Public Service Announcement from Jane Austen & Friends

One of Britain's finest novelists gets told what's what.


Isn't this a stunning piece of cinema?

Gordough's Big Fat Donuts

Austin Eavesdropper has a confession to make. Two, actually:

A) She hasn't stepped foot in a gym in two weeks. Hello, Texas! Oh wait, that's not the state of Texas....that's my butt.

B) See all of these delightful blog posts below? Most AE post ideas come from AE's circle of knowledgeable pals, who have their fingers to the pulse of this city even better than she does. And friends, they uncover some interesting finds. Interesting indeed.

Take Gourdough's gourmet donut shop, a brand spankin' new food trailer biz located on 1219 South Lamar, across the street from Maudie's. This tip came today from AE's friend Gary, who really and truly, should start his own blog. AE's in-the-know music tips, celebrity gossip tips, and sometimes food tips, pretty much always start with Gary. (@gaston213 on Twitter).

Let us dispense with formalities then, and ogle the drool-inducing donut menu at Gourdough's?




Um...what!! "Mother Clucker: Fried Chicken Strip and Honey Butter Icing." "Margaritaville: Margarita Flavored Filling and Key Lime Icing."

I feel like Gourdoughs' is the kind of thing that needs to be experienced at least once, with photographic proof, just to say you've tried it.

Have any of you been to Gourdough's yet? If not, which one would you order first? My money's on "Heavenly Hash."

EDITOR'S NOTE: PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE has arrived! (Thanks to the indispensable Gary, @gaston213, for internet sleuthing and Jennifer King for her in-depth article at Austin Post, the source of these pictures).

The Mother Clucker.

The Razzle Dazzle.

The Blue Balls.

TONIGHT: Beard and Mustache Demos?

Is there any bigger trend in Austin right now than facial hair? A few weeks ago, I was at Quacks and spied mustache COOKIES. Um.

Tonight, there is a full-on art show/party celebrating mustaches and beards, completely with "DIY demos!" I'm not exactly sure what that means, but if I could grow facial hair I would like to participate. Especially since there will be bearded cakes. (Facial hair + pastries = hottest thing going?).

Check out our girl Candace at Electric Promotions for all the details.

PS: Isn't this poster endearingly goofy. I love it.

Next week: Austin Air Guitar Championships

Yes! This is next week you guys. I'm posting it now in case it sells out.

friday, june 12
8:00pm
the parish
tickets here

I am definitely attending and taking pictures!

About a week and a half ago, Hot Lixx Hulahan (the 2008 WORLD Champion!) explained to me that the Austin competition is pretty high caliber, since we Austinites go through months of preliminary competitions. I told him, oh I know, my mother is a competitive lip syncer and I have nothing but respect for the central Texas musical mimicry circuit. (Note: this is true).

Say hi, Hot Lixx:

Anyway, the competition is pretty stiff this year, and while there's no telling who will walk away with the Austin crown, here are a couple of pretty threatening Texans:

From Dallas: THE GUARDIAN!

photo credit: clay gardner

From Houston: RIP DARKO!

photo credit: misha vladimirskiy

This person isn't from Texas (he's from New York), but he's the 2007 US Champion: WILLIAM OCEAN!

photo credit: dan eckstein

And here is the man (well, one of two men) who started it all: C-DIDDY!

The next time that poofy-haired Isaac Mizrahi assures me from Bravo TV that "competition is the new black," I'm going to point right back at the TV screen and bellow, "HELLO KITTY SHIELDS ARE THE NEW BLACK!"

I leave you with Hot Lixx, winning the 2008 World Championships:

Craigslist saves the day: TV On The Radio, Missed Connections

This Saturday, TV On The Radio is playing a sold-out show at Stubb's!



You can still get tickets here, at Craigslist. I'm counting 12 offers entered today.

And speaking of Craigslist...

It's been a long time since we've visited Missed Connections here on Austin Eavesdropper, hasn't it? I was at the Statesman Tweetup earlier tonight, and someone asked me if I actually eavesdropped on people. It made me miss my old friends on Missed Connections, that hopeful, oh-so-wistful slice of local internet users who just want to reconnect. "Oh, if only that ice cream server at Amy's knew how I really felt." "Hey, I Heart Video guy, did we, like, totally exchange meaningful glances today?" "Hey hot chik in rd car at Lamar & 6th stoplite u want to get 2gether???"

Let's see what Missed Connections we may or may not be making today. Here's a post that is quite poetically titled: it is called, "the vast blue ocean - 45:"

"It's funny to me that with all of the research done on my background by the both you, ya'll (Yee-Haw!) still only a small fraction(10%) of me without knowing who I am truly am and I am misunderstood completely by everyone. So I am going to shed some light since my greatest strength is remain a introvert...."

Listen up ladies: You may think you know this guy, but you only know 10%. For example, did you know he prefers DIFFERENT varieties of mustard for DIFFERENT moods?

"If I am in a sense of sophistication,then, I like Brown Yellow Mustard on the top bread, Organic Tomatoes, Miracle Whip on the bottom, Lettuce, Bacon, Pepperjack Chesse and finally a little bit of Thousand Island Dressing.

If I am in a sense of normacy, then, I like French's Regular Yellow Mustard on the bottom, Roma Tomatoes, Miracle Whip on the top, Lettuce, and American cheese(shredded).

If am in sense of raunchiness, then, I like Hill Country Yellow Mustard and Mayo on the top and bottom mixed together(but one has to spread one condiment first, then, wash it off with soap, and then use the other since I don't like getting the condiments in each other jars),and lettuce. "

Are you dying right now? I'm dying. Don't you love that the tantalizing combination of Hill Country Yellow Mustard + Mayo = "raunchiness??" (But seriously - wash off the mustard knife before dipping it into the mayo jar. Let's not be savages).

This next post is innocuous-sounding enough - "Professional burnette at Half-Price Books - m4w - 42 (Austin)" - right? But here is the post, in its entirety. It begins with the word "and:"

"And that hourglass magnificent awe-shocking frame(especially those defined thighs) that gravitates me like the aroma of freshly baked homemade chocolate-chip cookies when I come walking into the door. It makes me feel elated."

I bet you didn't see that coming? Peas and carrots, apples and oranges, thighs and cookies. Facts of life, people.

There are more - oh, so many more glorious Missed Connections! - but I'll let you go explore the generous bounty for yourself.

This morning: Hangover 1, Gym 0

So pardon my candor you guys, but we've ALL been there.

Today was the type of morning where you wake up saying to yourself, "Dear God, I am never drinking again." The type of morning, also, where you stumble to the bathroom, take one look in the mirror, and are so absolutely horrified that you go back to bed and pray it's a better sight in another hour. Raise your hand if you've experienced that?

Anyway, my Saturday evening started out beautifully, as I got to spend some time with my friend Kathryn and her adorable new baby, Lucia! It's a surreal thing when one of your closest friends becomes a parent, and a COMPETENT parent at that. Kathryn is such a natural. For example, when Lucia is hungry, Kathryn just knows, without Lucia even having to say anything. If I ever bear a child, I think I am going to regard it rather like a Tivo or a self-assembly piece of IKEA furniture, where I just sort of stare at it scratching my head, thinking: "How do you work, exactly?"

We also laughed last night when Kathryn went to go put Lucia in her rocker/bed thing, resting on the floor at a corner (<---significant) of the table, and our friend Justin goes: "Nobody puts Baby in a corner." Haha.

Next, R. dropped me off at Club DeVille for the Grit N' Glamour fashion show, where I got to hear an awesome pick-up line from this guy:

"How much does a polar bear weigh? I don't know either, but it helps break the ice."

(Note: Vincent, the fine individual you see above, delivered this line after I specifically asked him what was the worst pick-up line he ever heard. It's story I'm working on for Rare. What a good sport, and thank you Vincent!)

After that, I jetted over to The Compound for that Black & White Years/DJ Manny show we were talking about yesterday. And while there, well, y'all remember how I said I wasn't friends with DJ BigFace yet? HO!:


And he even gave me a CD!!

Also saw these familiar (sickeningly photogenic) faces....




The lovely Cory Ryan and I are two newly-minted redheads!


(I'm kind of a squinter when I smile).

And lastly, here's an interesting shot of DJ Manny:

Doesn't this look like a Special Investigations Unit detective photo or something? I don't know why my camera did that!

FINALLY, way too many vodka and cranberries later, a few of us schlepped it over to a loft afterparty where falafel magically appeared. In true classy form, I pretty much ate the falafel and skedaddled.....but not without snapping this!


The money shot!

After a thoroughly entertaining Saturday night, I am now enjoying a dazed, lazy, Sunday afternoon, considering the gym in the most abstract of plans, but also content to sit here and giggle over photos from last night. Laughing burns calories, doesn't it?

Cheers, everyone.

Disco dance party tonight!

Yep, it's Tuesday, and that means Sounds! Fun! tonight, but with a disco twist. I have TWO favorite disco songs that I hope will be on the playlist:

1. "It's Raining Men" by The Weather Girls

2. "Jump! (For my love)" by The Pointer Sisters

Oh yes I DID sing "Jump!" on karaoke at my wedding. Flanked by my partners in crime, Jon and Jeff, and over the years we have perfected our "Jump!" choreography.

Reader, I will have you know that karaoke actually runs in my family...but that's a story for another time.

Do you have any favorite disco numbers? Don't lie, I know you do.

Austin bloggers: Who wants to go to this?

So I am a big nerd, and before I head out to all the dance party / music festivities tonight....I am definitely going to this!

CLUB DeVILLE
"After the Jump: Following Bloggers Into the Mainstream Media"
Panel with music bloggers! Talking about how they got all huge!
7pm: Panel
8pm: Reception

Paige Maguire, music editor at Austinist, will be moderating. The reception will feature free drinks from Tito's and food from Ranch 616, so if you want to go, RSVP rreyes@austintexas.org.

The complete badasses at Transmission Entertainment are putting this thing on, in addition to Austin CVB. Thanks, you guys! Am excited.

Also tonight:

I heart me some Foot Patrol.

But perhaps most urgent of all today in Austin, Texas - are you ready? - "Daisy of Love" - is having a CASTING CALL at Stubb's! I know, you're already grabbing your keys! Go eligible bachelors, go!

Where are you watching the election?

I don’t know about you guys, but in my family, the presidential election is like the Superbowl. Except even more special because it only comes every four years. (And also because my mom and I know nothing about football!)

So I’ve been dying to watch the election tonight in public, somewhere loud and raucous, among my fellow electorate. I got a text today about this one:

From Yelp and Do512:

The Travis County Democratic Party invite you to celebrate election night in the place where LBJ watched election returns in 1960 and 1964 - the Driskill Hotel. 5 huge screens showing election returns. DJ room to watch returns with some music.

Join Congressman Lloyd Doggett, Senator Kirk Watson, Woodie Jones, Representatives Donna Howard & Valinda Bolton, Commissioner Candidate Karen Huber, Jim Coronado, Commissioner Ron Davis, County Chair Andy Brown, Annie's List, Tejano Democrats and more.

And, what’s this I hear? It’s a dance party!!

Neato mosquito ACL widget!

Ode to Hancock Center H-E-B

I must be about to get my period (sorry) because I just had the most emotionally rewarding experience at the H-E-B.

Ok, so, Hurricane Ike is happening right now:



(P.S. - Leave it to the NY Times photo journalist crew to make a natural disaster look so breathtakingly artsy!)

As a result, many Houston and Galveston evacuees have fled to Austin, where the weather here is relatively stable. As such, our neighborhood H-E-B has been packed with confused out-of-towners.

"Excuse me, where are your bottled waters?"

"Is there a cell phone store nearby?"

"Do you know how to get to "Man-chac-a" Street?"

I don't know if it's the spirit of Texans to rise above adversity, or the fact that H-E-B employees are just so damn odd and charming, or (most likely) the afore-mentioned womanly reason, but everyone was in, like, the best mood at the grocery store this morning!

"Ok....GUYS....should we get some ham? To make......." (dramatic pause)...

That was a goofy Houston dad at the deli counter this morning, wearing an Astros shirt, with his two little kids in tow. I imagine that evacuating one's city and sitting on the highway for 8-10 hours is probably somewhat of a tense experience, and yet, here was this cool dad who probably did exactly that, getting his kids all pumped up about some ham.

...."sandwiches?!?"

"YEAH! Let's get ham!!" These are his little kids, who are quite literally getting worked up into a frenzy over Boar's Head honey maple ham.

"Ok! Ok. Ma'am, hi, excuse me? We need to get a sample of ham. We need to," (turns to wink conspiratorially at kids), "test it."

The kids are now shrieking with giggles, barely able to suppress their delight that their daddy just tricked the deli lady into giving them a sample.

"WHOA! This is some HAM! Am I right, guys? Am I right??"

Would you believe me if I said his kids were double-fist-pumping the air right now?

"We'll take ONE! POUND!"

And then, I kid you not, his kids started jumping up and down.

Oh dear reader, I wish you could have been there. It's not an exaggeration to say I was very nearly moved to tears by this grocery store tableau. It was pretty freaking precious, I'm not going to lie.

And it doesn't stop there.

Alright, so the poor H-E-B employees - R. was there yesterday, and he said there were check-out lines stretching down into the aisles. You know all those people had to work late yesterday, especially since H-E-B is a 24-hour operation. So I'm pushing my little cart to the check-out, still dazzled by goofy, feel-good Houston Dad, but bracing myself for a surly checker. Because they are probably underslept and tired. But instead, I got the most amazing service.

"Well hey pretty lady! How you doin today!"

That was my checker, as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (pause: weird expression? Are we talking about squirrels here? Is rodent analogy?) as you can be. I thought about it, and told her I was doing alright. And herself?

"I'm hangin in there, thanks for asking! You got any plans tonight?"

I told her about Dana's party tonight, and that we will be going karaoke-ing.

"Aw man! That's fun! Is it a birthday?"

I told her indeed it was, good guess!

"Hey, Rita - she's going to go karaoke-ing tonight!!"

By now a second checker, Rita, has wandered over, to get in on this crazy conversation.

"Oh girl, for serious! What are you singing??"

I sheepishly admitted that Fergie is sorta my go-to, precisely because she does not sing, but spells things. (At least Fergie circa 2006-07 did).

"Aw, lady!" (Back to original checker now), "You're going to be the best one up there!"

Now, based on appearances alone, this prediction was, shall we say, unwarranted. I was (still am) looking about as unimpressive and non-diva-like as you can get - wearing the shirt I wore last night which has a wine stain on it, yoga pants, and flip-flops, and sporting as my friend Rob would call it, "David Lee Roth hair."

But it made me happy anyway. These girls made me feel like a semi-celebrity, just for chatting it up at the check-out line. And, and - this, after all employees worked late, crazy hours last night.

So, Hancock Center H-E-B, it's official: you've stolen my heart.

And I'm totally coming to buy Midol from you in a few days.

A reasonable request

Ok y'all, remember how we were talking about the insanity of Austin Craigslist? And specifically, the charming missed connections? Here's another missed connection, from today.

As you'll read below, this one is not so much of the wistful and romantic sort but more like an incredulous, losing-my-patience announcement.

A girl writes to her crazy neighbor: STOP RUSTLING AROUND WITH YOUR BLACK PLASTIC BAGS IN THE MORNING! I don't think it's too much to ask.

Austin Craigslist girl, you have the floor:

"Dear guy, I really don't know where to start here....."

(Ok, pause. Are you loving it already?? She has had it. Can't you just see her punching the keys on her computer all pissed off? Heh. Carry on):

"For the past three months you have disturbed me....While it may be that you are the one disturbed I must confess that you are interrupting my morning. I choose 7:30 as my time to meditate and journal....have done so for the past several months in peace....until you came along. I have no idea what it is that you are doing, but every single morning at about the same time you rustle around with these mysterious plastic black bags....If I didn't hear that they sound as though they are full of aluminum cans then I would surely have alerted the authorities in response to the nature of your morning rituals....You open and slam your little car's doors over and over again...sometimes without doing anything at all, other times pulling out or shoving in these twelve or so bags....Now since you disturb my peaceful consumption of coffee and news I have to wonder what on earth it is that you are trying to accomplish. You go up and down the stairwell several times to your apartment, each time you go up you stand at the foot of the stairs and look up for several seconds....I often wonder if you are counting in your head the number of times that you've gone up and down the stairs, or maybe the stairs that your feet have climbed or descended that particular morning...exercise routine, maybe? I never come away with an answer. You always seem to have extra bags in your car that you pull out and shake loudly to open them up to the wind.....next you take them upstairs where, I am guessing, you have a bedroom full of the aluminum? If I were a paranoid sort I would think that maybe you have somehow found a way to kill off your neighbors ( yes, I do know that a few of them are empty-headed oxygen suckers ) and ultra-size them into the cans or whatever is in the bags....

Anyway, I am not trying to bother you, but could you please keep it down?....seriously all of that rustling around with the bags is really distracting....I have a hard enough time getting up without having to decipher what it is that you are doing.....for God's sake I am about to start school again and I just can't handle the fugitive-like movements of your mornings....

thanks,

from the girl in the building across from you....and no, I won't tell you which building.....happy bagging to you."

I love the "fugitive-like movements of your mornings." Seriously dude, stop being so OCD! Because I really think that's what we're dealing with here.

Austin Craigslist continues to be a generous bounty. Forget our city's adorably quirky local businesses - these are the people keeping Austin weird.

IKEA + So long, coffee

Ok everyone - sorry I peaced out for a few days.

You know when the weekend just engulfs you in a tidal wave of lethargy? That's what happened in between Thursday night and now. (I blame Mad Men: why do you have to be so addictive Don Draper, and your imminently watchable ilk?)

Anyway, another reason I haven't chimed in this weekend is because I've been miffed, perplexed really, over my achy stomach. I think it's trying to tell me something. And if I listen close, I think I can hear it saying, "Help! I'm being eaten away by coffee acid! Somebody help me!!"

Really...it's gotten to a bad place. And though coffee (...plus white chocolate mudslide cream) is hardly the worst thing I consume, it's the catalyst that makes everything else fall apart. Do you guys feel that way? The ones that are helpless to coffee? Besides the stomach-being-eaten-away thing, it also makes me shaky and hungry shortly after I drink it (which is about twice - sometimes thrice - daily).

So I need to make an appointment with my dear, lovely friend and natural-eating guru Sarah and get my head straight. In the meantime, I'm thrusting off the shackles of coffee and am going to attempt this:

Hot water + lemon + Stevia

I know, sorta lame. But is very cleansing. Ironic - since isn't lemon juice also acidic (and thus potentially aggravating)? Well, we're about to find out, aren't we stomach?

I'll tell you how it goes. In the meantime, another big decision happened today: R. and I officially joined the WASPy ranks and took our first trip to Ikea.



Ok, so, on a logical level alone I totally get the seduction of the place. Acres of cheap, fairly cute housewares and furniture. What could be better? One moment you're handling a kelly green houndstooth-patterned pillow for $14.99, and the next, why you are face-to-face with a whole room designed expressly to show off that pillow to its full potential. Very clever, you Ikea people!

But, Ikea is also creepy and frustrating. Creepy in that I feel oddly like part of a larger consumer-habit experiment when I'm in there - "Customer A's walking patterns show a distinct inclination toward items on right, plus a 1:8 item-pick-up to item-placed-in-basket ratio. INITIATE DATA ENTRY." - and frustrating, because it's so damn huge.

I know - everyone told me. Everyone told me it's like a maze, that you have to walk through the whole thing just to get out, that there is a freaking restaurant and daycare inside Ikea, which should tell me all I needed to know.

Still, all of that couldn't prepare R. and I for the onslaught of stupidity we felt walking around the store. Which way? What's an "ektorp? " Is this a real bathroom, or a display? I have to pee? Wait - where'd you go? Wha? Wha-huh?

Picture this: R. on his cell phone, me on mine, like walkie-talkies:

R: Where are you?
T: I'm at the restaurant. I am near check-out.
R: I'm in a warehouse now - it looks like Home Depot. Am I still in the same store?
T: Look for "check-out" on the signs.
R: I see food down here, too -
T: Do you see me?
R: Do you see the Home Depot stuff?
T: No - just follow the signs. I am at CHECK. OUT.
R: Ok, I'm going to follow these signs. Where are you, again?
T: (Sigh) I am - hold on a sec (turn to employee to confirm store coordinates)
Ok, um. Actually Honey, I've only made it through half of the store, according to the Ikea guy.
R: Oh, I thought -

And on and on and on.

By the time we got into the car, we both felt a little bit dirty, and a little dumber too, like lab rats. (But, but - I should point out that the lab rats are now in possession of a super-cute Olega lamp). Still, it's undeniable that Ikea, like Target - which I love - is one of those democratizing big-box stores that makes it possible for all of us to live a little prettier. And many a college student, newlywed couple, and single twenty-something living in her first studio apartment are grateful, I am sure.

I just can't decide if Ikea is redemptive...or evil.

The Domain: DisneyAustin?

I can't make up my mind about The Domain. You know, the shopping center. What's that? You thought it was in Dallas? Well I don't blame you.

The Domain is located at roughly Braker and Burnet here in AUSTIN, and strikes a balance somewhere between The Truman Show and DisneyWorld. It's an outdoor mall that I think is going for "European," yet insists to be "the best of Austin." Here's the blurb from the website:

"Thanks to incomparable cuisine, diverse local artists, and eclectic shopping, Austin is known as one of the most unique destinations in the country. The Domain is bringing the best of Austin to one single, urban location."

Hmm. I don't know about that, Domain. Most Austinites probably wouldn't name Macy's, Starbucks, or - shocking! - California Pizza Kitchen as "the best of Austin." I think Stacy P. over at Yelp Austin stated it best:

"We stopped in yesterday to go to Z Gallerie, big mistake, huge mistake. I was dressed in flip flops and shorts and kept getting the dirty stink eye from everyone dressed to the fucking nines to GO TO THE MALL. Seriously, peeps were dressed for the club with heels, huge designer bags, little pooches with sweaters on and huge sunglasses. This place makes me sick."

Haha. Let's be friends, Stacy P.?

So today I stopped by The Domain for lunch - don't hate, it's close to my job - with the express purpose of going to Oakville Grocery. Oakville is supposed to be this little Napa/Sonoma-like grocer, and sometimes, they have samples of cheese and chocolate and other silly/yummy stuff. Only today - why today, I saw no cheese. Instead I saw something entirely different.

First, it was the bolted doors. Abandoned napkin dispensers. Dusty windows and bare, scratched-up floors. And finally...the shaming little eviction notice, plastered in the front door. Apparently, Oakville stopped paying their property rent, and got their Napa ass kicked out.

Now, whatever company that's developing The Domain is bling-bling rich. It stretches several blocks, and not only is there shopping, but gyms and "parks" and apartments - like the suburbs, only with a pretend urban atmosphere.

But in this economy, will we see more evicted properties at The Domain?

Maybe I'll be sad to see Kona Grill go - we do happy hour there from time to time, and I think their sushi is alright. But Domain, maybe take one from Austin Bergstrom Airport's playbook, and incorporate the city's existing businesses?

Everything in excess

Hi, Kenneth Turan. I heartily agree with your summation that perhaps Mamma Mia! got a little out of control with the dance numbers, the singing, the general downpour of estrogen. But you know what - not to advance tired stereotypical gender differences here - but you, sir, found it pretty freaking awesome in The Dark Knight that they managed to flip over an entire 18-wheeler and got it to look even better than a CGI trick, right? Here's what you said:

"Nolan and Pfister have actually upped the ante by filming six of the film's action sequences, including the remarkable flipping of an 18-wheel, 40-foot tractor-trailer, with a 65-millimeter Imax camera, meaning that they have an extra sharpness when shrunken to fit into a 35mm print."

And I agree - totally badass! But the ladies I spoke with don't remember the 18-wheeler. The things that are memorable to girls tend to be things like, well, Meryl Streep jumping up and down on a bed:



Like she did in Mamma Mia! So I'm just saying. Right on with your film reviews - both of them, The Dark Knight and Mamma Mia!, and, full disclosure, I have a worn-out copy of your book Never Coming to a Theatre Near You - but I'm compelled to point out that sometimes men and women take away different things from different films. Is all.

Ok so guys, I don't know if Pierce Brosnan is supposed to be the most hilarious part of this movie or what, but I have never laughed so hard in my life as I did at him belting it out to a synthesized, ABBA-approved soundtrack. Harder, in fact, than watching Richard Gere tap-dance for Chicago. Do y'all remember that? Think that level of ridiculousness x 50. Pierce Brosnan, you stole my heart! For the man who always plays it cool - way to haul out your cheese. Brava!

My rec? Ladies - and only the ladies who get a kick out of big, frothy wedding movies - go see it. Together. It's not a date movie. For boy-girl hetero couples, anyway - I think Jeff, Jon, and Eddy (all gay) would sincerely love it. Boys, do you?

And one last thing - there is nothing Meryl Streep can't do, I've decided. Dinner with one person in the world? For me - it's her. Love you lady.

Let's talk about Project Chanology.

I knew I had seen these masks before.

But I didn't know what they meant. Until tonight that is, with the help of South Park and Wikipedia.

So around February of this year, I was driving down Guadalupe. I can't remember where I was headed, but I do remember seeing a whole block of these people in front of the UT Campus, wearing freaky masks and holding posters. One of them was holding a poster that said, "Honk if you hate Xenu." They were standing across the street from the Church of Scientology, on Guadalupe and 22nd St.

Fast-forward: R. and I are watching an old South Park tonight, one (of the many) where they were ripping on Scientology. It's the one where everyone thinks Stan is the second coming of L. Ron Hubbard, and the like, President of Scientology or something walks Stan through Scientologist doctrine: you know, aliens, space ships, volcanoes, etc. Then a tagline appeared at the bottom of the screen that said, "This is what Scientologists actually believe."

Being the Wikipedia nerd I am, I jumped up and grabbed my laptop just to confirm it for myself. Here is a segment from the Wikipedia entry:

"75 million years ago Xenu brought billions of people to Earth in spacecraft resembling Douglas DC-8 airliners, stacked them around volcanoes and..."

...And do you really need to hear anything else? Well, ok:

"...and blew them up with hydrogen bombs. Their souls then clustered together, stuck to the bodies of the living and continue to do this today."

Well, I think that pretty much says it all. (Even so, I thought you should still see a Scientology video of the whole volcano thing. Yes, I found this through Austin's very own Scientology website.)

But what I wanted to tell you guys about was not Scientology, but Project Chanology.

So on that same Wikipedia article, I came across this intriguing sub-entry that said "Scientology and the Internet." I clicked on it, and there's a guy wearing one of those Guy Fawkes/V from V for Vendetta masks. Apparently, in January, February, and April of this year, a group dubbing themselves "Project Chanology" (an offshoot of the larger, more well-known group Anonymous) launched a world-wide protest against Scientology - including one right here in Austin, y'all!

I'm just really fascinated by the whole internet-organized global protest thing. This group is made up of people from at least - but not limited to - Berlin, Paris, Dublin, London, and AUSTIN. And in addition to the street protests, they apparently disabled Scientology's computer server, sent black faxes, and...RICKROLLED!!!

Guys! Project Chanology IS responsible for the "rickroll" phenomenon. You know, you get a link to a seemingly relevant site, click on it, and suddenly you're greeted by Rick Astley singing "Never Gonna Give You Up." Why, I'm not entirely sure. It's connection to Scientology? Again: fuzzy. If everyone's figured this out already and I'm just now catching on - sorry. But I'm going to sit here and be pumped for a minute, now that I've discovered the origin of rickrolling. Whoa!

Ok, so. Project Chanology's last big public demonstration was June 2008, in a protest involving pirate costumes. Again...pirates? What? Does it matter? All I know is: It's not the last protest. And as a matter of fact, here locally, more stuff is going down this summer.

Hobby Lobby employees are a little dead inside

I have a question for you guys. Why are the employees at Hobby Lobby so pissed off? Specifically, the one on Lamar and 183. I went there yesterday to get supplies for one of these:



I know, cute right. You know how jewelry often ends up spread out on a dresser, on top of bills and old Pirates of the Caribbean ticket stubs and whatever? And you inevitably "lose" your favorite hoop earrings when they're really just tangled up in a bra? That's what this is supposed to stop. Thanks Martha!

Anyway, I'm at Hobby Lobby, where nothing is labeled. But that's alright. What's not alright is how mad they get when you ask them where stuff is. Take this exchange:

"Hi! Could you tell me where wooden shadow boxes are?"

"All of our shadow boxes are with frames."

"Great. Where are the frames?"

(Dramatic rolling of eyes) "Around the CORNER."

Now, I accept some responsibility here - maybe if I had kept on walking, I would have run into the frames area, and eventually the shadow boxes. About 5 minutes later though, I was looking for something kind of obscure - sawtooth hangers - and saw a different employee walking by.

"Excuse me, ma'am!"

(Woman keeps walking, does not turn around.)

"Hi, hey - do you work here?" (Run a little to catch up to her)

"Yes."

"Do you know where basic hardware is? Specifically, sawtooth hangers, for mounting artwork on the wall."

"That's like..." - sigh - "...on the complete opposite side of the store."

"Alright. Near the bathrooms? Near the scrapbooking stuff?"

"Over there. Where I'm pointing." (Gestures vaguely, indeed, to the "opposite" side of the store, indicating with her hand that I shall find hardware somewhere in between party favors and foliage, because those are the two ends of the entire west wall. Oh, I see now! Like, in this quadrant of the store, I'll find something that's about the size of a nail! Great, thanks!)

Hey Hobby Lobby, if you don't want customers asking silly questions, how about labeling the f^*ing store. "Wood." "Paint." "Yarn." Things like that.

Maybe it's because crafty women seem so nice, as a general demographic - old ladies with their knitting needles, teachers with their iron-on watermelon decals, moms with their driveway chalk for the kiddos - that I expect these kind of people to staff Hobby Lobby. But that would be a wrong assumption. A complete opposite assumption. Dawn B. at Yelp Austin put it so much better than I about a month ago:

"this hobby lobby is the suck. but not in the good way. the employees are all dead. no one wants to help you. i think they were all hiding as i saw no one working the sales floor."

Hee. Seriously though - why so grumpy-pants, HL employees?

Go hide your shame

There's a really sweet woman here in the neighborhood who used to work at FreshPlus grocery story. Then, she moved across the street to be the checkout at Pronto (a gas station). For a few years now, I've called her: "Cancer Survivor." Or, on occasion, "Chemo Patient."

Now before you go getting all horrified, let me explain. Without fail, this lady always wears a scarf on her head. And not in a Nicole Richie, ooh look at me I'm-a-haute-couture-hippie way (think bandana, not Hermés). She also wears long sleeves and pants all the time, as if cold - even in summer! - and doesn't wear any makeup, ever. Plus, she just has the look of a strong, indomitable spirit. You know what I mean? Like, "child, I seen things you never should."

Now, taken together, these observations clearly do not diagnose someone with cancer. But when I first met her, my fanciful mind got to working, and...well. It was a private observation. A ridiculous jump to more absurd conclusion. And thus = "Cancer Survivor" was born.

I never really told anyone, until I told R., and now he views her with the same (perhaps unwarranted?) admiration I do. Sometimes, when we see her at Pronto, we exchange knowing looks that say, "what a courageous, unyielding soul."

(Sidenote: Cancer Survivor actually got held up at gunpoint in Pronto last summer, if you can believe it. R and I's first reaction to the news: "but she's already been through so much!")

So anyway, this pillar of a lady, this beacon of hope in a world so dark, is totally not the type to chit-chat about, oh, day-long male erections. Or so I thought.

I'm at Pronto yesterday, filling my car up with 1/10 a tank of gas or something - OPEC, can you hear me? WTF? - and walk inside to pay for it.

"Hi there, honey!" Cancer Survivor, suppressing a giggle.

"Hey! Just $10 on number 5, please."

Giggle. Sideways glance at female coworker. Giggle giggle.

"Honey, question for you. How would you react if a man, a man you knew and had been hanging out with, had an erection. For - hold on, let me tell her! -six to eight hours?"

Furrow brow, really consider it. "Run?" I offer.

"See, exactly Honey!" Turning to coworker, presumably the one with the, er, "situation."

"I would tell that man to stay indoors!" Finger is up and wagging now, scolding this invisible man with the offensive penis.

"No, 'oh WOW this is so amazing' about it! No! I would tell that man to get away from me. To get out of public, and to go hide your shame."

You can't put a price tag on sage wisdom like that.

Surprise: No baby!

Like many gals in their twenties, I've wasted hundreds of dollars in the past few years performing at-home pregnancy tests. The kind where you pee on a stick, and with my brand of choice, wait for a plus or minus sign. (Which, evaluating for a moment: is the stick innocently implying a "positive" for pregnancy with a plus sign, like yes-you-are-pregnant-congratulations-new-mommy!! Or, far more likely, mocking me with that pink, ironic, smear of a math symbol? Like yes-you-are-PLUS-ONE-sucka! I can't decide).

It's not that I'm careless. I've taken the Pill for years (minus the days I forgot, and take four at once). Recently, I got a far more permanent option - well, 10 years permanent anyway - and suddenly have no period. Am I pregnant? Who knows! It's the female body, where anything can happen.

Whenever I get bloated - which is often, I blame tofu - I think I have a special somebody living inside my womb. Hello, food baby! Wait - are you a real baby?

Also, when I'm fatigued/grouchy/nauseous, I think, "oh dear - here comes the morning sickness." Even when it is midday, and definitely not morning. This happened once when I got off a plane in Miami, met up with a fellow attendee for a bachelorette party, and told her I threw up in the airport. "Are you pregnant?" She asked. Well, given the circumstances, I sure as hell hope not. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Mommy gave you a second head when she once drank 4 vodka tonics in an hour while wearing a necklace of plastic penises."

What a touching story.

Anyway, seeing as how I'm one to jump to conclusions - baby conclusions - I did become slightly concerned when my period recently went missing for two months. Yoohoo, period! Like a well-meaning but ANNOYING neighbor, I actually wouldn't mind if it packed up and left for good. Off to Florida with you. Maybe that's what I meant when I accidentally wrote on the blank titled "First day of your last menstrual cycle?" on the form at the gyno's office today: "4/7/1982." The nurse was confused, until I calmly explained that I reached menopause at birth. "Oh," she said, eying my leerily. Who let this freak in?

But enough with jokes. She ran a test. I'm not pregnant. Which makes sense, because I am - say it with me - on birth control! Have been, for years! Babies need not apply. This is a fetus-free zone. There shall be no infants passing through these loins. Got it, babies?

At least, until I want a little R. of my own.

Fashionably late for work

Have you ever had one of those mornings where you wake up, roll over, and realize you need to be somewhere - across town - in approximately 13 minutes? I do.

Today at work (I'm a literary publicist), we were launching our first-ever satellite radio tour. Pretty neat huh! What basically happens is: I line up a slew of radio interviews for Mr. or Ms. Author, and we knock them all out in a given time block. It's a 3-way call, and I control all the dialing from my end: the author hangs out on the line, while I call each station. This morning, we had 20 shows to hit, coast to coast. The time, 7am - 11am. Which means I had to arrive at work at 6:30.

That was the plan, anyway. It didn't help that I WOKE UP at 6:17.

Picture this:

Roll over sleepily, silently congratulating myself, "it's so nice that even when I set an alarm, my body clock just wakes me right up - even before it goes off!"

Turn head to evaluate clock, expecting to see 5:20. Disturbingly, see 6:17.

"OH MY GOD!!"

I leap out of bed like it's toxic (in this case it was), run to bathroom and throw on lights. Do not wash face, just grab toothbrush. Apply paste, brush in 4 seconds, and spit toothbrushing water on floor of my bathroom. Not in sink -- where, I think you'll all agree, toothbrushing water belongs. Why? I have no idea. Except possibly that it was more dramatic.

Run to room. Virtually panting as I toss off pajamas in front of closet. Pick up clothing that literally happens to be on the floor right in front of me. Quickly (instantaneously!) appreciate the fact that I'm the type who leaves hardly-worn laundry everywhere for just these types of mad-dash situations. Am genius?

R. has woken up, far earlier than he needs to, due to a) sympathy and b) confusion. Is groggily walking around house. I skid into kitchen, toss apple into purse, and head out door - resolving to apply make-up in car. (Last thing I want to do at work is arrive late AND horrifying-looking).

Roll out of Hyde Park, tune in NPR, decide the soothing voices of "Morning Edition" are WAY too distracting, and literally focus on breathing. Is 6:23. Work - at a legal speed - is 15 minutes away. Must halve that.

In an incredible blessing from the universe, there is zero traffic (it's also insanely early - but I prefer Divine Intervention's guiding force). There are also cops everywhere, so I watch it. Am holding powder compact with mirror, waiting for an opportune moment to apply....something. Anything. It really doesn't matter. Will look like hot mess and have accepted it, but cover-up under eyes = damage control?

Screech into parking lot. It's 6:35. Take exactly one minute to slap some random cosmetic onto my face - which, I've waited 'til now to put on. (Am responsible!) Hair back in ponytail, game face on, stride into office: where my trusty coworkers already have things set up for me.

At 6:52, we start the show. Author is charming, tour goes off without a hitch, high-fives all around when it's done.

I walk back to my desk. Calmly greet my coworkers. Turn on computer screen, and for the first time that morning - exhale.