In case you are a conspiracy theorist, no, I was not making up some elaborate story this whole time. Bailey put up pictures! Oh, no, wait, that shit was totally photoshopped. See, 'cause there's wind on earth, and in some of those pictures, our hair is perfectly still. We couldn't have been in a desert in Arizona! We were actually on the moon, and had it staged to look like the desert. It was Natasha's doing, that sneaky beetch. She said something about feeding us all "vhiskey braid" and turning us all into "leetle Laikas" if we told anyone that Americans had set foot on the moon with her.
Oh, and I promised we would post about our plans and we didn't. Nina left me this morning out of San Jose. We are BOTH moving to LA now. Me in a couple of weeks (from the Bay area), her in a couple of months (from San Antonio). I applied for two jobs today -- one I don't really have the experience for but would be fun, and one I know I'd be really great at, because Environmental/Outdoor Education is my jam and working with kids is so fulfilling. And before you say it, although this blog is the furthest thing from G-rated, I do, in fact, have a filter when speaking to children, so suck on THAT lollipop, mister!
Except I don't talk like that either, because that's even more creepy and weird.
We have sweet plan as well. The adventures .... continue?
Sunday, August 15, 2010
So it's been a few days. The ladies and I spent two nights camping out at the Grand Canyon and it was absolutely magnificient (and I can now confirm that yes, it is just a smidge wider than your mother's ... smile). We saw a sunset, a sunrise (got up at 5 for it -- go us!), and pissed off our neighbor's by having a tent party after quiet hours in which Bailey and Nina kept alternately ejecting, "Drink soma dat!" and, "Taste it and see!" in an attempt to get me to keep drinking the Jim Beam. I know my limits, and they knew they had a new hit single. The stupid neighbors just don't appreciate genius, apparently. Losers.
On the way to the Grand Canyon, Nina got locked in a bathroom for 45 minutes. There was no 'station' to this gas station, just an RV park and a restaurant next door that swore to not have the keys. We called everyone to try to track down some keys, and finally the guy in the restaurant "found" the key. Except it turns out it wasn't even locked, just stuck, but he was convinced Nina was just "holding it closed." If you have never seen me be rude to a stranger (I never have been) this was the time. I scoffed at him and said, "Are you kidding me? She wouldn't hold the fucking door closed for forty-five minutes. " And proceeded to kick at the door with my flimsy sandal. But this man's large booted foot turned out to be just the ticket. Yay sir!
NOW WE'RE IN CALIFORNIA! In Los Angeles, to be exact, with Arielle Neal and Grace Vroom. Arielle's roommate Paige is such a sweetheart, too. I am totally in love with this place. We went to Malibu yesterday to see Alyssa Mason and her friend Allie at Allie's beach house. The day was bittersweet... we had to say goodbye to Bailey. It's been an awesome journey so far and I am going to miss the shit out of her. I slept alone for the first time in three weeks and had no one to steal the covers from. Nina wouldn't come down off the couch and cuddle with me. She knows better.
So we're in Roswell, NM. Nina, Bailey, and I had a really nice car ride up. Very relaxing, and the speed limit was 80 all through western Texas. Got a little hotel, and we're watching The Office and hanging out. You know, we're just chooglin' ;)
Yesterday, Bea and I got tattoos in San Antonio. Hers looks really good. Hopefully she'll throw up a picture soon. Here's mine, fresh off the press, and red as hell. I love it!
(This is me on the way to Texas. Thank you xkcd.com!)
We are in Texas with NINA! And let me tell you... life is pretty collectively life-like. Yesterday, we hung out with her friends at this "pool" (read: really rad swimming hole that was formed by a dam on a creek). The water was this beautiful blue-green and SO clear. You could see straight to the rocky bottom, and there were little cliffs and ledges to dive/rope-swing off of. It was a perfect day, until this lady who clearly hadn't gotten laid in a while yelled at us for cursing in front of her 13-year old son, having glass bottles, and existing in general. Then she had said son take sexy pictures of her, which was gross, but gave me some hope that maybe she would put it on her match.com profile and get some. But then she swam around on a floatie with her little freshly groomed foo-foo dog on her back and it became clear that this woman was never, ever, ever going to get laid, and therefore, would continue to plague this world with her stale cuntiness. Damn.
But let’s talk about Birmingham, Alabama for a hot second. Margotmotherfuckingwade showed us an INCREDIBLE time.Her house was awesome, and not just because it was beautiful and had a sweet steam shower. Walking in the door, we were greeted by a zebra skin rug. In every room, there seemed to be at least one safari animal’s hide or head adorning the floor and walls. By the way, her mother shot all of them.
Margot brought us to the rock quarry of her family’s business. But it’s not just a rock quarry. There’s an old steel mill there that was built in the 1800s, but went out of usage around 1980. Margot took us to explore the massive structures. It was incredible to see the vines overtaking the cracked and rusted metal, with trees growing on the old platforms several stories up. Many of the floors had fallen out, and slabs of concrete were dangling from delicate strips of eroded steel. In one building (with a sign out front warning of the cancer hazard – authorized personnel only) we found a room that had served as someone’s living quarters. There was a Coke can and a bottle of Pepto Bismol from 1982. I’ll have you know the Pepto looked as fresh and pink as any bottle you would buy from a store today. That shit is like Twinkies, apparently. The steel mill’s new usage? Art commune. Hell. Yes.
Then, Margot tells us she’s bringing us to her grandmother’s house. Margot stops in the driveway in front of a fallen tree, so I stop my car and prepare to get out to help her move it. But then the tree suddenly lifts itself up and clears the way, because, oh wait, it’s a gate. We pull up in front of a beautiful brick house painted purple with greenish-gold faded accents. The inside is astounding. Chairs and snakes hang from the ceiling in one room, tree branches and crows made of recycled tires from another. The house is entirely filled with art – by Margot, her grandmother, and incredible artists I would never dream of ever owning a piece from. Casts of Margot and her twin sister from Margot's art show sat in chairs at the dining room table veiled in white. A chocolate snowman dildo sat on the table in the foyer. Mannequins, nude women, neon, trees, birds… I was in heaven. We entered her grandmother’s closet (which is bigger than Marc’s, something I didn’t think was possible [and yes, that’s what she said] ) and Margot models for us the fake hunchback her grandmother likes to don under her clothes. She has incredibly ornate clothing, and my favorite -- a paper bag dress. We went into her bedroom and I came face to face with a Jeff Koons piece – his hot pornstar wife, of course. I saw some of his work at the Guggenheim years back. That man is ridiculous.
Then we got to see Margot’s workspace, some of her art, and photos from her opening. This woman is not just an incredible person, but an incredible artist. It was such a treat.
Margot treated us to a lovely Thai dinner and beer with friends that night. They were all such chill and lovely people. It was SO MUCH FUN. I loved every second of it. THANK YOU MARGOT!!! WE LOVE YOU!
Bea and I are in Augusta, GA with Ira! YAAAAAAAAAY!!!!
Within the first third of the 8.5 hour trip, the iPod and both of our computers ran out of batteries, so we were forced to listen to the radio. Let me tell you, this was excruciatingly painful. The radio stations down here suck. Also, they are blatantly homophobic.
One radio station was talking about how children in schools should be protected from gay-straight alliance sorts of clubs since their sexuality is not 'solidified' until they are 17 or 18 years old. My own personal experience with 'straight' women over the age of 18 has shown me that sexuality doesn't solidify - but what do I know. I'm just a confused, greedy bisexual. One of the main tenets of Mount Holyoke College is 'sexuality is fluid', so I just pictured swarms of angry MoHos swooping down and making these DJ's daughters question their sexuality. And answer it, in many, many ways.
Oh, and then there was "Homo the Aids-Infested Shark." Because there's no better way to kick off Shark Week than gay-bashing. They did an interview, and 'Homo' responded in a high-pitched lispy voice, saying that Myrtle Beach was not for him, and the Jersey Shore was where he would feel more at home, so he could "bite The Situation's dick off... yum!" The DJ then responded that Homo had threatened to bite his rectum off ... and then call him cute. Classy, boys.
On a happy note, off to Birmingham, Alabama, to go visit the lovely Margot Wade!
I decided to go for a little jog yesterday, without really knowing the layout (if we are going to pretend it has any sort of coherence) of the community my father and Jeanette live in. Mistake.
To really get the idea of what this adventure was like, picture yourself taking LSD and then going for a run. You try to follow the roads but they keep curving all over the place and you forget which direction you're going. Suddenly, a double-lined road turns to a gravel lane, and you have to go another way. In front of you is a seemingly insurmountable hill that you can't quite find the top of... until you do, and then you see another up ahead. This cycle repeats over and over again -- you run until you can't run anymore, then you walk until that hurts too much too, then you just run again, because what else can you do?
But it is not all a bad trip. Every once in a while, you come across a field of horses, an incredibly vibrant community garden, a picturesque and deserted beach on the bay backed by freshwater wetlands, an airpark, the waterfront of the lake in the center of the community, a doe and her two fawn who are not remotely afraid of this sad limping creature before them .... shit, they think, that thing's so pathetic we really ought to just chase it instead.
It took me four hours until I was found (heading in the right direction finally) by my father. It took him two and a half to find me. They had called the cops to see if anyone had been hit by a car, and had also called security to tell them to keep an eye out for me. Bailey and Jeanette were also on the hunt for me.
Moral of the story: Do not let a Carlo out of your sight, because you might never find her again; or alternatively -- don't put LSD in Carlo's coffee before she goes for a run. I'm onto you, Dad.
