Everyone is attached to these odds and ends

The holidays aren't quite over just yet, and I couldn't wait to get back to some routine here in Austin and out of the money vehicle that is Dallas. I've got my computer (well, my mom's 3 year old laptop), a cup of warm green tea, and a nice window overlooking the neighbor's porch. Seemingly everything I need to call this newly furnished office picturesque.

But before getting tired of the humbug in Dallas, I did have a few quiet afternoons finishing up Christmas shopping for my mom and sister. Most notable was a visit to Dolly Python, a doodad and whatchamacallit shop on the south side of town. Similar to Uncommon Objects here in Austin, this place has the warmth of Texas hospitality and even an elderly chocolate Labrador guarding the front door. Hey, you can never be too careful when you have vintage decorative JFK pillows and Las Vegas ashtrays laying around.

I'm glad that people seem to be having such a resurgence of nostalgia these days. I would much rather see a store like Dolly Python prosper in the face of all of the Pier Ones and Brookstones out there. I mean, do we really need to act excited about warming office supplies anymore? Are we even supposed to like things being unnaturally warmed around us? Even after Becky and I got lost Saturday night on Lovers Lane, we ran into another odds and ends store that I had never even glanced upon before. The possibilities are endless in these stores, and I never let myself stay too long for fear of prematurely draining my bank account trying to afford different sized deer antlers. Way classier than a hat rack, if I do say so.

And I say yay for the one of a kind!




Other than that, I spent a few afternoons on the beautiful Flag Pole Hill, a historic park in Dallas right on the verge of White Rock Lake. This seems to be the place I always jet off to in times of frustration or when I have been sitting in just too much traffic. I consider this to be one of the most underrated park in the whole city, but with that comes peace and solitude far away from the hustle and bustle of places like Highland Park. So maybe I'll just keep this place a secret after all.

This week is set to live out all vices before the new year, and boy do I have some catching up to do since I have been out of town. Up next- resolutions and de-solutions for the upcoming decade.

Two extra ladies in the house

It's Saturday, and Jake and I were awake and ready before 10 am today, a large feat for our "no leaving the house before noon" policy bodies. We had just spent the better part of the day out in Fredericksburg at Alamo Springs Cafe, devouring a feast of Texas beer, roasted garlic and goat cheese, green chile and onion burgers, blackened shrimp salad and beer-battered onion rings.

Needless to say, we were in some sort of heaven.

After putting ourselves into painful food comas, we headed to Main Street to check out the other German fare and relive Germany in one of the many biergartens they harbor. We stopped at the Auslander, a restaurant/bar (a.k.a biergarten) that served up hefty liters of German and Belgian beer, included my beloved beer from Munich, Paulaner Hefeweizen. It was the first beer and the last beer I ever tried in Germany, and it will always hold a soft spot in my heart.

Later on in the evening, after indulging in some guilty Homeslice margherita pizza, Jake and I settled in at the Continental Club to dance and jig to White Ghost Shivers, an Austin vaudeville/jazz band that had Jake and I moving in our britches. We even dressed up in matching old-fashioned country hay time outfits, complete with socks and heels! White kids were dancing to that fiddle, making all worries of climate change and a failing monetary system melt away as the free feelings from the 20s rushed back in wearing a tattered pinstripe vest. Watching this scene take place in the club made for a festive cold and rainy Friday, but we were gone after a few songs to catch up on movie nights.

We picked up the essentials for any stay-in Friday night. Some kook movie about the Freemasons, Magical Mystery Tour and Big Man Japan. I recommend any movie if you're not looking to understand anything moving on the screen. Big Man Japan, a mindfuck in its own right, still remains to be finished, and it's due back tomorrow.

Brendan has a few lady guests over this weekend, and after showing them around the true Texas town, Lockhart, and devouring over 5 pounds combined of meat, the five of us are going out again this evening. The New Movement Theater features the talent of Chicago-trained improv troupe Aphasia, which combined with BYOB freedom, holds to be another choice evening.

Christmas is coming fast, and I've got ideas and plans for gifts and gags. Keep your mail boxes open.

Understated culture jamming

The last couple of days in Austin have been nothing short of cold, dreary, and too wet for me to ride my bicycle any further than Central Market. Creative projects dominate my mind this week, and there is no better time to stay in and chain myself to this notebook than during a week of no holidays and no plans.

But just because Jake and I are working hard doesn't mean we don't stop to eat and drink well, and yesterday we found ourselves at Asia Cafe, an Asian market that expanded into its own restaurant and had 5-star reviews, a large feat considering it was all the way up off Spicewood Springs and in the same shopping center as Big Lots.

So when we get hungry for lunch, we are usually in a predicament. You see, Jake and I have a habit of eating lunch promptly around 3 or 4, usually just during the 2 hour time slot when small niche eateries close after the lunch hour rush and before dinner menus are ready. So when we found that this gem was open all day, we had to at least try our luck.

When we arrived, the restaurant was definitely on its down slope for the day. A few guys sat around a table, while an older couple grappled with what selections to make for their early dinner. Jake walked right up to the counter, and we were ready for business.

Jake ordered the General Tso's chicken, a trick he uses to find the best Chinese food wherever he goes. I stuck to the pan fried tofu with crushed red pepper, the wild card on the menu.

Jake's chicken seemed pretty good, but I am no giant General Tso connoisseur so I can't say for sure. My tofu was spicy, crispy, and coated in red pepper, a perfect way to wake up aften being rained on for my entire bike ride home that afternoon. One thing is for sure: You get your money's worth. Nine dollars got be a full meal of spicy seared tofu and grilled veggies, and even enough to take home with me for later.

Sometimes I just love Austin.

Lifestyle Maintenance

Monday is the beginning to this work week. That means I have been sending e-mails to voice over casting calls, administrative assistant job openings, and agonizing over the difference between the definition of "unpaid internship" and "free labor for companies that can't afford to pay their employees." It's all a question of verbatim.

Last week I trekked back up to Dallas to see what there was to see. My cousins from Florida visited for Thanksgiving, allowing us just enough time to see this season's hit blockbusters, and explain my way out of having to sit and watch Sandra Bullock comedically excuse herself out of every meaningful interaction on screen. Narrowly escaping The Blind Side, I spent the better part of my after dinner coma reading a bit of Tom Robbins and awaiting my cosmic intervention with my answer with what I am supposed to do with my life.

The next day I decided to get out of the house and out of my mind for a bit, so I followed my uncles and cousins out to get rambunctious. If you have ever done any research into the particulars of the Myers Briggs Type Indicator test and the personality types Jung laid out through this, you'll notice that my personality type, INFJ, is known for living life internally. In other words, I am a thinker in most situations, and not necessarily a doer. In even more words, I spend most of my time and energy focusing on figuring out why we are put on this earth, and where we are going wrong.

But after being around my light-hearted cousins all week, I began to realize that it has been far too long since I have done something that wasn't productive, or at least done purely for the satisfaction of having fun. So on Friday after our stomachs settled, we set out to ride dune buggies, four wheelers and dirt bikes. Uncle Gene even went so far as to let us play with his extensive collection of guns, reminding myself what it feels like to be a true Texan.



I learned how to drive a stick shift on a dune buggy that went 60 mph, I ate fried chicken just before shooting handguns and showed my cousins a homemade tattoo. All in all, it was a successful day. And I never even cracked a book.



The past few days in Austin have been cold, muggy, and rainy, leaving Jake and I the creative fuel we need to stay in and record, save for the occasional break in attention to watch random youtubes and kook shit. If you want to stay in the know, The Fall of the Republic by Alex Jones has been an interesting take on the economic crisis. I don't normally like or particularly trust the likes of Jones' exposes, but he put down the megaphone in this one, and instead substituting for real interviews and not just those of confidential servants of the "illuminati." Check, check, check it out for what it's all about.

Last night Jake and I stepped out of the house long enough to see The Fantastic Mr. Fox, Wes Anderson's latest endeavor into stop-motion. The cast (well, their voices) were perfect, the script was a mixture between Bottle Rocket and The Royal Tenenbaums, and the execution was nothing short of stunning. For as big of a perfectionist as Anderson seems to be with each subsequent film, it is hard to imagine what he can't do.

Now time for a day dedicated to upkeep, Modest Mable and the Free Rides recording sessions, and finishing up the live-action movie we just made with Moses. A few hints of what is to come- dogs in glasses and hats, dog and cat interbreed dating and a sweet soundtrack. Stay tuned!

Lasting impressions of the city where Take Out never sleeps

I can't say the word "Chicago" without feeling like I am some character in a movie or Sinatra serenading every last lady in an audience. We took a chance traveling there in late November, but were pleasantly surprised with the effects of climate change when it had yet to begin snowing and still allowed us a few days of sweater afternoons. We spent most of our time chasing down decent improv around the city, and trying to see releases of movies that were not in Texas yet (and probably never will be, thanks to the Coen's brothers wayward script all about Jewish culture and the life following this in A Serious Man).

Some tidbits to recollect about the windy city before I clear my mind of the last few months and start seriously consider considering looking for a job.


1. The skyline. Jake and I were lucky enough to be able to wake up and look out at this every morning, but you can't get much better than that, unless you're in New York and don't mind rats in your stairwells. I get nosebleeds just thinking about going up in most of these monsters, let alone to work or live in one.



2. Wicker Park was like a revitalized neighborhood for mid-twenty somethings with time to kill and an ego to support. There, we found one of the three Buffalo Exchanges in the city, shopped at the Marc Jacobs store, and visited some neat grassroots bookstores that could hold a candle to bookstores in Europe. Places like The Boring Store deserve more credit than a simple nod and a laugh.



3. The little things you can find if you're looking (or lost). Like the small boutique and specialty coffee shops that host kitschy signs good enough to eat.



4. The fact that in a city where spray paint sale is banned within city lines, you can still find little secrets and drawn convictions on almost any part of town.


Chicago, a city for friends. Chicago, a city for hungry lovers. Chicago, a nice place to visit if you have a warm enough jacket.



Oh, and this is me pretending to be a writer in Chicago, which basically means I have a free pass at wearing my boyfriend's sweater out of the house and I can get away with being moody more than most people. Just a note.

TV on stage

So far this trip has been a series of lucky breaks and just enough last-minute decisions to make every turn seem just as exciting as the first step I took off the subway. 

Friday on our way to see the city's famous vintage and specialty shops in Lincoln Park, we ran into a toy store that Jake recommended, Uncle Fun's. Inside were a cornucopia of odds and ends, doodads and whatdoyacallits. They had everything kitsch, from decrepid military buttons to the retro characters you used to find in cereal boxes. You know, before they made you get online and register to get your free prize on the internet. I mean, who doesn't love turning a box of cereal upside-down to get a toy that you will never play with? Well now you can, and you can pay for it.

After walking around and eventually picking up at least half of the store to buy, and having to walk around to put everything back, I settled on a few books about comics and street art, a ballet sticker book, a keychain in the shape of a knot so I can find my keys, and 1970s "Jesus Saves" chest tattoos. I am just thrilled that I am not the only person in the world that not only finds religious relics like this not only novel, but still necessary in our drab world.

As the night grew nearer (4 pm Chicago time, jeez), we headed home to hug and say hi to Jake's folks. Then we walked to the restaurant where we were dining, Gibson's Steakhouse. That is another thing I love about Chicago-the way you can dress up in your best and just take a walk around the corner to your reservations for the evening. Even if you need to take a cab just a few neighborhoods over and be there for a few dollars. On the menu were such items as filet minon, honey mustard Norwegian salmon and something called the Colossal Lobster Tail. I ended up settling for a salad with an entire peppercorn steak on top of it, with my excuse being I didn't want to be too full if I was going to be drinking and laughing at improvisers spill their biz on stage in a few short hours. Hey-a salad is still a salad. 

Something we found out a little while into dinner was the fact that Warren Buffet was seated at the table directly behind us, which kind of put the restaurant into perspective for me. Dinner was delightful, and after bringing home a piece of carrot cake weighing 3 pounds for later that evening, we left for The Cornservatory for after dinner improv. Needless to say, for every amazing set of improv you see, there are three times as many troupes that don't know what to do with an open stage and a ready audience. Jake and I sat through 2 exhausting hours of non-humor on stage, with some of the jokes including uncle's suicides and yelling at grandpas. We walked out at the last second, and never even looked back.

Last night we got tickets to the Aqua Teen Hunger Force Live Show at the Lakeshore Theater. Jake and I didn't really know what to expect. What we got were the guys who did several of the voices of the characters of Aqua Teen, minus the guy who does the voice of Frylock. And yes, he is big and black and wears wife beaters. Something I never knew about these guys is that they also make the Adult Swim show, Squidbillies, and have done other acting work prior to their success with ATHF. Most of the time I didn't know what was going on, and Jake and I still maintain that I could have won the Meatwad voice contest, but I don't like getting out of my seat for anyone, so that never happened.

It's a cool and cloudy day in the city, and we had mixed plans to have drinks above the city in the Hancock Building, and maybe even shop at Bloomingdales, a store I have never had the pleasure of not being able to afford. 

Hey buddy

It's 7-something here in Chicago, and Jake and I are getting our things and drinks ready for the DEVO show tonight at the Vic Theater. Today was spent in the Brooklyn of the city, Wickerpark, shopping at such shops as Gimpsy, We The Free and one of the three Buffalo Exchanges in Chicagoland. As I have come to find out after the two days I have been in town so far, the fashion and the art rival that of New York in some neighborhoods, and the cost of living is not too high. Maybe one day there may be a new citizen, complete with brown bangs and a bronze and chrome vintage bike. She might just have a window that overlooks North Street, and she might just write for you. 

Maybe.

So after visiting one of the three Marc Jacobs stores it homes, I continued shopping around in area boutiques, and in awe at some of the ways they seem to combine northern culture, history, art, and food without looking like it is trying too hard. Hey- even some of the cab drivers are nice.

Tomorrow is meet-the-parents day, where we can meet and shake hands over a steak dinner (my first northern steak), and shortly after that, more improv at one of the quadtrillion comedy clubs. 

Special mention: Wednesday Jake and I took a train to Wrigleyville, where we went to Improv Olympics, apparently one of the original places that Del Close inspired. The show we went to see was Felt, an improv show about puppets, but we were even more delighted to visit a theater with mixed drinks and beers on tap. Then we nearly shit out jeans when we got to see a new and upcoming troupe not featured in the bill, but they were good. I mean, real good. The Late Nineties was their name, and weaving the web of comedy was their game. Watch out for a couple of these guys.