hallo again, people. I know that you'll all rest easy now that I have completed my sxsw adventure blog. Yes, and in this blog you'll find some excellent pictures of  The Faint (particularly the last two) taken by yours truly who was smooshed to no end while taking them. I was basically plastered up against a pillar at the front, right of the stage throughout the entire show. A fight broke out during the show and I have one picture of it. I was almost involved in it, but I pussed out. Yeah, that's right. I'm a lover, not a fighter.

I got three very good quality videos of  The Faint, so please redirect your attention toward my videos section once you have finished reading this blog. I also got a decent video of Oreskaband  and just a little bit of Amon Tobin  which is not very good but will give you an idea of how incredibly loud it was in the Parish that night.

If any of you have been to the Parish you know that the floor tends to feel like it's going to collapse under you, and on this night I was like 50% sure that we were probably gonna die at some point. But that was ok because we were watching this AMAZING set by Amon Tobin and at least I didn't have to die watching the shitty band at whatever the fuck place we were earlier that day.

Anyway. Friday was the night we saw The Faint, and a few bands at Japan Nite at Elysium including Oreskaband and The 50Kaitenz. Saturday we saw The Meat Puppets, Kid Koala, and Amon Tobin.

I know, small number but BIG fun.

Here are Friday's pics!

Hallo folks. So I've finally looked through all of the pics I took during that glorious SXSW week and now I'm bringing all the best of to you. I'm going to try to include video in this but if you don't see it, it's because the blog didn't accept the link and I was too lazy to edit this introduction. (You can see all of them in my "videos" section)

Anyway! I'm doing the first half, Wednesday and Thursday, in this blog and Friday and Saturday in the next.

This year was a little different, to say the least. I had 6 people staying with me, seven including me, and seven and half including my cat. It took us a collective 3-4 hours to shower. Any of you who have been in my apartment know that it isn't exactly that spacious and yet, it managed to accomodate seven people nicely enough. It was like living in a commune with three guys and three girls. Stinky was my toilet, full was my kitchen sink, and crowded were my floors but fucking awesome nonetheless.

I didn't get to see as many acts as I did last year but I did get to see just about everyone I wanted to AND I have pictures galore. PLUS I met James Iha and one of the guys from Shitdisco. Elizabeth has the pic we took with James Iha, and she has several other notable pics such as a signed polaroid pic of Busdriver, Amon Tobin, and a few very flattering pics of us. I will try to coerce her into scanning them for me later.

So yeah, me and Amede saw The Pipettes, The Rapture, and The Futurists on Wednesday. We tried to get in to Stubb's to see Lily Allen but it was packed so we stood on the street behind the stage and listened to her instead. Not too bad considering we'd get to see her doing an acoustic set like 8 feet away the next day. We also tried to get into Blonde Redhead but apparently SXSW hired retarded people to handle the lines for venues this year and we couldn't get in.

No seriously, retarded people volunteered for SXSW this year. I had no trouble getting into shows last year and this year was a freakin' mess. Everywhere I went there were lines and they kept letting all the badge people walk in and none of the wristband people. I know the badges get first dibs but when you're waiting in line for 45 mins and the idiot volunteers keep telling you that they're at capacity but they'll start letting us in in a moment and then 4 badge people walk up and get in, you get a little ansy. It's just gotta be 4 badge people, 2-4 wristband people.

But I digress...

here are the pics from Wednesday:

A blurry pic of the Pipettes

And here's the Rapture:

Here are The Futurists. They are very cool. I am also in love with John Lindsey. I can't help it, I'm a sucker for men who can hit high notes.  

The Futurists @ Dirty Dog

Now here are Thursday's pics, which are far superior to the previous day. That's when the cavalry came in. Elizabeth, Ana, Mike, Daniela, and Arturo.

We started out at Waterloo Records where Lily Allen and Busdriver played. We couldn't have asked for a better set. Lily Allen came out and yes, she really is that cute and she actually can sing. an hour later Busdriver went on and rocked the house. The crowd was kind of tame but I think it's because we were all mesmerized by how insanely fast Busdriver raps (sings?). It's fucking ridiculous. It was at warped speed. He went plaid.

Here's Sparklehorse, before Lily Allen:

And here's Lily Allen:

     

The video's shaky, my apologies. I was going a bit Katherine Hepburn that day. It gets better toward the middle. 

Lily Allen @ Waterloo Records

And now Busdrvier: 
      Thanks to Ana for this pic:  

Busdriver @ Waterloo Records

We went to the Gingerman for tasty beer and to plan our strategy after that. That night I saw The Dears, Bloc Party, Sunday Night Street Preachers, Lo-Fi-FNK, Shitdisco, and The Presets. (Fuck, I'm exhausted just thinking about it)

Here's Lo-Fi-FNK:

Lo-Fi-FNK @ The Beauty Bar Patio

Sunday Night Street Preachers + drunk guy on stage: 

and some random band: 

The Dears:

This is Shitdisco:

Shitdisco @ The Beauty Bar Patio

And here are The Presets. My battery died but I managed to get two fairly good shots of Julian and Kim before it did. This was the last show of the night and it turned into a badge only event right after I got in. It was a mad house and the only other person who managed to get in was Amede. If you weren't there, you were definitely square.

Julian:  
Kim:

 

  

started out older in the 90s. I mean musicians and shit. except for Hanson.

I preferred it when teenagers in bands stayed in garages until they were old enough to drink legally. I think it's how it should be done. I blame Britney Spears for this. Had the 4th (accurate?) wave of teeny boppers not hit in the late 90s I think we would have done without the likes of Avril Lavigne. Oh, how I loathe thee, Avril Lavigne. You psuedo-punk Fiona Apple/Alanis Morrisette hybrid. You Canadian scum! I'd like to "kick her in the box."

But you know who I do like? Lindsay Lohan. And I like that her make up looks just like something a Joan Crawford impersonator would wear. It's very "Mommy Dearest" chic. I can't wait for her autobiography. I only hope she's a better writer than Nicole Ritchie.

On a side note, I wonder if the 90s will ever make a come back. I'm predicting the next decade will bring back flannel and grunge but I just don't know anymore. The 90s were like an updated version of the 70s, and let's face it neither decade was anything worth resurrecting. Again, anyway.

How many times can you really bring back bell bottoms?

If the 90s do make a come back I hope it's the '92-'95 period and not '96-'99 period. Being a teenager during the latter part of the 90s really sucked the donkey. The fashion sucked. The music sucked. It was a pop. cultural depression. And I knew the end had come the day I saw that fucking Spice Girls video back in January '97. Nothing was ever the same after that.

And then Tupac died and well shit, that was basically the end of good rap.

And sure there was good shit, quite a bit of it. But right now I'm remembering all the badness. The horror.

Only now can I admit that I bought Puff Daddy's cd. But it was stolen like three weeks later. And I actually paid someone to burn the hampster dance song and N'SYNC's "Bye Bye Bye" on a cd for me. Yeah I don't regret that though. I fucking love N'SYNC. I saw some dude at the HEB wearing an N'SYNC tour shirt and I thought to myself "what a fabulous idea." If only I'd seen them in concert...  

I think I understand why I drank so much in high school now.  

I think I'll single-handedly bring back the 90s. Shotgun that idea. If I see any of yous fuckers sporting hemp purses or plaid I will sue you. Sue you until I can't sue no more.

and now, I think I'll make some oatmeal.

Oh, how I love thee.

how I love thee in the morning. how I love thee in the night. how I love the in the darkness and also in the light.

I have loved thee since that time in 5th grade when you pinned me to the cold concrete floor and would not let me up until my mother yelled at you. And on through the years as I grew taller and you, did not.

I love thee more than my own luggage, and more than my own car. I love thee more than pumpkin cheese cake and even a cigar (because it ryhmes with car).

I love thee like the brother from another mother that you truly are, even though you make me wonder if our father is the same (because of our last name).

oh snap, I made that last line work.

Oh Kokey, dear, dear Kokey how I hold thee in my heart. And without you there would be a K-shaped void in it... so I hope we never part.

you have not returned my phone calls. you have avoided my e-mails. and so, you have broken my heart.

and though you are banished from any events that I may host, present and future, including my funeral, I cannot say that I am angry. But sad really. Sad that you do not call me back. I shed a tear each time I think about us back in the day, when you would answer my phone calls and reply to my messages. But now, things are different. Things... have changed.

However! I refuse to wish cancer on you. Or any other malady because I reserve such things for really awful people that I'd like to watch die. Instead, I will wish upon you an unpleasant odor, a plague on the moistened areas of your body if you will. And I will not make eye contact with you when we speak and I will also not offer to drink with you or play air hockey.

No. At least not until I get a freakin' call!

May you live uncomfortably until then.

mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce! wooooo!!!!!

sometimes I feel like Little Richard. But It's mostly because I feel like a has-been with too much make up on.

And that urgent sense of desperation, how it stings... how it lingers... how it makes you look kind of funny.

I think today would be better if it were 2002. But it kind of feels like 2002 because I'm sitting here listening to Tricky's Blowback album and I feel like I'm at LCC again in love with (censored) who drove me nuts because he would not hang out with me EVER. I felt things a lot more deeply then, mostly because I was just coming out of adolescence and because I didn't have things like bills and my future to worry about. In 2002 I used to write bad poetry and send long, weepy e-mails talking about abstract concepts like love and fate to Ramon. And he'd do the same. Because he was (and still is) my bi-polish twin. 

we're obviously paternal twins.

In 2002 I also had this awesome mix that I'd play at night to help me fall asleep. It consisted of Neneh Cherry, Meredith Brooks (don't judge me), Sigur Ros, Massive Attack, Sinead O'Connor, and some other people that I can't remember right now. Oh and it had the Natalie Imbruglia song from Stigmata on it. I burned a copy for Elizabeth and after I lost all my files I wasn't able to find the Neneh Cherry song again and that made me really sad. Still does. Elizabeth probably lost the cd by now because she obviously is incapable of foreseeing any minor yet irritating problems that I face in the near future. I hope somebody understands that sentence because I barely do.

In 2002, I took french and sat at one of our then TWO coffeeshops in Laredo and I wondered when I would finally get the hell out of dodge and move somewhere "badass." I still say badass. Badass is a cool word, so shut your filthy mouths.

I also saw Tool four times. Five times total but only four in 2002. And I used to visit Danny Carey's site on a daily basis because I thought that people who studied the tabla and read Aleister Crowley were super cool.

That was before I met that certain New Jersian (New Jersonite?) that sent me plunging head first into adulthood. Or was it depression? What's the difference? I'm not getting into that but it happened at the end of 2002 and so I mention it only in passing. Passing this paragraph, that is.

This blog has no particular purpose, I just felt like writing about myself so that a bunch of people that I don't know can read stuff about me that they can't possibly care about. And probably shouldn't know. But I am the master of confusion and that is why I write so badly! Do not be fooled, I know exactly what I'm doing!

I digress...

2002 feels like yesterday. I know people who were thirteen in 2002, and I know people who were infants. But I was 20 going on 21 and so sometimes I forget that it's been five years. It's funny but after high school, years begin to get blurry. It's like a large blob of memories stuck together; some overlapping each other and some spread out too thin to fully remember. College should have provided a similar timeline but it really didn't. College was just, all over the place. Except for the last two years. Those I will remember very well. Especially the last.

I'd like 2007 to be kinda like 2002 except with some more early 2006 thrown into it and just a touch of 2005. And I'd like to go ahead and add a little late 2001 in there too. I do miss that Ethics class, and I very much miss Nolen.

And then I guess the rest should be its own year full of new prospects and all that stuff. More money would be nice.

But I'm gonna try very hard not to let my life revolve around time and money anymore. It's just putting unnecessary lines on my face now, and I don't have the cash for botox. Besides, when I finally give in to plastic surgery I'd like to go balls out. Think Danny Bonaduce's wife or even Liza Minelli... oh, now that is truly something to aspire to.

Until then I can only hope that I don't have the kind of nervous breakdown that Mariah Carey did, but only because I don't have access to TRL or a large supply of popsicles.  

There really is nothing quite like a pointless blog. I feel better now. Don't you?

life is funny. especially when you're looking for a part time job.

I've got the Y. Which is well, the Y but I need something extra to do until May. So I figured I could do something that required me to wear something nicer than jeans and a t-shirt and that doesn't leave me reeking of child by the end of the day.

And on my first attempt to find such employment I was placed in a shady situation which resulted in my driving very, very fast to get away.

On Tuesday I got an e-mail about an office assistant position that had just become available. However it only stated the position, pay, duties and a phone number. Still, this did not deter me from attempting to set up an interview. And so I did! And it was set for bright and early Wednesday morning.

Half an hour before I was scheduled I found myself exiting the south bound highway onto a dirt road with pastures to the left and right of it. As I glanced at the cows I immediately thought "turn back."

It's not that I have anything against cows it's just that I realized they'd be the only ones to hear me scream. 

I kept driving though. For approximately 10 mins. and then I made the sharp right turn before the train tracks as I was instructed only to find a trailer/portable which was surrounded by unkempt lawn furniture and farming equipment. To the right of it was a small white house and further up was an even smaller hair salon. The other houses were about a half mile apart.  The likelihood that I could outrun someone in heels was slim. Although I've never actually tried it. 

So I drive up the the front of the "office" and notice that none of the lights are on in the portable and the house. There are also no vehicles around. I consider my options and decide the house would be safer to knock on first. And so I did, but no one answered it.

Then I walked over to the portable. Now the portable was the really frightening part of the office. I assumed that would be where I was working and I could only imagine the kind of horror awaiting me in that place. I'm talking plaid furniture and a mounted deer head. Of course, my employer would be some middle-aged, bear of a man who would surely also be a heavy breather.

There were a few steps leading up to the door to the portable and I figured that if I were to climb up those steps and knock on the door it would be very easy for such a man to pull me in. So I slowly walked away from the portable and returned to my car where I debated whether to call my potential employer to come meet me outside or just drive away really fast.

I decided on the latter and promptly left. And so my first attempt met its end prematurely. I got a call 20 mins. later from my would-be employer asking if I'd lost my way. I kindly told him that I had to "regretfully" decline on the interview.

And so the hunt continues. Stay tuned for next week's installment of "Maxine's Half-Assed Adventures."

Again, sorry about the delay.

Graduation: December 16, 2006. Time in college: hah...

I came, I saw, I kind of conquered. But what I did get was the fabulous reception food that St. Edward's reserves for its fall graduates :D The ceremony itself was brief and unmemorable, save for the mental souvenir of watching dozens of confused students and unprepared presenters stumble around. I've had better scholastic finales.  

Well, here are the pictures. I'm leaving out the ones already posted on the pics section.

Here's Dora and me at my place, shortly before heading to school:

Here we are at the ceremony.

that's me in the center, amidst the blurry sea of humans in caps & gowns

post-ceremony pics:

What's that smell?

oh, that would be the flowery stench of a minor accomplishment.

And here's my interpretation of Judd Nelson's "victory fist" at the end of The Breakfast Club:  

Pictures of me and my peoples:

At the reception:

My dad made me take this pic:

but then I made my mom take this one, hah!

Denholm finally met up with us near the end of the reception. Here he is, sad because he didn't get to try the food. 
 

later that night we all got dolled up and went out:

 

Ramon is the reversed sad clown. He's sad on the outside but laughing at all of you on the inside.

and here's William, at his most extroverted:

and then there's us:

and the rest is history.

All right, so this is long overdue but I've been busy, people. Busy doing things. Things like graduating, taking up scientology, and saving baby seals from the clutches of evil poachers. That's right.

Anyway, so my 25th birthday was great. GREAT. Probably the best birthday to date. All of my peoples came up and we had ourselves a very fun weekend. Friday, we checked out She Wants Revenge w/ Pretty Girls Make Graves. First concert I've been to where we were the source of entertainment between acts. Loud as we were, it was all in good fun really. After the show we headed to Aquariam where we took turns trying to get free drinks with the cunning use of my license. They succeeded and got me really, really drunk. Like cry myself to sleep drunk. So you'll notice that after the concert that I look like I don't know where I am anymore.

Saturday, we checked out Revenge of the Nerds at the Drafthouse with Curtis Armstrong doing a Q&A session at the end of the movie. I'll tell you folks, there's nothing quite like being in the presence of a childhood icon, especially from the 80s. Comparable only to being in the presence of Mr. Belding or Lavar from Reading Rainbow. 

Sunday Daniela convinced me to try fish tacos. That was a first. And a last.

Ok, now let my magnificent storytelling through pictures begin!

Denholm got to my place first, so naturally he whipped out the bolis and cocaine.

  (baby powder)   then Ana showed up with a giant cookie cake, which was delicious.

then Daniela and Elizabeth showed up bearing the gift of all gifts, a toaster.

And here's some pics of Pretty Girls Make Graves and She Wants Revenge. Followed by a lot more pics of us.

"I don't think I should keep drinking." "Nah, baby it's your birthday" "well, ok."

I have no idea who this person is, but considering that I'm posing with him while flashing a peace sign, I think I had lost all ability to make rational decisions by this point.

Saturday: At the Salt Lick.

delicious.

then Denholm fell asleep on the way back. Naturally, we took pictures of him.

Then we finally ate the giant cookie cake.

So we go to the Drafthouse later that night and William bought me a beer. As I'm reaching over to grab my pint Elizabeth decides to kung fu kick my leg causing the pint to slip out of my hands and break on the floor. Party Foul. However, the nice waitress kindly (and quickly) replaced my drink.

And now here's Curtis Armstrong. He graced us with his presence, told us stories, and then took pics with us... despite clearly wanting to get the fuck out of there.

And then we came back to my place and took pictures of me killing myself in a variety of ways. First came Oven Death, then Toaster/Pill Death, proceeded by the very popular Toaster in the Tub Death.

Sunday: Ana and Denholm went home. The girls and me finally had the beer companion at Gingerman and then we ate fish tacos at some place off of 6th.

I liked this murial, disturbing as it is: