Oddities

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...

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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."

Understatement.

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?

And then, there's this.

Let's say it's a glorious day in July. Warm, but not too hot. Not a cloud in the sky.

Let's say there's a street fair. It's big. Tens of thousands of people are attending. It stretches on for blocks with artists and food and music and people, people, people.

Let's say it was a long, wet, dreary spring. Longer and wetter than it ususally is. Even in Portland, Oregon.

And let's say, there's a funky gospel choir made up of at-risk African American youth in their white robes, singing loudly and joyfully about their Lord.

What would YOU do in this situation?

Well, here's what THIS guy did:



God bless the freaks.

I have no idea what the hell is going on here.

I just know that I like it.

Sometimes it's so easy to love Austin.

Take last Thursday for instance. It was a gorgeous day. Very spring-y. Had a decent day at work, and as I was leaving, I was sitting in traffic, waiting for my turn to go left on to southbound Lamar at Sixth. While waiting at the redlight, here came a group of unicyclists--3 dudes and a chick. Their unicycles were really tall, and they were all wearing helmets. They were just hauling ass down the sidewalk during rush hour like it was the most normal thing in the world. As I sat there with my sunroof open, enjoying the breeze and grinning at the unicyclists, I thought to myself, "Well they're really doing their part to keep Austin weird, God bless 'em." Well, no sooner had that thought entered my mind when I saw what was coming up the sidewalk behind them: an oiled up, manscaped dude on a bike wearing nothing but a tiny red g-string. And when I say tiny, I really, really mean it. Unlike the unicyclists, this guy didn't make the light, so had to stop and wait until he got the green light to cross. During his brief respite--when I'm sure every eye in every car stopped at the intersection was drawn to him like a freakin' trainwreck--he decided to, um, adjust himself. Rather vigorously. It was a sight to behold, people.

After the freakshow at the intersection, I went and got The Geej, and we headed a little party the parents one of her classmates were hosting. The occasion? It was First Thursday, and one of The Geej's teachers was singing with his band. The party was held two blocks from the site of the gig (the parking lot of Jo's and the San Jose), and the hosts had pizza and tacos for eats, and beverages for the kids...and the grown ups. At gig time, we all walked down together, and the kiddos all wore their "laminates"--faux backstage passes that their teacher had made for all of them. It was SO much fun. The weather was perfection, the kiddos were all rocking out, and the teacher--Mr. Gabe--did a great job. Check it:



Did you ever have teachers this cool? I sure as hell didn't.

Crazy is as crazy does.

I guess if I had to drive a cab around Chicago all day, I’d be insane too. Case in point: Two out of the two cab drivers we had last night were clearly nuts.

Cabbie #1 was a Middle Eastern man who spazzed when we told him we were from Texas. “I LOVE Texas women. One day, I will marry one.” We told him our friend Genie who was with us is single, and he started saying, “Is she hot? Is she a hot Texas lady? I will come down to Texas and marry her.” Then he started warning us not to open up our purses in the neighborhood he was taking us to (a swanky part of the River North entertainment district…not exactly cut-throat alley) and that he would come back and get us when we were done with dinner. Just circle and circle until we came out. Yeah, it was creepy.

Cabbie #2 was an Indian fellow from New Delhi. His opening gambit? Asking, “Do they eat frogs at that restaurant? Have you eaten frogs?” (to which Jaye replied “Yes,” of course). That opening question naturally led to, “Have you drunk the blood of the cobra?” which is apparently for sale in most Indian markets. (Thankfully—and rather surprisingly—Jaye has yet to indulge in this gastronomic adventure.) He ended by telling us a tale about how, once in Saudi Arabia, he’d asked a woman where he could find the washroom, and she called the police, who explained to him that it is against Muslim law to ask a woman such a crude question, and that if he’d been Muslim, instead of Indian, he would’ve been arrested for such an act. His take on the situation? “It’s really stupid in Saudi Arabia.”

Wow.

Of course, I've got much more to say about my very bittersweet trip to Chicago, but for now, I'm off to night-night land.

Viva!

That's the view from my room. I'm totally at the ghetto end of the strip, which sucks. And I'm in a smoking room (because that's all they had left), which also sucks. But my hotel has a nightly Neil Diamond impersonator as well as some horrible show called 'The Concert that Never Was" starring Frank Sinatra and Barbra Streisand impersonators singing duets, so that's pretty righteous.

The conference is going well, and we've had some good food. (That sushi last night was the biz-omb. The sake wasn't bad either.) Also, I haven't lost any money gambling. In fact, I'm up a bit--about $100. It's pretty dead here right now, but I'm sure the crowds will start building tomorrow in anticipation of Superbowl weekend. We've had good weather, and we've seen our fair share of 100% pure freaks. For instance, tonight we were at The Venetian (which is DOUBLING in size as we speak; they're building a whole 'nother wing on to that sucker. Insanity!), and there was this HORRIBLE lounge band playing at one of the bars. They were murdering the Rolling Stones "Beast of Burden," and we went to check it out. It was a four piece: the lead singer looked like Daddy Warbucks with a head mike, and there was some bimbo playing bongos and those windchime things like there was no tomorrow, and there were also plenty of painfully dorky white folks getting their groove on on the dance floor. But that wasn't even the highlight of what we saw. That honor is reserved for the 65-ish year old grandpa looking dude standing off to the side, slowly bobbing his head to the beat. He had on loafers, camo pants, a Planet Hollywood denim jacket, little John Lennon-type glasses, a tall grey mohawk, and blue lips tattooed on his cheek. The mohawk and the tattoo were real, people! Fuckin' awesome. Of course, I didn't have my digital camera with me. Damnit.

The word from home? The Geej pooped in the bathtub last night. I'm so sorry I had to miss that.

Okay, I'm off to beddy-bye. It's been a long one, and it starts all over tomorrow bright and early.

I'll try and post again tomorrow night.

Reason to Love Austin, #731

Public Substance Abuse

I was driving north on Lamar the other day around lunchtime. I was in between Barton Springs and Red River, and looked at this dude to my right who was waiting on the bus. Waiting on the bus can be boring, but luckily for him, he had a fully-loaded one-hitter and was hitting it for all it was worth. My windows were down and I could smell the pot.
Later the same day, I was on my way to get The Geej at her daycare in a swanky neighborhood near downtown, and had to pause to let this guy cross the street from the minimart to the laundromat with his sixer of Shiner. Doing laundry, getting loaded. Why the hell not?