Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Skeet Skeet Polaroid Mystery

I kinda feel like Nancy Drew right now, except she didn't have the internet and froggy memories to aid her in her detective work.

So I'm at work today (as usual) and I'm checking out the internet (as usual) and I roll over to the Burlesque blog (pretty norm thus far) when "DJKL AJFDKLSA; JFKDLS;AJFKLDS ;AJFKLDSJ LF;JDKLSA;J FLKDSJA L;FJSDLAJFLDJSLAFJ LDS;JALF;JD" strikes.

What is "DJKL AJFDKLSA; JFKDLS;AJFKLDS ;AJFKLDSJ LF;JDKLSA;J FLKDSJA L;FJSDLAJFLDJSLAFJ LDS;JALF;JD" you might ask?

That is the EXACT reaction I had to seeing THIS:

Now, I know you don't know what that is or why it would make me go nuts...so here's the back story:

Location: SXSW 09. Austin, Texas
Time/Date: Fuzzy. Midnight - 5am-ish
Scene: Fool's Gold Party at Palm Door.


So being the savvy first-time SXSW'ers that we were, Sam, Nate and I RSVPd to pretty much everything we wanted to do, knowing we wouldn't make all of it, but better to be safe. I think we all RSVP'd for the Fool's Gold Party (A-Trak, Kid Sister, Little Boots, LA Riots, Treasure Fingers, etc etc etc), and I RSVPd for Joe Garvey, Petey, Erik and Jenn too.


We did some shit early in the night, met up at the Burlesque party and then headed to Palm Door as a pretty thick crew. (*Note* In the BRLSQ party pic in the above link, the bright flash in the middle of the room is Jenn & I taking pictures of ourselves. We're that f-ing cool. Example>>


We get to Palm Door and see the line for the party is seriously like 3 blocks long. Not to be a dick, but I don't wait in lines for parties. (Things I will wait in line for include: Prince, Barack Obama, puppy dog tails from Isles, and designer sample sales).

So everyone heads to the front of the line and we all start to check it out and see if we know anyone we can cut in with. Dick move? Yes. Perfectly acceptable in our minds? Yes.

We don't see anyone, so I squeeze into line and make for the door guy. I start talking to him, asking how his night is going, etc etc etc. He proceeds to tell me that the club computer crashed and they can't get the RSVP list up and that he's holding the line because of it. Like the sweet, caring girl I am I start to empathize, tell him it must suck, he's doing a great job, and Oh Yeah! I RSVPd all of my friends together, so if it makes it easier for you I can organize them all and we'll just go in as a group, I have all of their IDs right here! WHAT? That does make your job easier and you'd love to let us all in (ahead of like 250 other people)? OK! :) :) :) :) :) (Yes. I did also talk my way +2 into a sold out Girl Talk show. When you're good, you're good).

So we get into the party. It's banging. We drink. We dance. We rule.


Jenn ruling:
I get in line for the bathroom (yes, I'll wait in line for that) and I see THIS on the wall:
It's funny, I take the picture, and I forget about it. Mostly because at this point I've consumed like 100 Red Stripes and I don't really care about anything except how much fun I'm having. At some point it becomes 4am, maybe 4:30 and Sam is trying to convince me that we HAVE to leave because we work at 7am the next day. I'm trying to ask Petey and Joe what they're going to go do, because it makes WAY more sense to stay out and have fun. Then Sam put me in a headlock and made me leave. I am not joking. I started yelling "Chris Brown, get off me" but it probably sounded more like "Chriiiieeeeeeessssss Brwaaaaaahhhhhhn. Geeee offfhfhfhfhf aahhh meeeeyyyyyy" because of the 100 beers and the aforementioned headlock.

Next day I'm looking through my camera and I see the "Skeet Skeet" pic and I just start laughing because it's SOOOOO great. THEN, that night (or maybe the following night) as we're walking back downtown past Palm Door...what do I spy BUT THIS:

Skeet Skeet has been placed on a sign a few blocks away from Palm Door. I KNOW FOR A FACT that she wasn't on that sign the night of the party because I remember stopping and reading it and laughing at the "No Intoxicated Persons Allowed" part.

I loved it so much I blogged about it (twice). Now Burlesque has too.

So far I have determined that a google image search of "skeet skeet polaroid" did not answer any of my questions about the origins or current where-abouts of Skeet Skeet.

I also asked Sam if he remembered the polaroid in question. He does. Oddly enough, he happened to be driving past First Amendment when I called him to ask him about it. He does not know its origins.

Next up...Mike Davis...he might have some answers.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Someday Maybe...(or) Home is Where the Heart Is Pt 2.


Today I limited myself to 24 photos of other people's inspiring homes. I love my home/warehouse; it has it's fair share of problems, but it really is lovely in many ways. Here are a few ideas I will be incorporating to my future home (when I have lots of monies).

Dear Porches,
I adore you.

love, ash

Kitchens!

Bathrooms!

I picked out a sink almost identical to the above for my parent's house (except it's a single faucet). ^^^
Shared Space: Bedrooms!



I am really feeling grey walls (dark grey) walls with splashes of colored accents. I am also constantly torn between hyper modern/sleek and kitschy/shabby/chic (thus the need for a large home and lots of monies). I think I'll lean towards a modern kitchen and bath with shabby chic common space and bedroom. yes? I think so.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Someday Maybe...(or) Home is Where the Heart Is.

My future home needs to be very large because I have a lot of conflicting ideas (all stolen from amazing people at theselby.com).

Dustin Yellin:

Tracy & Michelle McCormick:



Jacques Grange:
Melia Mardin & Frank Sisti Jr.:



Thomas Dozol & Michael Stipe:

sofia achaval and thibault de montaigu:
Finally, my favorite. The family that got me obsessed with this website.
Christina, Swaim, and Iowe:





if i ever accidentally have a child, and it's a girl, i want her to have this very room ^^^
there are many more images i wanted to include, but i made this an exercise in brevity and only chose 20. someday i'll have a home reminiscent of these. (i blame my parents for my love of junk and books).