small.town.girl

This is a song I almost missed. Thankfully, my friend Faith asked me last month if I would be interested in seeing Innerpartysystem, which led them to a slot in my car’s CD changer. I had never heard of them (or hadn’t paid enough attention for them to register on my radar). Now I’m pretty smitten, and not just because they’re local. Plus, in a matter of hours, I will be seeing them, so I figured I would take this opportunity to share them with you.

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This week I can’t blame my lack of good reporting skills on alcohol.  I can, however, blame it on the fact that I have a day job that grates on my liberal idealist nerves every day.  So, after the jump, find my ranting and raving (mostly) about Sarah Palin.  Yeah, I hold a grudge.  Also, if you have an interest in real world news and Israel/Gaza, check out David Hosey’s blog.

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Oh, goodness. Another mid-week holiday that confused my internal clock and has me bloated–this time from sharing a bottle of Patrón with one of my most favorite people in the world–has passed and it’s an awkward Friday that feels far too much like a Monday, but with jeans instead of business casual wear. I had picked this song out before my New Year’s plans were cemented, but it makes it even more special because my drinking buddy is the one who introduced me to The Mountain Goats.

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Happy New Year! Before I get my snark on, I want to wish the Obama girls good luck at their new school on Monday. They are precious and I’m looking forward to becoming less bitter once their Daddy is president. Just sayin’. Anyway, this week is going to be charmingly devoid of lots of news coverage courtesy of binge drinking. But in honor of the shit ton of tequila I’ve consumed since Christmas, I will obviously discuss President George “DUI” Bush. You’ll be thanking me after the jump.

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Happy holidays everyone! I was too busy stressing about the impending holiday festivities to give you a ton of news this week, but I’m going to do my best. How about I start off with everybody’s favorite holiday present? Paparazzi shots of President-Elect Obama have been a hit on the ‘net. No one ever took shots like this of Bill Clinton, did they? (Yes, I realize that’s a good thing.)  But here we go: Recounts, pardons, and scumbags, oh my!  And how ’bout some Jesus, since it’s Christmastime and all?

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Family get-togethers at the holidays usually include at least three cousins asking me, “How did you go from Marilyn Manson to Britney Spears?” or, in reference to the general time period where I caught shit for listening to Manson, “Remember when you used to wear those boots?” Well, the simple answers, my dear family, is that I still listen to Marilyn Manson even with my newfound love for Britney. And my platform boots from Hot Topic broke in 2003, or I’d probably still wear them.

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I’ve been poring over my high school yearbooks. As I’ve previously mentioned, this time of year gets me all nostalgic (though not necessarily in a good way).

For about two weeks, I’ve been pondering someone’s reappearance–nay, first appearance out of the periphery–in my life. His presence makes me uncomfortable and content at the same time. He takes me backwards and forwards and makes me question how I will fulfill myself if I’m not really living (because being aware of him makes me feel like I’m not). I can honestly say that this guy is everything I would consider perfect in a guy except for one quirk: we went to high school together.

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It’s Winter Break.  The problem here is that I’m no longer in college, so I should no longer be celebrating with bar trips and catching up with old friends.  I’m doing just that, though, out of a desperate desire to become a more social creature after an approximate year of hibernation.  Nevermind that I’m incredibly depressed that I will be having drinks with a friend who has relocated to NYC and will only be reminded that I am stuck here.  I do want to chat with her, but I also want to lock her in a closet and assume her life in the city.  She’s thin and half Chinese, though, so I’m guessing that wouldn’t work too well.

The real inspiration for this post is not to talk about impending hang-outs, but one that has already taken place.  A little background for you?  From sixth grade through high school I adored this boy (we shall call him R).  I never dated R, and with the exception of one drunken make out session, nothing productive came out of my nearly-a-decade-long crush.  He graduated high school with me in 2003 and bounced around to several colleges before he found one that “stuck.”  He’s slated to graduate in 2010.  We haven’t been tight since we went to Bonnaroo–a group trip where I was Susie Sober and spoiled everyone’s fun by being slightly annoyed at the rampant drug use among the 80,000 people who were not nearly as dedicated to Radiohead as me.  So anyway, R is home from Utah State right now, and I wanted to “catch up.”

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I’ve been MIA from politics in an effort to get into the holiday spirit, but since that has failed pretty miserably (bah humbug!) I’m back, and I bring with me some highlights of this past week in politics: from “Yes, Virginia, Obama will be president” to the wars in Iraq and your uterus.

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I am a product of 90s post-grunge, and this is one of my many anthems. Though The Verve Pipe is best known for “The Freshman” also known as the song that makes me want to claw my eyes out because I’m still troubled by how much it was overplayed a decade ago, “Photograph” was their first single off their album Villains. It peaked in Billboard’s Modern Rock Top 10 but obviously didn’t get that played-at-every-middle-school-dance success that “The Freshman” did. Whatever, it rocks way harder.

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