverend Glasseye, which sounded sort of like folk music mixed with carnival music. Except much louder and they were very angry about something. Possibly religion. But it was very interesting.

The next act was something called Buried Alive, which consisted of a girl and a boy doing some kind of interpretive dance/performance art thingy. I can't be sure, but I think it was about two dead people having sex, or possibly two people trying to kill each other through having sex. I could be wrong. I do know there was definitely sex, flowers and a grave. This performance prompted my favorite moment of the night. There was a girl standing near me who was pierced all the way down both sides of her neck and her chest. She had a series of rings in the holes and a red satin ribbon woven through them like she was some kind of human corset. It was this girl who, after the performance, turned around and said "That was weird."

Finally at about 1:15 in the morning the Dresden Dolls took the stage. Holy crap. Allow me to bow down before all that is awesome about the Dresden Dolls.

Thank you. They played a great mix of songs from their upcoming album and songs off their old one. Coin Operated Boy was particularly awesome. I was originally drawn to this band by Amanda Palmer's lyrics, but let me tell you: Brian Viglione steals the live show. Their recordings don't do his drumming justice at all. Additionally, recordings don't capture his hilarious mime-like stage antics. What an incredibly talented performer.

Besides their own stuff, they also covered "Amsterdam" by Jacques Brel (who I love) and, bizarrely, Black Sabbath's War Pigs which turned surprisingly awesome with nothing but a piano and drums.

I hate to admit this, but I left before the encore. Because it was already past 3 a.m. and so 6 hours past my bedtime. Also I figured if I left a little early I had a better chance of not get trampled by an army of creepy dolls. You should totally check out the Dresden Dolls if this tour is coming through your town. Now with more boobies!

That's A Parent

I'm having a kid.

Don't panic, I'm not actually pregnant or anything. It's just that I decided last week that I'm having a kid sometime in the next four years or so, even if I have to go out and buy the sperm. Because kids rock.

I was walking home from work last week. As I was walking past a house on my street about a block up from mine, out popped the cutest kid ever. He was one of those super white kids. You know the kind, with the white blonde hair and pale skin and you just know they glow in the dark? He jumped out on the porch as I walked by his house. "Hi!" he said.

I assumed he was talking to the kids a couple houses down and not to me, because I was a stranger, but no. When I didn't answer him he tried again.

"HI!" he shouted.

"Hi!" I said.

"Do you like my NEW SHOES?"

Either he was never taught the lesson about not talking to strangers or else he just wasn't down with that, because the kid had no fear.

"I do like your shoes," I said. "They're very nice."

"WATCH ME!" he shouted with glee. "They make me go FAST!" and with that he took off running down the street to when the other kids were playing.

I was completely charmed right out of my shoes. Two seconds later I became very afraid for him, because what if I'd been a kidnapper or something?

And that was when I decided I wanted a kid just like him. Except that doesn't talk to strangers.

Monday, April 03, 2006

Not Your (Grand)Father's Country Music

PGS DenMILF: holy crap i am so tired today
VelociHeather: yeah?
PGS DenMILF: you know hank williams?
VelociHeather: the singer?
VelociHeather: not personally, but i've heard his music
PGS DenMILF: i saw his grandson play last night
VelociHeather: ooh, neat
PGS DenMILF: probably the most bizarre concert i'll ever get to see
VelociHeather: Hank III: Revenge of Country
PGS DenMILF: and how
PGS DenMILF: set 1: total country music. hillbilly twangy stuff with slide guitar and steel guitar and violin etc.
PGS DenMILF: except all the words were about drugs
PGS DenMILF: set 2:
PGS DenMILF: and mind you, they actually CHANGED CLOTHES for this right onstage
PGS DenMILF: psycobilly/hellbilly supercharged punk/country
VelociHeather: wow, now that's weird
PGS DenMILF: violin slide guitar still included
PGS DenMILF: no wait, it gets better
PGS DenMILF: 10 minute break
VelociHeather: haha
PGS DenMILF: they come back out
PGS DenMILF: regular instruments now except still with the stand up bass they've had the whole time (played by a dude with a raging mohawk)
PGS DenMILF: and they play screaming death metal
VelociHeather: ha!
PGS DenMILF: not even kidding you
VelociHeather: did you expect this at all?
VelociHeather: I mean, did you know it'd be a weird show?
VelociHeather: Why did you go?
PGS DenMILF: i had no idea what i was getting myself into
PGS DenMILF: the bartender asked me to
PGS DenMILF: he had an extra ticket
PGS DenMILF: strangest crowd of people i've ever seen at a concert
VelociHeather: sounds hilarious
PGS DenMILF: hicks in boots and cowboy hats with large belt buckles mixed with mohawk/spikey haired tattooed punks with spiked belts mixed with hardcore metalheads in platform boots with their ears gauged so big you could pass a loaf of french bread through them and their goth chick "i'll kill you by looking at you" leather clad girlfriends
PGS DenMILF: i wish i would have had a camera
VelociHeather: i wish you'd had one too