Good Stuff

High Res Tatooine, Y'all!

So no shit, there I was, on this girl geek culture website called The Mary Sue, when lo and behiney, I found this groovy post about this dude’s Star Wars mural that is also a hidden picture puzzle.

If you’re into such things, you should check out Ulises Farinas’ website and unleash hell upon your retinas.  Makes me wish I had one of those gigantic Mission Control-style monitors so I could better pick out what I think may be a homeless Shrek.

Photo credit

Smell Ya Later, Houston

adiosamigos

So guess what?  The Beyoncé and I are moving back to Denver, from whence we came.  In 17 days.  We’ve both given notice.  We’ve posted it on Twitter and Facebook so you know it’s o-fficial.

The Beyoncé and I, as it turns out, have fundamentally different approaches to the process of moving.  I prefer to do as little work as possible and hire packers and/or movers.  The Beyoncé insists that the entire thing be a DIY project, and not in a sexy hipster, devil-horned-crocheted-cap sort of way, either.  Oh no.  Read on.

Since I don’t see patients on Mondays I was tasked with procuring cost-free cardboard boxes.  I had already magnanimously agreed that a) we would pack our own shit and b) we would use U-Haul to schlep said shit.  Feeling quite impressed with my ability to compromise, I headed out this morning on a quest for boxes.

I courageously went to two liquor stores, one grocery store, and Office Motherfucking Depot.  And what did I get for my trouble?  Blank stares, uncomprehending gazes, a little bit of drool, and NO BOXES.  After this unstinting bitchazzness, I called The Beyoncé to inform him that I would no longer be scrounging boxes like a common, well ….box-scrounger.  Oh no, not this queen.

I then spent 45 minutes driving in circles in downtown Houston, trying to echolocate the U-Haul store using sonar clicks and trills.  Bupkes!  GoogleMaps had failed me utterly and all seemed lost when suddenly arose the U-Haul sign, like a great orange beacon against dark stormy seas, luminous on the horizon!  After much careful deliberation I emerged victorious, my car full of boxes of varying handy sizes.  I even got tape.  Impressive!

When all this broke-dick tomfoolery is finally over, we will be in Denver.  The Beyoncé has hisself a pretty cool job, and I will be doing the same sort of long-term care stuff I’m doing now, only for a smaller company.

I will miss Houston–I recently rekindled some friendships with people I’d known way back when I was in gradual school in Lincoln, NE and I’m very sad to have to disconnect from these awesome people AGAIN.

And of course there’s the truly hawesome Houston Twitter community….far too many to name individually….which has led me to several incredible friendships I wish I had more time to develop.  I’m hopeful that living in a more hospitable climate with close proximity to mountains, skiing, and did I say mountains? will lead to LOTS of visits from our Houston friends.

Houston has really grown on me, and not like some kind of post-Ike mold, either.  When we first moved here I thought it was all noveau-riche bitchez wearing fancy jeans and driving Lotuses.  And it kinda is.  But there’s a lot more to Houston if you can look past the wretched excess, hurricanes, and stifling humidity.  There’s a vibrant arts community, tons of museums, cool ethnic neighborhoods, accessible professional sports, some of the best restaurants EVER, fascinating history, and lots of economic growth.  Good stuff.

I will miss this place.  I will miss these people.  It’s my belief that nothing lasts forever, and if it’s meant to be, our paths will cross again.  May the silver go-go boots of GirlJesus™ bless you and keep you all the days of your lives, y’all.

Queen Bodacious' House Of Sass

queen-bodacious

Y’all. I got me a lil jewelry shop over at Etsy. It’s fabulous. Trust.  The above photo is actually stuff I made with my own two beady hands.  There was a fuckload of some swearing involved in the process.

Because I often have trouble finding bracelets that fit my superheroine-sized, former rugger/shotputter/archer wrists, I decided to make the bracelets of the 8″ variety.   If you need a smaller size, just convo me and I’ll do it.  Also: send bourbon.  It helps me focus now that I’m off gluten/bacon/sugar.

I make beaded sparkly-sparkly* with beads, wire and all manner of gaudy-ass shit.

It’s my therapy. Don’t judge.

Buy.

* This is what I call jewelry that I find delightful.  And maybe slightly trashy.  But definitely sparkly.

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