Notes on the [Balinese] Cockfight

This is my favorite new group, Bonde Do Role [I’ve already choreographed a dance or two, true story!] They’re Brazilian [and we all know Brazil-is-the-new-France-is-the-new-Australia-is-the-new-Canada when it comes to muzak.]

Bonde Do Role on MySpace

Not Lame!

M’ boy Joshie over at The Eagle Blog has pointed out this little ditty from the Times hailing my ol’ digs of Washing-machine, DC as an up-‘n’-coming cultural capital. As for the article, BOOO. I have not heard of nor been to half of the establishments recommended [perhaps due to fact that Johnny’s Half Shell is not fit for a working-student budget. You’d have to ask Georgetown grads about that, snickersnicker.] It also seemed pleased- a little too pleased- about gentrification all the way to New York Ave:

Similarly, after waiting decades for some of its blighted neighborhoods to amount to something other than block after block of boarded-up abandonment, Washington is buzzing with energy.

Oh, ACK. Well isn’t H St. the COOLEST, and why don’t we NOT give a mention to some of DC’s greatest nightlife assets, e.g. The Brickskeller which only has the world’s LARGEST BEER LIST. Por Favor! I mean, maybe I’m just hurt because my old haunts [the Cat, Wonderland, DC9, MUSTARD SEED FOR GOD’S SAKE] got nary a mention. Shucks!

Conclusion: The New York Times will forever try its darnedest to ensure that DC looks boring and lame. Lame!

[Props, though, NYT, for shoutin’-out Muléh. That store is unaffordably luscious.]

I AM JUST A SUCKER FOR BOYZ WHO DANCE

123 Party

[this has proven already in the span of 22 short yrs to be V. Detrimental. you know.]

ha.

14 American Apparel Models Freed In Daring Midnight Raid, The Onion

what else? I missed both Boston and DC Girl Talk shows so I am only listening to Night Ripper in order to make up for it. I’ll make up for lack-o’-content soon, prom-promise!

YouTube Tuesday

This is the best video BEST VIDEO of the week. Oh, and happy birthday, me!!

I’M A BIG BABY

Waiting for employment is getting on my last nerve.

I have a job interview Tomorrow, my Day o’ Birth, at the illustrious Harvard Medical School, after three rejections from the Institution, including two entry-level-academic dream-jobs. [of course my resume is sparse, I JUST GRADUATED! I wish they could interview me and then see just how charming and capable I am.] However, I’ve been told by several Hahvahd insiders that the most viable way to land a job is to temp for some months so the fact that I actually have an interview is pleasing. Generally, though, I’m stumped as to why I want to work at Harvard in the first place. I’d be just as content working a stupid service-industry job, only with “the Real World” [a term I resent; since I’ve been living on my own means for OH ONLY TWO YEARS NOW] comes “Real Concerns”, e.g. a graduate-level degree, health insurance, TUITION REMISSION [glorious!!]. To be honest, guys, I’d be happy if I just got paid to be a blogger or a researcher but I GUESS I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE I GOT A FUCKING DEGREE IN ANTHROPOLOGY.

Anyway, in theory, Boston is great, it’s just that the combination of unemployment, 9/11 Birthdays [UGH!], cold weather [already?] and no viable crushes [no different from Washington, DC, really!!] is taking it’s toll on my Sunny-as-Fuck Attitude [not to mention being at the Bottom of the Social Chain ALL OVER AGAIN. I’m not popular anymore! this is terrible!]. Sometime when I’m in a better mood I’ll write a cast list of the inimitable characters who hang out on my Allston porch on any given night, but instead I am going to fret about what to wear tomorrow and try real hard not to chainsmoke.

The Future’s So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades

A few days ago [2] I opened GMail and got this message:

	from		“FutureMe.org” <mailer@futureme.org>		hide details	Sep 1 (3 days ago)
	reply-to			pastme@futureme.org
	to			annie.rebekah@gmail.com
	date			Sep 1, 2007 1:03 PM
	subject			??

The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on Sunday, January 7, 2007, and sent via FutureMe.org

Eh? Then I remember [vaguely] sending this email because some Internet-savvy friend [sortof] found this website [FutureMe.org, shockingly enough] where you can send emails to yourself IN THE FUTURE. No, REALLY. Because apparently I got one. Barring discussions of THE space-time continuum [if you must know, that’s not my forte and I don’t care to understand it, and is it space-time or time-space?], isn’t that GREAT? I’m almost tempted to email myself in-the-future-one-year-from-now EVERY DAY so that I can know just EXACTLY what I did a year ago [har dee har har, Annie, isn’t that what JOURNALS are for?]!

Unfortunately, the content of the email wasn’t all that juicy as far as I’m concerned. I mean, it asked if I was still in love with Some Person, which I wasn’t, and it also asked if I had found a “Dashing Gemini” [Past-Me’s words, not mine!], which I haven’t, and, more importantly, it asked me if I was in Egypt, which I’m not, despite approx. four [plus] years of planning it to be that way. This made me feel a little dumb because instead of up-and-moving to Cairo I up-and-moved to Boston, and even though Boston in my mind is a lot scarier than the Motherland, most people have different perceptions of what scary is and even though people are bad drivers, Boston is Not Scary [I have my own reasons for thinking it is, but that’s for Therapy and Not For You!]. All in all, I’d just like to say this: I moved to Boston largely because of Youthful Abandon and I’m not ready to give up all the things that come with it yet, like short-shorts and hollarin’ and going out for beers and PDA and dancing all night. So, FutureMe, when the cold cold winter hits and you’re pissed off because you’re not dodging cat-callers and little children and cabs built in ’84, just remember your PastMe pursuits of Youth, Eternal. And, from FutureMe to PastMe: Don’t say I didn’t warn you.