1. Cat Power, "Free"
2. Caetano Veloso, "Soy Loco Por Ti, América"
3. Mirah, "Monument"
4. Spoon, "the Underdog"
5. the Thermals, "God and Country"
6. Public Enemy, "Party for Your Right to Fight"
7. New Bad Things, "Robin Hood"
8. David Byrne, "Empire"
9. MIA, "Paper Planes"
10. Jonathan Richman, "Parties in the U.S.A."

Also, for those of you looking for a good light cocktail for the fourth, allow me to present my variation on the SBT: muddle three strawberries and six basil leaves. Add the juice of half a lime, a half ounce of simple syrup, and an ounce and a half of gin (Tanqueray Rangpur is lovely here). Then add ice cubes and top it all off with some tonic. It is delightful.

Happy long weekend, everybody!

as we settle in the grass to gorge on junk food, we pay attention to the first time to the performers in the band shell, and then realize they're doing a lot of praise-be-ing and arms in the air stuff. the audience is really into it and all sway-y and suddenly we come to the brilliant conclusion that we are at a christian praise-in-the-park bonanza of some sort. no big whoop, whatever, right? and bluegrass gospel is kinda cool.

and then i realize that todd is wearing this shirt:

classic.

Really, Sandisk? Seriously?

It is said that any publicity is good publicity, but you do know there is a difference between laughing at and laughing with, right?

in particular i recommend today's collection of the 30 most adorable album covers.  the post with our picture from the mother's day breast cancer walk is also a favorite, primarily because i have delusions of grandeur / i like attention.

that's a lotta links, but she's that damn good.

CR still has the new-EVERYTHING smell, from furniture to carpet. no technology yet, save my (lovely) ceiling mounted projector, aimed at the blank spot on the wall that's awaiting my smartBoard. it's a little weird because i'm in a regular classroom - not reading teacher specific, so i have a class set of desks and built-in cubbies and things that kind of don't apply.

the thing that concerns me most about this transition at the moment is that I HAVE NO BUDGET. i have my gorgeous empty classroom and NO BOOKS. classroom teachers have received startup money already with more to come and me, nada. i honestly don't think that the powers-that-be , well, remembered me. considered that i can't take books from my current school. thought about the fact that i need to have things to put on my shelves and recommend to kids, and, you know, read with them.

i am part of the TLC (the learning connection) program in my county, and when i went to the head of TLC and asked about a start-up budget, there was not an answer. ditto for when i posited that question to my principal. i emailed the TLC head again today and was told as of yesterday, a different county person is now in charge of the program. i made contact with her right away and have a meeting tomorrow, but i can't help but feel a little pessimistic. unless she is a miracle worker and can make money fall from the sky - or books, for that matter, ouch - i just don't think i have been included in anyone's budget and i have no idea what to do about it.

i'll be in the nicest classroom with the nicest technology in the nicest school … with no books.

1. A few weeks ago, I got a little (lot) drunk by accident. And we were out with Hima and Matt and, through a small series of unfortunate events, I stepped on a dog. It's funnier, probably, if I don't try to explain this any further, except to say the dog was not hurt and it wasn't a damaging step.

2. I take CalTrain up to the city every day and you recognize people — you seem the same people in the same routine every day. So yes, I see the cute girls and there are a handful that I see from time to time, especially in the mornings and it makes me happy.

What, you may wonder, do these two stories have to do with each other?

I see one of these women this morning. I get onto CalTrain. Someone cuts in front of me as I get on the train, forcing me to take a step back.

And yes, I step on her foot. And she's wearing sandals. I did apologize, but still. I'm fired.

(Also, unlike with the dog, I didn't have a piece of b-b-qed chicken to feed her to make up for the accident. Also, I'm sure now in her head, I'll forever be 'the guy who stepped on my toes.' Sigh.)

Last week, I was in Red Rocks and they were playing Bags' Groove. Which isn't that remarkable, except for the fact that I recognized it and could name it easily.

Guess I have gotten a little more cultured through the years after all.

i like his funny, blue-steel-esque look.

don't tell my family that i'm internalizing stress from work. because i am. and because my mother would have my head for doing it.

but i can't help it right now. i don't know how to do it differently. that's the real problem, truth be told. i don't know how to not be intense. i don't know how to take the weight of work off my shoulders. it's nothing super-major (but really, what is?), but it's enough to wire me up.

it's all ok; it'll be fine. i'm venting. and reminding myself that the important things in life are more important. i'm going in late tomorrow, because working 11 hours today means that i earned rolling in an hour late tomorrow. (i see someone outside smoking and i want a cig for the first time in years and years.)

i think back to the pack or so i smoked when my grandmother was dying. remember shuttling back and forth from williamsburg, in her old car, a sophomore in college, window down, playing a cassette, prob of nirvana loudly on a battery powered boombox since there was no tape player in the car. jetting back and forth to see her in the hospital.

its not the same stress, obviously. proving to someone that you can carry and deliver and do work is different than having a grandparent die after a long illness. i'm not comparing them, only linking them over the thoughts of smoking.

i'm sure ive smoked since then. i remember stumbling around a house party in richmond more than once with one hanging from my lips, not unlike dan ackroyd in ghostbusters, stuck to my lower lip with dried spit. but i don't think i smoke one then. i certainly havent had one since then though. 7 or 8 years.

when i first met r, when i was djing house parties in richmond, staying out all night, drinking shit drinks all the time and feeling alive.

arg. clearly im all emo and angsty about work. somebody punch me.

Here's what you do: slice some boneless skinless chicken breasts into strips (roughly into thirds), then submerge them in buttermilk. Let that soak for about 20 minutes. Mix together 1½ cups of flour, 2½ cups of chopped pecans, and salt and pepper to taste. Dredge the chicken in the flour-pecan mixture, then refrigerate for about 30 minutes. When that's done chilling, cover the bottom of a cast iron skillet with about 1 centimeter of olive oil. Fry the chicken over medium high heat until it's golden brown (2-3 minutes per side). Drain it on paper towels and enjoy. It's effing fantastic.

The other big hit were the strawberry gin coolers. Here's what you do: put 4 frozen strawberries in a shaker with 2 shots of gin. Shake it up. Divide the strawberries and gin between two glasses, and top them off with some chilled soda water. It's delightful. The strawberries keep the drink cool, and by the time you're done, they've thawed, and you can eat them. Good times!

Now I'm off to make blueberry-cranberry pie and strawberry cupcakes in preparation for a mini-vacation. Wish me luck, kids!

writing from the charlotte, NC airport on a sunday morning, post 10.25pm flight from SF, pre-last-leg mini-flight back to charlottesville. the red-eye was pretty brutal and right now i want little more than to be sleeping in my own bed – or really, comfortable just about anywhere. this airport is nice for its free wi-fi (it was pay only at SFO, which surprised me). the charlotte airport also gets props for its randomly scattered lanes of southern living-loving rocking chairs lining the terminals.

a bit odd, but kind of nice.

the trip out for my orientation, overall, was really good, but i am incredibly overwhelmed in the amount of work i need to get done before i go back out in a month for my week of production. 23 complete, camera-ready lessons with supplemental handouts , bonus materials, and ideas for on location shots in 4 weeks – eeeeeek. i’m hoping that right now is the hardest part, and once i get started nailing everything down i’ll get in the / a zone. we shall see, as my father says.

san francisco, which i oddly have zero memory of visiting on my cross-country trip with matt and tripp many lifetimes ago, was pretty cool. well, actually, it was pretty fucking cold – a 30 degree difference from summer in VA that left me realizing my knowledge of california climate was seriously flawed. in my pretty little head, california = warm. now i know - notsomuch. palm trees and heavy hoodies don’t really mesh in my mind.

i had a phenomenal, rock star level room in the grand hyatt. it had a tv in the bathroom, which i couldn't resist turning on just because it was there. the hotel is in union square, which is quite different from nyc's union square, but lovely in general:

we didn’t have too much free time, but i did managed to swing by chinatown, in my winter-worthy knit cap (purchased on market street):

i found SF's chinatown to be architecturally superior but otherwise secondary to the nyc-version, home of my beloved high-quality designer knockoff purses. i also felt a dearth of manhattan's abundant dumpling shacks, but maybe -likely- i just didn't really know where to look. i did manage to find a slice of veggie heaven at herbivore, which had the tastiest grilled seitan. mmm.

seeing trolleys tickled me for some reason - maybe just because of the reinforcement of my rice-a-roni, full house, tourist notions of the city.

it's nice that i apparently looked like an alien, or perhaps at hobbit, at this point, too.

a true highlight of my trip and my silly pop culture devotion was when I trekked to a downtown mall for a meet-and-greet with the queen of all media himself, one mr perez hilton. the gossip gangstar was at a hot topic promoting his merch line, and was kind enough to obligingly pimp my educational video - picture to come.

he even paid me an appropriately fabulous compliment:

while in line i chatted for awhile with a chick who turned out to be a cast member from a new CW show stylista, which seems like a rather heavy-handed attempt at a reality-tv attempt to replicate the movie version of the devil wears prada, inbred with the standard trappings of a reality tv competition. needless to say, i’ll be an avid viewer.

this particular young starlet

entertained/overshared a tale from taping in which somehow her breast implant shifted within her chest and created an air pocket she could feel. in order to fix the issue, she had to lay on the floor, sliding her hand between the floor and her chest to leverage the silicon back into place. i was repulsed and fascinated and wordlessly wondered if shifting boobies are commonplace occurrences in the land of the artificially-supplemented – ie, california.

• the best dating/asking out vm ever. oh douchebags, will you ever get unfunny?
• in my weekly "something new to stop me from sleeping" section, the north pole will completely melt this summer, for the first time ever. there are plenty of firsts that i am excited by (see: not being a virgin anymore), but this isn't one of them.
• because you wondered, here is the imdb listing for troy mcclure.
• and because you loved 2 girls, 1 cup, here is a video "re-enactment" of the moments before the movie was made.

rock out this weekend, kids.

Things failing makes her laugh like nothing else.

So it is with great pleasure I point you to this video, which is SFW (given you can handle a blurred out bra):

I really almost got myself into trouble, watching this in a meeting. Oops.

(via Rachael's new favorite blog, FAIL blog)

also, it's everywhere, but if you haven't seen the mcsweeney's 3 line reviews of books, do.

That's right: Donkey Punch: The Movie. Sorry, dude. I don't think Britney Spears is in it.

I'm sad this morning and I don't really know why. I was sad last night, too, so I'm sure some of it is residual.

I spoke to Petunia the other day about her trip out here. Then we deviated a bit and spoke about Rachael heading off to Harvard in August. She said that I hadn't posted much about it on here, which I suppose is semi-true. But the whole topic isn't one I have been super thrilled with typing about and it's not something I feel like is anyone else's business.

But I realized yesterday that I haven't typed up many personal stories in a while. All of my drama with R happens between us now and I don't often feel the need to type it up as a way of working through it.

Most of my feelings these days revolve around my relationship with her and the future, which is a terrible place to be. I've heard everyone's assurances and condolences. Which is all the more reason not to discuss it — I don't believe anyone can add much to the dialogue in my head. I don't believe she and I are approaching this all in an optimal way; there are days where things are perfect, followed by days of stress and tenseness that totally freak me out. Neither of us are standing on firm enough ground to be able to offer the other the perfect support we would like. Which just ends up freaking each of us out in other ways. The fun never stops!

So yeah, I'm trying not to think too much about the future, trying not to let it crush me or wear me down. And that's going pretty well mostly. But just juggling the day-to-day has become more difficult. I didn't realize the amount of stress this would cause — we are still 8 weeks off.

It'll work out, everything always does. But at the moment I'm not enjoying the journey quite so much.

I'm flipping a bit that she has seen neither. And already trying to arrange viewings to fix this.

Also Danny Boyle's "Sunshine" is a solid C. Sadly.

After being completely enamored with his stand-up as a late teen, early twenty-something, I found a Carlin renaissance of sorts, hearing him tell tales of Thomas the Tank Engine to my young children. I'd always have a little inner smile, half expecting to hear Thomas launch into some expletive-laced rant, and marvel at an altogether different facet of the man.