Thursday, June 24, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
CraftHope
Faced nightly with the sadness in Anderson Coopers eyes
while he catamarans the Gulf, I've been scouring the internet for ways to help. I was weary of giving money to the organizations springing up all over the south, and feel very fortunate to have come across a facebook post about crafthope.com.
There is a woman in Florida accepting seamless t-shirts and Dawn soap which are used to clean marine life affected by the oil spill. Evidently the original Dawn formula has been used for this purpose for decades, and now Dawn is donating a dollar to the Marine Mammal Center for every bottle purchased.
We began cleaning out our closets and gathered last Tuesday to drink wine, chat, and develop massive blisters from cutting the shit out of some t-shirts. (I'll provide a tutorial if anyone is interested, but I'm sorry for ya if you cant figure out how to cut off he
ms and seams and fold the two t-shirt rags you will be left with.)
We finished around 170, and once the booze wore off the next day, it occurred to me to roll each shirt, put them in bundles of ten and secure them with the hems we had cut. This little repurposing stint earned me three gold stars in my internal battle to disassociate from my wasteful upbringing. For the record, "recycling" is something liberals do for attention, and it's important to remember that 4wheelers, trucks and motorcycles are the right, right-winged way to get around in style. It's always exciting when I have my little reformed-agendad breakthroughs. (Although if you see him, please tell my father I voted for McCain.)
The group reconvened last night to cut EVEN MORE shirts. One of our little
deconstructionist seamstresses got ClearChannel to donate shirts, and shipping costs. They also let us borrow a van, because that was the only reasonable way to transport all the shirts we ended up with. It took five hours, fourteen hands and six pairs of scissors, but we made it through almost all of them. Blunt scissors tossed to the side, our beleaguered hands began rolling, tying and stacking our little dolphin-cleaning rags.
In a situation that seems so helpless, it felt great to find a way to give our time and effort. Though BP can't launch our jersey bundles into the pipe to stop the oil, our rags will be used with the Dawn soap by Gulf coast vo
lunteers to help clean the marine life affected by this catastrophe. It's not much, but it's something.
For more information on this project, visit www.crafthope.com. So far they have 800 shirts collected, and I'm really proud to say that our donation will add close to 600 more.
while he catamarans the Gulf, I've been scouring the internet for ways to help. I was weary of giving money to the organizations springing up all over the south, and feel very fortunate to have come across a facebook post about crafthope.com.There is a woman in Florida accepting seamless t-shirts and Dawn soap which are used to clean marine life affected by the oil spill. Evidently the original Dawn formula has been used for this purpose for decades, and now Dawn is donating a dollar to the Marine Mammal Center for every bottle purchased.
We began cleaning out our closets and gathered last Tuesday to drink wine, chat, and develop massive blisters from cutting the shit out of some t-shirts. (I'll provide a tutorial if anyone is interested, but I'm sorry for ya if you cant figure out how to cut off he
ms and seams and fold the two t-shirt rags you will be left with.)We finished around 170, and once the booze wore off the next day, it occurred to me to roll each shirt, put them in bundles of ten and secure them with the hems we had cut. This little repurposing stint earned me three gold stars in my internal battle to disassociate from my wasteful upbringing. For the record, "recycling" is something liberals do for attention, and it's important to remember that 4wheelers, trucks and motorcycles are the right, right-winged way to get around in style. It's always exciting when I have my little reformed-agendad breakthroughs. (Although if you see him, please tell my father I voted for McCain.)
The group reconvened last night to cut EVEN MORE shirts. One of our little
deconstructionist seamstresses got ClearChannel to donate shirts, and shipping costs. They also let us borrow a van, because that was the only reasonable way to transport all the shirts we ended up with. It took five hours, fourteen hands and six pairs of scissors, but we made it through almost all of them. Blunt scissors tossed to the side, our beleaguered hands began rolling, tying and stacking our little dolphin-cleaning rags.In a situation that seems so helpless, it felt great to find a way to give our time and effort. Though BP can't launch our jersey bundles into the pipe to stop the oil, our rags will be used with the Dawn soap by Gulf coast vo
lunteers to help clean the marine life affected by this catastrophe. It's not much, but it's something.For more information on this project, visit www.crafthope.com. So far they have 800 shirts collected, and I'm really proud to say that our donation will add close to 600 more.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Pride
Like Tracy Turnblad before me, I'm a Baltimore chick who can get down with Different. This weekend was Pride, and the streets of my gayborhood were closed to traffic, open to equality and covered in glitter.
The afternoon kicked off with the discovery of "Beer Light." A sixer cost three dollars, and while it's price tag was certainly alluring, we were more interested in the notion that, in 2010, a product could be brand-less. (I'm lying, it was totally the $.50 per beer part .)
Soon we were good and drunk, and so began the Pride Purchases. Above we have Rob "Everyones Gay on Pride Day!" Tate sporting a rainbow tie, tight white tee and bi-curious smirk...
...And here are Baltimore's Best Mechanical Bull Riders donned in homemade wrist bands, pink snow leopard and rainbow earrings...
...And then there was this guy, who decided on one "statement piece," instead of accessorizing.
Sigh. I wish everyday was Pride day.
The afternoon kicked off with the discovery of "Beer Light." A sixer cost three dollars, and while it's price tag was certainly alluring, we were more interested in the notion that, in 2010, a product could be brand-less. (I'm lying, it was totally the $.50 per beer part .)
Soon we were good and drunk, and so began the Pride Purchases. Above we have Rob "Everyones Gay on Pride Day!" Tate sporting a rainbow tie, tight white tee and bi-curious smirk...
...And here are Baltimore's Best Mechanical Bull Riders donned in homemade wrist bands, pink snow leopard and rainbow earrings...
...And then there was this guy, who decided on one "statement piece," instead of accessorizing.Sigh. I wish everyday was Pride day.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Things I Love Today
This is amazing. It is a pendant that secretly holds EIGHT QUARTERS. That's TWO DOLLARS, PEOPLE! I love jewelry with weight to it almost as much as I love secrets, and this piece combines those elements with gold.I don't have a car, but I am giddy with the many uses eight quarters around my neck will have. Maybe I'll need a diet coke! And look! A vending machine! Maybe I'll buy something that costs $10.25 and I'll get a ten back! Conversely, maybe I'll be short a few quarters and need to buy something to re-stock the necklace! Tolls? No longer a problem. I can even get arrested by skipping down the street, necklace bouncing with my gait, dropping quarters into stranger's meters!
The only downside? I can no longer tell the abrasive hustlers of Mount Vernon that I "don't carry cash."
Film Series!
After months of planning (and then two weeks of complete re-planning due to dammit construction) my film series kick-off is tonight! Man&Dog is playing at 7:30 on Keyser Quad and the Addams Family begins at dark.Or at least its supposed to.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
My Old Town
Last week I ventured to Highlandtown with my best foodie friend Lauren and two bodyguards. Lauren read about an authentic Mexican restaurant, and we figured it would be worth traversing this country's second most dangerous city (sorry for ya, Detroit) to see if its authenticity was a lie. It was not.
Mi Viejo Pueblito (a simple google translation will show it means My Old Town) is not in the best part of Baltimore, but its super sunny in and exterior brightens the block. MVP is BYOB and conveniently shares a wall with a liquor store. We grabbed a few Coronas and Modelos, escaped the family of drifters loitering outside (pictured below) and went in.
The place was bright yellow and totally empty. Luckily our adorable hostess/waitress had some mariachi blaring to offset the silence, so we settled into a sunny little corner and began pouring over the extensive menu. Our waitress brought over a bottle opener and limes, and we all fell more in love with her. Happily sipping our festive brews and chowing down on FIVE different types of salsa and homemade tortilla chips (make sure you ask for all of the salsas) we finally decided on our meal.
I am a notorious regretful orderer. I typically chose my meal based on the sides...if there are fries or chips involved I'll order the most boring sandwich on the menu and later stare longingly at my companions' food, cursing my soggy, salty starches. I can think of two occasions in my life when I have ordered the very best thing on the menu, and this was one of them.
Okay, that picture shows Lauren's food, but I swear mine was just as delicious-looking. And for the record, that massive display of Mexican goodness is an appetizer. Not knowing what we were in for, I ordered two appetizers, mauled the chips, salsa and queso and regretted it when my food arrived. (May I suggest eating like a lady so you have room to sample all your food.) I got some kind of corn-based wrap stuffed with cheese, chicken and lettuce, and soft-shell pork tacos and was able to get through about half of it. Every person at the table had to request take-home containers, lest we burst open like pinatas.
Four hungry people ordered half the damn menu and the total cost was $55. AND we all had plenty for lunch the next day. MVP has only been open for six months, so I suggest going now before word gets out. It's the perfect place to take a large group- bring a case of beer, order a bunch of appetizers and enjoy festive, communal dining.
We did see a tween march down Conkling street with a butcher knife and small gang, but we'll assume she was on the hunt for the vagabond drifter family.
Mi Viejo Pueblito (a simple google translation will show it means My Old Town) is not in the best part of Baltimore, but its super sunny in and exterior brightens the block. MVP is BYOB and conveniently shares a wall with a liquor store. We grabbed a few Coronas and Modelos, escaped the family of drifters loitering outside (pictured below) and went in.
The place was bright yellow and totally empty. Luckily our adorable hostess/waitress had some mariachi blaring to offset the silence, so we settled into a sunny little corner and began pouring over the extensive menu. Our waitress brought over a bottle opener and limes, and we all fell more in love with her. Happily sipping our festive brews and chowing down on FIVE different types of salsa and homemade tortilla chips (make sure you ask for all of the salsas) we finally decided on our meal.I am a notorious regretful orderer. I typically chose my meal based on the sides...if there are fries or chips involved I'll order the most boring sandwich on the menu and later stare longingly at my companions' food, cursing my soggy, salty starches. I can think of two occasions in my life when I have ordered the very best thing on the menu, and this was one of them.
Okay, that picture shows Lauren's food, but I swear mine was just as delicious-looking. And for the record, that massive display of Mexican goodness is an appetizer. Not knowing what we were in for, I ordered two appetizers, mauled the chips, salsa and queso and regretted it when my food arrived. (May I suggest eating like a lady so you have room to sample all your food.) I got some kind of corn-based wrap stuffed with cheese, chicken and lettuce, and soft-shell pork tacos and was able to get through about half of it. Every person at the table had to request take-home containers, lest we burst open like pinatas.
Four hungry people ordered half the damn menu and the total cost was $55. AND we all had plenty for lunch the next day. MVP has only been open for six months, so I suggest going now before word gets out. It's the perfect place to take a large group- bring a case of beer, order a bunch of appetizers and enjoy festive, communal dining.We did see a tween march down Conkling street with a butcher knife and small gang, but we'll assume she was on the hunt for the vagabond drifter family.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Ke$ha$nake
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Ke$ha has taken over my life. I don't mean in the "I-can't-turn-on-the-radio-without-hearing-her-dammit-songs," way, but instead in the "Omigod-you-did-NOT-just-buy-her-entire-album-on-Itunes-and-spend-your-work-day-googling-candid-images-of-her" way.For the sake of anonymity (though they certainly don't deserve it) we'll call the most egregious offenders Bob and Michelle.
It's really all Michelle's fault. She took Ke$ha from background music on the radio to conversation point at every gathering. (Throw a devout Gaga gay and a cocktail into the mix and the conversation quickly takes the form of a heated debate.) The problem was only exacerbated by a surprise interest from resident music snob, Bob.
No longer sated with the soothing, intricate stylings of Brahams and Bach, Bob descended rapidly into the jagged, dirty, bourbon-soaked music hole that is Ke$ha. The aftermath of this plummet has been astounding. Like a scorned lover, he obsesses over her. He wonders aloud what she is doing, comments on her life choices, reads uncomfortably far into her lacquered lyrics. He visits keshaparty.com to check in, wikipedia to learn more about who she is, her twitter to see if she's mentioned him. He wishes there were a dollar sign tile in Scrabble so he could accurately spell her name, and he wishes he had been there to hold back her hair when she puked in Paris Hilton's closet.
On a recent sailing trip the two offenders assaulted the ears of their companions with a virtually non-stop rotation of Ke$ha. An entire evening was lost to discussing the artist, and the term "Ke$ha $nake" was introduced as a result of watching Michelle's hangover slither out of her bunk. This should inform the reader as to why I posted a picture of Adam, Eve, and their pal Ke$ha $nake above.
Given her vocal range and dependency on 808drums, I don't foresee a long-term career for this pop artist, though I risk getting punched in the neck by her followers (aka two of the people dearest to my heart) for saying so. Maybe her devotees will keep the spotlight fixated on their un-showered goddess, but who knows how long people who brush their teeth with Jack can stand that still.
Like so many before her, only time will tell if Mi$$ Ke$ha $nake will dust off the face glitter, drop the dollar signs, return to night school and get a job in Tulsa as a paralegal.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Happy Weekend
I'm letting the Ol' Prospector take care of things over the weekend. Thanks to Kate for sending it to me, and for being the cleanest dirty hippy I know.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Things I Love Today
Everything, everything everything published by Phaidon.
When I am a rich lady, Phaidon will be my first acquisition.
When I am a rich lady, Phaidon will be my first acquisition.
You Must...
...see City Island. I was lucky enough to enjoy a lovely Saturday evening at the Charles... followed by sangria and tapas at Teatro, followed by a trip to Pier 6 where we jumped onto a speed boat docked in the harbor, followed by a ride on said speedboat to Fells Point, followed by a minor B&E at H&S, followed by...I've said to much. (I started out with every intention of behaving like an adult but the night did not end up that way.)
Point is, go see City Island, discuss how much you loved it over a glass of wine, and then go home and brush your cat.
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