Thursday, March 08, 2012


Last night, at the Radiohead show at the Frank Erwin Center, there was a guy in the "floor" section of the arena who decided that the best idea for experiencing they show was to, you know, lie on the nasty horrible uncomfortable ground while gently playing the "drums" on his substantial belly. He did this for about four of five songs and only changed his position (and eventually got up) after people started staring at him as they walked by and one guy checked on him to make sure he wasn't dead.


We have instituted "no TV" nights at our house on Mondays and Tuesdays in an effort to get The Geej to focus more on her homework. It's been working really well. Today, on the way to school, this was our conversation:
Geej--Since I haven't watched TV this week and I've done all my homework, can I watch TV tonight when we get home?
Me: Sure.
Geej--Yay! I'm gonna have a TV fuhganza!
Me: What's a "fuhganza"?
Geej--It's where I go CRAZY with the TV!


Austin's favorite cross-dressing, thong-and-heel sporting, bearded, crazy homeless man, Leslie passed away today. I remember going to see a show at Stubb's one night (inside), and Leslie showed up wearing a half t-shirt and a tiny red, shiny thong with high heels and painted fingernails. He got one of the band's promotional bumper stickers and plastered it across his naked butt cheeks. Then he proceeded to get up on stage and shake everything God gave him as the band played. The audience was pretty much unfazed. I've got photos somewhere...


Today, on the way home from work, I was traveling down S. Lamar (like I always do). It was drizzling and the traffic was creeping along. I reached the strech just north of Oltorf--where there are literally three Mexican food restaurants in a 1/2 mile stretch--there was a half-trailer parked in the lot of the middle restaurant, La Feria. In this trailer, was a HUGE camel. He seemed oblivious to the rain and was steadily munching on the palm fronds of the tree his trailer was parked underneath.


Last weekend I was lucky enough to travel to Florida to visit a couple of girl friends. I was on a mission to see some manatees, but that was not to be. However, we did see some freaky wildlife.

We drove to Marco Island (near Naples) for the day on Sunday. And somehow, we happened upon this place called Stan's, which is apparently legendary. There were cars EVERYWHERE, and when we asked a kindly old British man what was up, he said, "Well, on Sundays, Stan likes to sell beer, and a lot of people like it apparently."


It was a white person palooza! Lots of trashy, drunk people inexplicably crowded into this indoor/outdoor waterside bar, drinking specialty drinks called "Buzzards" and listening to a southern rock cover band. (Yes, they played "Sweet Home Alabama." Twice.)

That's Stan. He's apparently 180 years old, and his wife, The Buzzard Queen, works the joint with him. She was there decked out in her black, sequined and feathered regalia, dirty dancing with strangers, taking dollar bills out of mens' waistbands with her teeth and posing for pictures. Classy couple, those two.

At Stan's they welcome dogs. Even if they're on the table while you're eating.
We were classy too, having brought our own snacks to a restaurant. But everyone was too drunk to notice or care.
I think the coolest thing was the fact that I found a license plate featuring my pseudonym parked right next to my buddy's La Turista's daughter's pet name.
Kind of cool, right?

No comments: