Summer, summer...

I wasn't ready for this heat wave. I'm right in the middle of re-arranging my room and removing unwanted furniture. That desperate need to rid myself of any access baggage has resurfaced. I'm trying to weed out my clothes until I have but one dresser to my name. At present, I have two: one with two drawers for sweaters, shirts that don't stay on hangers, and my jeans/skirt drawer. Another with much smaller drawers to hold socks, underwear, pajamas and exercise clothes. My goal is to acquire but a single dresser endowed with many drawers. Thanks to the scorching heat and suffocating humidity, progress is slow.

In an effort to bring more happiness into my life, I've been knitting like one possessed. I stayed up all night working on a shrug. I've also managed to procure a viola instructor. Now all I need to do is procure the viola and concert hall filled with adoring fans. Anyone want to book me for a joint musical endeavor?

I have tentative plans next Sunday to meet up with a certain gentleman named Chad; I haven't seen him in over five years. I have no idea what to expect, but I think it would be good for me to have more friends than just one.

Yesterday, I drove to a little house on Wyandotte Street in Royal Oak to watch my friend Steve perform. I was sitting outside on the steps waiting for him to finish sound-checking and I missed the entire performance. Such is the way of experimental noise. I did manage to wiggle my way down to the sweaty basement where I was dripped upon by the ceiling, and rubbed against by a chubby shirtless wonder. A man was dressed as a bear and drinking a forty through his fuzzy bear head. Then the inebriated crowd went crazy over some band who thought they were the first to discover circuit-bending. They had potential, but got a little overzealous. After they finished their set, I climbed up from the abyss of stink and talked to this boy called Milo who I knew from dinner parties I used to go to. We both knit, and he told me about how he was currently working on a baby blanket to send to Kimyah Dawson. Apparently, she got knocked up. Here is Steve as I found him; wandering the streets of Royal Oak, smelling eerily similar to a certain alcoholic I know. Apparently, I lack a chin and a jawline.

My verdict for the night?

-99% of men are apparently under the impression that B.O. attracts the ladies.

Summer symphony

Ever since I was a little girl, nothing made me happier than the sound of the tree frogs outside. Their song filled the night air and wrapped me in a sense of security; much the way cool, freshly shaved legs under sheets makes me feel. In Michigan, we are hosts to the Eastern Gray Tree frog, featured here:

You can listen to the same sounds I'm listening to right now at this site
... Don't let the name fool you. No crickets here...

I will do my best to find a famous (within the bounds of Grady House) photo of me as a baby button, brown as a nut and speaking to a tree frog that was sitting on the edge of my pool.

The Davinci Code...

left me with one dream, and one dream only - to one day run as fast in heels as Audrey Tautou does.


Fin

Will someone please buy me this?

http://www.etsy.com/view_item.php?listing_id=161676


it's as if they reached into my soul and recorded my most inner thoughts!

Oops...

I will repost a welcoming entry when Ross' rents actually get here. haha.

Crap, guys!

I think I've caught me a case of broncho-itis*











*The spelling of 'broncho' is in tribute to my highschool mascot, not the 'bronco', but 'bronCHO'. I will forever spell it this way.

My dad is funnier than your dad.

I came home from work tonight to find that my dad had made me a 'to-do' list for tomorrow. Note the sly jabs at my alledged habit of sleeping too much.

MOST HAUNTED MARATHON!!!

Down with the food industry!

The darkness is swallowing me. My only hope is to ride to salvation on the back of my trusty steed, Fluff. But on my way out, I shall fire beebee's into the asses of all of the customers (save Carey, Mr. Mustache, and the daughter of Mr. Mustache). Am I pathetic because the cafe is causing my soul to fester? Am I losing my grip on sanity from too many soiled and improperly disposed napkins? Or does it boil down to the obligitory hat? Dear God, I'm just not sure anymore! Some moments, I think its from too many customers who, upon failing to see the myriad waste recepticals around them, choose to leave their wadded, chewing gum-adorned napkins on the table. I sometimes tell myself 'it must be a present!' But mostly, I feel its the hat. It acts as a blinder - obscuring my vision from above; preventing me from aspiring any higher than my hat brim allows. MADAM, I AM NOT A DRAFT HORSE!

My poor cat....

went on a little misadventure this morning. I woke up and heard a cat meowing repeatedly, but figured one of the cats was dragging a toy mouse or bottle cap around. Then I went downstairs with my laundry and none of the cats were meowing. I went back upstairs and hunted down the sound. Turns out my dad had accidentally locked my poor Tigger in the attic! I opened up the door and he was covered in dust and cobwebs. I cleaned off his whiskers and gave him a good cuddle. he kept looking back at the attic with either fear or disgust. I couldn't tell which.

The Holy Trinity

-Tig is on the bottom right.

Urban adventure.

Last night saw me at The Magic Stick, in D-town. I made sure to bring my muscles with me:

Upon entering the venue (to see Pinback) our trio came across the sad realization that "we were just too old for this sort of thing". We've reached the depressing point in our lives where sitting on the couch watching Family Guy is more appealing than having sex. Or anything else that requires exhursion of energy.

Dave and I watched in amusement as Aaron became increasingly drunk. He insisted on giving a high-five to anyone who passed. There wasn't a single person who ignored him and everyone left with a big smile on their face. I filed this moment away in the, 'magical moments in Heather's life' file.

What was decidedly LESS magical was when this gelatinous whale of a man decided to slap me firmly on the ass. In a freak error of judgement, I had decided to stretch right as he passed, and through beer goggles, I unintentionally may have looked like this: This moment was filed in the "best left forgotten" file of Heather's memory.

Pinback:

Another sort of pinback:

P.S. I forgot to mention that I ran into my old highschool friend who I hadn't seen since I was about 17! Introducing Ben Broquet:
Meet the 'Muscles':

Aaron Verska: Polish. Has big muscles. Has the insatiable need to make noises whenever in transit.

David Laurence Graul II: Has eerily similar initials to me. Not so muscular. Makes up for lack of muscles in height. Eats too many coney dogs (he had four that day).

OK Jaclyn, here's the proof.

That Ross cannot control his urges to snap photos of little children in a 20-mile radius!