Monday, December 18, 2006
Another Point Of View...
To read Sean's take on the situation, check out his blog www.myspace.com/sflinn and click on the "Hostage" entry.
Cops in Protective Armor Really Do Look Like GI Joe
This past Saturday was going to be the 2nd annual Groble-Flinn Holiday Cocktail Party. For some reason, though, the universe did everything in its power to prevent it from occuring:
Monday night - I realize the oven doesn't work. Spent an hour trying to figure out how to relight the pilot light, called dad to talk me through out. Then realized - I don't have a pilot light. I have an automatic ignitor (?). Call landlords to send over repair guy. Why the hurry? I have 3 different cookies to bake before Saturday night - where we expect to have approximately 25 people over for the party.
Tuesday - repair man is suppose to come to house. Wrote down wrong address, couldn't get in touch with landlord. Will reschedule, he says.
Wednesday - no repair man. I'm a bit frazzled, realizing I'm going to have to bake 3 different types of cookies in one night, as opposed to spreading the cooking out throughout the week.
Thursday - no repair man. Freak out because half of the items on my menu require the use of an oven. Come up with Plan B - make appetizers that can be fried or nuked. Go to C & D's house to use their TWO ovens to bake cookies. Am up until 1:00 am baking.
Friday - repair man comes. With the wrong part. Can he come back tomorrow morning? *sigh* Yes.
Saturday morning - repair man comes. Fixes oven. Hurray! Except I no longer need the oven because all of the menu items are either served cold, cooked in the crock pot or fried in wok.
Saturday 10:00 am - 7:00 pm - make fruit kebabs, pasta salad, spinach dip, meatballs and sausages and spend an ungodly amount of time making thai potato pancakes (fyi - the amount of work that goes into making them does not equal the satisfaction you get from eating them. easier just to buy the frozen ones and nuke em.) Run out to the store because I need more mini sausages. Moved the dining room table to the side to make more standing room. Discovered that the carpet's FILTHY - to the point that I'm disgusted by it. Send Sean to Target to pick up an area rug. Oh, and we scrubbed the condo to the point that it sparkles.
At 8:00pm I'm FINALLY ready to start the party. I've made it past all the roadblocks the universe has thrown me. I'm victorious over the battle with the universe to hold my Cocktail Party. Right???
http://www.ocregister.com/ocregister/homepage/abox/article_1386435.php
Apparently, when the universe doesn't want you to throw a Christmas party, you don't get to throw your Christmas party.
What Went Down:
At 8:15 I receive a call from my friend S (this is abbreviated):
S: What's going on?
Me: What do you mean?
S: They won't let me into your condo. I'm at your pool and can see your porch, but they won't let me in.
Me: Who? What? What do you mean?
S: You don't know what's going on? Your condo is crawling with cops. I just had a gun in my face.
Me: ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
S: I'm going to find out what's going on.
Me: I'll call the police station. (Which ironically - is right down the block from the house).
Situation: the complex is crawling with police in full on protective gear and armed with automatic weapons and sniper rifles. The police aren't letting anyone into the complex. Which means all of our guests are being told to turn away. Sean goes outside to talk to a police officer. Here's the phrase, "sir, stop walking RIGHT NOW." Sean freezes, puts his hands up, takes a step forward and hears the cocking of a rifle. At which point he explains who he is and asks for the cop to explain what's going on.
Long story short: A man killed his wife, barricaded himself into their condo and told police he'd shoot at any police who approached the building. The police believed the man to be delusional. They couldn't see him inside the condo and were afraid he'd get out. He shot at the cops. At 11:30pm the cops went into the condo, where they discovered the man had killed himself.
We didn't learn any of this information until late Saturday night when a friend of Sean's, B, called us. Apparently, after B realized he couldn't get to our condo, got chummy with a cop and listened to the whole thing go down over the police radio. And he kept us informed with half hour-to-hour updates.
The crazy thing (although, what isn't crazy about this situation) is that we had NO IDEA this was going on until S called me to say that cops were preventing her from coming to the condo. The police made no effort to alert anyone in the condo complex that this was going on. Save for the condos directly next door to the delusional's condo.
And this being Southern California, the news of a murder-suicide didn't make any of the news stations or papers save for a short article in the Orange County Register. But when you're competing with stories about men taking people hostage with a samurai sword and men stabbing their mothers 70 times - a murder-suicide seems somewhat quaint.
Monday night - I realize the oven doesn't work. Spent an hour trying to figure out how to relight the pilot light, called dad to talk me through out. Then realized - I don't have a pilot light. I have an automatic ignitor (?). Call landlords to send over repair guy. Why the hurry? I have 3 different cookies to bake before Saturday night - where we expect to have approximately 25 people over for the party.
Tuesday - repair man is suppose to come to house. Wrote down wrong address, couldn't get in touch with landlord. Will reschedule, he says.
Wednesday - no repair man. I'm a bit frazzled, realizing I'm going to have to bake 3 different types of cookies in one night, as opposed to spreading the cooking out throughout the week.
Thursday - no repair man. Freak out because half of the items on my menu require the use of an oven. Come up with Plan B - make appetizers that can be fried or nuked. Go to C & D's house to use their TWO ovens to bake cookies. Am up until 1:00 am baking.
Friday - repair man comes. With the wrong part. Can he come back tomorrow morning? *sigh* Yes.
Saturday morning - repair man comes. Fixes oven. Hurray! Except I no longer need the oven because all of the menu items are either served cold, cooked in the crock pot or fried in wok.
Saturday 10:00 am - 7:00 pm - make fruit kebabs, pasta salad, spinach dip, meatballs and sausages and spend an ungodly amount of time making thai potato pancakes (fyi - the amount of work that goes into making them does not equal the satisfaction you get from eating them. easier just to buy the frozen ones and nuke em.) Run out to the store because I need more mini sausages. Moved the dining room table to the side to make more standing room. Discovered that the carpet's FILTHY - to the point that I'm disgusted by it. Send Sean to Target to pick up an area rug. Oh, and we scrubbed the condo to the point that it sparkles.
At 8:00pm I'm FINALLY ready to start the party. I've made it past all the roadblocks the universe has thrown me. I'm victorious over the battle with the universe to hold my Cocktail Party. Right???
http://www.ocregister.com/ocregister/homepage/abox/article_1386435.php
Apparently, when the universe doesn't want you to throw a Christmas party, you don't get to throw your Christmas party.
What Went Down:
At 8:15 I receive a call from my friend S (this is abbreviated):
S: What's going on?
Me: What do you mean?
S: They won't let me into your condo. I'm at your pool and can see your porch, but they won't let me in.
Me: Who? What? What do you mean?
S: You don't know what's going on? Your condo is crawling with cops. I just had a gun in my face.
Me: ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
S: I'm going to find out what's going on.
Me: I'll call the police station. (Which ironically - is right down the block from the house).
Situation: the complex is crawling with police in full on protective gear and armed with automatic weapons and sniper rifles. The police aren't letting anyone into the complex. Which means all of our guests are being told to turn away. Sean goes outside to talk to a police officer. Here's the phrase, "sir, stop walking RIGHT NOW." Sean freezes, puts his hands up, takes a step forward and hears the cocking of a rifle. At which point he explains who he is and asks for the cop to explain what's going on.
Long story short: A man killed his wife, barricaded himself into their condo and told police he'd shoot at any police who approached the building. The police believed the man to be delusional. They couldn't see him inside the condo and were afraid he'd get out. He shot at the cops. At 11:30pm the cops went into the condo, where they discovered the man had killed himself.
We didn't learn any of this information until late Saturday night when a friend of Sean's, B, called us. Apparently, after B realized he couldn't get to our condo, got chummy with a cop and listened to the whole thing go down over the police radio. And he kept us informed with half hour-to-hour updates.
The crazy thing (although, what isn't crazy about this situation) is that we had NO IDEA this was going on until S called me to say that cops were preventing her from coming to the condo. The police made no effort to alert anyone in the condo complex that this was going on. Save for the condos directly next door to the delusional's condo.
And this being Southern California, the news of a murder-suicide didn't make any of the news stations or papers save for a short article in the Orange County Register. But when you're competing with stories about men taking people hostage with a samurai sword and men stabbing their mothers 70 times - a murder-suicide seems somewhat quaint.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
It's That Time Of Year
It's that time of year, again. As my family knows, the day after Thanksgiving marks the beginning of the Christmas season. Since I can't make it to Chicago for Thanksgiving (and haven't been able to for a few years now) that means I can't help G-ma put up her Christmas tree and have dinner at Bailey's afterward. But that doesn't mean I can't extend that tradition to my own house (or condo as the case may be).
And in the spirit of Christmas, I am going to post a letter that I wrote to my mom and G-ma in December of 2002 - the very first Christmas I had in my own apartment after I graduated college.
To my mother and grandmother,
Sometime this morning I realized something about the Kunde/Jorns/Groble (the maternal lineage) women. It was more of an insight than a revelation. I saw it, I grew up with it, but I never expected to have it show up in me. The female members of my maternal family lineage possess a gene in our DNA strand that make us embrace the Christmas season with more enthusiasm than we usually display during the rest of the year. When I say enthusiasm, I don't necessarily mean we're super happy, super chipper, let's shove the christmas spirit down everyone's throat type of enthusiasm. What I mean is, our rooms explode with Christmas decorations, our kitchens are filled with a frenzy of flying flour and our homes are filled with the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked cookies and the twinkling of colored lights.
Yes, as I said before, I saw it occuring - in Grandma's house (her decorations and all of the cookies that she would have), in every female member's house in McHenry, and of course in my childhood home. Now, seeing as how I have always been very un-domestic and have never been ashamed of that status I never imagined that I would ever exhibit the same behavior as those who came before me. But, alas, the gene is yielding its head and has taken hold of me. Decorations, lights, tree, presents, and baking, lots and lots of baking have become a part of my daily life this season. Who would have ever imagined that I would bake so much. It's not that I become so incredibly ecstatic about baking (but I don't hate it, either) it's more like this subconscious behavior that just occurs.
One line of thought is that everything we're doing is for the appearance of Christmas - our attitudes and beliefs don't change with the coming of the holiday (we don't all of a sudden start wishing 'good cheer' or 'holiday blessings to one and all'). We may be filling some kind of void that occurs as a result of the holidays or we're overcompensating for something.... who knows. Or (and this is probably most likely) we just become crazy Christmas decorators.
Merry Christmas!
Love,
Katie
(This was just suppose to bring a smile to your face - not to make you concerned about my well-being or anything - I'm not crazy. But at the same time, how else can you explain my sudden "domestic" behavior and rash baking spree during the Christmas season except by concluding that it's something in our genes?)
And in the spirit of Christmas, I am going to post a letter that I wrote to my mom and G-ma in December of 2002 - the very first Christmas I had in my own apartment after I graduated college.
To my mother and grandmother,
Sometime this morning I realized something about the Kunde/Jorns/Groble (the maternal lineage) women. It was more of an insight than a revelation. I saw it, I grew up with it, but I never expected to have it show up in me. The female members of my maternal family lineage possess a gene in our DNA strand that make us embrace the Christmas season with more enthusiasm than we usually display during the rest of the year. When I say enthusiasm, I don't necessarily mean we're super happy, super chipper, let's shove the christmas spirit down everyone's throat type of enthusiasm. What I mean is, our rooms explode with Christmas decorations, our kitchens are filled with a frenzy of flying flour and our homes are filled with the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked cookies and the twinkling of colored lights.
Yes, as I said before, I saw it occuring - in Grandma's house (her decorations and all of the cookies that she would have), in every female member's house in McHenry, and of course in my childhood home. Now, seeing as how I have always been very un-domestic and have never been ashamed of that status I never imagined that I would ever exhibit the same behavior as those who came before me. But, alas, the gene is yielding its head and has taken hold of me. Decorations, lights, tree, presents, and baking, lots and lots of baking have become a part of my daily life this season. Who would have ever imagined that I would bake so much. It's not that I become so incredibly ecstatic about baking (but I don't hate it, either) it's more like this subconscious behavior that just occurs.
One line of thought is that everything we're doing is for the appearance of Christmas - our attitudes and beliefs don't change with the coming of the holiday (we don't all of a sudden start wishing 'good cheer' or 'holiday blessings to one and all'). We may be filling some kind of void that occurs as a result of the holidays or we're overcompensating for something.... who knows. Or (and this is probably most likely) we just become crazy Christmas decorators.
Merry Christmas!
Love,
Katie
(This was just suppose to bring a smile to your face - not to make you concerned about my well-being or anything - I'm not crazy. But at the same time, how else can you explain my sudden "domestic" behavior and rash baking spree during the Christmas season except by concluding that it's something in our genes?)
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Viva Las Vegas!
Viva Las Vegas! Last month Sean and I attended a wedding in Las Vegas. It was suppose to be a quick weekend trip to Vegas for the wedding and reception, but the day before we were suppose to leave I found out that I'd have to go to Vegas that Monday for a site visit for work to meet a vendor we'd be working with for the show. So I was looking at: flying to Vegas Friday night and flying back Sunday night - only to get back on a plane Monday morning to go back to Vegas. Rather than fly back Sunday night and spend 10 hours in Orange County before having to head back to the city of sin, I opted to extend my stay and switch my return flight to Monday.
Rather than give you the boring stories of dealing with a somewhat inept Orbitz customer service rep - I'll skip straight to the good stuff. I was able to upgrade to a suite for $50. That's $50 total, not per night. Upon reaching the room and realizing the bathroom was the size of our living room and that I could lay completely down completely flat in the tub, we were giddy.
The rest of the trip can be summed up like this: Katie spent more money in the gift shop on sudafed, kleenex, vick's vapor rub and chloraseptic than she lost gambling. Craps is our new favorite game. Some buffets are worth $40 a person. The Wynn is a gorgeous hotel. And any place that gives you free drinks for standing around throwing dice gets a thumbs up in my book.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Lessons learned in San Francisco
Sean and I just got back from our first "spur of the moment, we have nothing else to do so we might as fly up to San Francisco for a day and a half" trip.
I always thought I could be a person who flew out of town at a moment's notice. So when I saw that I was going to miss the Scissors Sisters concert in LA, I looked to see where else they were playing. Turns out they were playing in San Francisco the following weekend. I turned to Sean asked him, in a none-too-serious tone, if he wanted to fly up to SF for the day to see a concert. Of course he said yes. Because that is who he is. And rather than give you a minute-by-minute rehash of our trip - here are a few lessons we learned.
Lessons Learned:
If you're going to put contacts in for the very first time in your life - do not wait until 20 minutes before you're suppose to leave for the airport to do so.
Katie will not get on a plane without Sean. But she'll tell you that she will.
As the level of her annoyance rises, the number of snarky comments out of Katie's mouth increases.
Even strangers are not immune to Katie's snarkiness when annoyed.
M. Ward gives Seu Jorge a run for his money when it comes to covering Bowie.
If you're taking a restaurant recommendation from a free paper - set expectations low. Very low.
Hang Ah makes the best BBQ pork buns. And the biggest.
Apparently, 2 bites of garlic broccoli does not constitute a serving of vegetable.
Unleashing both of us in a bookstore is disastrous for our bank accounts. (Would Susie Orman constitute money spent on books as 'good debt'? )
People voluntarily live in base housing on Treasure Island. And they're not in the military.
Scissor Sisters have the best on stage banter between songs. Ever.
36 hours in San Francisco.
2 concerts.
3 restaurants.
3 shopping expeditions.
1 coffee shop.
2 very happy, but very tired, crazy kids.
I always thought I could be a person who flew out of town at a moment's notice. So when I saw that I was going to miss the Scissors Sisters concert in LA, I looked to see where else they were playing. Turns out they were playing in San Francisco the following weekend. I turned to Sean asked him, in a none-too-serious tone, if he wanted to fly up to SF for the day to see a concert. Of course he said yes. Because that is who he is. And rather than give you a minute-by-minute rehash of our trip - here are a few lessons we learned.
Lessons Learned:
If you're going to put contacts in for the very first time in your life - do not wait until 20 minutes before you're suppose to leave for the airport to do so.
Katie will not get on a plane without Sean. But she'll tell you that she will.
As the level of her annoyance rises, the number of snarky comments out of Katie's mouth increases.
Even strangers are not immune to Katie's snarkiness when annoyed.
M. Ward gives Seu Jorge a run for his money when it comes to covering Bowie.
If you're taking a restaurant recommendation from a free paper - set expectations low. Very low.
Hang Ah makes the best BBQ pork buns. And the biggest.
Apparently, 2 bites of garlic broccoli does not constitute a serving of vegetable.
Unleashing both of us in a bookstore is disastrous for our bank accounts. (Would Susie Orman constitute money spent on books as 'good debt'? )
People voluntarily live in base housing on Treasure Island. And they're not in the military.
Scissor Sisters have the best on stage banter between songs. Ever.
36 hours in San Francisco.
2 concerts.
3 restaurants.
3 shopping expeditions.
1 coffee shop.
2 very happy, but very tired, crazy kids.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Spontaneous Travel Plans
Q: Why don't I have a pet?
A: Because if I did, I couldn't jet off to San Francisco at a moment's notice.
Q: Isn't that just an excuse? Because you don't ever really 'jet off' anywhere, do you?
A: That's not true anymore.
In the first big spur-of-the-moment decision I've made in quite some time, I decidedthat Sean and I are going to fly up to San Francisco next weekend to see the Scissor Sisters play at the Warfield. The rationale behind this decision? Concert tickets are cheap, the venue's nice and small and I love San Francisco and I don't really need any other reasons than those.
A: Because if I did, I couldn't jet off to San Francisco at a moment's notice.
Q: Isn't that just an excuse? Because you don't ever really 'jet off' anywhere, do you?
A: That's not true anymore.
In the first big spur-of-the-moment decision I've made in quite some time, I decidedthat Sean and I are going to fly up to San Francisco next weekend to see the Scissor Sisters play at the Warfield. The rationale behind this decision? Concert tickets are cheap, the venue's nice and small and I love San Francisco and I don't really need any other reasons than those.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
A-ha!
I'm a bit jealous of my neighbors' patio. I doubt they struggle to keep their plants alive, whereas I feel a twinge of guilt every time I look at my jasmine ( I think I've managed to bring it to the brink of death twice). Anyways, my neighbors. They have the plant-filled patio I planned to have, but have failed to execute. The latest idea I've been toying with is adding flower boxes on the railings of our patio. They have two flower boxes filled with yellow and purple flowers that are just gorgeous. I figure, if they can keep their flower boxes lush in the California sun, so can I. Right?
Sure. It's super easy to keep the plants alive... when they're FAKE!!!!! Fake! Fake flowers. I've been drooling over fake flowers in the flower box. After feeling like a sub-par gardner after successfully killing an azalea bush and consistently killing and bringing back to life a jasmine, I felt a smidge of glee discovering their little deception.
Fake tans, fake noses, fake boobs, and now, fake flowers. Well, it is Orange County...
Sure. It's super easy to keep the plants alive... when they're FAKE!!!!! Fake! Fake flowers. I've been drooling over fake flowers in the flower box. After feeling like a sub-par gardner after successfully killing an azalea bush and consistently killing and bringing back to life a jasmine, I felt a smidge of glee discovering their little deception.
Fake tans, fake noses, fake boobs, and now, fake flowers. Well, it is Orange County...
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Snap Judgment: Movie Trailers
I caught the season premiere of "Nip/Tuck" last night. While I thought it was a pretty good episode (Kathleen Turner - fantastic!) I was more enthralled with the movie trailers that were shown in lieu of commercials.
Running With Scissors
Augusten Burroughs' hilarious, skin-crawling, outrageous memoir on the big screen. I have NO idea how they were able to incorporate half of the experiences he goes through into the movie. We're talking about a boy whose mom dumps him in her shrink's care, where he drops out of school in junior high, and finds himself in situations that I won't go into because I know my grandma's reading this. It was a great book (I'm reading his third one right now) so I'l probably see this when it comes out.
The Holiday
Jack Black as a leading man in a romantic comedy. Really? I need some time to wrap my head around that.
Casino Royale (aka the reason Americans know who Daniel Craig is)
I'm looking forward to seeing this movie. Not because it's a new James Bond film. I have to admit, I only saw one of the Pierce Brosnan as James Bond films, and I was never a member of the "I heart James Bond" club.
Part of me thinks it's due to some leftover do-something-just-to-be-contrary-attitude from my teenage years. I want to give the studio my money to prove to the nay-sayers that Daniel Craig can carry this franchise.
The other half of me knows that he'll bring some much needed edge to this camp-tacular character. Don't believe me? Watch "Layer Cake" and then we'll talk.
Running With Scissors
Augusten Burroughs' hilarious, skin-crawling, outrageous memoir on the big screen. I have NO idea how they were able to incorporate half of the experiences he goes through into the movie. We're talking about a boy whose mom dumps him in her shrink's care, where he drops out of school in junior high, and finds himself in situations that I won't go into because I know my grandma's reading this. It was a great book (I'm reading his third one right now) so I'l probably see this when it comes out.
The Holiday
Jack Black as a leading man in a romantic comedy. Really? I need some time to wrap my head around that.
Casino Royale (aka the reason Americans know who Daniel Craig is)
I'm looking forward to seeing this movie. Not because it's a new James Bond film. I have to admit, I only saw one of the Pierce Brosnan as James Bond films, and I was never a member of the "I heart James Bond" club.
Part of me thinks it's due to some leftover do-something-just-to-be-contrary-attitude from my teenage years. I want to give the studio my money to prove to the nay-sayers that Daniel Craig can carry this franchise.
The other half of me knows that he'll bring some much needed edge to this camp-tacular character. Don't believe me? Watch "Layer Cake" and then we'll talk.
I Don't Feel Like Dancing
New Scissor Sisters single!!!!!! I was sitting at my desk at 9:00 o'clock this morning, willing myself to wake up and craft a coherent sentence when I hear this little gem on the radio. Scissor Sisters' new single!
Yes, it's very Elton John. Yes, it's very Benny and the Jets. But I don't care. I love it. And because I was nowhere near being a twinkle in my parent's eyes during Elton's heyday, I will have to settle for the post-Elton heyday of Jake, Ana and crew.
It's time to strut your glam-loving, glitter-wearing self!
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Eat Your Way Through Vacation
The number one thing Angela and I have in common is our ability to eat our way through vacations. Searching out new restaurants and trying out new foods is the glue of our friendship. So, naturally I was thrilled to find out she was going to be in my neck of the woods (thank goodness for free airfare courtesy of The Man), because that meant I would be eating GOOD all weekend long.
The first stop on the smorgasboard train: Sushi
We went to Zaponga - a Japanese restaurant that serves the biggest wraps I've ever seen. It's situated in the super-trendy, faux-hipster "anti-mall" by the condo. The Oh My God roll was as thick as my forearm and the lobster and pumpkin-filled dumplings were delicious.
The second stop: Indian
The Royal Khyber serves fine Indian cuisine (don't take my word, they say it themselves on the awning over the front door). Very, very, very good. I had the Jambalaya Tandoori Kebab. Delicious. The naan was so-so. And we know. We ordered every version of naan they had - cheese, garlic and plain. We're built of good Midwestern stock - we crave carbs. My favorite part of the evening - the spicy calimari.
And no trip from Minnesota to California would be complete without a trip, or two, to Golden Spoon for a bowl of frozen yogurt covered in crushed candy.
The first stop on the smorgasboard train: Sushi
We went to Zaponga - a Japanese restaurant that serves the biggest wraps I've ever seen. It's situated in the super-trendy, faux-hipster "anti-mall" by the condo. The Oh My God roll was as thick as my forearm and the lobster and pumpkin-filled dumplings were delicious.
The second stop: Indian
The Royal Khyber serves fine Indian cuisine (don't take my word, they say it themselves on the awning over the front door). Very, very, very good. I had the Jambalaya Tandoori Kebab. Delicious. The naan was so-so. And we know. We ordered every version of naan they had - cheese, garlic and plain. We're built of good Midwestern stock - we crave carbs. My favorite part of the evening - the spicy calimari.
And no trip from Minnesota to California would be complete without a trip, or two, to Golden Spoon for a bowl of frozen yogurt covered in crushed candy.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Just What The Blogosphere Needs...Another One Of These
Why did I hop on the bandwagon and create one of these?
Because I want to alleviate my guilt about not calling my family nearly as often as I should, given that I live 3,000 miles away from them all. Now they have written and photographic proof that I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth and I am in fact being a productive member of society.
Because every so often I fall madly in love with a band. And since the music snob in my life has probably already heard of them, enjoyed a brief love affair with them, and has sinced moved onto his new band du jour, I need to share my find with someone.
Because I find the most random sites and online distractions throughout my day and constanstly send them to the music snob I just mentioned. One of these days he's going to send me a "cease and desist" order, so I'll use this venue to share the randomness I discover throughout the day.
But the main reason? Well, read the title of my blog.
Please bear with me as I brush up on my HTML and futz around with style sheets.
Because I want to alleviate my guilt about not calling my family nearly as often as I should, given that I live 3,000 miles away from them all. Now they have written and photographic proof that I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth and I am in fact being a productive member of society.
Because every so often I fall madly in love with a band. And since the music snob in my life has probably already heard of them, enjoyed a brief love affair with them, and has sinced moved onto his new band du jour, I need to share my find with someone.
Because I find the most random sites and online distractions throughout my day and constanstly send them to the music snob I just mentioned. One of these days he's going to send me a "cease and desist" order, so I'll use this venue to share the randomness I discover throughout the day.
But the main reason? Well, read the title of my blog.
Please bear with me as I brush up on my HTML and futz around with style sheets.
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