Pitchfork presents... testosterone!

So, this past weekend Bill & I ventured to Chicago for Pitchfork Music Festival. My first music festival, so that was an exciting landmark.
I think though, that I won't go to one of those again. I am pretty sure grass and sunshine is not the ideal venue for indie rock.
And, seriously, what the hell was the deal with the 41 bands and like, 10 girls total in any of these groups? Lame lame lame!!! No more guitars for boys, and especially no more microphones. No offense, but it gets old.
Otherwise, lots of Chicago fun-ness and friend-seeing. And, can't object to the pitchfork-people-watching and laying about.
In other news, my Knox alumni status has finally begun returning on my investment: I saved $14 this weekend thanks to Knox alums with jobs. That is damn near 0.00012% of my capital outlay, not including interest. Also, I have no idea if that is the proper use of the term 'capital outlay.'

where i work.

I took some pictures of my work. My office is depressing. My mailman I think has a terminal illness. And yesterday, I saw my very first white supremicist in the flesh. Ugly & scary, two of my least favorite things.

MY WORK		By:Yours Truly

the only person i have seen all day is the mailman

i kid you not. i guess i sorta saw bill this morning, but we both know nothing before 9 in the morning counts as human interaction. especially when the coffeemaker is broken. i am _literally_ _dying_ of _boredom_. Seriously, why are underscores so much more awesome than underlines? i tried to make you all a crossword puzzle, but i couldn't figure out how to make one that could easily be filled in online. suck. i suspect i will be co-workerless for some time. someone please come up with a project for me.

oh, woe

I just finished rereading my blog-posts of what I was doing this time last year (backpacking through Europe). Indeed, one year ago yesterday Bill & I began our exciting journey, starting with a Parisian visit with our friend Ryan and his Austrian frau(lein? jenni, doesn't it make it sound like they are married if I simply say 'frau'? I don't mean to imply that, but I don't want to be sexist in German, of all things! Probably I could simply avoid the issue entirely if I knew the German for girlfriend or something. But I don't.) Anyway, I am a little bit sad about what my life amounts to now vs. this time last year. And I am even sadder because I have no plans, long term or otherwise, to return to foreign shores. I know that my next big adventure will have to be either Latin America, or the Pacific i.e. Australasia. And I have my Los Angeles move to plan, which is moderately fun but not nearly as enjoyable as planning international travel. And, even sadder, I realize that mathematically, traveling in Europe will actually be cheaper than living in Los Angeles! Boo.

oooooooh

Yesterday, Bill and I ventured to far far away Lawrence to see Peaches! We also had the pleasure of seeing the Eagles of Death Metal, which did not sound so much like death metal, but classic rock. I guess I'm not really sure which is which. We had the extreme displeasure of seeing Ssion, possibly the worst band ever. Seriously, the worst band ever. There were costume-changes, a naked girl, and floor-writhing, which one would think would distract from the horrible craptasticness of the band, but, you would be wrong. In this case, the copious use of nipples served to only exacerbate the truly wretchedness of the music.
Anyway, Peaches was pretty much the best ever; even Bill couldn't stop talking about her awesomeness, which he swears was unrelated to the amount of nudity on stage. The local scenesters came out in full regalia, made all the more impressive by the fact that the club was unairconditioned and quite probably hotter than hell. Slouchy boots, Kansas, July! Far more appropriately dressed were those that came in their best Peaches costumes, hot pants and bustiers!

sottotitolo

Sometimes, when I watch a movie in a language I vaguely understand (ie the romance languages), I think the fact that I can generally make out where one word ends and the next begins means I don't have to pay attention to the subtitles. This is generally wrong.

ohfunboringnessblah.

I know I need to update my blog, because it feels like time, and I just have no excuse.

I have been doing a lot of entertaining at my lovely Roeland Park abode, and my futon, I can now report, has been slept on by multiple people. Having visitors is way funner than not, since it means drinking more and eating out, two oft-forgotten pleasures. Also, good company!

In other news, I completed two books in as many days (though one I had been working on for a while). First, The Devil Wears Prada, which blew. A lot of you are probably like, what, ruth, could you have been thinking? Well, I'll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking that Bridget Jones's Diary is hysterical, and it's summer, and one can only keep up this cultural elitism in 100 degree heat for so long. I also thought that since my coworker wanted me to read it, I had to. Now, reading DWP was worse than the Da Vinci Code fiasco, where I also succumbed to pressure, not only from friends, but also my internal "i am such an effing snob that i can't deign to read this bestselling novel" barometer.

Actually, there was nothing fiasco-worthy about the Da Vinci Code. I found it acceptably enjoyable, and it allowed me to rather snobbishly relive my French and Italian travels.

The DWP, though, was unpardonably awful and truly stupid. My mother has been pressuring me to go see the movie with her, which I may consider doing but only because I love air conditioning and popcorn. But before I do that, well, I need to watch La Dolce Vita which I received by mail yesterday. And then probably hear about why Fellini isn't all he's cracked up to be from my smarty-pants boyfriend, who is kinda famous now.

Sincerely yours,

Ms. Snotty-pants

P.S. The other book I finished was not the Da Vinci Code, which I read after it had only been on the best seller list for a year or so. So like, 2004 maybe. Anyway, I read Peter Orner's new book, The Second Coming of Mavala Shikongo, which I found moderately excellent. In any case, here's hoping Orner can parlay the Brangelina-Namibia craze into bestsellerhood, as his book is set in Namibia.

Show me yours.

I've heard from several friends about how they find my 'desk' picture fascinating, since you never get to see where your friends actually work. Because of this, and because of my embarrassingly dull previous blog entry, I have decided to share this with you. To the right of what's pictured is a virtually identical desk, where sits my computer and thus me. If I look to the left, well, right now, that is exactly what I see.
So let's dialogue on this point. Where do we pass the bulk of our days? How about a little office voyeurism?

oldness

sometimes, when i check my email first thing in the morning at work, i am sad about how i send emails to my friends and vice-versa before 10 in the morning. I remember back in the day when an email sent before 10 would trigger 'what are you doing up so early?' and was misty-eyed about it.
the saddest part is, due to proximity to my work and general indifference to personal hygiene, i probably get up wayy later than many of you. i am worried both of these things will have to change in LA, and then i will become part of the crowd who wakes up in the sixes.