tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64591710535097482152024-02-21T00:48:53.419-05:00Blame It On Being A Girldishing about life over cocktails and chocolaty goodness...yumMurrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.comBlogger561125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-26766767915501071822024-01-08T11:51:00.000-05:002024-01-08T11:51:28.373-05:00In Which I Begin My Final Chapter With The Summer Of Yes<p>You guys...</p><p>I RETIRED!</p><p>I was actually planning to hang up my lanyard in April of 2024, but as the Universe would have it, I moved it up a year. Back in October of 2022, the GM called for a mandatory meeting with both shifts. BOTH shifts. That's never good. And it wasn't. </p><p>They revealed their grand plan to automate the studio, which basically means the audio, visual aspect, and camera operations would all be run via a coded computer program. The only positions left manned, besides the program operator, would be prompter and floor manager, ironically the two positions that have been threatened to be eliminated for decades now. Anywho, all the managers were singing the praises of the system, how easy it was going to be, how much better life would be for all involved, yadda yadda yadda... </p><p>This Home Girl decided right then and there she was having none of that BS, and in her head, chose a date to leave as she exited the building that afternoon. She also decided to stop referring to herself in the third person. Praise Baby Jesus.<br /></p><p>The only person from work I told about my impending departure was my good friend, Beets. When I opened the door to our abode, the first thing I said to Geo was "you need to get a job, because I'm out". My Ever-Luvin looked at me with wide eyes, and told me how much I love my job, to which I not-so-gently informed him he doesn't get to tell me how I fucking feel about my job. Oh, it was a full-on, in-your-face retort with head shakin' and finger pointin'. LOL Bottom line is, you know when it's time to say Buh-Bye, Buttheads.<br /></p><p>Here's the thing, when I turned 62 in 2022, I felt a sense of liberty. I called it my freedom age. I was STOKED! I know. Weird to be excited about being 62, right? But hear me out. At 62, if things take a turn for the worse at your job, you're 62. You're not stuck, forced to become numb to the latest pain inflicted upon you by the Powers That Be. You can collect Social Security, yo! You are free to tell them all to fuck off. </p><p>Holla!!! </p><p>Added bonus, you get half price train tickets on New Jersey transit! </p><p>Can I get a Whut Whut!!!</p><p>Anywho, all that financial crap worked out fine. We def aren't millionaires, but we are still firmly in the middle class. Hooray for loooooong indentured servitude and 401Ks!</p><p>Having made my decision six months prior to my best-bye end date, I had the luxury of time to figure out my exit plan. I mean, I had been at the Special K since the tender age of 23. I grew up there. I learned to live on coffee, honed my twisted sense of humor, and perfected my ability to cuss like a GD BOSS there. To get a job in the field in which I studied, and spend my entire career at the only station I ever wanted to work, was a dream come true. I couldn't NOT do something to help me process this crazy, chaotic, amazing job I was leaving behind. I'll be honest, at times I both loved and loathed my job, but mainly I loved it and the
beautiful freaks with whom I worked. I toiled in the real world prior to
KD, so trust me when I tell you, even with all of the madness, insane hours, intensity of live programming, working
in television was a waaaay better fit for me. I could not have chosen a
more appropriate profession for my skewed personality. I am grateful for my time there, and the life it afforded me.</p><p>Speaking of insane hours, we went on the air at the ridiculous time of 4:30am. Depending on which job I was on, I would not be unable to leave my position for up to 2 1/2 to 3 hours. Ergo, I had to precisely time my coffee intake in a manner that would a) not cause a bathroom mishap, and b) keep me all caffeined up to floor manage PTL at 9am.*</p><p>*side note: one of the greatest things about retirement is now my colon is Free to Be! No time restrictions anymore, it can do its thang whenever, BABY! It's glorious!</p><p>But I digress... <br /></p><p>One night as I struggled to fall asleep, the idea of a career countdown came to me. I measured out 30 k-cups, and at the mark of my final 30 work days, I did a <a href="https://www.instagram.com/mmmmpie/saved/k-cup-countdown/18015050972029595/" target="_blank">k-cup countdown</a>. Every day I took a photo of the k-cup with the numbered day then added photos of the many incredible actors, musicians, comedians, local superstars, and animals I had the pleasure to meet throughout my 40-year tenure. The link above highlights each of my final 30 days, if you're horribly bored and interested in some of the rubbish I posted, click away. <br /></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-u8nmfZBbnTrmTDP5Xv84MrbIPxi3H9ZA4lfxCq66qcfTpz7WUb_8Eq89TXNGie3n40ab-0KG3XLMGk-G5Y1jSckJFu4S6E5Bf3OSKSFxke0ZWq_k9Jt6qx-E8abEjAVe0bwlAdts8YiT58UtxkGG393Zuf7ZPHhLxoGV-4J9RybZVidyvONnkPM0aEFh/s1954/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-04%20at%201.13.47%20PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1182" data-original-width="1954" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-u8nmfZBbnTrmTDP5Xv84MrbIPxi3H9ZA4lfxCq66qcfTpz7WUb_8Eq89TXNGie3n40ab-0KG3XLMGk-G5Y1jSckJFu4S6E5Bf3OSKSFxke0ZWq_k9Jt6qx-E8abEjAVe0bwlAdts8YiT58UtxkGG393Zuf7ZPHhLxoGV-4J9RybZVidyvONnkPM0aEFh/w640-h388/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-04%20at%201.13.47%20PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">first k-cup countdown<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbK4p2t0jlGNdKFveY4on4i9H34tlFwFBWW4z9EBvYPfBG1Mznd1_u4U2o8uKFenZa1hlGJsq7SWEIJzF_lTp_y5Ap0Kb6rdNXYC61q13QrwQhdEPpoKzl3wp94tcYKdl070psyPiiKJdc8zKeTFi_zh1H2pQd2dF__KTuOAvBUfIkbUoiBWJnR2YXaqq9/s2184/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-04%20at%201.14.15%20PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1194" data-original-width="2184" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbK4p2t0jlGNdKFveY4on4i9H34tlFwFBWW4z9EBvYPfBG1Mznd1_u4U2o8uKFenZa1hlGJsq7SWEIJzF_lTp_y5Ap0Kb6rdNXYC61q13QrwQhdEPpoKzl3wp94tcYKdl070psyPiiKJdc8zKeTFi_zh1H2pQd2dF__KTuOAvBUfIkbUoiBWJnR2YXaqq9/w640-h350/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-04%20at%201.14.15%20PM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">final k-cup countdown <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>I felt particularly nostalgic one weekend, and videotaped a final look around the station. We had recently gone through a wide renovation of the newsroom and lower level. It's funny how you can be so ready to cut the cord, but then get choked up by the realization you won't be walking these familiar halls daily.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PmVY_tfgJ8U" width="320" youtube-src-id="PmVY_tfgJ8U"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>Everyone was so unbelievably sweet to me on the lead up to my departure. So many kind words, big hugs, and tokens of affection. I started marking the "Lasts": the last time I would switch a show, the last time I would come to work on three hours sleep because I am my own archenemy and stayed up too late on New Year's Eve, the last time I would work on the Sunday Steelers show, the last time I would scheme to be off on the weekend for an out of town concert, the last time my name would appear on the schedule. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZyYvZrLD-e733V4JSw51LWLr6adnCfyewYrFs5rl68npExksMyJ0xUkBiMK2-bbwCkXnt1IvuMFStsi90SW2gBLSOn8EOow8dPgSAqsNDmfy5NxjjhGUtvxp5eudhPKNP-93WpwzfmRw71Y-xF4N99kbwkegOVFpwGOuOT1Ln_6K0g42Hnzgqz5dO_DqV/s1440/68F9D004-A6E2-48D6-9124-B840DC0E64B2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZyYvZrLD-e733V4JSw51LWLr6adnCfyewYrFs5rl68npExksMyJ0xUkBiMK2-bbwCkXnt1IvuMFStsi90SW2gBLSOn8EOow8dPgSAqsNDmfy5NxjjhGUtvxp5eudhPKNP-93WpwzfmRw71Y-xF4N99kbwkegOVFpwGOuOT1Ln_6K0g42Hnzgqz5dO_DqV/s320/68F9D004-A6E2-48D6-9124-B840DC0E64B2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>I honestly did not expect anything special at work to commemorate my retirement besides a cake, but my family from our little morning show that could, PTL gave me the best sendoff. I was invited to join them on the desk during the A block, and again on the couch at the end of the show on my penultimate day. I didn't find out I was going to be on until the day before, and full disclosure, I was more than a little concerned I'd swear on the air. I swear a lot. A LOT. Anywho, the day of, my bosses, Bobbo and Toooodd, who were my friends before lording over me, came down to the studio for moral support and remind me not to cuss. LOL </p><p>As evidenced by the video, I made it through with clean language, if not sweaty pits. HaHa! I only teared up a little at the end, which was a fucking relief! Thank God I washed my unruly Medusa locks.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/bPCDq7rDwaY" width="320" youtube-src-id="bPCDq7rDwaY"></iframe></div><p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mjpnoGXud44" width="320" youtube-src-id="mjpnoGXud44"></iframe></div><p>And now you know what my voice sounds like. I'm so sorry. </p><p>Moving on... </p><p>As the Gods would have it, my final day was Take Your Kid To Work Day. I'm usually off on Thursdays, but I chose April 27th as my last day, because, clearly, I hate myself. Aaaaanyway, for those who don't know, TYKTWD (i abbreviate like the cool kids) is when employees are encouraged to have their progeny shadow them throughout the work day as a way of showing the kids what they do for a living, inspiring them to think outside the box, yadda yadda yadda. Whatever. Everyone gets free ice cream at the end of the day. Or something like that. At the Special K, the kids get to be on PTL. </p><p>I could not have picked a more fitting way to end my career than the absolute mayhem of TYKTWD. We had 24 kids, their parents, and department heads all in the studio at once. We had four different set ups in the main studio AND the kitchen studio. The kids made slime, decorated cookies, there was magic, baby kangaroos, gators, free fancy AF popsicles. Thank sweet Baby Jesus there were three of us working the floor, wrangling kids and talent, and shuffling mics between two studios. My Ever-Luvin and our nephew, Alex, who is a news producer at a competing station (no, he did not ignite upon entry) came down to help me celebrate my grand finale. When the kids were in the kitchen for a segment, I had a minute to breath and finally say hello to them. My nephew was wide-eyed, mouth agape, and said "I have NEVER seen anything like this before" to which I responded, "Welcome to PTL! Gotta run and grab a mic." The hour was crazy and complete chaos and it. was. GLORIOUS!!! But the best part for me was the final segment of the show. <br /></p><p>When I made the decision to call it a career, the only thing I wanted to do was smash my GD tyrannical alarm clock. That son of a bitch lorded over me for 30 years, screetching at me at the unGODly hour of 2:30am. That motherfucker needed to be silenced for GOOD! The only thing I asked for from the producers of PTL was to smash my alarm clock live on the air. And guess what...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_LYb6kUzNdc" width="320" youtube-src-id="_LYb6kUzNdc"></iframe></div><br /><p>YEAH, BABY!!!</p><p>No more shall that maniacal mechanical monster reign over me!</p><p>I think the kids were more excited than I was to watch me smash the shit outta that thing. My coworker's son kept a piece for his treasures box. LOL</p><p>Back in 2004, our long-time cameraman, Lenny retired. He left behind the plaid jacket he wore everyday in the studio to keep warm. As tribute, we hung it in the rafters on the lighting grid with 04 pinned to it. Thus began our tradition of hanging a token from everyone who retired from the Special K. Anyone who knows me knows of my undying love of Paul Rudd and the fact the pins on my lanyard reflect everything else you need to know about me. So of course my contribution to the rafter was my lanyard with all of my flair and the remains of my clock draped over a photoshopped picture of me and Paul Rudd. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv30G2cmGNvJsmn5pAIQi8daUrejEWGscBp3Xv9LohdMYtO2uFcH4HaScTQFGwRXZG-jOA2rkzohqta9boQnjmfR8a_RPniyc20T2dz6pqNthn8VS10OC_KAo0GhWoVQ7Cv35T66__t6xa0N4q3zdo6WsRsbNLNQLhmVvTn3-HM3NYMC1nUsmL622l1rSR/s1473/IMG_0132-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1473" data-original-width="922" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv30G2cmGNvJsmn5pAIQi8daUrejEWGscBp3Xv9LohdMYtO2uFcH4HaScTQFGwRXZG-jOA2rkzohqta9boQnjmfR8a_RPniyc20T2dz6pqNthn8VS10OC_KAo0GhWoVQ7Cv35T66__t6xa0N4q3zdo6WsRsbNLNQLhmVvTn3-HM3NYMC1nUsmL622l1rSR/w250-h400/IMG_0132-1.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Geo's handiwork<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy6eybV5F79rlX1LgSK5er4p5rXEpXgBXjX4bsxVbUplPY6GfynI4X70tjMdSmy_T6P12jbF_EXoSsUtIw8Mg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;">Tooooodd doing the honors</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My timing could not have been more perfect. The very next day training on the new system started. I managed to spend every minute of my life at the K doing what I loved. Take THAT technology! In your face!<br /></div><div><p>We had a fantastic bash two days later. I was humbled by the turn out and the outpouring of love thrown my way. I'm surprised by how little I miss my job. What I do miss is seeing these faces on the daily. As I wrote in my farewell email to my KD family, some of our friendships will fade with the passing of space and time, but each and every one of them has touched my heart in an indelible way, and made my life that much richer. <br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3cDO-l-y7bsGSJKBWoIRdcfecTgkcG4H1_r67L1iALRuDls0buJcDXceCfW7HPw6Y-KSXaeq1vViMvn7ncpMcv2fy0oCzl7n9Ouy1o_K0QdV_SShb1t9600ZsYCo_lY9KM-PUgtx35Pc-7nOLWQmVtXWLhxm_YtnTZBMwRoRVrL98sIin1X23ipdX5ci/s4032/IMG_0711.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3cDO-l-y7bsGSJKBWoIRdcfecTgkcG4H1_r67L1iALRuDls0buJcDXceCfW7HPw6Y-KSXaeq1vViMvn7ncpMcv2fy0oCzl7n9Ouy1o_K0QdV_SShb1t9600ZsYCo_lY9KM-PUgtx35Pc-7nOLWQmVtXWLhxm_YtnTZBMwRoRVrL98sIin1X23ipdX5ci/w300-h400/IMG_0711.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this beautiful pack of freaks<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>It's been six months since my release from indentured servitude, and I can say without hesitation, 5 stars. Highly recommend. I haven't looked back. Perhaps the greatest gift of retirement is sleep. I didn't realize how
fucking tired I've been for the past 30 years. I burned the shit outta that
candle, YO! I was exhausted, but regret absolutely NOTHING!<br /></p><p>Here is a list of a few things I was looking forward to once I became a free bird: NOT setting an alarm; watching every hockey game to the final second; staying up to watch award shows; going to concerts any day of the week and NOT getting up early the next day; choosing where to travel to see my favorite bands by city, not day of the week; having ALL OF THE HOLIDAYS OFF! </p><p>On May 11, I declared this my Summer of Yes. I did whatever came my way. I traveled every month, but one. I met up with friends at the beach, the Midwest, Texas, Maine. Finally spent a long weekend with my high school and college friends. Went to a ton of concerts, plays, live podcasts. Basically gadded about, free as a butterfly. Of course, I couldn't have done any of that without the love, support, and endless patience of my Ever-Luvin who constantly puts up with my bullshit with grace, humor, and a few head shakes. </p><p>I have no idea what awaits me in 2024, but whatever happens, I know I will be rested and ready to jump onboard. At 23 I couldn't fathom being 63, let alone retired. I can tell you, young, sweet, innocent(?) Murray, your old-ass is having a helluva good time!<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-12238791389859476142023-04-13T09:46:00.001-04:002023-04-20T17:02:03.142-04:00<p> RIIIIIIIIING!</p><p><br /></p><p>Me: Hi, Toni!</p><p>.....</p><p>Me: Toni? What's up?</p><p>Toni: ... I have pancreatic cancer. Stage 4.</p><p>Me: NoNoNoNo! I'm coming over.</p><p><br /></p><p>And that's when my heart splintered into a thousand pieces. </p><p><br /></p><p>It's funny how six little words can completely devastate you. I hung up the phone, and drove straight to my sister's house. She was already writing down all the information we would need to take care of her estate after she was gone. She always was the sibling of action. Decisive. Once she made up her mind as to what she wanted to do, she plotted a course, and achieved whatever she set out to do. Her life's plans meticulously mapped out in spread sheets and spiral bound notebooks. These dire circumstances were no different. </p><p>She was 68 years old. The same age our Father was when he died 32 years prior. An irony not lost on either of us. "You know I'm the same age as Daddy" she said when I arrived. The same thought struck me on the drive over. We had just buried our Mom, FFS. This wasn't supposed to happen, not now anyway. The two of us were finally going to be able to relax, hang out together again, go back to the beach without the burden of caregiving. Toni was the healthiest of all of us. That she was going to be the first of us to go was beyond imaginable. Losing my beloved Big Mar was hard, but losing Toni was heavier than anything I had felt before.</p><p>I am fortunate to have amazing siblings with whom I am close. They are all smart, funny, and spectacular in their own individual ways. As we aged, Toni and I got closer. We had more opportunities to spend time together. We went to the same church, were in the same Card Club (that she started), and traveled together. Any family parties/celebrations that happened, she and I planned them. Surprises for big birthdays, she and I schemed them. She was always willing to be my wingman for any travels. I could always count on her to be my +1. Her lightness of being, infectious laughter, and loving spirit made her an easy companion. As spontaneous as she was, she was also steadfast, her feet solidly on the ground. She was so much like Big Mar in that way, and so many other ways. She had this innate ability to talk me off the ledge when I was beyond irritated with people, or the weight of caregiving got too heavy. She never failed to make me feel better, and help me rationalize my ire away. She was my touchstone.</p><p>After her husband, Art passed away in 2013, Toni set out to make her home a happy place for gatherings, friendship, and laughter. People were drawn to her warmth, wit, and magnetic smile. She was the center cog of so many circles of friends. She hosted game nights, birthdays, and a discussion group with her single friends called The Kid's Table. When Big Mar moved into the senior living center, Toni became the center cog of our family, too. Like our mother, she hosted family holidays with ease, grace, and love. </p><p>March 2021 changed everything. Everything shifted. I became Toni's person. I went with her on her medical journey. I was with her when she received the definitive results of her biopsy. I was with her when the paliative care doctor discussed her options. I was with her when she decided there would be no treatment options. </p><p>Hospice set up a pain medicine regimen which </p><p>And that unfinished sentence right there is where I stopped writing a year ago. I had planned to vomit my feelings in time to post on the one year anniversary of her passing, but I just could not. It was too hard. I started and stopped at least 200 times in the past year, composing mainly in my head, but not committing any of it to paper. </p><p> Anyone who knows me, knows how much I adored Big Mar, and how much I miss her every day. This doesn't diminish the depth of my grief for her absence, but losing my sister was an entirely different beast. It is so much harder. The grief is off the charts. It's unfathomable until you go through it. I feel compelled to apologize to my friends who lost a sibling, for not understanding the depth of their pain. It is beyond anything I could ever have imagined. I was and still am gutted.</p><p>When the hospice nurse set up Toni's pain med regimen, my sister was able to keep the dosages straight. Within a few weeks, the opioids made her mind too foggy to handle her drugs properly. It was clear she needed assistance, especially overnight. When I reached out to family and her friends for help, no one turned me down. Everyone pitched in to make sure she wasn't alone. Her two best friends selflessly volunteered to stay overnight to make sure she got her meds at the proper time to minimize her pain. A beautiful testament to how Toni touched their lives. </p><p>Each day that passed, Toni got weaker, less clear-headed, and unable to eat. One day halfway through the end of her time on Earth, I felt particularly devastated by the inevitable. As dumb as it sounds, I needed my Mom. On the drive to the cemetery, I screamed so long and loud in the car, I lost my voice. All I wanted to do was purge the sorrow, rage, and pain. I'm certain I looked like a psychopath, but I gave zero fucks about that. I guess it helped a bit. I don't know. I was unmoored and raw and pissed off. I knew I had to get my shit together, and not fall apart in front of my sister. </p><p>My oldest sister, my brother and his kids drove out to visit around Easter. Toni rallied while they were here. We had a big gathering at her house with the family and a couple of her close friends. She looked so happy to be in the middle of her loud family. The laughter did her good. By the time they all left, the copious amount of Tylenol and the cancer spreading to her liver turned her eyes and skin yellow. A few weeks later, the hospice nurse called me in the early morning. Toni had become incoherent overnight, and the nurse felt it was time to move her to the hospice facility. When I hung up the phone, I literally wailed and dropped to the floor. I have NEVER done that before. I couldn't help it. I just collapsed. Geo was in the shower. He doesn't even know it happened. I never told him. I guess he knows now. Ha Ha! I have never felt debilitating grief like that before. This was the beginning of the end. I was devastated. </p><p>By the time we got to Toni's house, she was more lucid. She was laying on the bed with her eyes closed, but she was more aware of her surroundings. Like I said above, I was her person. When I asked her if she wanted me to call her son, she said she didn't want him to worry if she was going to be in and out of hospice. It broke my heart to look her in the eye and tell her she wasn't coming home. This was it. I saw the meaning register, and I hugged her. </p><p>Okay, here's a weird thing. When the ambulance finally arrived 9 hours later, the EMT asked my sister if she could walk to the stair climbing we had installed for her, or if she needed them to carry her. She looked at them and said, "No. She can walk." He asked her again, and she repeated, "No. She can walk to it." So weird, right? Like someone else was speaking through her. I think it was Big Mar. Toni and I used to talk about this kind of spiritual stuff all the time. I miss our talks.</p><p>We took her to Canterbury in Lawrenceville on a Friday. The nurses there are full-on angels on Earth. They are so caring and loving and amazing. I don't know how they do it. I would be in tears all day. They took amazing care of Toni. Their hearts are super sized. </p><p>Toni was a bright light in so many lives, there was a steady stream of visitors every day to shower her with love on her final days. Even my cousins drove up from Virginia just so they could see her one last time before driving back home the same day. On May 4th, five days after she arrived, my sister peacefully crossed over, her oldest friend by her side. </p><p>The time between February 14 and May 4 of 2021 were, hands down, the hardest days of my existence. I was a listing ship, damaged and adrift. Moving at the mercy of waves of overwhelming feelings too visceral and raw. I could very easily be Sad Girl, but I don't want to be Sad Girl. I choose NOT to be Sad Girl. Life is too precious and full of exceptional things and people and places. I still feel sad sometimes, and that's okay. Two of the most important women in my life are missing from this mortal coil. Of course my heart still hurts. I miss them literally every minute of every day. </p><p>I find it's easy to talk about Big Mar with genuine joy. Memories of her that pop up on Facebook make me smile, laugh, and give me the warm feels. I'm trying really hard to normalize talking about Toni without crying. It's a lot tougher with her than my Mom, but I'm getting better. I've been scattering her ashes at some of her favorite places like LBI, where she got married, and the two excursions on my recent Outlaw Country cruise. Sometimes I've cried spreading her ashes, and sometimes I felt okay. </p><p>Grief is weird. Full stop. </p><p>When her beloved husband and soulmate died in 2014, she had both of
their wedding bands made into a bracelet of interlocking hearts. She
wore it every day. When Toni was settled in her hospice room, she took
it off and gave it to me. The night she told me she was sick, I asked
her if I could have the bracelet to remind me of her and Art. I, too, never
take it off. Every day I wake up with my cherished sister on my arm. <br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouWb-urZRcyOiTRG9Y_JjCFsdQk2enoo2ekXbhZ_Tn2NnvWVOlzIry__xnVVp1X6WHSduTtGiaeJ5gHcrdY-ORoMD1asQmZQ3kDUEIGjjqAN2NmXO81Ohm3WdCKiCtqDngpifsmP8A_w_Sc2QtekbqH-fEOrsTQYc1xU0VEuxA1BVE9jSqnKyE-Ri8Q/s3780/A4A6464E-5897-4C7E-82EB-70951D5E0CD3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3780" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouWb-urZRcyOiTRG9Y_JjCFsdQk2enoo2ekXbhZ_Tn2NnvWVOlzIry__xnVVp1X6WHSduTtGiaeJ5gHcrdY-ORoMD1asQmZQ3kDUEIGjjqAN2NmXO81Ohm3WdCKiCtqDngpifsmP8A_w_Sc2QtekbqH-fEOrsTQYc1xU0VEuxA1BVE9jSqnKyE-Ri8Q/s320/A4A6464E-5897-4C7E-82EB-70951D5E0CD3.JPG" width="256" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p> Toni was my buddy, my partner in crime, my dear friend as well as my sister. I will miss her every minute of every day, but I'm eternally grateful for the life we shared together. Hug your people every day, man. A future with them is never guaranteed. <br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-18806787262306764042022-02-14T17:51:00.005-05:002022-02-15T05:38:05.894-05:00About Last Year...<p> I don't know where to begin.</p><p>Last year was the hardest, most devastating year of my life. Never have I felt so unmoored, rudderless and adrift, watching the dock grow smaller and smaller, unable to reach a lifeline. </p><p>2020 aged me. 2021 tried to kill me. </p><p>I've attempted to write something, anything a thousand times, but I could not break through the fog. Hell, I couldn't process it all, let alone articulate what I was feeling, thinking, avoiding. I was numb, on autopilot. I have no idea where this is going, so please forgive me if this is all over the fucking place. I'll try not to soil your shoes as I vomit my feelings all over this blog. Welcome to my therapy, MOFOs! LOLOL</p><p>2021 started off with so much promise. A viable Covid vaccine was already being administered, two in fact, and my beloved Big Mar's senior residence was slated to be among the first to be vaccinated. When she got her first dose on January 18th, I cried. She was going to make it through this GD pandemic! The stress of working at the station and being the only member of the family permitted to help care for her was a weight as heavy as an anchor. But because of those amazing scientists, she was going to make it. Hallelujah! After being separated for the holidays, we were finally going to be together as a family again. </p><p>At 4am on Valentine's Day morning, I got a call from my sister, Toni, that Mum had fallen in her apartment. She had fallen without injury a few times in the months prior, but this time was different. This time she broke her back. My other sister, Vicki was on the phone with Big Mar until both the paramedics and Toni arrived. It was still heavy duty Covid times, so only one of us was permitted in the emergency room at a time. Toni and I took turns sitting with her, talking to doctors, making decisions. In the afternoon, the decision was made to transport her to AGH where a geriatric specialist would diagnose her injuries and formulate a treatment. We followed the ambulance to the hospital, but quickly found out only one of us was allowed in the hospital. They wouldn't let us swap out. </p><p>So I stayed. </p><p>By myself. </p><p>Trying to keep it together without my two rocks, Geo and Toni. Watching my Mom wince in excruciating pain, whispering "Help me", and me powerless to do anything to help her besides keeping her still. I try to push it down, but I still hear her little voice pleading with me. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dywct6G98M3v4TrmgmYq7-rW7vBYqmw45tZ8EKMwlm5fg_luY29nkY0iNxwLCyHc-N1aRqDI5Fq07jUGJehIQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Big Mar LOVED this chicken she was gifted for her 99th.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She kept it alongside her chair and squeezed it when she needed a laugh. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I keep this on my phone and play it when life gets too heavy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p>By the time the specialist arrived at 9pm, she was barely able to speak. What few answers she gave were unintelligible. I thought it was the pain meds taking hold, but that was wishful thinking and denial. She had very little urine output. I knew her kidneys were failing, but I didn't want to say it out loud. Again, denial. I wanted to believe she would be okay, that she would recover by wearing a back brace, which, come on, she was 99. That would have been torture for her. Eventually they found a room for her, and I went home.</p><p>At 4am the phone rang. </p><p>The telephone ring sounds different when there's bad news on the other end. I don't know why or how that is, but it's different. You know immediately something is wrong. It was her doctor. We had to make a decision. To keep her on an IV and put her through dialysis, </p><p>or to let her ... go ... peacefully into the light. </p><p>Calling my siblings that morning was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. But in the end we agreed to let it be. The doctor left word at the hospital the four of us, Geo, Toni, Vicki and I, were to be permitted at Big Mar's bedside for as long as we wanted. </p><p>Her room was quiet, dimly lit, no wires or beeps. On the bed, the nurse had placed a blanket attached to a hose that circulated warm air to keep Mum comfortable. I reached under the blanket to hold her hand. Her fingers was toasty warm for the first time in a long time. That made me smile. Her hands wouldn't be hurting when she left us. </p><p>It started to snow big, fluffy, snow globe flakes as soon as we entered the room. I called my sister and brother who were preparing to drive to Pittsburgh that morning from New Jersey and New York, and told them not to come. The weather was bad and they wouldn't make it in time anyway. We four held her hand, shared some stories and a few laughs, and told her we loved her, as well as other private things we wanted to whisper to her. I know Toni and I told her it was okay to go. She didn't have to wait for Buddy and Laura. </p><p>At 8:40am on February 15th, Big Mar stepped off this mortal coil. She took two deep breath, and she was gone. Her passing was so gentle and peaceful. It was a privilege to be with her at the end. I hope she felt the love pouring over her from both sides as she made her way across. I like to think my Dad reached through and grabbed her, spun her around, and dipped her just like when they were young. They are both young, slim and healthy. My Dad in his favorite zoot suit, and Mum back in her beautiful heels. I imagine she and her two sisters are hanging out on the porch together talking, arguing, and laughing their butts off with a High Ball in one hand and a cigarette in the other. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqwoteIP24zvGMdEgT9FfVOQy2lqaiCPEzUDfte9218p9UgftXRqveqrBoBVYOrmtCj5PEEkZwTVEZSBcjg2Ia0DhQcPfBs6rcSxusqmvkdHlQJyvUkFp6AEiBJ57H1X5zgSNC3OOaaNQ89b90vKjqzee3gPhWPh-1JUTSAGrEY0uhSor1CNzatbd1uA=s2614" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2382" data-original-width="2614" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqwoteIP24zvGMdEgT9FfVOQy2lqaiCPEzUDfte9218p9UgftXRqveqrBoBVYOrmtCj5PEEkZwTVEZSBcjg2Ia0DhQcPfBs6rcSxusqmvkdHlQJyvUkFp6AEiBJ57H1X5zgSNC3OOaaNQ89b90vKjqzee3gPhWPh-1JUTSAGrEY0uhSor1CNzatbd1uA=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My God, I adore this photo of our parents 💗</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtdm36x3yTOZJniv_Z_xH3igQwkTSnfhKOhQyk4nps2XQ-D3UKZGBBNyXQCJLaqz4ASUhkQkDhzs9bNiLeiP6TN39LDeFgl0qQCxaquRv9RlLUSN0LzD5kVcX9bntbw6vQPkHliHk10XzRFiu6S5AyhvenpdUqaVPDJJOrTcO7askjTY3O495Ng0Ajwg=s1993" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1977" data-original-width="1993" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtdm36x3yTOZJniv_Z_xH3igQwkTSnfhKOhQyk4nps2XQ-D3UKZGBBNyXQCJLaqz4ASUhkQkDhzs9bNiLeiP6TN39LDeFgl0qQCxaquRv9RlLUSN0LzD5kVcX9bntbw6vQPkHliHk10XzRFiu6S5AyhvenpdUqaVPDJJOrTcO7askjTY3O495Ng0Ajwg=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bossola sisters reunion</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p> Mum's big fear was falling. She told me that many times, especially the last few months of her life. I feel awful I couldn't protect her from the one thing she feared. I think about how much pain she was in, and how terrified she must have been. I didn't want her to die like that. She was such a good person, she deserved to pass quietly in her sleep, which I guess ultimately she did. Thankfully, her suffering was mercifully brief, less than 30 hours. In many ways, the Universe did her and us a favor. I think her body was starting to slowly shut down. Three weeks before her fatal fall, she wasn't herself. Little things started pinging my radar. She was sleeping a lot throughout the day. She stopped caring about watching the Penguins games. And the biggest red flag of all, she didn't want to go to Happy Hour when her favorite, Mikey Dee was playing. She LOVED heckling him, and he looked forward to her needling. If she hadn't fallen, I have no doubt her life would have been a slow decent filled with too many trips to the hospital, poking, prodding and agony. She would have hated it. </p><p>Big Mar was so universally loved, but we were still in the throws of a stupid GD pandemic wherein very few people were vaccinated. As much as we wanted everyone to celebrate her with us, we opted to have a private family viewing. Geo's brother, the priest did a small service for us at the funeral home. We told stories, we laughed, we cried together. It was really lovely. To be honest, it was easier with just us, the immediate family. We didn't have to comfort or entertain or all the other things you end up doing to get through an open funeral. It was nice. Mum would have been proud of us. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjK_hARb19bpuAXi9exbPU8bQIltyaMWnvFkndg29JD5nQO7LrAQ2utJoPfOeDWn1VqcptFLfrL3lIbkK7gU0HjYnQ6ivN0pwY50H4K9h8Pb_QiPrwHJVYaiwFQLYzvUmpXt9ZQ-4Bgc9RGKQxak3v-eoHzVxU0am0dKLRTKIIys05uC0WqmOFIITpp6A=s1792" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1792" data-original-width="828" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjK_hARb19bpuAXi9exbPU8bQIltyaMWnvFkndg29JD5nQO7LrAQ2utJoPfOeDWn1VqcptFLfrL3lIbkK7gU0HjYnQ6ivN0pwY50H4K9h8Pb_QiPrwHJVYaiwFQLYzvUmpXt9ZQ-4Bgc9RGKQxak3v-eoHzVxU0am0dKLRTKIIys05uC0WqmOFIITpp6A=s320" width="148" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big Mar rocked this thing called life</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEioQ47619u20jRfVEUgcJjXxqVcW_FjGsli5M9921Q_CL-E-RXGQeZgaVQSVzZjOsEr2AFQmlUsMPA662MFT6ASU6BlwFZV6igwABGwCIRsHlqVi5rFGSzO2JQUgPYgvFuCUZFNOBC0K4cfKhIZKHAFPNUcCbAwObRSN29TE_SYKkwGVbfFbX25xuSY7Q=s1792" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1792" data-original-width="828" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEioQ47619u20jRfVEUgcJjXxqVcW_FjGsli5M9921Q_CL-E-RXGQeZgaVQSVzZjOsEr2AFQmlUsMPA662MFT6ASU6BlwFZV6igwABGwCIRsHlqVi5rFGSzO2JQUgPYgvFuCUZFNOBC0K4cfKhIZKHAFPNUcCbAwObRSN29TE_SYKkwGVbfFbX25xuSY7Q=s320" width="148" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We used this photo for one of her prayer cards.<br />No lie. I ask you, is there a better depiction of her glorious spirit?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>I wrote her obituary. I didn't want her life to be distilled to a few mere generic facts. I wanted people to know her indomitable spirit, her effervescence, and the way she brought joy to everyone she met. She was everyone's Mother, Grandmother, therapist. My sister-in-law called it a love letter. I guess she's right. I loved Big Mar with all my heart. She was my friend as well as my mother/mentor. Toni used to say Mum must have been my child in a past life. Our bond was deep. </p><p>You can read all about our magnificent Mum <a href="https://johnfslater.com/obituaries/mary-b-bossola-pelino/" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><p>Over her last couple years, I took on more of a caregiver role, which is crazy ironic, being as I am NOT a caregiver, or patient, or selfless. I didn't resent my responsibility, but I'm not gonna lie. It wasn't always easy for me, which is why I took all those little road trips with my friends. I don't have kids. I'm not used to looking after someone constantly. Those trips were my way to recharge and be a better person for her. It was a privilege to spend that time with her. </p><p>Mum was so pleasant, funny, sharp, giving and loving, how could I not step up. I'd shop for her, take care of her meds, and help her take a shower twice a week. At first it was a little awkward, being so intimate with your Mom, but I came to treasure the days I helped her bathe. She was always so grateful. She never failed to thank me for giving her the pleasure of a shower. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwTeVWHk1kw0QyWWdgQFoPKSq8XRK3MTueadOr4VbuOgZGi806UVitsg8PHovqyzRUASou7aUJcMm7Tb_TJHKESphI_LA_znbfnPruCVYH1guxJ0rlFWNdyURE0DgTXW8VChc1krI6Dv22ji1RaxzOvyg5TSoe1uOwPL_oPd_4bkWly_wQoFt_SZ1GtQ=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwTeVWHk1kw0QyWWdgQFoPKSq8XRK3MTueadOr4VbuOgZGi806UVitsg8PHovqyzRUASou7aUJcMm7Tb_TJHKESphI_LA_znbfnPruCVYH1guxJ0rlFWNdyURE0DgTXW8VChc1krI6Dv22ji1RaxzOvyg5TSoe1uOwPL_oPd_4bkWly_wQoFt_SZ1GtQ=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and she was, yo!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>We had great conversations in that bathroom, and a lot of laughs. Our hair dresser sent her a card for her 99th birthday that read "You're still the shit!" I taped it on her bathroom mirror and would point to that card and say "remember Mum, you're still the shit". She'd laugh and tell me to get the hell out. She taught me a lot about growing old gracefully, with humor, strength, and kindness.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYhQJyoZ5sO82fkrvbuk8VLHg547sAsUXofV4atxGK_wA9fL20Vhgtwhy0-VRx5VN3G7L5sv_-6U055eEBZXx89B3XUBzj7KLHXSFFXEz-RqEVYrh8eUXn31xHsksdKmIQjDjvf91BENMW7tTvb9jiOIHEPcFow5svs5Wsdat7dfdt7U9rvCxMnSJvig=s1936" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1936" data-original-width="1452" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYhQJyoZ5sO82fkrvbuk8VLHg547sAsUXofV4atxGK_wA9fL20Vhgtwhy0-VRx5VN3G7L5sv_-6U055eEBZXx89B3XUBzj7KLHXSFFXEz-RqEVYrh8eUXn31xHsksdKmIQjDjvf91BENMW7tTvb9jiOIHEPcFow5svs5Wsdat7dfdt7U9rvCxMnSJvig=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sporting a fetching new hat on her 99th</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjos7ZA3qCdZHHYsHXsAT7Hr94r_6HSrLyV8Ptarpj2EJ7WQkMnTOPHHiGK3AQp1j0lyN6iuh4uf6jbmbix4bBtbRsfjwkZIAfjIeKglVwD3pZpmyFJa4eqHx1zLB1s6I52VXh8Ocx0XQjM9c872Kf2wWn6H1MWBzwJr0WU0UpcWuNfrVXuuUYWfSOT6g=s960" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjos7ZA3qCdZHHYsHXsAT7Hr94r_6HSrLyV8Ptarpj2EJ7WQkMnTOPHHiGK3AQp1j0lyN6iuh4uf6jbmbix4bBtbRsfjwkZIAfjIeKglVwD3pZpmyFJa4eqHx1zLB1s6I52VXh8Ocx0XQjM9c872Kf2wWn6H1MWBzwJr0WU0UpcWuNfrVXuuUYWfSOT6g=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">she was always a good sport LOL </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>My God, the outpouring of love showered upon our family was unbelievable. A true testament to the amazing person our mother was. Friends sent cards, flowers, and food. My God, the food! I cannot express how thankful we were for the food. We never had to think about meals, and that is a true gift. I was and still am overwhelmed by the immense kindness shown to us. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFaUBs4mN8sYtrR5Fwra8VQsGRr7J8G0oMQdsaSElPFuhWuOYmM35cvDBUKXsfg0BWOD4e9RcdjgaKbhRsGmn8miSc1vMBPXLFF309Ek67nprQKTEP6i6DfZ34ofbP3YZugEU1-8fw69jZfPL1qrLk1ukClTXqhg83Bj8Ilio2qSYS2tuN48iw8ZcpSg=s3780" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3780" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFaUBs4mN8sYtrR5Fwra8VQsGRr7J8G0oMQdsaSElPFuhWuOYmM35cvDBUKXsfg0BWOD4e9RcdjgaKbhRsGmn8miSc1vMBPXLFF309Ek67nprQKTEP6i6DfZ34ofbP3YZugEU1-8fw69jZfPL1qrLk1ukClTXqhg83Bj8Ilio2qSYS2tuN48iw8ZcpSg=s320" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our sweet neighbors made this snowman in our front yard <br />to cheer us up the day after Big Mar passed</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>After the funeral, we gathered at Toni's house for lunch. My brother suggested we all have a high ball in Mum's honor. I'm not a brown liquor drinker, I had a nasty affair with a bottle of Canadian Mist back in the Stone Age, but the combo of ginger ale and whiskey was the perfect salute to the amazing woman who created us. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhgv-vdzbdCI2Li0gKlRi21MrrrdXMKXGuMLcf0bgFXPziPlrvivyI4QesE_vHNAxRCS6XTXjQfHbm3gsyfPxM6Rv8JUQRCRgO1S5PDyaQJv-xaBPYEjFoYmDLzi72WHbSMEJw1FHpo1cnMNA_JJbQaliP5gCN7_BX2SV3AUGHUTtkIpB1bXCE5MDm4Sw=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhgv-vdzbdCI2Li0gKlRi21MrrrdXMKXGuMLcf0bgFXPziPlrvivyI4QesE_vHNAxRCS6XTXjQfHbm3gsyfPxM6Rv8JUQRCRgO1S5PDyaQJv-xaBPYEjFoYmDLzi72WHbSMEJw1FHpo1cnMNA_JJbQaliP5gCN7_BX2SV3AUGHUTtkIpB1bXCE5MDm4Sw=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And then there were five<br />Big Mar's spirit demanded bright colors</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNRKCMo3p8yX1_EIhQPuCoZq8S0gGBiLR_9E7sMEL22bkTBX1A3HzG7acI_DkDe51U765AAwoKgMx2iaj29HSJX0CsQnRwCVm9Q28tPNx3ZADYsVV9bK-k-PaEYAw9OV2UmYmze_xQsEQ7KAGdA3NauCWRSdhDVCFNcF0vJRSWiP_43BVPXC4BsOVkzQ=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNRKCMo3p8yX1_EIhQPuCoZq8S0gGBiLR_9E7sMEL22bkTBX1A3HzG7acI_DkDe51U765AAwoKgMx2iaj29HSJX0CsQnRwCVm9Q28tPNx3ZADYsVV9bK-k-PaEYAw9OV2UmYmze_xQsEQ7KAGdA3NauCWRSdhDVCFNcF0vJRSWiP_43BVPXC4BsOVkzQ=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prepping the High Balls</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>When Big Mar moved out of her house, all of the holidays shifted to Toni's house. Our out of town siblings started staying with her. It worked out beautifully. Toni's home became the center of the family, just as loud and jolly as Big Mar's. After the funeral, I was so proud of us. We had it all figured out. I mean, we were going to miss Mum big time, but at least a big portion of our family life would not be in turmoil. We had our place to gather and be together.</p><p><br /></p><p>And then two weeks later we got news that completely gutted us.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-68556359204680076502021-09-11T16:23:00.000-04:002021-09-11T16:23:04.801-04:00<div class="separator">The first time I looked at my phone this morning, it was 8:46am. The exact time the first plane, Flight 11 from Boston, crashed into the North Tower. I looked outside to a nearly cloudless, crystal blue sky. A sky akin to 2001.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHVMrHDKEAFQyr1EyPa4wbHeqIQGd0W2qX5qJMOl5WNxtq_cPY9NWCOD5qBCbcb7E9sQk6rAsO8N2GhLYWcbtf-Asm3Zry8OapRW9uLXaGPNTi172cTinQx2tkTNuwVI4aSai3SZhIUEEC/s2048/IMG-3498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHVMrHDKEAFQyr1EyPa4wbHeqIQGd0W2qX5qJMOl5WNxtq_cPY9NWCOD5qBCbcb7E9sQk6rAsO8N2GhLYWcbtf-Asm3Zry8OapRW9uLXaGPNTi172cTinQx2tkTNuwVI4aSai3SZhIUEEC/w500-h300/IMG-3498.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><p><br /></p><p>It's been 20 years since the towers fell, and the weight and sorrow and infinite sadness of that day are still living right under the surface of my being. Geo and I were at the shore, watching the events play out in horrifying, graphic detail on the tiny television screen in our hotel room. I suppose these feelings will never leave me. Yes, I move forward, living life as fully as possible, loving family and friends to the best of my ability. </p><p>And yet. </p><p>And yet. </p><p>And yet. </p><p>All it takes is an image date stamped 9/11/01 to send me back.</p><p><br /></p><p>I felt restless today for some reason. I'm not good at sitting still, especially on a glorious day. I stood still much too much over COVID season. I decided to take a walk through my favorite cemetery. Cemeteries are the best places to walk. It's quiet enough to let your mind wander, there are hills (because Pittsburgh), and this one in particular has interesting tokens left on headstones of departed loved ones. </p><p>Today there was a silent 9/11 walk through the gravestones. The panels depicted the events of the day, chronologically, beginning with the 7:59am departure of Flight 11 from Boston through the collapse of the North Tower. The images scattered throughout were many iconic photos from that day: the North Tower ablaze; the second plane just before impact on the South Tower; both towers on fire as seen from across the river; the South Tower falling; the fallen chaplain being carried out of the wreckage by firefighters; the jarring image of a lone, vertical man plummeting to his death. </p><p>All of these photos send me directly back 20 years to the rawness I felt then. That last one though. When I look at it, I hear the sickening thud of human flesh hitting pavement and see the horrified cringe of the fire chief's face from the 9/11 documentary released months later. To choose to leap to one's death rather than risk being crushed by a toppling tower. Wow. I don't know, man. I can't even imagine having to make that choice. </p><p>With the personally devastating year my family and I have had, not to mention perpetual COVID, it somehow seems fitting that it is also the 20th anniversary of the defining moment in our country's modern history. Sure. Why not. Let's heap it on. Maybe if we get all the bullshit out, we can finally have nice things in 2022. Even I'm not buying that, and I'm generally a positive person. LOL </p><p>I would love to believe we, as a nation, we can come together for the good of the country again. That we can be kinder to one another, be respectful towards each other, embrace our diversity, believe in science, care for one another enough to wear a fucking piece of cloth on our faces without equating it to GD fucking Nazi Germany, stay out of women's wombs. But alas, I cannot. Not today. Today I feel like we pissed it all away. </p><p>I would love to end this missive on a somewhat optimistic note. So here goes. </p><p>We all woke up today, right? To feel the sun's warmth on our face, or hear the rain on the roof, or to sniff the aromas of the oncoming fall. I'm looking at you, pumpkin spice.</p><p>We all have survived our worst days, 100 percent.</p><p>We all get another chance to make a difference, however slight, in the lives of others. Be it a phone call, a text, or a rando encounter in the wild.</p><p>We all get a chance to hug someone, maybe it's your Mom, or your sister, or your significant other, or a dog, or your neighbor's adorable cherub who runs up to you to show you their new toy. Hugging is healing. It's a science fact. It IS! No lie.</p><p>And finally, never pass up the opportunity to pee, eat the damn dessert FFS, and sometimes wine DOES fix everything. Or at least it may help you laugh so hard you almost tinkle, at which point I refer you to item #1 of this paragraph. </p><p><br /></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-57630994403184172652021-01-01T14:15:00.000-05:002021-01-01T14:15:05.509-05:00 Bless me, Father, for I have slacked. It has been three years since my last blog post...<p>Is this thing on?!?</p><p>Hello? *taps the imaginary mic three times to the annoyance of the equally imaginary audio tech*</p><p><br /></p><p>Oh hey! So, this still exists. How about that. It's more than a tad dusty, and I think rats have been squatting in the dark recesses of this blogosphere, and DAMN this place could use a fresh coat of paint, but who has the energy. At least it's not condemned, just merely in need of some TLC from a hunky no-name carpenter on HGTV, or Home Depot. Whatevs. As long as there is no plumber's crack involved. Ain't nobody got time for that.</p><p><br /></p><p>So, how have things been? </p><p>In this present reality, things have been, well, to put it mildly, fucked up. The past three years have been filled with lots of great music, road trips with friends, general shenanigans fueled by bad judgement juice (I'm looking at you post wine flight holiday pop-up bar), and countless other socially satisfying events. It was also filled with a constant barrage of heinous actions perpetrated daily, nay, hourly by an unhinged wanna-be autocrat, hell bent on destroying our precious democracy, one seditious act of treason at a time, enabled by a complicit and cowering GOP Congress. To each and every one of these Kool-Aid swilling cowards I say, HE LOST THE ELECTION (THANK BABY JESUS)!! GET OVER IT! Post election has been a disgusting display of reprehensible attempts to subvert democracy by a vile bunch of despicable criminals who should be jailed. Go Google it. I can't bare to write about it. I have flipped the bird so often over this past year in particular, I have tendonitis in my middle finger. I am not even kidding. Fucking tendonitis. If for no other reason, I am looking forward to a Biden/Harris administration for the shear radio silence of rampant 3AM insane toilet rage tweeting. The silence will be a GD gift. Oh, and KAMALA HARRIS IS OUR VICE PRESIDENT!!! Holla!!!</p><p><br /></p><p>And then there is the disgraceful mishandling of the pandemic. </p><p><br /></p><p>I started and stopped so many blog posts throughout the past 10 months, mainly in my head, while falling asleep, in the shower, driving wherever. (Man, I miss road trips.) All of those potential posts were much better in all ways, but today is when I am forcing myself to click the keys. Oh well. If there is one thing I had to learn during this GD pandemic is to forgive myself. I mean, just getting from one day to the next was an achievement. I had extra time off from work because of a reduction in on-site staff out of an abundance of caution, and absolutely zero social obligations, and yet I couldn't focus on finishing a sentence, let alone a book or home improvement project. Plus, add the all-consuming stress of trying to keep Big Mar alive and healthy through the duration of this crisis, and you have me trying (and failing) to keep my shit together. So, forgive me if this is more than a little scattered.. SQUIRREL! If not, well, fuck off. Now there's the Murray you know and loathe! 😂</p><p><br /></p><p>But let's back up to January when the world as we knew it still existed. I crossed a personal milestone in January. I marked 60 years on this crazy spinning orb. It was a celebration spanning two weekends, and one of the best birthdays ever. My sisters threw me my first-ever surprise party. Disguised as a regular monthly Card Club meet up (full disclosure: we don't play cards-just eat, drink, and yak incessantly, you know, Book Club without the book), I opened the door to a roomful of lady friends from nearly every facet of my meager life. Family, college, KD, Card Club, concerts, WYEP. All in one room, meeting each other for the first time. The greatest Sisterhood gathering ever! It was magical! I felt so incredibly loved. </p><p>I wore a GDAMN TIARA, MOFOS!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkqgx8XwqeFziWZv7P4WVjbps3QWF7iO6-8DmN9oNnbcRlh-K5JhWHlNBL_bObuCWshhoMBUE3r1KRTD4Y_FN3ImKQUBRIrv6doR8BGyQnHSqOTX3XVi4YjosFAoL4RM3JfiTtHrpjt0M/s800/IMG_7256_original.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="411" data-original-width="800" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkqgx8XwqeFziWZv7P4WVjbps3QWF7iO6-8DmN9oNnbcRlh-K5JhWHlNBL_bObuCWshhoMBUE3r1KRTD4Y_FN3ImKQUBRIrv6doR8BGyQnHSqOTX3XVi4YjosFAoL4RM3JfiTtHrpjt0M/w640-h328/IMG_7256_original.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEky9gSFkj_kfN7R8ayc5AoRk8GpnK6y6oME7beA23YkCdVsUTZlEGhjuGaleEcVuqrcR7jBRcG8PtoLG30w5cpPRaIBM23reOoUAG-xVGnXbZecWuVKb9XTqEPyTZ1trBQA0AUke-DVkt/s1920/9B1E5512-EA34-41E6-99E3-19A37F06666E_original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEky9gSFkj_kfN7R8ayc5AoRk8GpnK6y6oME7beA23YkCdVsUTZlEGhjuGaleEcVuqrcR7jBRcG8PtoLG30w5cpPRaIBM23reOoUAG-xVGnXbZecWuVKb9XTqEPyTZ1trBQA0AUke-DVkt/s320/9B1E5512-EA34-41E6-99E3-19A37F06666E_original.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfhBJpM2gE7ej7YJ7LLmkBkAdeolz2NsAGF3gKRkSrGLAsMGYEcqxYF_6uKBYelqtLWM6LVz_jCi2s8SbvqkzVla4YJaf_-c2Gj3AYt9KmtpZ27Ify43PCt2fW4um0qhVYDXhO85N7Pgj/s2048/IMG_7376_original.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfhBJpM2gE7ej7YJ7LLmkBkAdeolz2NsAGF3gKRkSrGLAsMGYEcqxYF_6uKBYelqtLWM6LVz_jCi2s8SbvqkzVla4YJaf_-c2Gj3AYt9KmtpZ27Ify43PCt2fW4um0qhVYDXhO85N7Pgj/w300-h400/IMG_7376_original.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p>Little did I realize this photo would be the theme of 2020.</p><p><br /></p><p>The following weekend continued the celebration with axe throwing, bowling, and imbibing with even more friends. FYI, axe throwing ain't easy. Not at all. </p><p><br /></p><p>2020 started off so well. I was freakishly happy. </p><p>Then in March the Universe said, "Hold my beer." </p><p>BOOM!!!</p><p>Pandemic, Bitch!</p><p>And the entire world shut down for months. </p><p>To be honest, I kinda feel somewhat responsible. I mean, I have been hemming and hawing about growing out my hair for at least two years. I think the Universe at large was sick of hearing about my stupid locks, and decided to shut all the shit down so I would shut up and let the follicles flow. I kid. The Universe gives zero fucks about my Medusa hair, although I think I heard it choke on popcorn once when all of my "sparkles" appeared in my snake-headed mop. </p><p><br /></p><p>I had so many great plans for 2020. Geo and I were going to embark on a long-talked about two week baseball park trip through the midwest to Dallas and back. I had two trips to the shore planned. I missed the beach so damn much. I had so many great concerts lined up. Concerts. Remember those? Actual live music played out in front of your eager ears, shared with throngs of other like-minded enthusiasts, singing and dancing with abandon. Feels like ages ago. I miss them SO FUCKING MUCH! I only managed to attend two concerts at Club Cafe before the world closed; Wesley Stace on February 3 and Caroline Rose on March 11, two days before the shut down. All of the other shows I had booked were postponed until Fall, then eventually cancelled altogether when it became abundantly clear 'Murica's refusal to take COVID 19 seriously would close all of the arts and sports gatherings until deep into 2021. Thanks, asshats. Normally by December 31 there is a ginormous stack of concert tickets, wine flight tickets, airline tickets on my jewelry box. Proof of a year well lived. Today there are four sad and lonely pieces of paper giving witness to the unprecedented year that was. That's right. I used the ridiculously overused "U" word.</p><p><br /></p><p>Initially, I couldn't wrap my head around what was happening. The five years of March and April were nothing any of us have ever dealt with before. The isolation, the uncertainty, the lack of solid answers about a virus indiscriminately slaying thousands. The worst by far in that initial lockdown was the suspension of personal contact. I'm a hugger. I like to hug. I miss hugging. </p><p><br /></p><p>Some random observations during lockdown:</p><p>• Zero cars on the road during rush hour</p><p>• The Powerball and Megamillions amounts on the billboard I drive by every day barely rose</p><p>• The prevalence of masks dangling from rearview mirrors</p><p>• Every day felt like Saturday</p><p>• Increased anxiety when approached on the street by someone not wearing a mask. </p><p>This is one of my biggest superficial gripes about the pandemic. I hate that this stupid virus has made me do fucking algebra. "There are two unmasked people walking at different speeds towards each other. Solve for x, which is the time it takes for our paths to intersect and me to kick them square in the GD nards." WEAR YOUR MASKS, ASSHATS!!</p><p><br /></p><p>But I digress...</p><p><br /></p><p>I managed to write a small blurb in an unofficial personal journal from April that sums up my feelings at that point.</p><p><i>"I am so sad to put my social life and concert life on hold, but by far, the worst part is the suspension of personal contact. I miss touching my friends when we speak. I miss going to bars for day drinking with my best friends. I miss hugging my friends, our PTL guests, my coworkers, Big Mar, the two little girls next door. And HOLY CRAP I am tired of constantly washing my hands, the groceries, the GD steering wheel in the car. If we had actual adult leadership, we wouldn't be in this extreme circumstance. IF. But this is where we are. We will come through this, hopefully with a better sense of humanity. Hopefully. Some positives from this mess are a renewed sense of family time. For some, it's the first time their families are together without distraction from their overbooked lives. People have been kinder to one another, helping neighbors and strangers alike. There is a deeper appreciation for essential workers who are risking their health, both physical and mental, to do what we all need them to do. Doctors, nurses, aides, EMTs, bus drivers, custodians, postal workers, grocery store staff, restaurant workers, maintenance and utility employees, and yes, journalists on the front lines. These are the real heroes."</i></p><p><br /></p><p>Side note: I'm still sick of washing my hands to bleeding, but oddly the mask wearing has become so normal, I forget to remove it sometimes. And now, added bonus, I physically recoil if someone gets too close to me, with or without a mask. I am going to need therapy when this is all said and done. </p><p><br /></p><p>Initially, people across the country stood on their porches, opened their windows and cheered for the medical personnel and emergency workers at 7pm every night. It was incredibly moving. People were kinder and gentler towards one another. The absence of human interference allowed the world to begin to reset and heal. There are amazing photos and videos of dolphins and fish visible in the cleaner canals of Venice, crystal clear skies in LA, and images of the Taj Mahal unencumbered by cloaking smog. It was all peace, love, and Kumbaya for months. Humankind got a much needed mulligan. A chance to hit pause, take a breath, and realign priorities for a better approach to life. Surely once restrictions were lifted, things would be better. People would be better, right?</p><p><br /></p><p>WRONG!</p><p><br /></p><p>As soon as the strict lockdown was reduced from red to yellow, people started shooting each other again. It's like people spent their three month downtime composing murder lists instead of gratitude lists. It was beyond disappointing. And don't get me started about the selfish, whiny anti-maskers who continue to refuse to wear a fucking piece of cloth to protect their fellow man because it "goes against my civil rights". There were protests wherein armed white men stood on capital steps across the country waving signs that read "My Body My Choice" without one ounce of irony. </p><p><br /></p><p>For realz. </p><p><br /></p><p>They had that kind of nerve to say that shit. The same stupid ass motherfuckers who are down with the government getting all up in women's vaginas. Yeah. And this went on all year, and is still going on even as the death toll keeps soaring from unmasked super spreader events. It's insane. Wearing a mask isn't even a sacrifice. It's a simple act of love to end the spread of a deadly virus. Period. White people are weak, yo. </p><p><br /></p><p>There have been some big positives to come out of this year of madness. The horrendous death of George Floyd and sadly, so many others, at the hands of police have spark the flame of civil unrest and activism in a new generation. The daily protests over the summer shined a light on systemic racism still prevalent in our society. More and more younger people became more and more engaged in the political process to change society. Their actions give me hope for the future progress of our country. And because of the continued health concerns caused by the never-ending pandemic, the entire country offered mail-in voting. It was super easy for everyone EVERYONE to cast a vote from the convenience of their own home. The turnout was historic! Paper ballots = tamper proof from foreign hackers. This is how we should vote always IMHO, especially in the age of the interwebs. </p><p><br /></p><p>On a personal note, one of positives from the lockdown was the surge of online performances. Faced with an empty calendar, musicians flocked to online outlets like Facebook, YouTube, and StageIt. These platforms became a lifeline for the artists and fans alike. They have been soul saving. Bands like Low Cut Connie (who should not be missed on Saturdays on FaceBook), Kevin Griffin of Better Than Ezra, Jill Sobule among others have filled the void of live concerts with their interactive shows. The biggest gift for me was Rhett Miller's immediate jump on the StageIt platform. He has mastered the process of playing 4 times a week. Over the course of his 150+ shows, he has played every Old 97's/solo album in its entirety, shared outtakes and unrecorded extras, and told tales of the background and circumstances behind many of the songs. Each show is a gift. They are light, airy, and uber entertaining. The perfect calming distraction from the barrage of angst from a difficult reality. The intimate nature of the platform makes it feel like we're all at the bar, shootin' the shit with Mr. Miller. It has been amazing. </p><p><br /></p><p>All I can say is thank Baby Jesus for technology. What would we have done without it? Because of the internet, children are attending school, people are working from home en masse, family and friends are staying connected. For that last one, I am most grateful. Because of this virus, my Old 97's fan friends and I have instituted twice weekly Zoom Happy Hours before Rhett's shows. The number of participants fluctuates between 9 and 15, but the core group is about 10. I have enjoyed these women for years, but the past 10 months have forged a much deeper love and friendship. We have bonded hard, yo! We even became aunts to a litter of 5 kittens born on one of our Wednesday night happy hours seven weeks ago! OMG, kitty cam is the best therapy EVAH!! I love these women and the two lone y chromosomes with every fiber of my pointy heart. </p><p><br /></p><p>Last night the hideous dumpster fire, flaming turd of a year that is known as 2020 was kicked to the curb. Thank the Goddesses! We are still in a heap of woes, but there is hope. Hope from not one, but two vaccines. Hope from a new adult, experienced, compassionate administration beginning at noon January 20th. Hope we will be able to gather, laugh, hug each other again in the not-too-distant future. I mean, time became irrelevant in 2020. Every day was Blursday. What's another six months, right? Fare warning to friends and family: when it's truly safe, there will be much hugging, oh, yessireebob there will be! And the hugs will be long and uncomfortable. Prepare yourselves.</p><p><br /></p><p>Every holiday was weird in 2020. We all had to adapt, but we figured out how to stay connected and celebrate with the ones we loved even if it was over a little wire magically connected to these marvelous devices we had no idea would be so fucking vital to our very existence when the original tech wizards dreamed them up decades ago. </p><p><br /></p><p>So thank you again, Steve Jobs and Bill Gates for giving us the opportunity to keep a final annual tradition alive in the year we all agree to never speak of again.</p><p><br /></p><p><b> BUH-BYE YOU RAT BASTARD OF A YEAR</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQETHQLT0dUja_ToGxUaCE5AhorXhBfKO0gyPLaxS2qHd_IipefHcUfm1eHF-klUxjcdbX_YktJpbbqEUrNGxmxqseVlIyWh2gVcog0ROZb2iemrca2dPpu4XzNXhsdheZ1s-t2y8B7-O/s1464/Screen+Shot+2021-01-01+at+1.01.17+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1040" data-original-width="1464" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQETHQLT0dUja_ToGxUaCE5AhorXhBfKO0gyPLaxS2qHd_IipefHcUfm1eHF-klUxjcdbX_YktJpbbqEUrNGxmxqseVlIyWh2gVcog0ROZb2iemrca2dPpu4XzNXhsdheZ1s-t2y8B7-O/w640-h454/Screen+Shot+2021-01-01+at+1.01.17+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b><p></p><p>Please don't kick us in the collective nuts, 2021. We'll bake you sour dough bread. 💖</p><p><br /></p>Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-46287836643456420112017-11-12T16:09:00.002-05:002017-11-18T13:52:12.352-05:00Til Death Do Us PartOkay, so it's been quite awhile since I roamed through this abandoned fortress of a blog space.<br />
<br />
Jebus, the dust bunnies are the size of Volkswagens in here!! I'm going to need an industrial-sized shop vac to suck up all the dust, debris, and monster-sized arachnids lounging on the couch, binge-watching Judge Judy. GODDAMN those eight-legged freaks are fucking slobs, leaving popcorn and Reese's wrappers all of the floor. I should probably just go ahead and firebomb the entire place, coz they don't look like they're going to play along with this here eviction notice in my sweaty paw, or be repelled by the overuse of hyphenated wording.<br />
<br />
Jerks.<br />
<br />
Anywho...<br />
<br />
Hey. How have you been?<br />
<br />
Me? I've been kinda messed up. There have been times in the past two years I started to write, only to find myself mentally incapacitated. Seems I allowed some humans to take the wind out of my penning sails, and that's just plain fucked up, yo. It's totally my fault. I'm a grown-ass adult. (There's that dang hyphen again!) Ain't nobody gonna tell me what to do, except for the last couple years, apparently. I call bullshit on MYSELF for getting sucked into the vortex of self doubt, self pity, self serve line at the grocery store. And don't even get me started on that motherfucker, 45*!<br />
<br />
But that is all behind me. I guess. Maybe. I don't know. Quit looking at me with that raised eyebrow. I'm getting there. I'm a work in progress, dammit! Baby steps. Y'all (read: the two of you) were probably happy for the respite anyway. But enough of this BS. Onward, mofos!<br />
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SHUT UP, LUMBERGH! I'M TRYING!!<br />
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<br />
So anyway, here's my happy return to the blogosphere.<br />
yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.<br />
<br />
<br />
I murdered my beloved Rita.<br />
<br />
For those of you unaware, Rita is my darling red Pontiac Vibe(rator). She is the great mechanical love of my life. She is, hands down, the perfect vehicle; nary an issue, reliable to the nth degree, low to zero maintenance, care free. She exudes happiness, elan, and a verve with every atom of her ruby exterior. She is my 4-wheeled soul mate. As the great Katherine Hepburn says in The Philadelphia Story, she is yar.<br />
<br />
And I paid her back by slaughtering her on a suburban street.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIz46Dm_4ix9oBLylDts9c2CMjR8OaBj8DYHnXeH23-W22Mvan6WbNynDqvJaSDFLpadfh3Nrgp5Ds71s4yvXuEmNJT0avxVUYHWe0tLI3LfLgPfF0YC6mGbc_CtwWUh2k_X-73jeXwAc/s1600/IMG_6771.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIz46Dm_4ix9oBLylDts9c2CMjR8OaBj8DYHnXeH23-W22Mvan6WbNynDqvJaSDFLpadfh3Nrgp5Ds71s4yvXuEmNJT0avxVUYHWe0tLI3LfLgPfF0YC6mGbc_CtwWUh2k_X-73jeXwAc/s320/IMG_6771.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ford Escape: 1<br />
Rita: last rites</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT6RhE56le0-E3JuhYtymH-HmUqfxsP1TJbCxe8IurBc2EyipQ6iwuC_9dsWW6-lxkDV0UbHC-1RPz7FeJjEcRHOfS3i1vyyWRuE6ZzfrKQ8875TgFZ0TV_SILbnV3R2TzOQxVhlbbR7oN/s1600/IMG_6772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT6RhE56le0-E3JuhYtymH-HmUqfxsP1TJbCxe8IurBc2EyipQ6iwuC_9dsWW6-lxkDV0UbHC-1RPz7FeJjEcRHOfS3i1vyyWRuE6ZzfrKQ8875TgFZ0TV_SILbnV3R2TzOQxVhlbbR7oN/s320/IMG_6772.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm so sorry, my love</td></tr>
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<br />
I'm one of those weirdos who gets attached to cars, and boy, was I attached to Rita. She was amazing. For example, her bumpers were sublime. On more than one occasion, there was a minor altercation wherein the other car had visible damage, but Rita was virtually unscathed. She was a fucking tank!<br />
<br />
Except for yesterday.<br />
<br />
Yesterday there were many tears.<br />
<br />
And gnashing of teeth at my unfathomable stupidity.<br />
<br />
I cried real tears when I said goodbye to her. Sure, she's not technically deceased. The insurance adjuster hasn't called the time of death yet, but, look at her. She's pretty much flatlined on life support.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For over 12 years Rita and I had countless adventures together. She was my faithful steed when my love for Rhett and the Old 97's bloomed. Geo and I traveled all over the east coast for <a href="http://blame-it-on-being-a-girl.blogspot.com/2011/02/mix-together-one-part-rhett-with-one.html" target="_blank">Rhett Miller</a>/<a href="http://blame-it-on-being-a-girl.blogspot.com/2011/02/francis-times-two-or-double-shot-of-mr.html" target="_blank">Francis Dunnery</a> weekend shows. We hit up countless house concerts, private parties, beach trips... Man, could we pack a shit ton of crap in her hatch.<br />
<br />
Some of my favorite band road trips with Steph and Leslie were played out behind the wheel of my little sassy, ginger angel. <a href="http://blame-it-on-being-a-girl.blogspot.com/2011/04/shuffling-off-to.html" target="_blank">Rochester</a>, City Winery, <a href="http://blame-it-on-being-a-girl.blogspot.com/2010/11/rubin-rhett-and-running-around-like-sex.html" target="_blank">The Rubin Museum</a>, a blisteringly hot three day 97's road trip to DC, Richmond and Baltimore...<br />
<br />
Besides those whom I hold precious, i.e., Geo, Big Mar, my sisters, and my closest friends; some AMAZEBALLS butts have sat in Rita. I used to joke to Geo I could never part with her because the phenomenal talent I have shuttled about in this car is too spectacular to leave behind. No pun intended, mostly.<br />
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Here's a list of famous butts who have warmed the seats:<br />
<br />
1. Modern day Renaissance man and friend, Francis Dunnery.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo70Qy4xGT_6_SKhcY5-ZzH6oHf5N4ujLxCvSb8aB3Jn-MtYsdw1kqF_uChYthxTr10ut5EL21x2STTEeSZLwttJ_BwQVJVpPwkSSvdZb1GUdmEfQV50tCzHo3dpPlLaKMfTGCnJDbKZMx/s1600/IMG_4882.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo70Qy4xGT_6_SKhcY5-ZzH6oHf5N4ujLxCvSb8aB3Jn-MtYsdw1kqF_uChYthxTr10ut5EL21x2STTEeSZLwttJ_BwQVJVpPwkSSvdZb1GUdmEfQV50tCzHo3dpPlLaKMfTGCnJDbKZMx/s400/IMG_4882.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the king of hugs and cusses</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I had the honor of driving him to breakfast after his only <a href="http://blame-it-on-being-a-girl.blogspot.com/2010/04/in-which-francis-dunnery-returns-to.html" target="_blank">Pittsburgh TV appearance</a>.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>As soon as he closed the door to my car, he let loose with a string of every curse word imaginable, let out a big sigh and declared "That's better. I haven't f*cking swore in 20 f*cking minutes!?! Right. Let's go."</i><br />
<br />
He is my swearing spirit animal.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
2. Noted YA author and king of all things YouTube and Vidcon, John Green.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6t4FugBVR1BAZnUKCIYMw73WenDgnCs2DbO2qEg4SS7gGxxjPAT5YeTVg7zba-2_RzWTcn9jyjwZNp1-zsBe-eVZEBs0mYZjVwph2UleDNOo627UhCwxmwKhA04GWD27sUvJI0uhjlJe/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-11-12+at+3.35.46+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1156" data-original-width="1262" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6t4FugBVR1BAZnUKCIYMw73WenDgnCs2DbO2qEg4SS7gGxxjPAT5YeTVg7zba-2_RzWTcn9jyjwZNp1-zsBe-eVZEBs0mYZjVwph2UleDNOo627UhCwxmwKhA04GWD27sUvJI0uhjlJe/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-11-12+at+3.35.46+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">in the so-called green room of the Special K</td></tr>
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<br />
He and I had an incredible conversation on the drive from his hotel in Oakland to downtown where he was a <a href="http://blame-it-on-being-a-girl.blogspot.com/2011/02/and-unto-this-day-is-born.html" target="_blank">guest on PTL (Jesus Loves You)</a> one year before The Fault in Our Stars was released, and his popularity exploded to quantum proportions. We were his very first television appearance. Now he is a regular guest on legit, big ass, network morning programs. I doubt I will ever have this unique, intimate opportunity again. Ever.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
3. Three quarters of the Old 97's.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMb0JFrFAO0l4WzBD6bMO7UImSd19s1cs76_ekYWmqyfZjPXRODb7h8k_lfCG0uv7GdLLxj7qDil52UYeEq3B_2maLzQpajqM0qF_vok9fB5ldfwMBvuWqOuD5RQcyJJUecqkhCmte9E3l/s1600/IMG_6831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1334" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMb0JFrFAO0l4WzBD6bMO7UImSd19s1cs76_ekYWmqyfZjPXRODb7h8k_lfCG0uv7GdLLxj7qDil52UYeEq3B_2maLzQpajqM0qF_vok9fB5ldfwMBvuWqOuD5RQcyJJUecqkhCmte9E3l/s400/IMG_6831.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
Murry, Ken and Philip have permitted me the honor of transporting them to and from dinner, the radio station, the airport. Murry has since become a friend and frequent passenger. It is a rare treat to cart Ken and Philip around. One time Leslie and I picked Ken up in front of a magic shop in the South Side after he did his laundry. Those particular Ken stories were hilarious. The blue-eyed one is the lone missing member to make an impression on Rita's front seat. Alas, his inclusion shall never come to pass.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFll5pYl4uHsJgzAH9zjLmbw3PTdaZ_togZw7C6013ESAchvzu9uPtLKHfCddXDZgLkoKr7heIj3GBfdUovhOZ1eGvhYDycgHLJgor6GAW_kchYAP-gjIakY17NqsOP-ujEhS0EaDcsxse/s1600/IMG_6782.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFll5pYl4uHsJgzAH9zjLmbw3PTdaZ_togZw7C6013ESAchvzu9uPtLKHfCddXDZgLkoKr7heIj3GBfdUovhOZ1eGvhYDycgHLJgor6GAW_kchYAP-gjIakY17NqsOP-ujEhS0EaDcsxse/s320/IMG_6782.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">you see him sitting on that hill.<br />
he's bummed he missed the chance to ride with me.<br />
maybe our next car, bud.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
4 & 5. Brian Rosenworcel and Ryan Miller of Guster.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5O8gf_If4TvTiprC-TL5CcAgCs9hB5cy_mfVZ66ZBzAWZXBueWnwgf1bGOpJj3THYOv3UmbUI2yIO9Ehho14m5QI9lyma2tVUCK2ruEkrBRWgKgbahKr1GQtDZfltwN9KPkC63OUUVuNe/s1600/IMG_5878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5O8gf_If4TvTiprC-TL5CcAgCs9hB5cy_mfVZ66ZBzAWZXBueWnwgf1bGOpJj3THYOv3UmbUI2yIO9Ehho14m5QI9lyma2tVUCK2ruEkrBRWgKgbahKr1GQtDZfltwN9KPkC63OUUVuNe/s400/IMG_5878.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
OMG. My friend, Lizzie and I got to spend the BEST SNOW DAY EVER with Guster. I chauffeured Brian and Ryan in my car to search for a suitable dumpster, while she had Adam, Luke and their merch guy in hers. What a crazy, fun day! The recounting of that day is <a href="http://blame-it-on-being-a-girl.blogspot.com/2016/01/of-museums-randyland-and-dumpster-sets.html" target="_blank">one of the last posts I wrote before I abandoned ship</a>. They are the best!<br />
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<br />
Do you see why I'm so crestfallen about losing Rita? So many great memories packed in that little red compact car. I'm seriously contemplating having the front passenger seat turned into a chair for the living room. No shit.<br />
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Fingers crossed there will be repeat visits from these talented gentlemen in whatever model of transport we choose to follow in Rita's tire treads. They all have an open invitation to ride, in perpetuity. I fear John Green is a goner, though. Who knows who else will find passage in the comfort of our new front bucket seat.<br />
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Farewell, my lovely Rita. Rest in peace, my sassy, sprightly, unshakable mechanical sidekick. Thank you for a dozen years of enchanting exploits. You will be forever missed.<br />
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<br />
<br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-79604167091866699522017-01-10T17:33:00.001-05:002017-01-10T17:33:52.963-05:00In Which We Celebrate Life And LossBack in September, my siblings and I pulled off the greatest surprise EVER. Our beloved Big Mar was turning 95 on the 25th, and we decided to have a big party for her because SHE WAS GOING TO BE 95!!<br />
<br />
You can't drag your feet on that shit.<br />
<br />
Anyway, my ever-loving, thoughtful Geo declared my Mum's last remaining sister, Elsie should be, nay, NEEDED to be there to celebrate this incredible milestone with her big sister. When I called to ask my 92 year old Aunt if she would be willing to travel to Pittsburgh to surprise Big Mar, she immediately said yes and cried. She had been wracking her brain trying to figure out how she could get to see her sister for perhaps the last time. You see, the sisters Bossola talk to each other every week, but have only seen each other in person three times over the past 10 years, the last time being two years ago when we Pelino sisters took our Mum to Aunt Elsie's on a trip dubbed the <a href="http://blame-it-on-being-a-girl.blogspot.com/2014/02/you-are-now-free-to-roam-about-country.html" target="_blank">Traveling Sisterhood</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjoXTKoqoIshWEasEBGx46KeA75X3vxW2wx6GIfJv1o70hjtL_LQIXGfcmgavXu8GiPyz5kO6kkOXudJs_LOflx6shZnV-884AyvUU_briOkK8FJhncKBoytMo9HRauOdX3LJlkz0gNri/s1600/ElsieMaryHug.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjoXTKoqoIshWEasEBGx46KeA75X3vxW2wx6GIfJv1o70hjtL_LQIXGfcmgavXu8GiPyz5kO6kkOXudJs_LOflx6shZnV-884AyvUU_briOkK8FJhncKBoytMo9HRauOdX3LJlkz0gNri/s400/ElsieMaryHug.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">the bond of sisterhood is strong with these two</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
When we left her standing at her back porch waving us goodbye as we drove away, we all felt the weight of the elephant in the room, or car, as it were. This might be the last time they would see each other. I have three sisters, and I can't even begin to fathom the idea that some day will be the last day I see any one of my siblings. How do you even process that? But at 93 and 90, respectively, that was their cold, hard reality.<br />
<br />
So, we plotted and planned behind Big Mar's back to execute Operation: Surprise Big Mar. The plan was for me to secretly fly to Midway, get a car, drive west to Geneseo, pick up Aunt Elsie, drive back to Midway, fly to Pittsburgh and stow her at my sister's house until the next morning wherein Elsie would casually walk into my Mum's dining room for the big surprise.<br />
<br />
For over a month, EVERYONE had strict orders NOT to slip up and give anything away to Big Mar. Every time I spoke to anyone in on our caper, I reiterated for them to KEEP THEIR GDAMN TRAP SHUT! Like, I-will-slice-you-in-two-if-you-spoil-this-thing level threats. Seriously, I will cause you un-fucking-fathomable harm if you spill it. Worked like a charm. Except for one person. The biggest asshat in the group--<br />
<br />
ME!!!<br />
<br />
GDammit, if I wasn't the one who blabbed to her. You know, all casual-like on the phone.<br />
<br />
<b>Big Mar</b>: What should I make for dinner for everyone on Friday night? Should I make a big lasagne?<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Asshat Child #5</b>: Don't worry about dinner Friday, Mum. We're all going out and the cousins are taking you and Aunt Elsie out to dinner....<br />
*punches self in face super fucking hard*<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Big Mar: </b>What, honey?<br />
<b><br /></b><b>GinormoAsshat:</b> Mish and Terri are taking you to dinner while we're out.<br />
*sweet baby jesus! please say she didn't hear me*<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Big Mar:</b> Oh, okay. That will be nice.<br />
<br />
<br />
Whew! So yeah, dodged that bullet. For once I was thankful for her compromised hearing.<br />
<br />
The day finally came to retrieve my Aunt. It was one, long-ass day for me. I was gone from 4am to 10:30pm. I got to see a beautiful sunrise and sunset at Midway, and in between I got to spend some quality time with my vivacious, remarkable, spunky Aunt.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKi-QGFmhjUDOJfwQP8lKYJvmwIFs6Z6356GBoE7yF5kDkEsU1q0rIuNyJu5CRBHruGEbCxoWatzeUA1FIU4baKB0gL80Rm1Cyzs3g3XWQJeP7gNo9zGQM0OdnktlFtngRpaOKH0Da_K5b/s1600/IMG_9025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKi-QGFmhjUDOJfwQP8lKYJvmwIFs6Z6356GBoE7yF5kDkEsU1q0rIuNyJu5CRBHruGEbCxoWatzeUA1FIU4baKB0gL80Rm1Cyzs3g3XWQJeP7gNo9zGQM0OdnktlFtngRpaOKH0Da_K5b/s400/IMG_9025.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Good morning, Chicago sunrise!<br />
where's my GD coffee</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUcO5AwkFFBBeNbOqx_8awcF4_aIfCzg_T7gCb-mPm2cRySw111exHRmz28T_FDUEApzm-adc23QrBz8wsFI6UUvufUhlfGgKrcUphszE7QtPU6FFLGx5itpW_aIoXDQqqxBoGANwUAg_5/s1600/IMG_9033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUcO5AwkFFBBeNbOqx_8awcF4_aIfCzg_T7gCb-mPm2cRySw111exHRmz28T_FDUEApzm-adc23QrBz8wsFI6UUvufUhlfGgKrcUphszE7QtPU6FFLGx5itpW_aIoXDQqqxBoGANwUAg_5/s320/IMG_9033.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">13 hours later...<br />
i'm just going to close my eyes for a secon..zzzzz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzJCGBlz2Z4MfPV_0pqd3tRorsANms_orahnJwVcdg8xVI0Qfd7uoLUnSLq6vB-RRsTlQ1nH_SJ4J2OYsgY_S6dnT9SmkDwU6M-ebi6yDAA6sX-RdQhcVBcVS8nzPwS04ed7g0JnID09Ld/s1600/IMG_9803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzJCGBlz2Z4MfPV_0pqd3tRorsANms_orahnJwVcdg8xVI0Qfd7uoLUnSLq6vB-RRsTlQ1nH_SJ4J2OYsgY_S6dnT9SmkDwU6M-ebi6yDAA6sX-RdQhcVBcVS8nzPwS04ed7g0JnID09Ld/s320/IMG_9803.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">you had one job antique shop. ONE.<br />
#labelingfail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We shopped, we ate, she told stories on our long drive back to the airport. And I gotta tell you, she was like the energizer bunny. At 92, she was keeping up with me pace for pace. She had no trouble climbing in and out of the shuttle or walking through the airport. I honestly kept forgetting she was 92! She was amazing! What a joy.<br />
<br />
And then the next morning this happened...<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CYFYsCb6Z5c" width="560"></iframe><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
Mission Accomplished</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Wait. There's something wrong with my eye. Salty fluids keep gushing out.<br />
<br />
I posted the video to the Interwebs immediately, as one does in the 21st century of self involvement (my new band name), which sent my social media peeps weeping. I mean, C'MON! How could anyone, whether you know these two women or not, not shed tears of happiness while watching their reunion?<br />
<br />
Hooka, please! Pass the Kleenex.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhccPUmrYNgXtVFWbPGAOybFSrbOy9EIcLopUQScgz-EptoOFs28CEy4WnTW7vJLUD-5d2fIwTtl8gZHsgcgK-F-qaf1akX_sJ-Ut9ODTEL7lgpeXTGVoGZA87wJLtDQiZG8CF7eIkzYPHz/s1600/IMG_9037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhccPUmrYNgXtVFWbPGAOybFSrbOy9EIcLopUQScgz-EptoOFs28CEy4WnTW7vJLUD-5d2fIwTtl8gZHsgcgK-F-qaf1akX_sJ-Ut9ODTEL7lgpeXTGVoGZA87wJLtDQiZG8CF7eIkzYPHz/s400/IMG_9037.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">two inspiring ladies</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigUUoLl3oL3UofSMtFrORH0Vm5MpKQHAlToxntbtWqTKvtVv64QFmabJnXVe1IB415DCbVuIw7orBIEWL5c8LyBYiLZuWNEHFOpHTVUo_3qFoKkaxXfP3gAUGRFHxUUGDchiVc08EW2oWk/s1600/IMG_9073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigUUoLl3oL3UofSMtFrORH0Vm5MpKQHAlToxntbtWqTKvtVv64QFmabJnXVe1IB415DCbVuIw7orBIEWL5c8LyBYiLZuWNEHFOpHTVUo_3qFoKkaxXfP3gAUGRFHxUUGDchiVc08EW2oWk/s320/IMG_9073.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">just two fabulous old broads catching up</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
The entire celebration weekend went off without a hitch. So much love, joy and laughter. Outside of our one cousin who recently moved to South Carolina, everyone on the Bossola side of the family got to visit with Elsie. We couldn't have asked for more.<br />
<br />
And Big Mar...<br />
<br />
she could not have been any happier, surrounded by all those she holds dear and who love her back, including her little sister.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7hYyN4A-4m-y_qfjjy0FfMXnpIqyNH_vsvj2tkWufmymdxYcfEHC_n_QRXU_gNhGVdJpmaA_ySWwxiG4ZVJI8KHx_zf1koi0hgBtuB8hdHTRI1_Qv7i5dr2vclFOl0CGDorOf9M0_zjD/s1600/IMG_9098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7hYyN4A-4m-y_qfjjy0FfMXnpIqyNH_vsvj2tkWufmymdxYcfEHC_n_QRXU_gNhGVdJpmaA_ySWwxiG4ZVJI8KHx_zf1koi0hgBtuB8hdHTRI1_Qv7i5dr2vclFOl0CGDorOf9M0_zjD/s400/IMG_9098.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Miss Datable<br />
What! What!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-NWGYCU2jK2jmXXnG_3lSUV0WOxQymYPTKP7qP2_M6Al1ZJmnfqeko9kNC0XcnK-nRPNDlUFTo37QsC5jsJ5HBvR70XwrMZXnF3B7jlX1cDFCHLrxSizGjkoPR9tN_VWz2fTSv5m9AFGy/s1600/IMG_9194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-NWGYCU2jK2jmXXnG_3lSUV0WOxQymYPTKP7qP2_M6Al1ZJmnfqeko9kNC0XcnK-nRPNDlUFTo37QsC5jsJ5HBvR70XwrMZXnF3B7jlX1cDFCHLrxSizGjkoPR9tN_VWz2fTSv5m9AFGy/s400/IMG_9194.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">the outrage is real, mofo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20u9s6vmDtMDaXYTxN5jAAUQLmqij6Y3w7sAZXc-aJOf8TeTbOWwsRvFj0mqYaX5U3uCR1Df9rsYNVLjQh5CHAiRa0fB5tfZULBC7-wiDgYdyPvzve4UUDsmtTMJVVMZaBeseaHNcWa8c/s1600/P1080480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20u9s6vmDtMDaXYTxN5jAAUQLmqij6Y3w7sAZXc-aJOf8TeTbOWwsRvFj0mqYaX5U3uCR1Df9rsYNVLjQh5CHAiRa0fB5tfZULBC7-wiDgYdyPvzve4UUDsmtTMJVVMZaBeseaHNcWa8c/s400/P1080480.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">the golden girls</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWtYL1eUQ0o7yX1TUcat5gKhmM5fUE3piDKsZdmV3HMhIDgbVf2PjTmWJ0p23mltuiwfuDaCVfSsUckpIdqqUbO6tXcL-5r7d2q89mayjfStO8K9kvQ8j70EuFaydSyqUcDqbeK0R_aiM/s1600/P1080507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWtYL1eUQ0o7yX1TUcat5gKhmM5fUE3piDKsZdmV3HMhIDgbVf2PjTmWJ0p23mltuiwfuDaCVfSsUckpIdqqUbO6tXcL-5r7d2q89mayjfStO8K9kvQ8j70EuFaydSyqUcDqbeK0R_aiM/s320/P1080507.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">la familia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXsyLiC68sX3m4IkTvecqNwBfDK6_LawFxWIlcsHiwFEAe2Y7hcmLWHO5C3WJBW67QjMaZK15cTh7qYelAVXvwV3mUjp8x6F7PawsCm44wxdbZBy6CsV4vEWrdg7HxFb54QJFbZPOeDax/s1600/P1080513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXsyLiC68sX3m4IkTvecqNwBfDK6_LawFxWIlcsHiwFEAe2Y7hcmLWHO5C3WJBW67QjMaZK15cTh7qYelAVXvwV3mUjp8x6F7PawsCm44wxdbZBy6CsV4vEWrdg7HxFb54QJFbZPOeDax/s400/P1080513.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">the entire rag-tag lot of us</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Before you knew it, the weekend was over. Tearful, heartfelt goodbyes and lingering hugs were exchanged between the stoic sisters. Geo and I packed our dynamo of an aunt into our car and set off for Illinois.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAd6MV1gFAhq9E0BTqOJhxwg7iiswIC52LAZItgSq3IqMX7yAzrlY9cYPatkQnM6ZV05bLVXrue1oECEW4qOBtBtMRZEh9vync0qsddu50JNjMN6LmeSTy20IH28a5IG9XOgVZU0rFGOdb/s1600/IMG_9208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAd6MV1gFAhq9E0BTqOJhxwg7iiswIC52LAZItgSq3IqMX7yAzrlY9cYPatkQnM6ZV05bLVXrue1oECEW4qOBtBtMRZEh9vync0qsddu50JNjMN6LmeSTy20IH28a5IG9XOgVZU0rFGOdb/s400/IMG_9208.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">traveling through land as flat as the Ohio "A"<br />
oh, and corn </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgukxEixI_w3lt3GzqLGT9atWKtEOFIPht31ZsvFyFe39KB2mFvNAiaaWdbZpiP1RFYAVTvyBPDXQHg0yBwLvJhFaH_-JPxmcOLehp_Geq-euuu34A6TTxDjNy3389ZHBdivUI-YZmnXpXF/s1600/IMG_9217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgukxEixI_w3lt3GzqLGT9atWKtEOFIPht31ZsvFyFe39KB2mFvNAiaaWdbZpiP1RFYAVTvyBPDXQHg0yBwLvJhFaH_-JPxmcOLehp_Geq-euuu34A6TTxDjNy3389ZHBdivUI-YZmnXpXF/s400/IMG_9217.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">oh hey, more corn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXz21z890J5LyKHOyk8O7I8VqeRuaVRz_4j-iz5EbkInPMO18SBHL8DmpyPg1aMY96pgNsk4K97wAkbn57Gi7zBdJX0DE8fDzBgi_Fdw6UDhSwdJbkRxVtwHXxijVn7j5PLyau1l6XKbW/s1600/IMG_9232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXz21z890J5LyKHOyk8O7I8VqeRuaVRz_4j-iz5EbkInPMO18SBHL8DmpyPg1aMY96pgNsk4K97wAkbn57Gi7zBdJX0DE8fDzBgi_Fdw6UDhSwdJbkRxVtwHXxijVn7j5PLyau1l6XKbW/s400/IMG_9232.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">what a surprise...<br />
corn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
We offered to break up the 600 mile journey into two days, but Aunt Elsie wouldn't hear of it. Over the course of 10 hours, passing corn field after corn field after corn field in the flat lands of America, Elsie regaled us with the story of her life. And what a life it was. Joining the Marines at 20, meeting and marrying her husband (a marine himself) within two week's time, living in Japan and California, and finally settling in her husband's quaint hometown of Geneseo, Illinois.<br />
<br />
She had three passions: her husband, golf and ballroom dance. She and my uncle met at a military dance and basically never stopped. Dancing was there favorite pastime. They'd don their fanciest clothes, she'd put on her favorite heels, and off they'd go to swing, jitterbug and waltz the night away.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZUr48mkGGyTusFArJavThX7mKgnySSTYBNfaEZKcu-9bHGMZvygmt3KEmY1cYlAZHdQFjQY84I-HOL0_byiCNKQFenivkmA-ZNiAqgjVG9pCTW23TLx8V68SvdWxpD1H1cwkNUDyyN165/s1600/IMG_0824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZUr48mkGGyTusFArJavThX7mKgnySSTYBNfaEZKcu-9bHGMZvygmt3KEmY1cYlAZHdQFjQY84I-HOL0_byiCNKQFenivkmA-ZNiAqgjVG9pCTW23TLx8V68SvdWxpD1H1cwkNUDyyN165/s400/IMG_0824.jpg" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">all dolled up for a night on the town</td></tr>
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I mean, look at them. So stylish in their finery. They were so happy together. They were unable to have children, but they had each other. And a couple of cats to fawn over. Life was good.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDds3GI2SDCVryfMCyG1Lna0POc11W6ZrcuySm7uVZ6Zko_4bJeX_rq_0e2t85HOR_h90mu2tw2sCq-BPa-FiPSA6SpGpsryyyJs9dciGKYYU79cGFSyR0wWOwzqEkqssRNzEk8K6p2b0/s1600/IMG_0831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="473" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDds3GI2SDCVryfMCyG1Lna0POc11W6ZrcuySm7uVZ6Zko_4bJeX_rq_0e2t85HOR_h90mu2tw2sCq-BPa-FiPSA6SpGpsryyyJs9dciGKYYU79cGFSyR0wWOwzqEkqssRNzEk8K6p2b0/s640/IMG_0831.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">there's always time to dance while the steaks are cooking<br />
I adore this photo.<br />
to me, this sums up their relationship</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Geo and I had a blast tooling around the boutiques, tchotchke shops and artist markets of Geneseo with my Aunt. Everywhere we went, Aunt Elsie told the clerks how we took her to Pittsburgh for her sister's birthday. She gushed about the party and her visit to everyone who would listen. I gotta tell you, it felt good having brought her so much joy with our little birthday scheme. Our spirits were as lifted as hers.<br />
<br />
The next morning, after a full farmer's breakfast, many tears were shed by all three of us as we hugged and kissed goodbye.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGMg4uWyrF8oIj-cXc-0johXHuBgTn4egNQVk3v67Zdc2ApXO2OmqJsIA-7KDiPInjNRUEfivv22MatrCzhRmSvuhF0BgDEnBH3iUTGnAbVWJUuR9FZ_dEMto8qlzTvKvfVRtmPY6mftL/s1600/IMG_9286.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGMg4uWyrF8oIj-cXc-0johXHuBgTn4egNQVk3v67Zdc2ApXO2OmqJsIA-7KDiPInjNRUEfivv22MatrCzhRmSvuhF0BgDEnBH3iUTGnAbVWJUuR9FZ_dEMto8qlzTvKvfVRtmPY6mftL/s320/IMG_9286.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">with Miss Spunk, 2016</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGODyS892UCGyUexdSMJOiMtmWzCkw_h3Ao8FDHuophp64KqVOO8cA3mKPBuSEBXopjAlZSD5JgjrXS00tp0YUsqd52cV-raQpzhiZXG1RvgXq3CMPxhWmRcZtW55NrUEsjpJalECZCTwc/s1600/IMG_9320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGODyS892UCGyUexdSMJOiMtmWzCkw_h3Ao8FDHuophp64KqVOO8cA3mKPBuSEBXopjAlZSD5JgjrXS00tp0YUsqd52cV-raQpzhiZXG1RvgXq3CMPxhWmRcZtW55NrUEsjpJalECZCTwc/s320/IMG_9320.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">a tearful goodbye </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The last image we have of Aunt Elsie is her arm waving to us out of the window of her sparkling, white 25 year old Chrysler as we embarked on our long journey east.<br />
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<br />
And now she's gone.<br />
<br />
And now this gets really difficult to write.<br />
<br />
<br />
Less than two months after Big Mar's party, Aunt Elsie was hospitalized for congestive heart failure. She was retaining fluid around her heart. When we traveled to Pittsburgh in September, she and I talked at length about her need for valve replacement surgery similar to the one my Mum had the prior December. The surgery had improved Big Mar's life tremendously. There was no reason why my hail and hearty Aunt would not have a positive outcome as well.<br />
<br />
But Life had other plans.<br />
<br />
For the first time ever, she was tied to oxygen and a walker to get around. A quick succession of falls took away her courage and independence. Too fearful to stay in her house, she moved into an assisted living facility with the intention of moving into an apartment once she recovered from her valve replacement.<br />
<br />
But she never got strong enough physically to have her surgery.<br />
<br />
By mid-December, she decided she had enough of hospitals and needles and being bed-ridden, and chose to call it a day. She was ready to wrap up her life and go be with her husband again. As much as I didn't want her to stop fighting, I gotta respect her decision. She stepped off this mortal coil on her own terms. There's some comfort knowing we all have a modicum of control when it comes to the end of our time on this crazy planet. My sisters and I were able to talk to her on the phone and tell her we loved her the day before she died. Big Mar never got through to her for one last chat. I don't know. Perhaps it's best that way. She gets to remember her voice strong and feisty.<br />
<br />
<br />
I still can't wrap my head around her death. The rapid decline of a woman so vivacious, vital and healthy is unimaginable to me. For Christ's sake, at 92 years old she was still washing her windows and walls twice a year!! Her trip in September is made all the more precious by her absence now. Her visit was a gift to us all. She accomplished what she set out to do, that is, spend time with her family and big sister one last time. Maybe that's why she cried when Geo and I left her in September. Maybe subconsciously she knew that was our swan song.<br />
<br />
None of us were able to make the trek west for her funeral. The weather was too unsettled and there was no way we were going to risk Big Mar's health in the vast mid-west winter. To be honest, I didn't want to go. I want to hang on to the memory of my spirited aunt from her September visit and replay the above video over and over again.<br />
<br />
I'm going to miss my vibrant Aunt. We were just getting to know each other better. Life is a right-royal bitch sometimes, but you know what? I'm happy for her. She lived a rich, full life chock-full of love, laughter and friendship. And now she's back with her beloved husband; young and beautiful and dancing her heart out in her favorite high heels.<br />
<br />
Godspeed, Aunt Elsie. The grace with which you lived your life, especially the latter part is an inspiration. May your dance hall never close.<br />
xoxoxoxo<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJZYnVNdfo8ZxSWimkJdBe55QNKUCIonLz91P2jgzhzss_EDPz8ipYxMRuO74DPIgiQamp1YsUj3ueSUewSifqRvPys7Zr4_qSu5iQAqkkIlBz3qi41AQjDlFyFzdD3wj1TtxhreDwfwX/s1600/IMG_0822.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJZYnVNdfo8ZxSWimkJdBe55QNKUCIonLz91P2jgzhzss_EDPz8ipYxMRuO74DPIgiQamp1YsUj3ueSUewSifqRvPys7Zr4_qSu5iQAqkkIlBz3qi41AQjDlFyFzdD3wj1TtxhreDwfwX/s400/IMG_0822.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-62474628963353338812016-03-27T14:23:00.000-04:002016-03-27T14:23:37.803-04:00A TAIL OF TWO PARKING SPACES Okay, so I'm not awful at parallel parking. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No, seriously. I'm usually pretty good at it. One or two times backing up and I'm in. Easy-peasy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Usually. </div>
<div>
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<div>
Which makes the parking atrocity of Friday so puzzling. </div>
<div>
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<div>
It all started on the North Side. I picked up my friend, Dennis at the Science Center, and headed over to the Modern Cafe on a narrow, two-lane road with parking on both sides. I spotted a sizable space to plop Rita, and proceeded to do my Thang. But my Thang wasn't having any of it. My Thang booked passage on a cruiser heading anywhere but right here where I needed that crazy-ass bitch.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
First try: I hit the curb at a sharp angle. </div>
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<div>
Second try: a little less sharp, but still sticking as far out in traffic as though a toddler was behind the wheel. </div>
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Third... Fourth... Fifteenth try. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Suddenly every yinzer in a three-mile radius was zooming down the narrow street, while this ginormous, ginger asshat was blocking traffic with her ineptitude. Even Dennis was like, "WTF, man? I've seen you do this a thousand times." </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Finally, a driver pointed to a car leaving a space large enough to dock the Millennium Falcon. I honked my appreciation, and confidently whipped Rita into place. I got this bad boy now, right?</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
WRONG!!</div>
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<div>
Not even close. I mean, a fucking one-armed lemur with an eye patch could have wrapped this up faster than me. </div>
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<div>
WHAT THE FRENCH, TOAST??!?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
J'accuse, Menopause!*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
* from now on, I'm using this as my go-to excuse for all the untoward happenings, decisions, or inabilities that pop up, whether menopause related or not</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Meanwhile, during the time I'm making a Goddamn career out of stowing my hot wheel, the guy who showed me the gargantuan spot parked his semi in one go, talked to his friend a bit, paid the parking meter and was heading to a restaurant while I was clearly struggling with the mathematical principles of some sort of parking Pythagorean Theorem that were slipping my addled brain. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So I had to do it. I had to make eye contact with the lad, because, honestly the entire episode had become ridiculous. The three of us had a gut-busting laugh at my expense. Once he was out of eyesight, I wiped the tears of <strike>shame</strike> <strike>hysteria</strike> laughter from my eyes and parked like... an assistant manager. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As the kids' say: Hashtag ParkingFail</div>
<div>
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<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fast forward four hours to my favorite watering hole, Nadine's in the South Side. Friends were met, several drinks were consumed, questionable stories were over shared. When Denise (NOT Dennis in drag) and I got to my car, some major jackhole parked his gross overcompensating-his-little-dick monstrosity perpendicular to me; leaving roughly five feet for me to maneuver out of the lot. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Oh, HELL NOOOOO!!! YOU CAN'T BLOCK ME IN, MOTHERFUCKERS!!*</div>
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<div>
*actual quote. from my mouth. out loud. in public.</div>
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<div>
And guess what? I snaked that mutha OUT! Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until I was parallel to dickless's truck--with an inch to spare-- and weaved backwards through the motherfuckin' lot to the motherfuckin' alley. AND I only urban kissed the car beside me once. </div>
<div>
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BOOM!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Hashtag LikeABoss</div>
<div>
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<div>
Parking redemption complete. Middle fingers in the air like you just don't care. WhutWhut!!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, in conclusion, Vodka is my car parking super power, yo. Now give me my damn cape. </div>
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Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-1691703287625456142016-01-29T10:26:00.001-05:002016-01-29T10:38:03.002-05:00Of Museums, Randyland and Dumpster Sets In AlleywaysOkay, so it all started with this message:<br />
<div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5C_hFWk8Pia4txbAHMZqGdDQCjBqG2MIXRlj2XbnyECv9jw1NUpXh81096jJBD7ZUA70Nhiv4BPXlsMlK6ujyIfBfuBpyHMw80ZIqJOZXhD7FHJKW2f7vQIwO6Uz4ie7PtADjahxchfGa/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-01-25+at+2.50.32+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5C_hFWk8Pia4txbAHMZqGdDQCjBqG2MIXRlj2XbnyECv9jw1NUpXh81096jJBD7ZUA70Nhiv4BPXlsMlK6ujyIfBfuBpyHMw80ZIqJOZXhD7FHJKW2f7vQIwO6Uz4ie7PtADjahxchfGa/s640/Screen+Shot+2016-01-25+at+2.50.32+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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That's Brian, the drummer from the great Boston band, <a href="http://guster.com/" target="_blank">Guster</a>. We became Facebook friends several years ago. Guster (comprised of Ryan Miller, Adam Gardner, Luke Reynolds and Brian Rosenworcel) are touring this winter, and my girlfriend and I were planning to drive to Philadelphia on January 23rd to catch their always exuberant show because: </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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A) they weren't coming to Pittsburgh this leg and </div>
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B) the opener was none other than the lovely blue-eyed one himself, RHETT FUCKING MILLER! </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Wha??!?</div>
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I mean, C'MON! The double bill of my fangirl dreams! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ahhhh, but that fuckwad monster storm, Jonas had other ideas. Poised to dump upwards of 18"- 24" of the powdery white stuff all over the mid Atlantic and Northeast (and subsequently New York City, because weather predictors have their heads up their asses at times and totally blow snow accumulations in metropolitan areas), this beast of a storm cell made travel east a fool's errand. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixRv4GNzzxwIhqa65OauqJplNh4cvIQQYQWods2lo6zsggGQzZ8f-8j2ZdFLS_Gc797WogIlDEbsmGUfkVOYap5xC2-ebbuL8a0Jsp391mjnOThvI3zF-xnLqE_dDIjSbZT8O3VwDnJ_6T/s1600/thundersnow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixRv4GNzzxwIhqa65OauqJplNh4cvIQQYQWods2lo6zsggGQzZ8f-8j2ZdFLS_Gc797WogIlDEbsmGUfkVOYap5xC2-ebbuL8a0Jsp391mjnOThvI3zF-xnLqE_dDIjSbZT8O3VwDnJ_6T/s400/thundersnow.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">jonas was so big,<br />
you couldn't even find the U.S. under it's blanket of badassery</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
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<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the end, wiser heads prevailed, and my fangirl-fantasy, double-shot show slated for Saturday, January 23rd was cancelled. </div>
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And there was much sadness in Pittsburgh. </div>
<div>
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<div>
As it turned out, Pittsburgh got double the predicted snowfall, and I had one hellish drive to The Special K hours before the butt crack of dawn. As grumpy and sad as a petulant child, I finally resigned myself to the fact that this wasn't going to happen. No matter how much I held my breath, I was going to miss the rare opportunity to revel in the spirits of my two favorite performers. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And then my Facebook Messenger dinged...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Guster made it to their show in State College Friday, but had to reach Charleston, West Virginia for a date with Mountain Stage Sunday night. They braved the elements and made the harrowing trek west to Pittsburgh for an overnighter. FYI, the band loves Pittsburgh. Like, really REALLY LOVES Pittsburgh. As if I needed anymore reasons to love them dearly.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
These four bandmates are unbelievably cool. For starters, they're super accessible, social media savvy, and are known to do all sorts of wacky, creative things like acoustic dumpster sets, running errands with fans, and collecting granny afghans from their devotees to cover their instruments and wear as super stylish vests. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HMdjhYGg6qJZJdtCcPsOfAEF4hUGthYrM8eRrfY5kLjLMJXAH9aTmrlv_Z2Qe87kHSvjq1DGCprsi0zhx8F8p6_fDoRMjhmODk9BvE87OS75Fs2yP-WwTrZ2Vdyx3pXKGWQ8BU61rt7e/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-01-25+at+4.53.53+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HMdjhYGg6qJZJdtCcPsOfAEF4hUGthYrM8eRrfY5kLjLMJXAH9aTmrlv_Z2Qe87kHSvjq1DGCprsi0zhx8F8p6_fDoRMjhmODk9BvE87OS75Fs2yP-WwTrZ2Vdyx3pXKGWQ8BU61rt7e/s400/Screen+Shot+2016-01-25+at+4.53.53+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">awash in fan-delivered yarnwear</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
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<div>
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<div>
They embrace their public, which is what endears them forever to the hearts of their following. And they are unbelievably sweet, nice guys. </div>
<div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf1Fo9eoOI1wd0MrxBPhqTYeK_N_NZZPlrqv3wViL4gmeRVzSnBkY76eoZUbYQ82-1IevDx3ek4Vus2yFi0OUXtctgrwfeiS56Inp3b-iq76fr9cPqWlY8SRng58kv0QB7XxhaSb4azU79/s1600/12548909_10208588753936731_1028139691472236355_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf1Fo9eoOI1wd0MrxBPhqTYeK_N_NZZPlrqv3wViL4gmeRVzSnBkY76eoZUbYQ82-1IevDx3ek4Vus2yFi0OUXtctgrwfeiS56Inp3b-iq76fr9cPqWlY8SRng58kv0QB7XxhaSb4azU79/s400/12548909_10208588753936731_1028139691472236355_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">the expertly curated dumpster stage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So anywho, back to the dumpster set. The guys decided to search for an appropriate dumpster on the North Side near our uber contemporary museum, the <a href="http://www.mattress.org/" target="_blank">Mattress Factory</a>. The other cool thing about this group is they take time to explore the cities in which they play. They ride bikes, visit attractions, eat at local dives. The idea was to hit up the museum after their brief acoustic set. </div>
<div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTI1iVNdJZBb2X5ahwNJzgxld1K2i79dQ1f040ljtbiykjzdvHfxy6S_Dthin_vQv8l0bdJH8Uv9XUHRtHvJVEM8uBygzZ2eWom_bGF6znOHyAfX-mrjynf40Mp8ENTy3eLp5O0o7KPNVe/s1600/12592764_10208588752096685_6504974373689460049_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTI1iVNdJZBb2X5ahwNJzgxld1K2i79dQ1f040ljtbiykjzdvHfxy6S_Dthin_vQv8l0bdJH8Uv9XUHRtHvJVEM8uBygzZ2eWom_bGF6znOHyAfX-mrjynf40Mp8ENTy3eLp5O0o7KPNVe/s400/12592764_10208588752096685_6504974373689460049_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">the scene of the action</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After Brian and Luke freed me from the snow mound I'd managed to lodge my trusty Vibe into, my friend, Lizzie who worked with Guster in Boston, and I packed six men and various instruments in our cars, and headed off to the still snow-covered streets of the North Side. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Side note: Pittsburgh is notoriously slow to plow its streets, no matter who's mayor. It's just a fact. There was a point where I started to slide and all I could think of was "Don't kill Brian and Ryan. Sweet Jesus! Don't kill Brian and Ryan!" Clearly, I'm not very good in the snow. What was I thinking carting these talented men around post-winter storm?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvSBx356uP5Z3h_JsRnbkx_SZWCG-5eI0_Qn3Mcxm8l0GU1AoBdPgWWoUnJ9OTmY6p7kHg9-B2nTAIx1sUA41MSYsO-nOfT0inrrH9Uopa3__AoNoy3sjEuAkqnCeaLamgl5xhb4TGyo1I/s1600/12548860_10208588752496695_6060333890983810238_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvSBx356uP5Z3h_JsRnbkx_SZWCG-5eI0_Qn3Mcxm8l0GU1AoBdPgWWoUnJ9OTmY6p7kHg9-B2nTAIx1sUA41MSYsO-nOfT0inrrH9Uopa3__AoNoy3sjEuAkqnCeaLamgl5xhb4TGyo1I/s400/12548860_10208588752496695_6060333890983810238_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Brian and Ryan working the interwebs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
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<div>
So the deal is, Bryan picks a dumpster at random. He and Ryan Instagram and Tweet the location and set time. At the designated time, they start playing for whomever shows up. We whiled away the time having lunch at a nearby hole-in-the-wall taco place named <a href="http://www.elburropgh.com/" target="_blank">El Burro</a>. Delicious and cheap. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtSBV1V46ou5F7mrnSU0h1G4kTkLYwUDqT-iIvahFtQZ_nk2fJRszocDFMz6HzvOxuTzH-xgEikd9GA0Oq_Gr1daghJ7bKvULj4aTpRs6o5Y5_XJDuoH1Ocv5OUPDUWYPo6pT0lXrtLFYp/s1600/12573677_10208588752976707_5599550684695894299_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtSBV1V46ou5F7mrnSU0h1G4kTkLYwUDqT-iIvahFtQZ_nk2fJRszocDFMz6HzvOxuTzH-xgEikd9GA0Oq_Gr1daghJ7bKvULj4aTpRs6o5Y5_XJDuoH1Ocv5OUPDUWYPo6pT0lXrtLFYp/s320/12573677_10208588752976707_5599550684695894299_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRASMxLcaguiBqBNWs5-4EK8V8qvlVGrPr-ENiR3EmoTB8XvIYOSgZrXr5Nl74_9lv4ePkttS9mkyKczlgMWfPL9OAoyn9sxyAnsbfKx4VoeOWTKIVnS4qVvrAk_4JzRSqQWkeZAg2srxN/s1600/12644930_10208588752816703_5441069625853112654_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRASMxLcaguiBqBNWs5-4EK8V8qvlVGrPr-ENiR3EmoTB8XvIYOSgZrXr5Nl74_9lv4ePkttS9mkyKczlgMWfPL9OAoyn9sxyAnsbfKx4VoeOWTKIVnS4qVvrAk_4JzRSqQWkeZAg2srxN/s400/12644930_10208588752816703_5441069625853112654_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">mmmm... burritos</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrjxwh0tvFMSZ1UXpQxT-JZ1Fatc0VY3CRjewnwCvyR5o9nT9SpwdB0U3wpU0GzVvP1jQFtAqw9JYBLblqW-SVJW-6AhD_snZu6E4lZ8aXYV1AEwzb9UgYgZnzNHZQVcIx8fFZuf0b12IU/s1600/946138_10208588752656699_750102892812187586_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrjxwh0tvFMSZ1UXpQxT-JZ1Fatc0VY3CRjewnwCvyR5o9nT9SpwdB0U3wpU0GzVvP1jQFtAqw9JYBLblqW-SVJW-6AhD_snZu6E4lZ8aXYV1AEwzb9UgYgZnzNHZQVcIx8fFZuf0b12IU/s320/946138_10208588752656699_750102892812187586_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRvzhHYo2uNl7Su1XCacmrrQT5aC7JGwoVp4Mm2aANLEbY_izBCK2T933kIRBljC8lUVa2kvUN71pH2cQQVTLhWBsEcPgy0tMmPrjOHQr-3uuZJFG7LbDnOUNPajYzE9DIflpSVYB5CSx/s1600/12642957_10208588753456719_515457983443593526_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRvzhHYo2uNl7Su1XCacmrrQT5aC7JGwoVp4Mm2aANLEbY_izBCK2T933kIRBljC8lUVa2kvUN71pH2cQQVTLhWBsEcPgy0tMmPrjOHQr-3uuZJFG7LbDnOUNPajYzE9DIflpSVYB5CSx/s320/12642957_10208588753456719_515457983443593526_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">logging the twitter activity</td></tr>
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When we walked back from a local coffee shop, five people were waiting by the dumpster. By the time everyone was set up, a few more fans joined in. Neighbors poked their heads out, passersby stopped to listen, curious about the random happening in their alleyway. When it was all said and done, about a dozen or so adults, one baby and two dogs enjoyed the impromptu concert. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLYdU62eHsj3rJ4ODy1tm6LZ86bTfNTTiN2_RCnXAhsJvhUixRLoc3ZlmOh1VBW0FiCCeNsyVyUwU_sQGQ1qtKtjb3afx0ulqH5Nmab78J589Gv3_M6zUEvbe8pWhmeTe4mYGUaKVZR8R/s1600/12642817_10208588753376717_6570162319231285399_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLYdU62eHsj3rJ4ODy1tm6LZ86bTfNTTiN2_RCnXAhsJvhUixRLoc3ZlmOh1VBW0FiCCeNsyVyUwU_sQGQ1qtKtjb3afx0ulqH5Nmab78J589Gv3_M6zUEvbe8pWhmeTe4mYGUaKVZR8R/s400/12642817_10208588753376717_6570162319231285399_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">the early birds</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEJzG-c4OeINc4scVg3gII_jY32QQ-w6ta_sihYEZ9-weSo_VIqqD4l7NjPw_il988UR_bm7dPzvguoxSut0XABgs8HlH63qVQudlOlFmR6I9rjDO2Mb1-_YsDrCkIynkouL4jh_TrtAzh/s1600/944037_10208588753776727_6591334208332508669_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEJzG-c4OeINc4scVg3gII_jY32QQ-w6ta_sihYEZ9-weSo_VIqqD4l7NjPw_il988UR_bm7dPzvguoxSut0XABgs8HlH63qVQudlOlFmR6I9rjDO2Mb1-_YsDrCkIynkouL4jh_TrtAzh/s320/944037_10208588753776727_6591334208332508669_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">soundchecking of sorts</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzYbfGudzbSDhf2bwCmrwN1lOVrAE8iSGn9PI4lJL13w0ClmIXBEfNTvFP5_yTCn0nNUfz2jFbuaJLuGu8NYcmOqTgbKQS5MD7ZHXmylolgPI1i4_GPbd8RZFsobpp47prRKbkm15O2zur/s1600/12522956_10208588755416768_1306840788424112403_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzYbfGudzbSDhf2bwCmrwN1lOVrAE8iSGn9PI4lJL13w0ClmIXBEfNTvFP5_yTCn0nNUfz2jFbuaJLuGu8NYcmOqTgbKQS5MD7ZHXmylolgPI1i4_GPbd8RZFsobpp47prRKbkm15O2zur/s640/12522956_10208588755416768_1306840788424112403_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">the bulk of the crowd minus the dogs in adorable booties<br />
even the house behind them had a happy "tear" in its eye</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLg8dN_9sOsaPXIERcjfgG1lNgtJ9WL3cmhSAQIuSrUP9fZMl7UnOHKCwiI5GLBpsh9Sm0NbF_5aDLjaXSEIvq2wZ9XfKt38v6JSyg5EEQrQKkCzZsFiucfU8WEZ-sTlh4TkWSgMrgersJ/s1600/12552526_10208588755576772_3583429775162983117_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLg8dN_9sOsaPXIERcjfgG1lNgtJ9WL3cmhSAQIuSrUP9fZMl7UnOHKCwiI5GLBpsh9Sm0NbF_5aDLjaXSEIvq2wZ9XfKt38v6JSyg5EEQrQKkCzZsFiucfU8WEZ-sTlh4TkWSgMrgersJ/s400/12552526_10208588755576772_3583429775162983117_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">the sun played the part of stage lighting<br />
(check out Adam's guitar strap--granny squares!)</td></tr>
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<div>
The debate in the car was whether to alert fans via Facebook or just post photos afterward. At the last minute, Ryan decided to live stream the event on Facebook using its version of Periscope. Lizzie recorded the pop-up performance. About 1700 watched it live from all over the country. In the time it took to break down the instruments, take photos and walk to the cars, they had amassed 20,000 views. They were blown away! It didn't stop there. In 24 hours, their video had over 135,000 views and was picked up by online newsletter, <a href="http://www.nextpittsburgh.com/music/guster-takes-the-northside-stage-in-an-impromptu-dumpster-set/" target="_blank">Next Pittsburgh</a>, shared by who knows how many followers on Facebook and tweeted by a crapton of people, including our hip news anchor, Ken Rice and Mayor Peduto who in his exchange with Ryan promised to declare Guster Day the next time they play in town. This thing has some long legs! And right now, at the time of this writing, they are up to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/guster/videos/10153257788057371/?video_source=pages_finch_main_video&theater" target="_blank">185,000 views</a>. Madness! </div>
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The power of social media is real, motherfuckers!</div>
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<div>
Bryan wrote about the analytics on his road journal <a href="https://gusterroadjournal.wordpress.com/2016/01/" target="_blank">here</a>. And while your at it, treat yourself to some of his past writings, especially his ongoing battle with his nemesis, the port-o-john. <a href="https://gusterroadjournal.wordpress.com/2015/03/08/trying-to-pee-in-france/" target="_blank">This gem</a> contains a side order of past posts to compliment the hilarity. If this doesn't make you laugh-out-loud-spit-take your morning coffee, we can't be friends. Seriously. </div>
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But I digress... </div>
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After the 20 minute acoustic set, we gathered for a commemorative group photo. A fun time was definitely had by all. </div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLgYb2Zg2NtZ-xNMnJPQqNfesLoxNXmgHzS6Xb0LceGDFM_q7dWGF2rURn8KZ82JDeuUS_1mfXFGbHwWarQEgC6pTFY9bnnaZZKT8O1AMxKmHCfSEkP_7dPXVmFhXUjp6q1u_J7fR-GXY1/s1600/12553098_10208588766777052_2734175926813514961_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLgYb2Zg2NtZ-xNMnJPQqNfesLoxNXmgHzS6Xb0LceGDFM_q7dWGF2rURn8KZ82JDeuUS_1mfXFGbHwWarQEgC6pTFY9bnnaZZKT8O1AMxKmHCfSEkP_7dPXVmFhXUjp6q1u_J7fR-GXY1/s640/12553098_10208588766777052_2734175926813514961_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">family photo with most of the audience<br />
(photobombed by the happy house)</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Dumpster 2016 Set list:</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Doing it By Myself</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Careful</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Jesus on the Radio</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This Could All Be Yours</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Satellite </div>
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Moving on...</div>
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On the drive over, Ryan had expressed a deep interest in going to Pittsburgh's most colorful landmark, <a href="http://randy.land/" target="_blank">Randyland</a>. It's whimsical, chaotic, overstimulating and fantastic. Randy Gilson is the eccentric creator, with a good heart and very little filter. He was outside shoveling snow when we walked the short distance to his house. Sweet guy, but man, is he a talker. He shared his entire back story, philosophy, message in a rapid-fire 15 minute monologue. He's unique in a positive way, but he is a bit out there. You can see for yourself in this video he made with Guster, or "Gustet" as it's labeled <a href="https://www.facebook.com/gilsonrandy/videos/1087787167918997/?theater" target="_blank">here</a>. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjN89eb7DCRmuSPdgtVTbn5cjgHzHd4xV1LwEP5KObBLbW3CQ1hH63pD0g16fLhis2TsXMek3yrM8EXlm5s2cy4HucAhnprXJbe3-ksD5TJZ4Ww7e3IPKGwyQk1cMN1eF8y0T9MGDvttp/s1600/12541073_10208588756776802_7474023053899869381_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjN89eb7DCRmuSPdgtVTbn5cjgHzHd4xV1LwEP5KObBLbW3CQ1hH63pD0g16fLhis2TsXMek3yrM8EXlm5s2cy4HucAhnprXJbe3-ksD5TJZ4Ww7e3IPKGwyQk1cMN1eF8y0T9MGDvttp/s400/12541073_10208588756776802_7474023053899869381_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">the man himself</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhorLvWoIFFZOweQ5NxmFg0NIFkIgSpJVXTUMTR_HL9bl_HMGcG9KXXCuUWBpNnZu3C9_O_XL0mrFXAAB_HWtfyudHJhLzn84b2NBKc26YB_S3ZICR2h7mg_EZFqQ0ml53bdrxiLY6ttpGc/s1600/12622202_10208588758336841_499984450113960663_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhorLvWoIFFZOweQ5NxmFg0NIFkIgSpJVXTUMTR_HL9bl_HMGcG9KXXCuUWBpNnZu3C9_O_XL0mrFXAAB_HWtfyudHJhLzn84b2NBKc26YB_S3ZICR2h7mg_EZFqQ0ml53bdrxiLY6ttpGc/s640/12622202_10208588758336841_499984450113960663_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">exterior during Randy's monologue</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN95D5hZSK2xgVgiN6DTz4NapiGKPqlwQXk6B2vl8U3OJEZ17-yPby2PcPWYhnzfdyLd_mQcqVZVnpH1AVyzHya1q6kNEqSlN3O_R6PvV-6JNTKFRPeSX6_7F-N5HAdl5c65P5yeKe_FY4/s1600/12644860_10208588759336866_5440801292716984942_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN95D5hZSK2xgVgiN6DTz4NapiGKPqlwQXk6B2vl8U3OJEZ17-yPby2PcPWYhnzfdyLd_mQcqVZVnpH1AVyzHya1q6kNEqSlN3O_R6PvV-6JNTKFRPeSX6_7F-N5HAdl5c65P5yeKe_FY4/s400/12644860_10208588759336866_5440801292716984942_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuAtlwg6TLjAK04NHLbQA9JYOKqfZWvARTofqRP9fkHXbCiUqTpBb4vc0bHqS4ZsoXAkyBLn0cZsgtHifCY7H86AN2c5Yw2LupO3pQCdx6hZE1ap53x0MFYQFrw9T1EtulxYgNI2AHFx_r/s1600/12553055_10208588759816878_360041204687990180_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuAtlwg6TLjAK04NHLbQA9JYOKqfZWvARTofqRP9fkHXbCiUqTpBb4vc0bHqS4ZsoXAkyBLn0cZsgtHifCY7H86AN2c5Yw2LupO3pQCdx6hZE1ap53x0MFYQFrw9T1EtulxYgNI2AHFx_r/s640/12553055_10208588759816878_360041204687990180_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">next cover?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1njrMsNKx58PFZwTP1OX5YfhHUXL_cX-Tq_YkosfjsKVWzqxcB6gIpwDnamkMQCAsbuFH6knkGDlrLwlp0ph9RAZaQ7zV_aBfh5TRGKna529Ntwex6xdIJguhNz1BHkVSwbMeYoemmKiM/s1600/12605459_10208588758296840_9133360364717786483_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1njrMsNKx58PFZwTP1OX5YfhHUXL_cX-Tq_YkosfjsKVWzqxcB6gIpwDnamkMQCAsbuFH6knkGDlrLwlp0ph9RAZaQ7zV_aBfh5TRGKna529Ntwex6xdIJguhNz1BHkVSwbMeYoemmKiM/s640/12605459_10208588758296840_9133360364717786483_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">inside Randy's garden with the addition of funky Adam panorama head</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIz7UV_P1UaG1WvFh9kzTkQAljRkJoeDz-RURMwPjAPOKiYeTMN-2fu606Z0h_t539eMNQxQo41oRCjAFsGUHw7HM7ILSmlUsPeo4NvZ5qBrjDBPqDubDN3Sb1EgZYqqKAKvLPRLX9qCSt/s1600/12645210_10208588759496870_1881159838072856144_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIz7UV_P1UaG1WvFh9kzTkQAljRkJoeDz-RURMwPjAPOKiYeTMN-2fu606Z0h_t539eMNQxQo41oRCjAFsGUHw7HM7ILSmlUsPeo4NvZ5qBrjDBPqDubDN3Sb1EgZYqqKAKvLPRLX9qCSt/s400/12645210_10208588759496870_1881159838072856144_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8SfG7Rfb8pBWhDapa_kz-ct8YPqrOVMP5XKVqc3ClH7MH8xxrr1p8uHQwSCLuK3G4i-ecuq4evY94FgW8mvj6u9WpqhXq7G7bMOR8hPwVG__N3cl4NMp1a-toiEiYkBQnsiFOVcvhQA2k/s1600/12540708_10208588760896905_4944842525360407356_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8SfG7Rfb8pBWhDapa_kz-ct8YPqrOVMP5XKVqc3ClH7MH8xxrr1p8uHQwSCLuK3G4i-ecuq4evY94FgW8mvj6u9WpqhXq7G7bMOR8hPwVG__N3cl4NMp1a-toiEiYkBQnsiFOVcvhQA2k/s320/12540708_10208588760896905_4944842525360407356_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaV-4fww7eLadqvvx9SHtACyaD6xqq_N161sdItOzJOM356T5vQqsnpEFPi8yRQX0FAyp4bG4cgh6uW8YrYwNSN4GExbVV5f-EYCsTJFm15UddP9n3MBheoUdwzpE3X0x5D-keGBRZS4Wc/s1600/12552798_10208588761376917_4901238130863927243_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaV-4fww7eLadqvvx9SHtACyaD6xqq_N161sdItOzJOM356T5vQqsnpEFPi8yRQX0FAyp4bG4cgh6uW8YrYwNSN4GExbVV5f-EYCsTJFm15UddP9n3MBheoUdwzpE3X0x5D-keGBRZS4Wc/s320/12552798_10208588761376917_4901238130863927243_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">seems a little too conventional for Randyland<br />
but then again, we don't know what's under the snow</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">randy and ryan<br />
(a boy's dream come true)</td></tr>
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After our adventure in Randyland, we headed back to the Mattress Factory for a guided tour. This museum is one of our city's best kept secrets. A powerhouse of notable contemporary works packed into a small space. The museum occupies three buildings: the main factory space and two houses on the block. Each has it's own specific feel. The curators encourage the artists to utilize their spaces however they want, which at times includes tearing out walls, closets or floors. It's a little bit of New York in the Burgh. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">a wee face in the algae exhibit</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWPPEOrN4GyRWlS1pyqkZGTObe4Z4EGessxxcVrSvAxGkMg8Z8qWs5JD5YtfExbvivQ6mw1gJe41afy4ayoQ081kB292FIE5pLDYibQbHa7MdWR3XJ0H_v-7avHel0XwGetq9bhBYGTlQl/s1600/12540592_10208588764777002_638976172168223587_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWPPEOrN4GyRWlS1pyqkZGTObe4Z4EGessxxcVrSvAxGkMg8Z8qWs5JD5YtfExbvivQ6mw1gJe41afy4ayoQ081kB292FIE5pLDYibQbHa7MdWR3XJ0H_v-7avHel0XwGetq9bhBYGTlQl/s640/12540592_10208588764777002_638976172168223587_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">this was the eeriest exhibit in the newest building<br />
thousands of strings enveloping ordinary<br />
apartment settings</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjETmZTUbU5Nmr3rLOeBn_bEhXrKPvD1uQTEMHjl56m9tC4haKctAHZ0IGAFlDHCcHWtFDgr7A9i0mqNol1LgCZMTu7ErwvxCsHbBH6QObI8yJF7t81EbzBmF12Izx6ZJavfZe3swYJ83aC/s1600/12573861_10208588764336991_5472047637222003338_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjETmZTUbU5Nmr3rLOeBn_bEhXrKPvD1uQTEMHjl56m9tC4haKctAHZ0IGAFlDHCcHWtFDgr7A9i0mqNol1LgCZMTu7ErwvxCsHbBH6QObI8yJF7t81EbzBmF12Izx6ZJavfZe3swYJ83aC/s640/12573861_10208588764336991_5472047637222003338_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">gives off a combo fairy tale/serial killer vibe</td></tr>
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What an insanely great afternoon. I'm still pinching myself. Thanks for letting me tag along, men of Guster. As my niece says, I less than 3 you! It was a perfect early birthday gift. I am one lucky shithead, yo.<br />
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I've transported Francis Dunnery, John Green, Murry Hammond, Ken Bethea, and now Brian Rosenworcel and Ryan Miller in my car... I can never sell Rita now.</div>
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I can't thank Lizzie enough, first and foremost for her friendship, and for introducing me to these fine humans. </div>
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For my every-loving Geo: </div>
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How about those lucky bastards scraping off their cars to a live Guster soundtrack?</div>
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I heart them so. </div>
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Brian dropping the sticks is everything. Ha Ha! </div>
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Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-22595763112189907952016-01-17T08:58:00.000-05:002017-08-10T09:03:10.220-04:00Time Takes A Cigarette...<div>
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I was 12 when my brother bought <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rise_and_Fall_of_Ziggy_Stardust_and_the_Spiders_from_Mars" target="_blank">The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust.</a> I think it was a Christmas gift for one of my older sisters. It doesn't matter whose it was, we five shared all of our albums. I remember staring at the strangely dressed figure on the cover, not able to take my eyes off of the provocatively posed, bleach blonde in the blue jumpsuit. Then my brother dropped the needle on Suffragette City, and Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'am, my world opened up. </div>
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Three years later my girlfriend and I signed up to participate in Junior Achievement. JA was a collaboration between local business people and the city to introduce principles of commerce to teenagers. There I meet a 15 year old guy from a tough neighborhood. He was a troubled kid from a messed up family who was mercilessly harassed at school. I liked him. He was weird and different and funny. And a little scary sometimes. And he LOOOOOOVED Bowie. </div>
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Some weeks he'd come in all tense, nervous and out of whack. Adamant and angry over the fresh hell he faced at an unbearable high school where no tolerance was shown towards outsiders and no prisoners were taken. No matter how agitated he was, as soon as we'd start talking about Diamond Dogs, the bullshit was immediately washed away and he'd light up. Bowie was his lifesaver, his safety net, his life's blood. His connection to this flamboyant artist was real. This tender young lad needed Bowie to survive the way humans needed water. </div>
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Music saves, my friend. </div>
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Bowie, his outlandish, gender-bending personas and his music made it okay to be a misfit. By just being, he gave voice to the disenfranchised, the marginalized, the outcast. He was a true original. An innovative musical master who always bent the rules, subverted the dominant paradigm and was elegant to the end. </div>
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And what an ending, huh? He gifted the world a final album on his birthday knowing it would serve as his eulogy when he stepped off this mortal coil two days later. His life and death both played out on his own terms. It doesn't get any more poetic than that. </div>
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To me, Bowie was the ultimate King of Cool, reinventing himself at precisely the right time. Chameleon to the bitter end. An artist at his very core, making his indelible mark on fashion, music, life. Admittedly, my adoration for his genius waxed and waned as I got older, and I cherry-picked through his later catalog. I may not have appreciated every contribution like a devotee, but the ones that resonated with me were magic. They still are. </div>
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It's been a week since the Starman ascended to the heavens, and the void left by his passing is still very real. The outpouring of love, loss and tribute from around the globe continues. The universal loss is palatable.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/P4d8QrRJvsE" width="560"></iframe>
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(I am particularly fond of this clip. It shows his marvelous sense of humor.)<br />
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When I first read the shocking news of his death, I immediately thought of two people. The fragile misfit from JA and my musical love, Rhett Miller. Like many pre-teens who don't fit the social norm, he was brutalized at school. Discovering David Bowie saved Rhett's tumultuous young life and inspired him to pursue a life in music. For that, I am forever grateful. </div>
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Wading through the copious essays and reflections, Mr. Miller's was the one I waited for in earnest. His was worth the wait. Like many, Bowie was his "North Star". I won't sully his work with a feeble attempt to summarize. I'll let you read his eloquent, heartfelt thoughts for yourself <a href="http://www.salon.com/2016/01/16/david_bowie_was_my_north_star_my_peace_and_escape_was_in_his_music_especially_side_two_of_hunky_dory/" target="_blank">here</a>. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rhett in his Bowie-shrined bedroom<br />
not knowing his music would become as vital to his fans<br />
as Bowie's was to him. </td></tr>
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Knowing you are not alone in your struggles navigating through the heaviness of being in your most vulnerable years is a precious gift. Music is that gift. Music doesn't judge. Music connects us like family. Whether he realized it or not, David Bowie was the saving arm reaching into the quicksand of adolescence for multitudes of fans.<br />
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Well done, sir.<br />
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For the time being, it seems only fitting to put his work on repeat, rewatch the <a href="http://www.hulu.com/watch/811769" target="_blank">Five Years</a> documentary, and thank the Universe for his magnificent light.<br />
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Farewell Thin White Duke.<br />
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Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-19955091987640398722015-12-11T14:35:00.001-05:002015-12-11T14:35:25.474-05:00On Being Bitch-Slapped By Holiday BullshitOkay, so true confession: I'm over Christmas.<br />
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I know. Weird. I'm usually all about the festive holiday themed tchotchkes and lighted tree and crapton of fatty, sugary edibles washed down with adult bevvies. Okay, I'm ALWAYS down with the treats and vodka, but the other stuff... Meh.<br />
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I really haven't been feeling it this year. However we had a late-season warm up which gave me the slightest inspiration to get my buttocks outside to don our porch rails and windows with some Goddamn gay apparel before the temps sank to subzero and I'm outside cursing my stupid procrastination while my icy blue digits wrestle with the hardened tie wraps in a futile attempt to force the twisted garlands to conform to my GODDAMN DECORATING WILL.<br />
<br />
That's part one of the process. Part two is climbing out the second story window onto the porch roof in order to suction cup wreaths on the windows so our exterior is all pretty and shit. Now normally I climb out our so-called third bedroom window which isn't a bedroom as much as a vestibule to the third floor hoardfest and catch-all for copious tubs of various stuffs which will languish in limbo until it is unearthed centuries from now by future generations pondering the value of an ancient LL Bean catalog. But that's a story for another day.<br />
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ANYWHO...<br />
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As you may have guessed, the pathway to the double hung portal was blocked, meaning I needed to crawl my ever-expanding, middle-aged ass out the only other option for me: the 12" side window on our bay.<br />
<br />
I know what you're thinking. "Just use a ladder, Drama Queen." NoNoNO! DAMMIT I am NOT climbing up a fucking ladder. No way. No FUCKING way! And here's why. Gravity and me...we're not on speaking terms.<br />
<br />
Gravity took me down TWICE last week.<br />
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Gravity... is dead to me.<br />
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The first fall was in the studio at the Special K. We have camera cable covers that are made of the slipperiest materials known to man, manufactured by Beelizbub himself. I always warn our guests not to step on them for fear they will plummet to the floor. Last week, in front of a guest no less, I broke my own rule and accidentally stepped on the diabolical cable, sending me tumbling--in slow motion, arms akimbo, as one does when one is trying desperately to remain upright--to the floor, right on my knee cap.<br />
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SONUVABITCH!!<br />
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THEN, a few days later, a pack of us were walking to work on a foggy morning. I stepped on the metal plate at the end of the bridge and BOOM! I'm looking up at the stars. WTF??!? Thank the little Baby Jesus I had my backpack filled with all the useless things I insist on carrying day to day on my back or I would have surely bounced my noggin off the cement.<br />
<br />
Yeah. Gravity's a giant DICKHEAD.<br />
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But I digress...<br />
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So here I am in the front bedroom, standing on a stool, shoving my left leg out the toddler-sized opening all cocky and shit. I can do this. No sweat. I may be a "woman of a certain age", but I'm still nimble.<br />
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In my mind. In real life, well...<br />
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Geo's with me, thank God, as my left leg finds purchase on the metal roof. Did I mention it was metal. And slippery, because, um.. it's metal. So I'm a little freaked, because, you know, my relationship with Gravity is on the fritz. Anywho, I manage to squeeze my butt through before efforting to maneuver my shoulders, which seem to have mysteriously swelled to 36 inches, through the wee window. At this point, I am figuratively breech-birthing myself through our Bay-Vajay. Before there's a need for forceps, I pop my shoulders through, then my pea-sized head, and then awkwardly spill out onto the roof in a crumbled heap.<br />
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Call me Grace.<br />
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And I'll punch you in the nut sack. Just sayin'.<br />
<br />
The spectacle of my exit was so ridiculous, Geo started laughing. He shook his head and said he wished he had grabbed my phone to record my elegant escapade. Had he left me to grab my phone, I would have been PISSED, even though I would have laughed my ass off later. As it stands, it's funnier in my head, and honestly, I need no more physical evidence of my physical inadequacies.<br />
<br />
But wait! Now I had to crawl back in the house. Reversing the entire process, I shoved my right leg inside and fumbled to find the step stool. Somewhere between scootching my butt and massive man shoulders through the window, I got the MOTHER OF ALL HIP CRAMPS!<br />
<br />
M*%THERF#@KER!!!<br />
(insert your favorite expletives here)<br />
<br />
Geo had to play amateur OB/GYN and pull me back through the Bay-Vajay. No wonder infants burst into tears at birth. That shit's traumatic, man!<br />
<br />
So get this. I stepped outside to take a photo of our house for this stupid-ass blog, and one of the wreaths has jumped ship!!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3kTjKmZo0mL27KTz_xEGlhIgBxfquvuav454_hL7dxHy_p3ynioP5EHpFwe69dMxI5gnTaHU9EHXgWnRKzmExPFbuxpS7s_ioE8bOOJY-qqiKNd-Ml022_m4ltA0f3xMfLs4DUxtoFJV/s1600/IMG_5418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3kTjKmZo0mL27KTz_xEGlhIgBxfquvuav454_hL7dxHy_p3ynioP5EHpFwe69dMxI5gnTaHU9EHXgWnRKzmExPFbuxpS7s_ioE8bOOJY-qqiKNd-Ml022_m4ltA0f3xMfLs4DUxtoFJV/s400/IMG_5418.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">are you fucking kidding me??!?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
AAARR%^$#@%&*)(&^%$#&%$*!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
*sigh*<br />
<br />
Well played, Universe. You hydroelectric asshole. Well played.<br />
<br />
<br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-9678467130733903912015-09-23T15:53:00.000-04:002015-09-24T11:04:21.333-04:00In Which My Back Deck Turned Into A Halloween Nightmare Okay, so sometimes nature freaks me the hell OUT, especially the insect ilk.<br />
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<div>
I mean, I'm perfectly happy to coexist with these creepers who, thank the Baby Jesus, are minuscule because HOLYGOODGODALMIGHTY man-sized, furry-legged, pincher-faced bugs is a nightmare world I don't want to dwell in. EVER.<br />
<br />
On the list of Horror Show macrocosms it goes:</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
1. Clowns rule the world</div>
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2. Man-sized bugs</div>
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3. All Tony Danza, all day, on all media sources</div>
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(that one's for Jimmy McParkway)</div>
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<div>
By far the king of the insect realm that makes me most consistently lose my shit, is the spider. </div>
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They are my arch enemy.</div>
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And yes, I know they aren't insects. They are arachnids. Carnivorous, eight legged, beady-eyed bastards that crawl all over your fat face, bury their progeny in your earholes and steal a little of your soul while you slumber. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
BLEEEEEEECHYAAAA! I can feel them in my hair now. </div>
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The thing that pisses me off the most about spiders is their ambush. You know what I'm talking about. You're minding your own business, brushing the chunks of brontosaurus burger from your fangs, bend down to spit out toothpaste (in the most elegant, ladylike fashion, of course), stand up and BAMMO!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
SPIDER IN THE MOTHERFUCKING FACE!!!</div>
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And don't even get me started about the unintended web walk-through. Let's do the math, shall we? Solve for x.</div>
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<div>
3:30am + walk to the car + silky web threads on the face = embarrassing spastic ninja moves </div>
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<div>
x = Xanax and a bottle of red to stop scratching your scalp raw</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGvMa9LR_GFNs5P57WmjrEME96CGqsbHNgU_pwCuYdCz7ersTfTujaOhhjKs2Mg21NN6-PXe3D-Ks5_DSdeZrHuT4i7Yrl1nBYU4sEgzJUcHyozdTQ_ho47sNhCYEzqIIo7-AnSOgOhOYy/s1600/cobwebs.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGvMa9LR_GFNs5P57WmjrEME96CGqsbHNgU_pwCuYdCz7ersTfTujaOhhjKs2Mg21NN6-PXe3D-Ks5_DSdeZrHuT4i7Yrl1nBYU4sEgzJUcHyozdTQ_ho47sNhCYEzqIIo7-AnSOgOhOYy/s640/cobwebs.png" width="572" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">I rest my case</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
This brings me to this afternoon.</div>
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Today was a picture perfect, September afternoon: cloudless, warm, breezy. </div>
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<i>Side Note: How the HELL is it late September already???!? Jebus, Time Lords. Lighten up already. </i> </div>
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<div>
The Special K has been particularly whack this week with studio changes, cliff-note audio training, and other fresh Hell that zapped my brain, so I decided to capitalize on the sunshine and decompress outdoors in the serenity of our backyard oasis. Seeking the solace of the sun-drenched deck swing, I sauntered past the table...</div>
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<br /></div>
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head first into the MOTHER OF ALL WEBS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</div>
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*insert aforementioned spastic ninja moves here</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
No shit! I'm a huge fan of hyperbole, but no lie, this contraption spanned five frelling feet! This thing was like monster huge. Like luxury, high-rise web huge. If Donald Trump was a spider, this bad boy would have his name plastered on it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Maybe Trump HAS morphed into a spider overnight, because when I finally saw the bastard, he was fat and orange and ornery just like that misogynistic miscreant. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
I grabbed a kitchen broom, spied the fine threads of the intricate weave glistening in the sun, and sliced the bright blue handle through the delicate pattern over and over and over and over and over, as any rational person would do. Now the search was on for The Donald who had crawled in the folds of the table umbrella. I opened the umbrella one foot, and poked at the beast until it dropped to the table and rolled into a ginormous angry ball of hate. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Honest to Jehovah, I planned to catch and release the monstrosity to the wilds of our garden from the end of my six foot pole. Okay, maybe I was plotting to cast it in our nemesis neighbor's digs, but the point is I was going to let it live, until it leapt back towards me, then all bets were OFF. He was going DOWN!! </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
It took a few rounds of me shrieking, him charging, me jumping...and shrieking...and jumping some more before I pinned him to the ground and beat. The. SHIT out of him, as one does when one is an arachnophobe in a life and death struggle with ones arch enemy. I am STILL combing my fingers through my mop of hair to rid myself of the persistent creepy-crawly feeling. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Aaaaa, but this is not the end of Terror Town. After I swept the crumpled remains from the deck, I found myself face to face with this. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIzVmy5gCq2J-TzXyA_mTJs5Z6nhi3wYfxvigYYay469_UwYr5BbUcqcChUmz7gwpf561KP26lgWGbbIhR-oTG4tlMj7x7QvK6nsO5qDvPfgcJCfDJdR5N2d8HUJ4nbXSTRMCBuagyOPr/s1600/12038431_10207791825214011_4041871305509132928_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRIzVmy5gCq2J-TzXyA_mTJs5Z6nhi3wYfxvigYYay469_UwYr5BbUcqcChUmz7gwpf561KP26lgWGbbIhR-oTG4tlMj7x7QvK6nsO5qDvPfgcJCfDJdR5N2d8HUJ4nbXSTRMCBuagyOPr/s320/12038431_10207791825214011_4041871305509132928_n.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MOTHERFUCKER!!!!</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Oh, HEEEELLLLLLLL NO!!!!!!! </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Uh-Uh. Sorry, Dude. You picked the wrong day to set up shop in my planter. I grabbed the napalm and firebombed his ass. Alright it was hairspray, but same difference. Froze his black and yellow ass, but good. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Stupid nature. It was a GD Halloween nightmare on our deck. Now I gotta go burn that broom. And curl up in a corner. And pretend there are no spiders in my earholes. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-9455629056187376232015-08-25T20:46:00.000-04:002015-08-25T20:51:24.438-04:00"Happiness doesn't result from what we get, but from what we give." - Ben CarsonBen Carson?<br />
<br />
You mean the politically misguided neurosurgeon who has thrown his hat into the lion's den that is the 2016 presidential sess pool, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ben_Carson">Ben Carson</a>?<br />
<br />
THAT Ben Carson??!?<br />
<br />
Yuuuuup. Who knew?<br />
<br />
I could have chosen a quote from Mother Teresa, but Carson's hit the nail on the head.<br />
<br />
One of the greatest gifts of circling the sun a handful of decades is the ability to be generous with those you love. In my latter teens, I was the recipient of the loving generosity of my oldest sister, whom I have adored and looked up to since my birth. She took me to New York City for the first time at the tender age of 14, awakening within me an insatiable desire to travel, explore and experience environs beyond the confines of our little hamlet. I am and shall be forever grateful to her.<br />
<br />
P.S.: She's STILL taking care of me with that big ole heart of hers.<br />
<br />
Anywho, I had the pleasure to pay it forward last week. Geo and I gifted our nephew, Alex a trip to Chicago for his high school graduation. He has been wanting to go there since he read Eric Larson's <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Devil_in_the_White_City"><i>Devil In The White City</i></a> several years ago. The story sparked his interest in the 1893 World's Fair and the many wonders which emerged from it. The only remaining building from the World's Fair houses the Museum of Science and Industry in South Chicago. You can read a little of the history in Alex's well written blog <a href="http://2015blogger.blogspot.com/2015/08/and-i-would-fly-500-miles.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+2015Blogger+%282015+blogger%29">here</a>. But, of course the major attraction for him was The Bean.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic470iNkBLGYau91XABSV4m12O5-PY7FIZzLh1k-UAhamNzxhfXETFRRGB7g8em6VgxAz7TqROXD0o21xRMTOwnMjEaYSPG1lr9R6fmRu3JnaXp7_OZOfF2HyNIg0BG3zCQwe_bUtkWJ0O/s1600/IMG_1441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic470iNkBLGYau91XABSV4m12O5-PY7FIZzLh1k-UAhamNzxhfXETFRRGB7g8em6VgxAz7TqROXD0o21xRMTOwnMjEaYSPG1lr9R6fmRu3JnaXp7_OZOfF2HyNIg0BG3zCQwe_bUtkWJ0O/s400/IMG_1441.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">I see you!<br />
hello gorgeous </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And who could blame him. The charm of the Bean is irresistible. More on that later.<br />
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<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIm7vB6B1sAvzn4FlcQP36hmw5oMKGpGTB-kK4G97GdpG9Mg1CKXcw3UZVySIiCuitTVAc8VRQl8HU2-fY7PIWKJ_JYrO7RqVCpOq6pe-x2FkpHqjSJPvP1ambb-ICRvotRNK63tzKb71/s1600/IMG_1370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIm7vB6B1sAvzn4FlcQP36hmw5oMKGpGTB-kK4G97GdpG9Mg1CKXcw3UZVySIiCuitTVAc8VRQl8HU2-fY7PIWKJ_JYrO7RqVCpOq6pe-x2FkpHqjSJPvP1ambb-ICRvotRNK63tzKb71/s400/IMG_1370.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">a beautiful morning for a first flight</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7huBAtfYUqLMBIN1swCvOo2Alc7NIixmgi0v0HyUhxfmhRB9vbLimzq3FbzeVE2smZtJQURLppJP0ZkOPC-tQTA4kh1SDeXp7Lf6rz34E2o7WLPyU1I45B7Gd2qswShieyiLxLc7CpXID/s1600/IMG_1373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7huBAtfYUqLMBIN1swCvOo2Alc7NIixmgi0v0HyUhxfmhRB9vbLimzq3FbzeVE2smZtJQURLppJP0ZkOPC-tQTA4kh1SDeXp7Lf6rz34E2o7WLPyU1I45B7Gd2qswShieyiLxLc7CpXID/s320/IMG_1373.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">flying makes rising pre-pre-dawn palatable</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVWHFejSRkYotmzGDieHrZ2vsfUw7_okic1ZStr0UbECgSq6bgmkxDLpSSx7eQ1emjp3ENtYVHc9XhSZCazuveVPjsdD6XeA_FcUHl-MuT3kTf1qE-7WqWZriAzCPAeQBhR5JVBpZEID7/s1600/IMG_1400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVWHFejSRkYotmzGDieHrZ2vsfUw7_okic1ZStr0UbECgSq6bgmkxDLpSSx7eQ1emjp3ENtYVHc9XhSZCazuveVPjsdD6XeA_FcUHl-MuT3kTf1qE-7WqWZriAzCPAeQBhR5JVBpZEID7/s400/IMG_1400.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">here we go!!</td></tr>
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All three of us, Alex, his Mom (Gina) and I awoke at 3:30am for our flight to Chi-town. It was a beautiful morning for Alex's first ever flight. Everything was a new experience for him: the shuttle, the tram, the moving sidewalks. He LOVED the moving sidewalks. Of course we goofed off on them, walking in slo-mo, turning around, jumping off. My inner 12 year old was happy as shit.<br />
<br />
It's a kick reliving firsts through unjaded eyes.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtkM_bYnqvKUtWNx_iQrtTHoDdbLdAox4NTJ1790jps9_lXsO7q41_elrHHv3EkXB1M6peg6r7vcRqEVuHydDRy-iP76EysXwY1GyboKaiiSHPjNlWzELfyv21tZ1jE7S1PrMC-XgpKQON/s1600/IMG_1553.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtkM_bYnqvKUtWNx_iQrtTHoDdbLdAox4NTJ1790jps9_lXsO7q41_elrHHv3EkXB1M6peg6r7vcRqEVuHydDRy-iP76EysXwY1GyboKaiiSHPjNlWzELfyv21tZ1jE7S1PrMC-XgpKQON/s320/IMG_1553.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">let's say you're in Chicago<br />
and you're rattling along on the el<br />
#rhettreference<br />
#sueprise</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Once we landed, we took the Orange line from Midway to Center City, dumped our luggage at the hotel and hightailed it to Millennium Park. The Club Quarters is perfectly located being only three blocks from the park. There is so much to see in Chicago. Public artworks like Calder stabiles, beautiful plantings and the architecture... My GOD the architecture is magnificent! When in Chicago ALWAYS LOOK UP! Seriously. I didn't even think I cared about such things until we perambulated around this metropolis.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR299OOBZy8OB4V8ps6Q3ErMS6lExPXelHr-zx6B3IKxAFrgJhUsx7jHmvPS-clj5DxKcWrnZFnT3BX4A1QeNWpbCph0i0JYLIR2l4aMSu5xRtSv1HC-ADnJjFQYWzYlnNzM-7aWWyPpR7/s1600/IMG_1413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR299OOBZy8OB4V8ps6Q3ErMS6lExPXelHr-zx6B3IKxAFrgJhUsx7jHmvPS-clj5DxKcWrnZFnT3BX4A1QeNWpbCph0i0JYLIR2l4aMSu5xRtSv1HC-ADnJjFQYWzYlnNzM-7aWWyPpR7/s400/IMG_1413.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">of course we made him jump by the Calder</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPdZl3FaXfyFYlEz6Hg4oCAAPKEDR-gPy_TaeBp-y7m7oDOk9cT_rjcyTSG1k3YFTx__cwTQkZPtTM7Cq_ObkJy0UzTc4K6_dXkT7QGRxJvTRGgErWErE-BxLLoYRaqLB-BdHSNobG4Wt/s1600/IMG_1418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPdZl3FaXfyFYlEz6Hg4oCAAPKEDR-gPy_TaeBp-y7m7oDOk9cT_rjcyTSG1k3YFTx__cwTQkZPtTM7Cq_ObkJy0UzTc4K6_dXkT7QGRxJvTRGgErWErE-BxLLoYRaqLB-BdHSNobG4Wt/s320/IMG_1418.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4Al2vdXAZyPXBYFQmqulXl1D9yjFJUw4k1rS7m8PAWi4mBNhg7406IxEJVIX-R0ftrYM2hJ1NLo1c7Y9FSd30lP8qlt6WVx1mJMpSG9W5KI0rbOM9U05onBsju_Cipa4ir4q8l9dSlLG/s1600/IMG_1432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4Al2vdXAZyPXBYFQmqulXl1D9yjFJUw4k1rS7m8PAWi4mBNhg7406IxEJVIX-R0ftrYM2hJ1NLo1c7Y9FSd30lP8qlt6WVx1mJMpSG9W5KI0rbOM9U05onBsju_Cipa4ir4q8l9dSlLG/s400/IMG_1432.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">day moon, sears tower, sun</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">reflections of windows from the building across the street</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">deco at its finest</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpiA9x4Mv4AMnSsYGCxL_Sr50pvUnT4kaoM5Pvu9l0aycm0meLILQd0-xW_C9d0O3SliPuH96fvzMnLio_B5xhpsl5i18TyPgJymnnAJPOMkmrI66dKXWnPE7BYTKz7sqseiRmy0efT0vo/s1600/IMG_1675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpiA9x4Mv4AMnSsYGCxL_Sr50pvUnT4kaoM5Pvu9l0aycm0meLILQd0-xW_C9d0O3SliPuH96fvzMnLio_B5xhpsl5i18TyPgJymnnAJPOMkmrI66dKXWnPE7BYTKz7sqseiRmy0efT0vo/s320/IMG_1675.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">union carbide building<br />
aka the champaign bottle building</td></tr>
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We spent the first day wandering around Millennium Park, visiting the Masters in the Art Institute of Chicago, stuffing ourselves to bursting with Giordano's deep dish, and riding The El north to see Blue Man. We were all exhausted when we finally called it a day close to 1am.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">happy camper</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Art Institute of Chicago</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIWZ8mLK_NjFuKkFOW4r_yFL3AimWjEQx3NrcdN3McJm6ODG3odJGy1cCL-SuOU6kEX-DZztxrB8rDNKoAqSMo_gvX1NIquBW3biwDHYa5comMdiZMPvTukvyQHYeuTszh2wS7d1nCcqu/s1600/IMG_1423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSIWZ8mLK_NjFuKkFOW4r_yFL3AimWjEQx3NrcdN3McJm6ODG3odJGy1cCL-SuOU6kEX-DZztxrB8rDNKoAqSMo_gvX1NIquBW3biwDHYa5comMdiZMPvTukvyQHYeuTszh2wS7d1nCcqu/s320/IMG_1423.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">who is the child here?</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIm_kwZ8O3oZjI5bE4aZY9ExWkhWQy22voKePrM6H1ZdT2yIDvCRof1ZxDR0uG38INtKxpagZCrxnQTvy4Qzsa18AJSS0JvUOeWw6WeZnhLKj8BbuFfEnHF4bl5Sa6U4lVTJ3rF2PNYvJi/s1600/IMG_1420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIm_kwZ8O3oZjI5bE4aZY9ExWkhWQy22voKePrM6H1ZdT2yIDvCRof1ZxDR0uG38INtKxpagZCrxnQTvy4Qzsa18AJSS0JvUOeWw6WeZnhLKj8BbuFfEnHF4bl5Sa6U4lVTJ3rF2PNYvJi/s400/IMG_1420.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">michigan ave plantings</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip8XpynPI4lerMw7Njrj1zXBqayOZgD9NXPw-9R-avkQN6RdBZ-rUnO0Ir3DYUAXzDmpv_qIMIb776HR_mDkjEFXjPBIDtYt9TPaaAwP1ezoAaigjjRnEIvxrQdZnERKP1U_4gRSUyM0kS/s1600/IMG_1881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip8XpynPI4lerMw7Njrj1zXBqayOZgD9NXPw-9R-avkQN6RdBZ-rUnO0Ir3DYUAXzDmpv_qIMIb776HR_mDkjEFXjPBIDtYt9TPaaAwP1ezoAaigjjRnEIvxrQdZnERKP1U_4gRSUyM0kS/s400/IMG_1881.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">hands down the most gorgeous van gogh i've had the pleasure to see in person<br />
the texture is like icing</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGbkHuEgXf6c-pZeRpgGv0T4DfVaBkR2G4rFwIqPqfK8XzILE_nxUfe83AneZpJP3Jh-7-9RJ6XwF1Z3o0d8bwzzTLY05Jgaj5mQz7jc_uLRmGMFvFxh8-cC47IRpEBYi5c-KPO1VKZoE/s1600/IMG_1552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGbkHuEgXf6c-pZeRpgGv0T4DfVaBkR2G4rFwIqPqfK8XzILE_nxUfe83AneZpJP3Jh-7-9RJ6XwF1Z3o0d8bwzzTLY05Jgaj5mQz7jc_uLRmGMFvFxh8-cC47IRpEBYi5c-KPO1VKZoE/s320/IMG_1552.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">i'm not crazy.<br />
you see it, too, right?</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqsEFY9rTmwVXoT5IZfgIqQujgO67iqxPB9Tc9jucozgxiX-hmpUJJLzvc7vUY6ZbGP2BxY9k3Ty8LujddqVdXCwxZaHwwIdne9oli_o3g7K3ep_q9WHJ6vsjSRwEGj-60mdqHGTkk2hv/s1600/IMG_1500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqsEFY9rTmwVXoT5IZfgIqQujgO67iqxPB9Tc9jucozgxiX-hmpUJJLzvc7vUY6ZbGP2BxY9k3Ty8LujddqVdXCwxZaHwwIdne9oli_o3g7K3ep_q9WHJ6vsjSRwEGj-60mdqHGTkk2hv/s400/IMG_1500.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">madame cezanne for geo<br />
so many amazing works of art</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMEK3_9ZuZf1Ge-77XwosFMr-wTXBUnShOvxVb0Y0So6JiDr3tzGvKBXI_h_yjb25hSJPT_4pvjdntzTWvzlEynGOUZXDsyai_-FF4Ki44c2NFEbB-uhg07v6tKevHQiToNfa_NQdHgdP8/s1600/IMG_1481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMEK3_9ZuZf1Ge-77XwosFMr-wTXBUnShOvxVb0Y0So6JiDr3tzGvKBXI_h_yjb25hSJPT_4pvjdntzTWvzlEynGOUZXDsyai_-FF4Ki44c2NFEbB-uhg07v6tKevHQiToNfa_NQdHgdP8/s320/IMG_1481.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">always with the politeness</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCCb4x-tuUd-4WJN7wIGf6h9X0zV9nWQIlR3Hrw1i6lLSVwwdwqgygmrkW7uTUdTqXu9AtsRu5s3bPV2VzAO3-PBH4Hh4gwpLpoujI3wnSY99TgJyPWT9RA6OY8OzUqPGre-qg94w5xIW/s1600/IMG_1480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCCb4x-tuUd-4WJN7wIGf6h9X0zV9nWQIlR3Hrw1i6lLSVwwdwqgygmrkW7uTUdTqXu9AtsRu5s3bPV2VzAO3-PBH4Hh4gwpLpoujI3wnSY99TgJyPWT9RA6OY8OzUqPGre-qg94w5xIW/s400/IMG_1480.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">stunning dragonfly found on the sidewalk</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipNqJEALHAyekxAkASPR9KSuetsNWCNPIrDIuCOgok5kw89LaG-AUdLPEnhIq6J0pZ1j7AHJ4_iVLuvcCsnm4uRg1CZJHvs5Jq5TtMdoe8ubc1DONka3jQu22aM00c8MmOCuWgRH9D7wAv/s1600/IMG_1507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipNqJEALHAyekxAkASPR9KSuetsNWCNPIrDIuCOgok5kw89LaG-AUdLPEnhIq6J0pZ1j7AHJ4_iVLuvcCsnm4uRg1CZJHvs5Jq5TtMdoe8ubc1DONka3jQu22aM00c8MmOCuWgRH9D7wAv/s320/IMG_1507.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">death by deep dish<br />
#fivepoundpizzacoma</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">visa is welcomed<br />
guns...not so much</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijTZCjkHSgiQJnFEWrGzOPCiLRuP1N-hzO0poGf9Zqq7TKkI8moPBnHsspE-IwVwFluXWbG0GXTnGiOc2478HnkTft0auq0egxIZnuHzuQzwOtBkAnDPu0LE3JB3K3wEEA6YARNqXKQdg-/s1600/IMG_1525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijTZCjkHSgiQJnFEWrGzOPCiLRuP1N-hzO0poGf9Zqq7TKkI8moPBnHsspE-IwVwFluXWbG0GXTnGiOc2478HnkTft0auq0egxIZnuHzuQzwOtBkAnDPu0LE3JB3K3wEEA6YARNqXKQdg-/s320/IMG_1525.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">neither one had any idea what they were in for</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglonyRQNeekbgbvs3yPfKRdy40HjXe4dCOTvT4pYeocIhyphenhyphennH6GBxQSz_6U6jFsl4aWyuBSmstcYaYTb068yb9DSJ7T-lEB9BNNbN7eliJSksq8YaW_UQ1DFBKMfGLUl9s2VWIcmw6FxMqK/s1600/IMG_1526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglonyRQNeekbgbvs3yPfKRdy40HjXe4dCOTvT4pYeocIhyphenhyphennH6GBxQSz_6U6jFsl4aWyuBSmstcYaYTb068yb9DSJ7T-lEB9BNNbN7eliJSksq8YaW_UQ1DFBKMfGLUl9s2VWIcmw6FxMqK/s400/IMG_1526.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">interior of blue man theater</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbHnJueSg3hDWw16yL2FKcOQmNRAOGz2FNxP7oD6aNMSr3B5fPUJ61mDKhnl1fDKHs3lP32dd20DUx9MKRATu9_Yn315KVgDqMMGr2Tygz-5Cmm-aAyGmlTx6BmVn6k6EczeI3-05K7bNg/s1600/IMG_1528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbHnJueSg3hDWw16yL2FKcOQmNRAOGz2FNxP7oD6aNMSr3B5fPUJ61mDKhnl1fDKHs3lP32dd20DUx9MKRATu9_Yn315KVgDqMMGr2Tygz-5Cmm-aAyGmlTx6BmVn6k6EczeI3-05K7bNg/s400/IMG_1528.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Nora Epinephrine and Sarah Tonin speak the truth</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXY-GyK9_A3L1hyphenhyphen_c5D4e7pwjdcG8wB81VwLb13hJ8XQ0XCxfr09txwTGnm95c9cIpwb7vu0agTw1iXrP4ox2pX2oGijZQb1MbIDnZ0IC3rMeXgMGc93PO9urgONd3xDSl2YclJpuGcMX/s1600/IMG_1530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXY-GyK9_A3L1hyphenhyphen_c5D4e7pwjdcG8wB81VwLb13hJ8XQ0XCxfr09txwTGnm95c9cIpwb7vu0agTw1iXrP4ox2pX2oGijZQb1MbIDnZ0IC3rMeXgMGc93PO9urgONd3xDSl2YclJpuGcMX/s320/IMG_1530.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">balls, streamers, dancing skeletons and other fantastic shit happened</td></tr>
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In a day of high points, the greatest was watching the sheer joy on Alex's face when he stepped onto the plaza and saw the Bean for the first time. He was so thrilled and giddy (okay, a controlled giddy, but giddy nonetheless) to finally see the Bean. Gina and I couldn't help but smile big goofy grins at his unmitigated joy. It made my heart burst to see him so happy. You know, it's really fucking cool to witness someone's wish come true.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhekpk0zkVJ8bDolDYiDCVBroV-k4LV1jHYrHfvVWjC521ZJrwD9wcbg_dOIGbnj4bDjyge7PE2LxnhCI3oTAoos45vAcO3r6x-ZuTXLBn-7jMCQ1J3IQ9jWZUTn21wNjblJJo5zF3mjOoc/s1600/IMG_1878.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhekpk0zkVJ8bDolDYiDCVBroV-k4LV1jHYrHfvVWjC521ZJrwD9wcbg_dOIGbnj4bDjyge7PE2LxnhCI3oTAoos45vAcO3r6x-ZuTXLBn-7jMCQ1J3IQ9jWZUTn21wNjblJJo5zF3mjOoc/s400/IMG_1878.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">fun with the bean</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrwwZ8SuZnbU_ai9LUlgM1Osl09O3AHso5Lx54Q0VUPXCbDNTVZ0t5EX8J1dpxK3XpuXTFduodIInxs7Fdj5xFjSZrU53pVKT786mMeoiTzbtcEt0onCvjpmy6vShE_kW1Q_JdiksZKSA/s1600/IMG_1905.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrwwZ8SuZnbU_ai9LUlgM1Osl09O3AHso5Lx54Q0VUPXCbDNTVZ0t5EX8J1dpxK3XpuXTFduodIInxs7Fdj5xFjSZrU53pVKT786mMeoiTzbtcEt0onCvjpmy6vShE_kW1Q_JdiksZKSA/s400/IMG_1905.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">trippy bean interior</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8dH8kYHf4STxic1h7eqg6GuhxGmGRKoTvqc4ztBWkApAFu7PSo32nNfig-i3wNChdVgJI_8aQP47TK7urayXi8LBPQnp-LOqhs4O_pii9HVLKHcjv7Z006Gr9fR_fxw7JvhEWg-v5qeQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-08-16+at+10.44.32+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8dH8kYHf4STxic1h7eqg6GuhxGmGRKoTvqc4ztBWkApAFu7PSo32nNfig-i3wNChdVgJI_8aQP47TK7urayXi8LBPQnp-LOqhs4O_pii9HVLKHcjv7Z006Gr9fR_fxw7JvhEWg-v5qeQ/s400/Screen+Shot+2015-08-16+at+10.44.32+AM.png" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">you can't NOT touch it</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtwxk8r8DbrhZ1tgTC3OToCGZLKIQomOFUli4ego1a8-7v6F_M-BQRVKgR87fpXOHVx8185uDrpfplKs2a3Dt8sgpMWXELWRnR2WRL089nldeTGFx-fYq48T1BMOvrZj5LkA6dfma2Uk2d/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-08-16+at+10.44.51+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtwxk8r8DbrhZ1tgTC3OToCGZLKIQomOFUli4ego1a8-7v6F_M-BQRVKgR87fpXOHVx8185uDrpfplKs2a3Dt8sgpMWXELWRnR2WRL089nldeTGFx-fYq48T1BMOvrZj5LkA6dfma2Uk2d/s400/Screen+Shot+2015-08-16+at+10.44.51+AM.png" width="260" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">future album cover for whisker kit</td></tr>
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But wait! There's more.<br />
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Day two started with a crazy, big breakfast at a place Alex found called Wildberry, where we were served Sasquatch portions of delicious breakfast foods including this BIGASS cinnamon roll french toast.<br />
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French toast.<br />
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Made with Cinnabon rolls.<br />
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Hellooooo Diabetus!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">my teeth just fell out</td></tr>
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After fighting off the sugar coma, we went to the river for an architectural cruise. If you find yourself in Chicago, I highly recommend this cruise. We learned so much about the history of the city's rebuild after the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Chicago_Fire">devastating Chicago fire of 1871</a>. It's a beautiful showcase of the varied styles of architecture.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">obligatory ode to wilco<br />
#yankeefoxtrothotel</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">i swear we could touch the underside of the bridges</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">looking back at the city from Navy Pier</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">bridge underbelly</td></tr>
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Before we boarded the cruise, there was a duck derby launch for charity. As some of you may remember, Pittsburgh was host two summers ago to a <a href="http://blame-it-on-being-a-girl.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-duck-that-charmed-pittsburgh.html" target="_blank">giant rubber ducky</a>. Alex, like the rest of the city, was enamored with bright yellow ball of cheerful. How serendipitous to find a big blow up duck! It's like the city knew Alex was coming to visit.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">this ornate building is a Target?!?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">terrier or schnauzer?<br />
c'mon! admit it. you see a dog, too. <br />
i got a problem...</td></tr>
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After indulging on Ghiradelli ice cream and chocolates, we ended our second evening at fabled Wrigley Field to watch the Cubs defeat the Giants. The ivy outfield wall, the manual scoreboard, the infamous apartment rooftop bleachers, the sideline bullpens (pitchers actually warm up on the field along the first and third base lines. madness), the legendary Chicago dogs, Harry Carey's cartoon visage... all added up to a fantastic trip back in baseball history. And we got to see two homers, one for the Giants which was thrown back, as one does in Chicago.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">famed rooftop bleachers across the street</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhSV5jwQ0B3_wFz_xahYD1bC3s-YCfwuOWS2k6ZeZTsuI0S74KOLqLKmkOq-UwBdmTajV9XSIksjhonQEnJY3RFg-oSZ_-WZYOnJoJuUk7xLYPiO0l522oLePa1ly32BKWNhqE1DdmfVO/s1600/IMG_1908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhSV5jwQ0B3_wFz_xahYD1bC3s-YCfwuOWS2k6ZeZTsuI0S74KOLqLKmkOq-UwBdmTajV9XSIksjhonQEnJY3RFg-oSZ_-WZYOnJoJuUk7xLYPiO0l522oLePa1ly32BKWNhqE1DdmfVO/s320/IMG_1908.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">you again?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie17oTInnbRmYLKpDYlEX69J34ExCEYq5jWK2cBzuhSsIDj-UjhO6WH5WRfVSnit7AHK2I0d4iJxXYZ7jj7-GRIPWq7okvZX1BbtwWYkM3VSOh3Zl0RCiNSWIlOuqc6IvKIbTANLvhq6rG/s1600/IMG_1906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie17oTInnbRmYLKpDYlEX69J34ExCEYq5jWK2cBzuhSsIDj-UjhO6WH5WRfVSnit7AHK2I0d4iJxXYZ7jj7-GRIPWq7okvZX1BbtwWYkM3VSOh3Zl0RCiNSWIlOuqc6IvKIbTANLvhq6rG/s320/IMG_1906.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">but i prefer vodka</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vkxwQjX3IMeNJElJLNw90zR4pdcV62yVgqPRzAXHH_XP-C3WjnX5iClDE4aEROU6lpiFaTC0M3UIg3bV76hCBmYpzg_2t04ORhsE4IdRF_G8EcfPq2J8jEEWkdtxLPit2dqejG0m8_UP/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-08-16+at+10.54.31+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vkxwQjX3IMeNJElJLNw90zR4pdcV62yVgqPRzAXHH_XP-C3WjnX5iClDE4aEROU6lpiFaTC0M3UIg3bV76hCBmYpzg_2t04ORhsE4IdRF_G8EcfPq2J8jEEWkdtxLPit2dqejG0m8_UP/s400/Screen+Shot+2015-08-16+at+10.54.31+AM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">courtesy of alex</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp71dA_RMoYK8zmOfTdZX6uV_wteJ1OPkPzJrC404hXoZw8QkbM7LUbKcpx-FkZzNL6VSYPtYr8rIk6opvtjQe5krTf1udE7GF96vktzssgA51IbIKFlp6kKibzEtfC4-ei11YSN5eXnlP/s1600/IMG_1701.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp71dA_RMoYK8zmOfTdZX6uV_wteJ1OPkPzJrC404hXoZw8QkbM7LUbKcpx-FkZzNL6VSYPtYr8rIk6opvtjQe5krTf1udE7GF96vktzssgA51IbIKFlp6kKibzEtfC4-ei11YSN5eXnlP/s320/IMG_1701.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBs0_hlXV9ERySbG-m1eeAKATxrxxrlUPXrKe3buLhHYtIatfivRbj8tENjL9Bd-3HOFRtb-6QFp18VB29TCyznVOVCm4y1vWezKtPmadTuNMkZ6jJDx6FKdQpqO3GDISQGA1_i9YIhcaV/s1600/IMG_1713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBs0_hlXV9ERySbG-m1eeAKATxrxxrlUPXrKe3buLhHYtIatfivRbj8tENjL9Bd-3HOFRtb-6QFp18VB29TCyznVOVCm4y1vWezKtPmadTuNMkZ6jJDx6FKdQpqO3GDISQGA1_i9YIhcaV/s640/IMG_1713.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">beautiful night for a game<br />
seriously, we won the weather lottery on this trip</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaugwyCrVun_nOWxhnp7wqZm2V81eIYFmlfESIKgKVVPV0FLoNxkM1aGc2kmuysAxMYGPVl0Ac1ydZRczcxmMD1XVLpUVVQebNX80kaXXld2eDUi3-O2OdKc9L5h3R1cAt5cOZ719cKCYm/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-08-16+at+10.54.58+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaugwyCrVun_nOWxhnp7wqZm2V81eIYFmlfESIKgKVVPV0FLoNxkM1aGc2kmuysAxMYGPVl0Ac1ydZRczcxmMD1XVLpUVVQebNX80kaXXld2eDUi3-O2OdKc9L5h3R1cAt5cOZ719cKCYm/s640/Screen+Shot+2015-08-16+at+10.54.58+AM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">can you spot the little man in the booth</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZnWpZqSuA-Jm1XcncOzog5HqZB2V4K5O4saeLMzSkH9touZQ0-8n8Au1wZdVJnuGImKwDw0663IBh9AsS6HQavoi-k9C2yOKF4AyeuDwqJwnmFJu9u11vXOoabNWrfkR4kAQ4k8Ojtst/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-08-16+at+10.56.00+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZnWpZqSuA-Jm1XcncOzog5HqZB2V4K5O4saeLMzSkH9touZQ0-8n8Au1wZdVJnuGImKwDw0663IBh9AsS6HQavoi-k9C2yOKF4AyeuDwqJwnmFJu9u11vXOoabNWrfkR4kAQ4k8Ojtst/s400/Screen+Shot+2015-08-16+at+10.56.00+AM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkGzcwE-XEcvJlwkXhXdfRIpIrrzLxsC4ULCpMI4U1aHpkOLaW7YFUiCzsHyhXGwe0WKQfdaJYfXtemlxxwwH_T7qbjZGy2ENLgA8LQgZRS8WLBvClHlyh8Vb8xIJctHJXiDzLIb-LQMv/s1600/IMG_1724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkGzcwE-XEcvJlwkXhXdfRIpIrrzLxsC4ULCpMI4U1aHpkOLaW7YFUiCzsHyhXGwe0WKQfdaJYfXtemlxxwwH_T7qbjZGy2ENLgA8LQgZRS8WLBvClHlyh8Vb8xIJctHJXiDzLIb-LQMv/s320/IMG_1724.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Because we live in an uber capitalistic society, everything is for sale. Ergo, each inning was sponsored by different venders, two at a time. It kind of became a game as to which two businesses would be paired on the jumbotron. Then this happened.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD6sZ71QIC56o2txH2c37eix4h8Lu5h4Ijt4aPyELaKBN8HXLxJECcVfDpxNkwUsPaPukUJVDTCerSLbZVuWVbqFlWFDFQ8Q29PzNRMOmn3b7cX2YtkFc79Wi5SBnXbjhfkhlgiyFxxCDS/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-08-24+at+2.20.54+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="102" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD6sZ71QIC56o2txH2c37eix4h8Lu5h4Ijt4aPyELaKBN8HXLxJECcVfDpxNkwUsPaPukUJVDTCerSLbZVuWVbqFlWFDFQ8Q29PzNRMOmn3b7cX2YtkFc79Wi5SBnXbjhfkhlgiyFxxCDS/s320/Screen+Shot+2015-08-24+at+2.20.54+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Okay, I'm bullshitting you, but HOW AWESOME WOULD THAT HAVE BEEN!!<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNNWdssNtzZrJZRupWQApFOKXbR-Br5etZUHBZWEvMmpj9jfTN86JN1TBPJO7x0VPESqr5zFv1sym0Ls8zHsQJ-qTwQ8-t1yuc_PAbc0bMCte0IZfoFfdWnq14tkbulMRi00bkfmxP-Dw/s1600/IMG_1743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNNWdssNtzZrJZRupWQApFOKXbR-Br5etZUHBZWEvMmpj9jfTN86JN1TBPJO7x0VPESqr5zFv1sym0Ls8zHsQJ-qTwQ8-t1yuc_PAbc0bMCte0IZfoFfdWnq14tkbulMRi00bkfmxP-Dw/s400/IMG_1743.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">museum of science and industry</td></tr>
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Day three was spent exploring the Museum of Science and Industry. We only scratched the surface of this multi-building expanse, but we made sure to see the Nazi U-boat seized by the US Navy off the coast of Africa during World War II. Its capture was a turning point in the war. Without its enigma machine, America and the allies would not have been able to crack the German codes. The story told via multimedia was riveting.<br />
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We also went to the transportation exhibit where there was a model of the city of Chicago with working trains, and Alex got to sit in a Combine.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXV-V-W9gU2QKovUWSzCFIKKffgJwQk9cSrLv_1Jk3bHVdlMaV5p1x7GnKJFOXnNvdWWCAbMh3grKU00VWChjdMTigL59SEHiwr0NPdpWGVI0lwzLJXvxVXGB1dG-Xy5ZYk-tXiyvdZacg/s1600/IMG_1755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXV-V-W9gU2QKovUWSzCFIKKffgJwQk9cSrLv_1Jk3bHVdlMaV5p1x7GnKJFOXnNvdWWCAbMh3grKU00VWChjdMTigL59SEHiwr0NPdpWGVI0lwzLJXvxVXGB1dG-Xy5ZYk-tXiyvdZacg/s400/IMG_1755.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">nazi uboat</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim5z4Zk0pWuH7UxmoNrgxKKR-aE5KOnzq07fWb4Z7-gD4iWSUYL6Eps1zacZK0TMrQwSVe3iGmeM2ds9i46clUP3VUA_7oAaPCm9E-ETxP_hZZWzlIR0HGnUBhmz0bR1xEwmDtEShFOwbn/s1600/IMG_1762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim5z4Zk0pWuH7UxmoNrgxKKR-aE5KOnzq07fWb4Z7-gD4iWSUYL6Eps1zacZK0TMrQwSVe3iGmeM2ds9i46clUP3VUA_7oAaPCm9E-ETxP_hZZWzlIR0HGnUBhmz0bR1xEwmDtEShFOwbn/s640/IMG_1762.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRQHTeXV5xIKJJ3ldXKOCGyp_8E3l0TWPdA_NMWIaJ0F9q_Ger6UPUeTxnYSQlpQfaAZjZ2E9Zwjezy7rSJ8MbCsJGUaTuhYElPtOUDjrQ-hqefNa9p9YlX-S0IOkyoL5R-lON5OzvKXI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-08-16+at+10.56.44+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRQHTeXV5xIKJJ3ldXKOCGyp_8E3l0TWPdA_NMWIaJ0F9q_Ger6UPUeTxnYSQlpQfaAZjZ2E9Zwjezy7rSJ8MbCsJGUaTuhYElPtOUDjrQ-hqefNa9p9YlX-S0IOkyoL5R-lON5OzvKXI/s320/Screen+Shot+2015-08-16+at+10.56.44+AM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">seriously?! wth is with the guns?<br />
and that hair... and back fat..</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQf15t4A7aR-bJ2VF3o1qzxprIcPI0o0HoZnRMb5l4j3bGuHFUcY15JoUbO8rDX0DDNqdBTUAhvfnv0X029KKwGBcdUhS587nmfhDngI1P3twGQLKSfQFdjPhrGN-mwgWEBV3UnopA6dT/s1600/IMG_1767.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggQf15t4A7aR-bJ2VF3o1qzxprIcPI0o0HoZnRMb5l4j3bGuHFUcY15JoUbO8rDX0DDNqdBTUAhvfnv0X029KKwGBcdUhS587nmfhDngI1P3twGQLKSfQFdjPhrGN-mwgWEBV3UnopA6dT/s400/IMG_1767.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">aviation through the ages</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjySBq66SaLIh7GL0_tHBMpPKpErcgFHS6lbAkB_6OHwUUXk5IepTuRjvBb01nmX4iccNG93TvQ31Xhnb5PgFGg3nQZj_YWWD9dWtUHdAqZfW4-HyWO5bHXmTVKC43Qjey3qw52e-x4H_7d/s1600/IMG_1769.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjySBq66SaLIh7GL0_tHBMpPKpErcgFHS6lbAkB_6OHwUUXk5IepTuRjvBb01nmX4iccNG93TvQ31Xhnb5PgFGg3nQZj_YWWD9dWtUHdAqZfW4-HyWO5bHXmTVKC43Qjey3qw52e-x4H_7d/s640/IMG_1769.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">skyline miniature with giant girl in red skirt scaling the sears tower</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjffdIp7dIRJmPjzA_jcyTp3mVSogW9tttilaRccqnkDuT_3RSTia0ueNQlcN_0KoHd6KiTRF3xldk0hc3q5Kcqoco3hgQd3oEkYqNrZnSyccQyrcJmtVfpCahxTTc7NITfthP4wQQm58ro/s1600/IMG_1781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjffdIp7dIRJmPjzA_jcyTp3mVSogW9tttilaRccqnkDuT_3RSTia0ueNQlcN_0KoHd6KiTRF3xldk0hc3q5Kcqoco3hgQd3oEkYqNrZnSyccQyrcJmtVfpCahxTTc7NITfthP4wQQm58ro/s320/IMG_1781.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">that time the science museum fixed a missing bathroom stall leg</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmc3D3GRdzwOGSmTIVDTHqWbE05AjSXgrcefMACPayZvZASl8jiA-QJie-jC6boikB3IxZp-bNe5lpO_yKc57ueo5UIP4Ki0khPeRXlYro2erikXOU0YBUf877c506Be7lNnVZo7snoztc/s1600/IMG_1802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmc3D3GRdzwOGSmTIVDTHqWbE05AjSXgrcefMACPayZvZASl8jiA-QJie-jC6boikB3IxZp-bNe5lpO_yKc57ueo5UIP4Ki0khPeRXlYro2erikXOU0YBUf877c506Be7lNnVZo7snoztc/s640/IMG_1802.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">approximately the 100th starbucks spotted in two days<br />
surprise!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">fun with science</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">time passes<br />
we got to shake our asses<br />
#rhettreferencetwo</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Lady Dispenser aghast at the happenings in the loo </td></tr>
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We rounded out the day at Navy Pier noshing at Bubba Gump, gazing at a gorgeous Tiffany windows display and telling our troubles to the good Dr. Bob Hartley, aka Bob Newhart. Okay, so that was just me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDfoSC2v4yaoOIjDit7kJUI_usAVpJo3fCiSCEe4IJoI7yPj66C4NV_eZFHH5h3DEucGWhJIWsVUTbTeLy-8t3O2xqrbHQp0wt4iIZkc_37x2fcUvaTeZFixL8wnRkzLH21tI7z79IUgXO/s1600/IMG_1833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDfoSC2v4yaoOIjDit7kJUI_usAVpJo3fCiSCEe4IJoI7yPj66C4NV_eZFHH5h3DEucGWhJIWsVUTbTeLy-8t3O2xqrbHQp0wt4iIZkc_37x2fcUvaTeZFixL8wnRkzLH21tI7z79IUgXO/s400/IMG_1833.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">dude stole my shirt</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">waitstaff cues</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqabNAaxyCJ5RCQqMkYhi0KYyBZSjkbxqsllBAXrTg10mNh0L23wgNE5ecWlkTOKTouBIh-cphQTVF2DhuTwytfvcjir84NWmldHdWaEAKy0fgtcRXk26YyozYm4gyyoxAe1Es8__pRMcf/s1600/IMG_1879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqabNAaxyCJ5RCQqMkYhi0KYyBZSjkbxqsllBAXrTg10mNh0L23wgNE5ecWlkTOKTouBIh-cphQTVF2DhuTwytfvcjir84NWmldHdWaEAKy0fgtcRXk26YyozYm4gyyoxAe1Es8__pRMcf/s320/IMG_1879.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">it's shrimpTASTIC!</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAWePyWBhIBmdKzkpq8NPuTfZcrWLcrk0h_sSV714o4vgWET2GvTduaqSqS1RA8AuZwokp8_BMIQ4ydQUlfW-1H_4q5AkI9Pyeyw8sGUR4vkeqnJ3_HNhUpOy1K0qXbytyNfq80dTIYpD/s1600/IMG_1924.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAWePyWBhIBmdKzkpq8NPuTfZcrWLcrk0h_sSV714o4vgWET2GvTduaqSqS1RA8AuZwokp8_BMIQ4ydQUlfW-1H_4q5AkI9Pyeyw8sGUR4vkeqnJ3_HNhUpOy1K0qXbytyNfq80dTIYpD/s320/IMG_1924.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">just in case you were wondering...</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7oGPw5YG_jaGZuw-a4cu68e3nS6go25eM1W22x4CrLV1CpKMJvkZt5oCjDF6srwvA7Zz8HkcNtP9s_4xNMzmlbkDgsaH5zl2rvT-Hp_Z61UnktTFMdZNwnzN2wM-0y4K-59PGxwpkupP/s1600/IMG_1964.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7oGPw5YG_jaGZuw-a4cu68e3nS6go25eM1W22x4CrLV1CpKMJvkZt5oCjDF6srwvA7Zz8HkcNtP9s_4xNMzmlbkDgsaH5zl2rvT-Hp_Z61UnktTFMdZNwnzN2wM-0y4K-59PGxwpkupP/s640/IMG_1964.JPG" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">tiffany at his finest<br />
(photo by gina)</td></tr>
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****for far better photos, please peruse Alex's collection <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/alexanderpopichak/sets/72157656832984110">here</a>.<br />
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<br />
On the Orange line to Midway to catch our plane home, Alex had an interesting encounter with a rider who seemed a little baked. At first he was spouting some political BS, then this happened.<br />
<br />
Guy: Where you going?<br />
<br />
Alex: Pittsburgh<br />
<br />
Guy: Pittsburgh??!? Why you want to go there?<br />
<br />
Alex: Um... it's where I live.<br />
<br />
Guy, gazing out the window: Looks like it's going to rain.<br />
(beat beat)<br />
A lot of people are going to die tonight.<br />
*doors open. he walks out.<br />
<br />
Alex to me: Well, that got a dark.<br />
<br />
Welcome to the crazy ass world of city living.<br />
<br />
<br />
After standing in a ridiculously long security line at Midway, our plane was an hour late leaving. The pilot decided to make up some time by shortening a 75 minute flight to 58 minutes. He kept his word. When we landed at Pittsburgh International, he continued to put the pedal to the metal. Instead of the usual sloth-like taxi to the gate, this guy BOOKED! I mean, he was SCREAMING down the tarmac. I fully expected him to pull a stunt man move and do a hard 90 degree turn into the gate tipped up on one wheel.<br />
<br />
Welcome to P-Burgh, MOFOs!! Now get OUT OF MY GD PLANE!<br />
<br />
Either he had a ton of money riding on his arrival time or he had to pee. BAD. Whatever. He shaved off a good 30 minutes which makes him aces in my book.<br />
<br />
Which carbon dates me to the Jurassic era.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Side Notes:</span></b><br />
<br />
There are Starbucks EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE. It became a joke with us. "Oh, hey look. A Starbucks. I was wondering if there might be one here."<br />
<br />
Before The El closes its doors, there is a church chime that plays. We started crossing ourselves when the chime rang. With an average of eight stops per ride, there was a crap-ton of crossing going on during the 30 minute ride.<br />
<br />
There is "no guns" signage posted in subway entrances, ticket windows, museums, roving dingos.<br />
<br />
There is no garbage on the city streets. NONE. NADA. NEGATORY. After the fire in 1871, the city was rebuilt on three levels, street, through traffic on the second level and garbage collection and trains relegated to the third level. Brilliant.<br />
<br />
Everyone is so fucking kind. CTA workers, passersby, the homeless guy on the street who was quick with directions to a tourist hot spot.<br />
<br />
Dear woman on the Metra using your iPhone to apply eyeliner while talking via your earphones. The train is NOT the place to liberally apply cream to your gnarly hooves.<br />
<br />
It is SO great traveling with a tech-savvy teen. He figured out all of the transportation (except the Uber. I had him on the Uber thang) and found us places to eat. I should start a Rent-A-Techy Teen business for us oldsters. That'd be gold, Jerry! GOLD!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Well, that was our Planes, Trains and Ubermobile adventure. I can't tell you the indescribable joy it brought me to watch Alex absorb every new experience. Seeing his happiness made my heart fuller than I ever imagined. He's such a great kid: kind, whip-smart, open minded, full of hope and optimism. I'm so proud of him and his accomplishments so far in his young life. No matter where his journey takes him, we will always have this little adventure to connect us for all time.<br />
<br />
I hope our three little days in Chicago will inspire Alex to stay curious, keep pushing the boundaries of his comfort zone and embrace the world as his playground.<br />
<br />
No go forth and rock that college thang, Boo!<br />
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Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-56645001385159251562015-05-29T10:13:00.000-04:002015-05-29T10:13:48.271-04:00Super Sized Shaky Knees Festival Roundup Part Two: More Pics, Less Wordiness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8aMcysUoSVSI0xXXkFvCgyqQH6OiD3aU4sIMgJZzXFRBQVQQVkMWCnpcjCcmS79utYsudT0WkzQIfbjtRZhOz6uE3BLykCFqJPaTD0Scu1CGI4mfmrgGMETbmpt8-CKezkyRl2NZdxc/s1600/IMG_0372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8aMcysUoSVSI0xXXkFvCgyqQH6OiD3aU4sIMgJZzXFRBQVQQVkMWCnpcjCcmS79utYsudT0WkzQIfbjtRZhOz6uE3BLykCFqJPaTD0Scu1CGI4mfmrgGMETbmpt8-CKezkyRl2NZdxc/s640/IMG_0372.JPG" width="616" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy of an official kick-ass photographer of the Shaky Knees Festival </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Oh, like you're surprised I used this magnificent image of my fantasy husband defying gravity while executing a textbook rock jump at the end of the Old 97's set as my header pic. Please. Have we not met??!?<br />
<br />
<br />
Okay, so as penned in the prior post, I'd like to share some (a lot) photos and comments from our most excellent festival weekend.<br />
<br />
First off, my woefully inept sense of direction lead us four miles out of the way, and that was WITH the aide of google maps. But then again, if I had not been such a giant asshat, we wouldn't have gone through this snappy neighborhood.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQg1mksBoiVKAT_791QPjD0mNwQ7nDRj81BBPEyQVYV4ZvlntCG-AMY0iV3KKDC_5rBJjM05VVBKFSkUJ-mEYWHUIfQkymcAQAPQcRaGRepWvkmyh2ry178ytuii7tCK0-PIsD94jAcIs/s1600/IMG_0374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQg1mksBoiVKAT_791QPjD0mNwQ7nDRj81BBPEyQVYV4ZvlntCG-AMY0iV3KKDC_5rBJjM05VVBKFSkUJ-mEYWHUIfQkymcAQAPQcRaGRepWvkmyh2ry178ytuii7tCK0-PIsD94jAcIs/s320/IMG_0374.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">stylin' kicks to go with...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhJZbP9Rzh_fKuvSlWrTmPx8e3X3zznXzdeRACCqTQ22a93YKIO83lMTQIv9K-SeGEfDkKAhc8JCbZY4tv_ohUNKSaII0ExpAM1CNUsK9TDWF9pYLDC1D9bcTo-GSn3kX2q5T3g5_KV0/s1600/IMG_0375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhJZbP9Rzh_fKuvSlWrTmPx8e3X3zznXzdeRACCqTQ22a93YKIO83lMTQIv9K-SeGEfDkKAhc8JCbZY4tv_ohUNKSaII0ExpAM1CNUsK9TDWF9pYLDC1D9bcTo-GSn3kX2q5T3g5_KV0/s320/IMG_0375.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">stylin' threads</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD9UoeW-VOouYgEZIn6lz9IPPkN9TFiQTcqN3EM52ZS3SFTzqnhI8aV9LBOz4bZ1TA7tgBZo_0WffDfrOwKANC-m5fLZ2ccDO5VoZNp2QHwKwvrYfiYx-AJto9HYItL0OxUJfZbhFjL0A/s1600/IMG_0376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD9UoeW-VOouYgEZIn6lz9IPPkN9TFiQTcqN3EM52ZS3SFTzqnhI8aV9LBOz4bZ1TA7tgBZo_0WffDfrOwKANC-m5fLZ2ccDO5VoZNp2QHwKwvrYfiYx-AJto9HYItL0OxUJfZbhFjL0A/s320/IMG_0376.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">victim of spontaneous combustion<br />
or midday alien abduction<br />
#AtlantaStreets</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Still...God bless UBER! Our salvation came in the form of a decked-out, black Camry with the air on full force. Aaaaaaaaaa...melting postponed, for 15 minutes anyway.<br />
<br />
Quick note: The world is a small place, my friend. After posting a couple tweets about the festival, one of my imaginary Old 97's friends from Chicago, Suzanne tweeted she was their, too. Standing against the fencing waiting for the Pixies to begin, a lovely, dark-haired girl turned to face me. It was Suzanne! Tens of thousands of people, and she was standing right in front of me? How is that even possible?!?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMUvId9lF6JQlGSHsyD-g_vZFRKX9oy1HALPxFV50YtiMKEnIjzOhUpoKsO1bZtpxusDlIkC_cfsK3oAnpKaFDr3roHganP7kpvVxC0MvT_Doux4r27DdvH68Lk9mE8GUyzm2s4lxb5IY/s1600/IMG_0336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMUvId9lF6JQlGSHsyD-g_vZFRKX9oy1HALPxFV50YtiMKEnIjzOhUpoKsO1bZtpxusDlIkC_cfsK3oAnpKaFDr3roHganP7kpvVxC0MvT_Doux4r27DdvH68Lk9mE8GUyzm2s4lxb5IY/s320/IMG_0336.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Suzanne, Julie and Jamie<br />
the sisterhood of the traveling 97's fans</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She, Jamie and Julie are great, kind and fun people. We ended up spending most of Sunday together, followed by a most entertaining dinner al fresco with our mutual friend, Murry and our delightfully goofy waiter, Tim. The conversation was hilarious, culminating in all of us, including Tim, jamming into the restroom to ogle the soap dong.<br />
<br />
Wha???<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgueTXxRyR9-u-sSzd4W3-lI9MJWF2dxjh6ZWpw0VUxJSBi_zYWos0wFGPqUBGP1pfsPWWw_zc1BvAsILHfRo9T_iVerjr0OJM26sAhoRrga-IJZ8KftZ2YrYdRD6plUIIl_EmqR3HTGqc/s1600/IMG_0341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgueTXxRyR9-u-sSzd4W3-lI9MJWF2dxjh6ZWpw0VUxJSBi_zYWos0wFGPqUBGP1pfsPWWw_zc1BvAsILHfRo9T_iVerjr0OJM26sAhoRrga-IJZ8KftZ2YrYdRD6plUIIl_EmqR3HTGqc/s400/IMG_0341.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">that's young tim in the front<br />
that's the soap dong on the left</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Yeah. The soap is this long, tubular bar on a rusty ole metal rod, forcing you to make a lewd gesture to get the post-shitz off your hands.<br />
<br />
So many questions.<br />
<br />
Starting and ending with WHY?? There's one in the ladies room as well, along with a mirror covering the entire wall opposite the toilet. Like I need to sit there and watch myself answer nature's call. Again...Why? Why? That's messed up, Atlanta.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ixYNFbPr6OGgjra943eQVLm2X2uOzQL9_QJD7vP2KcU8kXrSIgGkSqnCOMZ1WgfW-ONmwZcA6ywxdJDYND4sX-_bwSByv8k7ETtk8MDTfcLGXLHfTyOSk14YhjzamoHbk1pUgedwBoE/s1600/IMG_0340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ixYNFbPr6OGgjra943eQVLm2X2uOzQL9_QJD7vP2KcU8kXrSIgGkSqnCOMZ1WgfW-ONmwZcA6ywxdJDYND4sX-_bwSByv8k7ETtk8MDTfcLGXLHfTyOSk14YhjzamoHbk1pUgedwBoE/s400/IMG_0340.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">thanks ladies and gent for a fabulous finish to our adventure</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Okay, to the onslaught of images...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI0HE5rohv_Xsk4Rij3wTSeEK5rak7IVu-VeiL88UFLOVlpXAwmfyfc48-n90iJp9O40IDyZ5ShBmbf-5ta0rvXXvxvlw3q5n-XsIB9S9yVTklqPOkqcohKatuC1grLocreDSDERkCKHk/s1600/IMG_0087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI0HE5rohv_Xsk4Rij3wTSeEK5rak7IVu-VeiL88UFLOVlpXAwmfyfc48-n90iJp9O40IDyZ5ShBmbf-5ta0rvXXvxvlw3q5n-XsIB9S9yVTklqPOkqcohKatuC1grLocreDSDERkCKHk/s320/IMG_0087.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SXSW Jr starts with bloody marys<br />
natch</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLxzZBq09d8P4vfy87N8b0ryJ29fzouEWBXLN8pgTcj7TwVif1x93FlrZ5HZcQ1w5KpRImXXd0OpqTib54N27fJvhO2mAIzUjPRbqf_3l7Q-4YlIp7IP2xwJOmGkZLaqByxR3TlpGV33g/s1600/IMG_0112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLxzZBq09d8P4vfy87N8b0ryJ29fzouEWBXLN8pgTcj7TwVif1x93FlrZ5HZcQ1w5KpRImXXd0OpqTib54N27fJvhO2mAIzUjPRbqf_3l7Q-4YlIp7IP2xwJOmGkZLaqByxR3TlpGV33g/s320/IMG_0112.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">zues getting... friendly</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU3f65rWY6n-o3pT3mfbG_1-yABPN1LDRE-XyLlw-c0Y2yDZOC0YYeYZZEZ9t6NOJy8dbtPZK3ulVma20GLAw9G40EHWBGN-1DrtuxziiJZvBzd_3O_JkXMqSbTrQ_WH-QfRMmB-RMLrA/s1600/IMG_0113.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU3f65rWY6n-o3pT3mfbG_1-yABPN1LDRE-XyLlw-c0Y2yDZOC0YYeYZZEZ9t6NOJy8dbtPZK3ulVma20GLAw9G40EHWBGN-1DrtuxziiJZvBzd_3O_JkXMqSbTrQ_WH-QfRMmB-RMLrA/s320/IMG_0113.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4MxQS4FHBRupB3d-DloIwQXYpJjEldHMRtAoaNAGhW7tD7lil7XYVGfwslhX5OPbugTa5M7_HQWu-rvo9DG0skFEXLDU57LzdUCOrEPC8Z8uz3JMEUNGcUsIObik0qBif25XJhTCFQo/s1600/IMG_0109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4MxQS4FHBRupB3d-DloIwQXYpJjEldHMRtAoaNAGhW7tD7lil7XYVGfwslhX5OPbugTa5M7_HQWu-rvo9DG0skFEXLDU57LzdUCOrEPC8Z8uz3JMEUNGcUsIObik0qBif25XJhTCFQo/s320/IMG_0109.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">young moses is pleased </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf85SV-PJFz6kTSJypn3xwZfT40d51yU5lKjIILqlLssnNrGNO8ZdCMepyxnTVv8-PeFeAymqXGoDjMggbkh_XFPJWbX-DtvliHXynsXNGSLMv68tl7ub2BSGD5SgTKkZRzNZnxH8T-ro/s1600/IMG_0111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf85SV-PJFz6kTSJypn3xwZfT40d51yU5lKjIILqlLssnNrGNO8ZdCMepyxnTVv8-PeFeAymqXGoDjMggbkh_XFPJWbX-DtvliHXynsXNGSLMv68tl7ub2BSGD5SgTKkZRzNZnxH8T-ro/s320/IMG_0111.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">you can never be too careful<br />
#DirtyDirtywaterbuffalo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGqlGnPGRxXF6L35hfl35eGrNRHgV9DsWNB7VpqqhnRFMXGrLMAcyf3nfdeP4W77Idh19F9gBlYF2Hv-eKLbJsKojOfDPbCYzag-4OcDRyH7c-OSYD91BzKLdC2BDXiElb_GV3P7Qyxec/s1600/IMG_0110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGqlGnPGRxXF6L35hfl35eGrNRHgV9DsWNB7VpqqhnRFMXGrLMAcyf3nfdeP4W77Idh19F9gBlYF2Hv-eKLbJsKojOfDPbCYzag-4OcDRyH7c-OSYD91BzKLdC2BDXiElb_GV3P7Qyxec/s320/IMG_0110.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">port-o-pottys from heaven<br />
#miracle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTi4gijcKVZ1Ok7JfDitp_ODErd3gjv-5CZnOaYnLWaXGKWqo6RHUiG7IxsUksPY14nstIKZfbARTrpO0js59UePbWobj7iKHivkL5Tt9MAey5Goo9YxS9pAplncDe8ospoW4B8R7dC8/s1600/IMG_0125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTi4gijcKVZ1Ok7JfDitp_ODErd3gjv-5CZnOaYnLWaXGKWqo6RHUiG7IxsUksPY14nstIKZfbARTrpO0js59UePbWobj7iKHivkL5Tt9MAey5Goo9YxS9pAplncDe8ospoW4B8R7dC8/s320/IMG_0125.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DRONES!<br />
#thanksObama</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWBqiFI0PFpJlWaLs_o12fe59zVMdVu4gzT23UsV_-69mRQD5h_9NoB4eugDkVgmG9-U7lpSrgybmA4HXZKrwkm26ne8M7Ho9dQmZD2RQooHf9w_mYZVnnmbEosBmRoPS5b7lYc1EIGs/s1600/IMG_0123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWBqiFI0PFpJlWaLs_o12fe59zVMdVu4gzT23UsV_-69mRQD5h_9NoB4eugDkVgmG9-U7lpSrgybmA4HXZKrwkm26ne8M7Ho9dQmZD2RQooHf9w_mYZVnnmbEosBmRoPS5b7lYc1EIGs/s320/IMG_0123.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">young people are adorbs... and baffling</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjriTlRWaXliZb5yHZtVjakYRIel4zeug4vPY5Xx5HqhAwf4mQa39PeFyhE9JdCORcemdWuEoJOSDqrpQj7ltlC7ESHIHBKln5t0CkD2MI6PtG2JoYyJ8PgtXpXZhTq-vBzpXRj0Z7kReM/s1600/IMG_0136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjriTlRWaXliZb5yHZtVjakYRIel4zeug4vPY5Xx5HqhAwf4mQa39PeFyhE9JdCORcemdWuEoJOSDqrpQj7ltlC7ESHIHBKln5t0CkD2MI6PtG2JoYyJ8PgtXpXZhTq-vBzpXRj0Z7kReM/s320/IMG_0136.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our shade compadre, kurt from germany</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7FKva7Z_MLayyeROau56w3OWQ2c05x5-cN-LuiFW5EMJ3oyt4_kYGitQA5dZ-XbGkW9f7Ze5mJciFUpArpSx9zeTUq-K0JJy3ajYbFqQJQQCute9hhMJBmE6eQDfK8FBbgZixVCtWIVE/s1600/IMG_0139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7FKva7Z_MLayyeROau56w3OWQ2c05x5-cN-LuiFW5EMJ3oyt4_kYGitQA5dZ-XbGkW9f7Ze5mJciFUpArpSx9zeTUq-K0JJy3ajYbFqQJQQCute9hhMJBmE6eQDfK8FBbgZixVCtWIVE/s320/IMG_0139.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and suddenly we're in Don Draper's world</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyAuS7cuvfaetQzl2Ng6a0gUIbBhyuzUW8Aoyr-87sP39JJPmgSfm4pCgfPBINcEPrUOULysdtQcaw9CWCRyJwqd061Ipw1BxwS-fOqzI-sjwniTiAR-c00ftNTyPhGm2RnmJr3TeEMak/s1600/IMG_0162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyAuS7cuvfaetQzl2Ng6a0gUIbBhyuzUW8Aoyr-87sP39JJPmgSfm4pCgfPBINcEPrUOULysdtQcaw9CWCRyJwqd061Ipw1BxwS-fOqzI-sjwniTiAR-c00ftNTyPhGm2RnmJr3TeEMak/s320/IMG_0162.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">yeah, i don't know</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWDC8Yasp8ENR9Yo8_AtLmW0ngvsYVDtoN1FaZx0JsuLbqykRrI_J648st_UM1GDXPOxTp5VWCsfDOlQw7JTZRDIX0i8wxUmzpps8Sagxew6mk4n_ldcBebGCgEosBifqDHh29KeVGBtc/s1600/IMG_0148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWDC8Yasp8ENR9Yo8_AtLmW0ngvsYVDtoN1FaZx0JsuLbqykRrI_J648st_UM1GDXPOxTp5VWCsfDOlQw7JTZRDIX0i8wxUmzpps8Sagxew6mk4n_ldcBebGCgEosBifqDHh29KeVGBtc/s320/IMG_0148.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the ridiculously long food truck line proved too<br />
great for this man </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj_ljs8-Am4DJhsF9VweiOvYaRr5dm4v15gTaXg9iCC3BahetFwADP0f75MnMq4Pk5_OwVkaFNi14K-1UAfqQrEi_EYk6QgXHmvO-LiqlsZg6PvqYw3VPPcSErzdeCXbH8ypxBZ989EoY/s1600/IMG_0164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj_ljs8-Am4DJhsF9VweiOvYaRr5dm4v15gTaXg9iCC3BahetFwADP0f75MnMq4Pk5_OwVkaFNi14K-1UAfqQrEi_EYk6QgXHmvO-LiqlsZg6PvqYw3VPPcSErzdeCXbH8ypxBZ989EoY/s320/IMG_0164.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">day one<br />
#schweatyfest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPY1QQJa1W119XNOheIbrE_pFXNASb-67NMTbz2BPGzCz7BlWMpRjVXkyf2BjImWT7lbe8c0zPRaLZPlJlTgpNBUE3CqEcxt069Jw_9QVcb0I5pJ-0suANpsBZst4lX0Cts_UjbJgdzNM/s1600/IMG_0158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPY1QQJa1W119XNOheIbrE_pFXNASb-67NMTbz2BPGzCz7BlWMpRjVXkyf2BjImWT7lbe8c0zPRaLZPlJlTgpNBUE3CqEcxt069Jw_9QVcb0I5pJ-0suANpsBZst4lX0Cts_UjbJgdzNM/s320/IMG_0158.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">put your hands in the air like you just don't care<br />
#holla</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy-vvFplMExne7_RT4A8Hg4Of-NcIKO88djD62mdp1WaeGzqZNdJijjj35Jti2mjhcMVcC570tdG_cfr6P1Fe4BrwcTC63Xna9gm2wcQbHruyzv46usjk-s60nhADGxctWfRVAstELj-Y/s1600/IMG_0181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy-vvFplMExne7_RT4A8Hg4Of-NcIKO88djD62mdp1WaeGzqZNdJijjj35Jti2mjhcMVcC570tdG_cfr6P1Fe4BrwcTC63Xna9gm2wcQbHruyzv46usjk-s60nhADGxctWfRVAstELj-Y/s400/IMG_0181.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cheeky elvis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhDb0A0E3xR9gC_FAjVlosNzWjfxn7xjBnA6uJ8ACT5dKGm2s1i03txaLEh4wVLoAgFRrllCSVpwTXAS2lG2HYwLssG4DZ1Si5CDEJ6j1K7vle5vx7WvqGej6KXOfUEjO24GIzLaARRE/s1600/IMG_0182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhDb0A0E3xR9gC_FAjVlosNzWjfxn7xjBnA6uJ8ACT5dKGm2s1i03txaLEh4wVLoAgFRrllCSVpwTXAS2lG2HYwLssG4DZ1Si5CDEJ6j1K7vle5vx7WvqGej6KXOfUEjO24GIzLaARRE/s320/IMG_0182.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mary ann as the meat in the VIP dead guy sammie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
On today's episode of Jesus Recommends: Social Distortion gets the Holy High Five.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1drfeJCGQgs" width="420"></iframe>
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<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUjnwycNdhDOLhZVnhkCu8UTJ8NeIdG1xwBmASYRzxgd-1A8A2vKAp1V_hyphenhyphenUSdWycu_URbM9IGKQSKvyX18n6Z2o0BhBXolK6lZzIJE_V903nGDj36xZzdO3ylY5mlm274yESPL7OHrM/s1600/IMG_0183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUjnwycNdhDOLhZVnhkCu8UTJ8NeIdG1xwBmASYRzxgd-1A8A2vKAp1V_hyphenhyphenUSdWycu_URbM9IGKQSKvyX18n6Z2o0BhBXolK6lZzIJE_V903nGDj36xZzdO3ylY5mlm274yESPL7OHrM/s320/IMG_0183.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">day two forecast:<br />
extra fragrant with a chance of passed out youth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8Yuk8ybrffwWrjxX0bO1pIRyTzWxbPM269cGLBNJY-TxfLV6UhF4n17_lek-lDGCLFV8KGySwAauS4XDwoHfTMFAomoK0YmXHqBr3xZlS5VxkzdwyA3zf_Xy6jiwHDHmexTVsmqzb24/s1600/IMG_0185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8Yuk8ybrffwWrjxX0bO1pIRyTzWxbPM269cGLBNJY-TxfLV6UhF4n17_lek-lDGCLFV8KGySwAauS4XDwoHfTMFAomoK0YmXHqBr3xZlS5VxkzdwyA3zf_Xy6jiwHDHmexTVsmqzb24/s320/IMG_0185.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hydrate, hydrate, hydrate</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAMFIVRHpuvNIWe8p0Hs0DWep1lZb1kUOveJECNEGD5weeFF0R0yT4TrfsuL2pX-ANfpgcLRxef7FYNKhMwdMPOtYz__GShBNRKKAx5_3A7woGKt_80tusNuUZ09eRtQqSBmFoXKLqlzY/s1600/IMG_0190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAMFIVRHpuvNIWe8p0Hs0DWep1lZb1kUOveJECNEGD5weeFF0R0yT4TrfsuL2pX-ANfpgcLRxef7FYNKhMwdMPOtYz__GShBNRKKAx5_3A7woGKt_80tusNuUZ09eRtQqSBmFoXKLqlzY/s320/IMG_0190.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">shirtless santa<br />
oh my...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTk8GjW2N7KAh6L4jGCLkOHraZZsByfL_mTImb6qBuQ5gKM6SNKz1zqV4vEbXIdWNfSzLjmHPdSQ4Bx0-N09Srz-uzGQ_Whu9wtYNcoN-H92jURzh1Uq7CdPJXTiQxVMd2Pl-ph1sN-6Q/s1600/IMG_0126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTk8GjW2N7KAh6L4jGCLkOHraZZsByfL_mTImb6qBuQ5gKM6SNKz1zqV4vEbXIdWNfSzLjmHPdSQ4Bx0-N09Srz-uzGQ_Whu9wtYNcoN-H92jURzh1Uq7CdPJXTiQxVMd2Pl-ph1sN-6Q/s320/IMG_0126.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">thank the little baby jesus for cloud coverage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPr22c-fEcamVsTMfSvVLHNJnBjAC_mNPtkCGlvzfQs0M0eS1EXjUxRBPN0Z_LCMicvulf6yRPq0YiBb04vdBvJWTOZigU90MagI5FM_3LJ_tmCIjYYXDsv6II6f2q-5ovQIfswaamtM/s1600/IMG_0196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmPr22c-fEcamVsTMfSvVLHNJnBjAC_mNPtkCGlvzfQs0M0eS1EXjUxRBPN0Z_LCMicvulf6yRPq0YiBb04vdBvJWTOZigU90MagI5FM_3LJ_tmCIjYYXDsv6II6f2q-5ovQIfswaamtM/s320/IMG_0196.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mother mary groovin' to the beats in Barney headwear</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKjL28Pp7wBIEJPqys8R4vTHrg_g__3Tuk0ic6s-rh7RPdN-3Y45uTuuZCltSNPICB1JalUx27FQXQ2T0nGM9Xk3QDDQ5kFppV1Lh2SF_EQ4xlScVwfcpsaoO7VeMQy8UTHvar2dtVN0Q/s1600/IMG_0201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKjL28Pp7wBIEJPqys8R4vTHrg_g__3Tuk0ic6s-rh7RPdN-3Y45uTuuZCltSNPICB1JalUx27FQXQ2T0nGM9Xk3QDDQ5kFppV1Lh2SF_EQ4xlScVwfcpsaoO7VeMQy8UTHvar2dtVN0Q/s320/IMG_0201.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">frank turner checking out the bronx<br />
best dimples around</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzNHE7pxNtjY09J8UQLVxnukavCsRS3slR5XEyY65eJIfpGiVGyC6CJck63SvRenZ4gklZkPrfbj8mmX53wPeulCSe1qtbyra6vZVY9I5lOMEo-3Cw5N1D8RMrfXckW9SpA0uVzuG_Xs/s1600/IMG_0209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzNHE7pxNtjY09J8UQLVxnukavCsRS3slR5XEyY65eJIfpGiVGyC6CJck63SvRenZ4gklZkPrfbj8mmX53wPeulCSe1qtbyra6vZVY9I5lOMEo-3Cw5N1D8RMrfXckW9SpA0uVzuG_Xs/s320/IMG_0209.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">judgy bastards</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSxsXy9xNyDvbdUDxKbV5usx4UUET1fKB1-Takd9p67QV0x6nXIPAHKLopl5JTDzFht9hVJhW9MMGVHMUHwCENwAbdbmTJ7eGFG1-LdnAyHooNKvFB1aYS4BTrhkVYB_sgM9BAhnkUELU/s1600/IMG_0207.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSxsXy9xNyDvbdUDxKbV5usx4UUET1fKB1-Takd9p67QV0x6nXIPAHKLopl5JTDzFht9hVJhW9MMGVHMUHwCENwAbdbmTJ7eGFG1-LdnAyHooNKvFB1aYS4BTrhkVYB_sgM9BAhnkUELU/s320/IMG_0207.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">he seems nice</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyZSkP2IFIcyJotksXqINnCRf1DBYzp0i_AOhI6H5o9jXKafIqA9DSUEQogS8W1ZI0jslhP5Y7kG3g6uDWkqOtw__K3gq5YdifSafSr5eyxfxSwi7qxrCG4V9ch378kqzbjG4VivrqfXM/s1600/IMG_0218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyZSkP2IFIcyJotksXqINnCRf1DBYzp0i_AOhI6H5o9jXKafIqA9DSUEQogS8W1ZI0jslhP5Y7kG3g6uDWkqOtw__K3gq5YdifSafSr5eyxfxSwi7qxrCG4V9ch378kqzbjG4VivrqfXM/s320/IMG_0218.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we must have taken a wrong turn in Albuquerque<br />
nope. that's about right</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFyebKmbScjwNQEa5VlQxf7GBJGODXXLT_FFk0J7lIZEYusWhYYF4Cw5q2jx-IKs42LCWjEsyTciHH6gm6iWlWjop9wHD5z5ZbW6QEqjH57BOpkRPj5rx0UGSd_7-Rn2-WCf2VbZ3yGQ8/s1600/IMG_0130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFyebKmbScjwNQEa5VlQxf7GBJGODXXLT_FFk0J7lIZEYusWhYYF4Cw5q2jx-IKs42LCWjEsyTciHH6gm6iWlWjop9wHD5z5ZbW6QEqjH57BOpkRPj5rx0UGSd_7-Rn2-WCf2VbZ3yGQ8/s400/IMG_0130.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the main stage area</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVNZzBxaxQCY2Ic5VinifkJgqMhr-4KWQEIF_79YhzKmLCmzeTqomiUt4v2WyW7vL8kPYbcf7lGOSu72m-Lc6iUuK9jwaF8TBidc6HEVrk0QeOtA8zCZH-fpMwiIDSxvuZlMGjNv9J8J4/s1600/IMG_0198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVNZzBxaxQCY2Ic5VinifkJgqMhr-4KWQEIF_79YhzKmLCmzeTqomiUt4v2WyW7vL8kPYbcf7lGOSu72m-Lc6iUuK9jwaF8TBidc6HEVrk0QeOtA8zCZH-fpMwiIDSxvuZlMGjNv9J8J4/s640/IMG_0198.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ponce and Boulevard stages<br />
apparitions of wilco<br />
#sofaraway</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
**warning: a ridiculous amount of Old 97's photos are about to fly at yo face<br />
***i can't quit them<br />
****i'm not sorry<br />
<br />
<br />
THIS is how you start a concert!<br />
The question remains, how in the hell does Rhett not bruise his brain?<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/z9FW0ECwhkw" width="420"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
All that beautiful hair swinging to and fro...<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEx_3F1wNPsk1zpkxL0gMCTC9EtIkDgPPasZz6Kmhfm0KlexaMCxagqtxyC7wAhnZGgS14opUZCXio-2QOUzYhke6QUfY6acIsl-8LRp9smooNfSiTvE7n2fDVsKPlrTU2hc5ylBdJ6Gvq/s1600/IMG_0256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEx_3F1wNPsk1zpkxL0gMCTC9EtIkDgPPasZz6Kmhfm0KlexaMCxagqtxyC7wAhnZGgS14opUZCXio-2QOUzYhke6QUfY6acIsl-8LRp9smooNfSiTvE7n2fDVsKPlrTU2hc5ylBdJ6Gvq/s400/IMG_0256.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">murry!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFpKhIwH0MyQUaMFa5Lgz4XJ9jG2XHKCjxdXlAECHWmGNiFxWEFV93t4GRGH2wd7z81Spit6xjaExosb5Z9zC1iTOqbnAn1px5VFKhcg53jg0Afgs7UEJweBL269kwLMjCqksaU4rEpxx/s1600/IMG_0280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFpKhIwH0MyQUaMFa5Lgz4XJ9jG2XHKCjxdXlAECHWmGNiFxWEFV93t4GRGH2wd7z81Spit6xjaExosb5Z9zC1iTOqbnAn1px5VFKhcg53jg0Afgs7UEJweBL269kwLMjCqksaU4rEpxx/s640/IMG_0280.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my favorite front line</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*swoon*<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCihiuEw8-sSCLe7XCSgPQOCqFGOa9O0GDTkh1yX0RdIkGLpChRaemGvSLc9kOTrgU1izVn0nMa_PyiLkhhOEhLAajCY9ZprF6qQg-fypWgSo5h4FqD2NlAzavbI48P5S3kzBNMyc1t5g/s1600/IMG_0398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCihiuEw8-sSCLe7XCSgPQOCqFGOa9O0GDTkh1yX0RdIkGLpChRaemGvSLc9kOTrgU1izVn0nMa_PyiLkhhOEhLAajCY9ZprF6qQg-fypWgSo5h4FqD2NlAzavbI48P5S3kzBNMyc1t5g/s640/IMG_0398.JPG" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">he has as much fun as us<br />
courtesy of shaky knees</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs6l7ryypKNp9c9DfT8LTnO51ozHtkzKSMIijevJPOrFWxMUXTn0mlOgPXqPQQhnM-USYrIKD2NpBFfAi8VoJga6cNBEgkC7EkCc5Egt6kOlECvDe9mgSqUmX4fABfwdFyiGQ2pUcAsAA/s1600/IMG_0281.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs6l7ryypKNp9c9DfT8LTnO51ozHtkzKSMIijevJPOrFWxMUXTn0mlOgPXqPQQhnM-USYrIKD2NpBFfAi8VoJga6cNBEgkC7EkCc5Egt6kOlECvDe9mgSqUmX4fABfwdFyiGQ2pUcAsAA/s640/IMG_0281.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoZVIGh_2eSSEvyuMEKcnid3tsmcTft5gbzHIOVjBnGmXpWFe1_iLZsOdJTzJcoA00JOee7QQ4Ml9f_AEmlHvkgqp4ArMNa9AXkMnF05tewI02fh_wKAtQ9fcKv39daD5KHZSCnd060DA/s1600/IMG_0282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoZVIGh_2eSSEvyuMEKcnid3tsmcTft5gbzHIOVjBnGmXpWFe1_iLZsOdJTzJcoA00JOee7QQ4Ml9f_AEmlHvkgqp4ArMNa9AXkMnF05tewI02fh_wKAtQ9fcKv39daD5KHZSCnd060DA/s640/IMG_0282.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">seriously, these guys are my church<br />
how appropriate they played on a sunday</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhFg6g67FLcjoxTvSPFuepwTjrGcMHvotVySw7veD02SWjLpjNBuM3-O34Hkai54zjkiUJeIJuVHE2MOGVaJkErn7r8O_wwXbDvtc3A11UjF-q7cmaA1NYojdVj6OmHspIrte_QYtaVr4/s1600/P1080073.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhFg6g67FLcjoxTvSPFuepwTjrGcMHvotVySw7veD02SWjLpjNBuM3-O34Hkai54zjkiUJeIJuVHE2MOGVaJkErn7r8O_wwXbDvtc3A11UjF-q7cmaA1NYojdVj6OmHspIrte_QYtaVr4/s640/P1080073.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2dR3vwhR_5TlceJ_7SJdh5nmw27r12l8hew0firvhA3XK7h1D-zh_RliwFJR1qF5wZW_Q1mUrrsdeTfDIHtZckMAhoLzYu1XtNbx-CrN7bkb-GvUq0mxw2lIEqWBiMr0J0Ad9hWVHebs/s1600/P1080074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2dR3vwhR_5TlceJ_7SJdh5nmw27r12l8hew0firvhA3XK7h1D-zh_RliwFJR1qF5wZW_Q1mUrrsdeTfDIHtZckMAhoLzYu1XtNbx-CrN7bkb-GvUq0mxw2lIEqWBiMr0J0Ad9hWVHebs/s400/P1080074.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">that hair...<br />
raaaawr</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCasRzb8eb69V2cCQsZkHt9RbHcoXt9HVkOpL6HEZEGVDUQMHC_IpUDbNWAvUqWS9eHgC6ibVyKtUA3OIbeyAW5y9BjEOuNtgkz9AbDSoUkyjEOU0ruvdyNF1ZlxBOSa26ZkvWgz9b92w/s1600/IMG_0355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCasRzb8eb69V2cCQsZkHt9RbHcoXt9HVkOpL6HEZEGVDUQMHC_IpUDbNWAvUqWS9eHgC6ibVyKtUA3OIbeyAW5y9BjEOuNtgkz9AbDSoUkyjEOU0ruvdyNF1ZlxBOSa26ZkvWgz9b92w/s400/IMG_0355.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">courtesy gingersnapped</td></tr>
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Nikki Lane and her short shorts help out in the rollicking 4 Leaf Clover.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_9adsCZIQ9w" width="560"></iframe>
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I've seen a number of ladies join in on this song. One of these days ONE of them will actually match the head banging intensity set forth by Mr. Miller.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy68r772GzLeLQNshPwHOT9oWJBjEaO2D8YU8eqmyuf-O_S63rU6R7fOeHWy3wQ5TIWMyaJyUSVxa2aU5Zd1Lnjg-VtnosdaBOgvTra3NpxtQjBled50TRqJPLgdLBALn3ZLJHkr6nJS8/s1600/IMG_0311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy68r772GzLeLQNshPwHOT9oWJBjEaO2D8YU8eqmyuf-O_S63rU6R7fOeHWy3wQ5TIWMyaJyUSVxa2aU5Zd1Lnjg-VtnosdaBOgvTra3NpxtQjBled50TRqJPLgdLBALn3ZLJHkr6nJS8/s400/IMG_0311.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">i love them so hard<br />
amen</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">nikki lane featuring her shorty shorts<br />
they make me nervous<br />
the shorts, not her</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmA23kVlDwLyZnXkEta9YgwYDs-L5zbV_ihh9gpWWXvdDm-DKgumkC0L28aTgom91-QYICcyIWGuA8k_qJMbuYrbelA_c3N8mrbtWpUexgJ5l5YR8Lzg6N4rc8310i8rLzdmYx-hs9w7RP/s1600/IMG_0222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmA23kVlDwLyZnXkEta9YgwYDs-L5zbV_ihh9gpWWXvdDm-DKgumkC0L28aTgom91-QYICcyIWGuA8k_qJMbuYrbelA_c3N8mrbtWpUexgJ5l5YR8Lzg6N4rc8310i8rLzdmYx-hs9w7RP/s320/IMG_0222.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">waiting for frank turner in Hell<br />
(the masquerade)<br />
<div>
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</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaADg6org9V4S9WaFp9xvUm05yI6rsElzV2LwbZd_kYoWAhl94Y_69gZaNav52TmB75bTCwBAfgFAsBbP67e1VSi15h00g8TS8NsXMH7BEjk_zWgm-ZGbuvJ1d8hffy7h50R-pxmHgVhE/s1600/P1080071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaADg6org9V4S9WaFp9xvUm05yI6rsElzV2LwbZd_kYoWAhl94Y_69gZaNav52TmB75bTCwBAfgFAsBbP67e1VSi15h00g8TS8NsXMH7BEjk_zWgm-ZGbuvJ1d8hffy7h50R-pxmHgVhE/s640/P1080071.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">frank turner at masquerade<br />
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</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpY9-oiujrly4n5dtB5ZXvZzceAXaNv8MVNq6Gl8KUGNSDkGepIqguWpxcuD6Tq5PV-mnmHhbqoSU1Rc6y8tVyaH9v-Bzg2GtSQnjrnudIpg08qadHhTv6BlTfwPpRF3J0Cv1tHIbxfMw/s1600/IMG_0235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpY9-oiujrly4n5dtB5ZXvZzceAXaNv8MVNq6Gl8KUGNSDkGepIqguWpxcuD6Tq5PV-mnmHhbqoSU1Rc6y8tVyaH9v-Bzg2GtSQnjrnudIpg08qadHhTv6BlTfwPpRF3J0Cv1tHIbxfMw/s320/IMG_0235.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRRayqSU2hxDGOac0oFQs5w2NOg8CM1pteoK67RCUjY3P2vWbA4mcouMbBRD7SnB9UqNDIHHwBsnU3RutrKGuadGhYVphzv6QcirP7b9GRIf6o-b9qKTutMPz_0oYhFDSKlcccXWUzltY/s1600/IMG_0231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRRayqSU2hxDGOac0oFQs5w2NOg8CM1pteoK67RCUjY3P2vWbA4mcouMbBRD7SnB9UqNDIHHwBsnU3RutrKGuadGhYVphzv6QcirP7b9GRIf6o-b9qKTutMPz_0oYhFDSKlcccXWUzltY/s400/IMG_0231.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITxpYcaZqSIpxbHP-JJJJTk12eEOfsrgGyGfy_AE9KQwdQZQ1l-4shgRGskWaIp3NG4Gu4uJj54apzg9vTuwA81i6OQwpayEdtbbxx6f9EeaNJkmti3_vbs4cWRwzsuXnU7z0RyJKPLs/s1600/IMG_0360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITxpYcaZqSIpxbHP-JJJJTk12eEOfsrgGyGfy_AE9KQwdQZQ1l-4shgRGskWaIp3NG4Gu4uJj54apzg9vTuwA81i6OQwpayEdtbbxx6f9EeaNJkmti3_vbs4cWRwzsuXnU7z0RyJKPLs/s320/IMG_0360.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">frank turner surfing at the masquerade<br />
photo courtesy of a professional<br />
<div>
</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
</div>
Man, these people LOVE him!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hrk5rc7T0YU" width="560"></iframe>
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Recovery. My favorite. How great is it to hear a packed house sing your words back to you? Pretty damn great!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8ap-lTSJ5Fg" width="560"></iframe>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/AXowx50YHno" width="560"></iframe>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Times; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; orphans: auto; padding: 6px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAKwkKb-_7Ulv-gY4J1MsNdb_4MwXV16vTKw1ZeSmPWTvuwHqj0bbp1WqIdrSDKExUmZTUZa3qxv-jT4Vmrn-4HuwnqkQTL34Sw096eRHAp0tg8UQr3V-gKmD3iqrluiL-A17Q_csCblp/s1600/IMG_0323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAKwkKb-_7Ulv-gY4J1MsNdb_4MwXV16vTKw1ZeSmPWTvuwHqj0bbp1WqIdrSDKExUmZTUZa3qxv-jT4Vmrn-4HuwnqkQTL34Sw096eRHAp0tg8UQr3V-gKmD3iqrluiL-A17Q_csCblp/s400/IMG_0323.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">festival frank</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI0ywysorX1zbk9AobD_Go-LBVwecIumjP7FeUaFsQJu5LWth8pBkO1qMuTEeYCxCt_nQZ2PtwoLOod4hmV2G5BhvDr1KfqfmErcsz-3T8oXdPMWwBcoLmkwsBmSa8Guk3uhh3L7vj2aU/s1600/IMG_0361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI0ywysorX1zbk9AobD_Go-LBVwecIumjP7FeUaFsQJu5LWth8pBkO1qMuTEeYCxCt_nQZ2PtwoLOod4hmV2G5BhvDr1KfqfmErcsz-3T8oXdPMWwBcoLmkwsBmSa8Guk3uhh3L7vj2aU/s320/IMG_0361.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">frank turner doing his thing<br />
<div>
i'm still a little bitter about missing this AGAIN<br />
photo courtesy of shaky knees</div>
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One more, because it's fun to watch all that punk energy. And he cusses. :)<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/H8rMc6xm6XY" width="560"></iframe>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnuJoteo6s2ewX-mOeGhv7sLrm4Ak7HnFlwwNGZgrA9Y0yUeji0VQwQTG-tnGJVLkVoHkMpK9JIx9CRSjgupskJD8wySfL_NTAHsJGH6o_HLBCXhymOrrzRGYoVS5SZ87lgxG4fEFf3Ko/s1600/P1070992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnuJoteo6s2ewX-mOeGhv7sLrm4Ak7HnFlwwNGZgrA9Y0yUeji0VQwQTG-tnGJVLkVoHkMpK9JIx9CRSjgupskJD8wySfL_NTAHsJGH6o_HLBCXhymOrrzRGYoVS5SZ87lgxG4fEFf3Ko/s400/P1070992.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">jukebox the ghost</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLymnRnjtMlMNBXW4UOr6O-1VJcJmUJEZhHjZPR_SusqBG0kRVMEf8sPqosOTf9x0yy3zkkVd37MFXqsQWj-0c-lvEyfBE5SM4kMLrYuaEYlvCnXpnRkalhJt1dY697SDkwwhVsw-E28A/s1600/P1070996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLymnRnjtMlMNBXW4UOr6O-1VJcJmUJEZhHjZPR_SusqBG0kRVMEf8sPqosOTf9x0yy3zkkVd37MFXqsQWj-0c-lvEyfBE5SM4kMLrYuaEYlvCnXpnRkalhJt1dY697SDkwwhVsw-E28A/s640/P1070996.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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They are a fun trio. Great way to start a three-day festival.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9kc482brsGc" width="420"></iframe>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvigk9TpnkKiO9h7EG1BHSqrENRwWZV4CYELh1fdTUcQNNxoOAyf1QgcjX9zZfwthA9mFp73mh4ESzV2zQ8uLYBnTQY2Gg_cFwQnkkKcCdkcPNpQjfO05aw_G7Cit5dIsS9n65cZ8qn1I/s1600/P1080013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvigk9TpnkKiO9h7EG1BHSqrENRwWZV4CYELh1fdTUcQNNxoOAyf1QgcjX9zZfwthA9mFp73mh4ESzV2zQ8uLYBnTQY2Gg_cFwQnkkKcCdkcPNpQjfO05aw_G7Cit5dIsS9n65cZ8qn1I/s400/P1080013.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKW-8YXvI6tGFhtoxOWsYb7MDVeLNozHBL-skzEcURnUUIJIFJHtK09kOnX2ZBHrwrrWxUMYSf-yIOzostK3h_zqhH13fB3Tx46Le2SL7FLTUQsCim4ry-PqXaT3TTu08ETJou3Qp0SoM/s1600/P1080002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKW-8YXvI6tGFhtoxOWsYb7MDVeLNozHBL-skzEcURnUUIJIFJHtK09kOnX2ZBHrwrrWxUMYSf-yIOzostK3h_zqhH13fB3Tx46Le2SL7FLTUQsCim4ry-PqXaT3TTu08ETJou3Qp0SoM/s640/P1080002.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the kooks<br />
one of my favorite bands from the UK or anywhere</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinAw0GjiQakSYzWUyY6G3BY_9sNsAV-I7HcqSw3a7mJUhzDYxe6U1uw1N49HP593FpJk4TxwVn0zSLLSBKeXPHqB8dn7kPaKvp9vCay8VwQt6agiyPqvI9N_eyLFAZUi5YoZaSeT210b0/s1600/P1080003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinAw0GjiQakSYzWUyY6G3BY_9sNsAV-I7HcqSw3a7mJUhzDYxe6U1uw1N49HP593FpJk4TxwVn0zSLLSBKeXPHqB8dn7kPaKvp9vCay8VwQt6agiyPqvI9N_eyLFAZUi5YoZaSeT210b0/s320/P1080003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnJ8X7BKBnhD1TjGhlPxZzB0WZO5qDr1wU72IU9I6oG_CDbUFSHE-PuAWpUmN__BQqhp9N-iD7ctp86ENFueswpZe6SntgKvAC1X58o3JYHyuVN0-2gYgsewEGa1kOoyQ4QpZioNE7PmWV/s1600/P1080010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnJ8X7BKBnhD1TjGhlPxZzB0WZO5qDr1wU72IU9I6oG_CDbUFSHE-PuAWpUmN__BQqhp9N-iD7ctp86ENFueswpZe6SntgKvAC1X58o3JYHyuVN0-2gYgsewEGa1kOoyQ4QpZioNE7PmWV/s400/P1080010.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">foggy kooks</td></tr>
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Doo Doo.. Doo... Doo Doo.. Doo<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/bNQIRcNc6yI" width="560"></iframe>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8NBuuYb6SDse0a3A4eSYIgIc-eqXeGu3qSiQlvTAszzKO6YMyTGCxtWVydGjAw6jLRgG1PjlGxei-es22rdmEgNfME1jAc77yUIFl0jZqNZU_UBd-pOxMw_1366CAt5VQivfH02ilr8A/s1600/P1080024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8NBuuYb6SDse0a3A4eSYIgIc-eqXeGu3qSiQlvTAszzKO6YMyTGCxtWVydGjAw6jLRgG1PjlGxei-es22rdmEgNfME1jAc77yUIFl0jZqNZU_UBd-pOxMw_1366CAt5VQivfH02ilr8A/s400/P1080024.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">kaiser chiefs</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGjtER83yG_MPGMtyL0P0XXb67ioX9EgP4odAe5IbSCHQ0fULzMkvy80FlGTP08iAkFip0kBv5IJvFuojgX5-vqlg2Nry5ot17HKyeGvNOVJiOljDomaTi6BGwTOw0TEUc4avY_JryclR/s1600/P1080022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGjtER83yG_MPGMtyL0P0XXb67ioX9EgP4odAe5IbSCHQ0fULzMkvy80FlGTP08iAkFip0kBv5IJvFuojgX5-vqlg2Nry5ot17HKyeGvNOVJiOljDomaTi6BGwTOw0TEUc4avY_JryclR/s640/P1080022.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">kaiser chiefs</td></tr>
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The Dude has got the MOVES!!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rwFdDlKsSdo" width="420"></iframe>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">large party marker<br />
clearly they are festival veterans</td></tr>
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One of the new finds for us was Real Estate. They sound a bit like Death Cab For Cutie. We really enjoyed them.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the pixies black francis</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">crowd surfing at the pixies</td></tr>
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One of the three songs I like, Wave of Mutilation.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"> muppet boner</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the strokes</td></tr>
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Another new band for me. I learned I can't resist a mariachi band. No better way to shake off the hangover than this kind of polka.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">ryan adams</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our view for Dr. Dog<br />
laying in the shade with a cocktail...<br />
a bit of heaven</td></tr>
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And lastly, few bands crush it like the Avett Brothers. This setting is a perfect fit for them.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">all festivals begin and end with bloody marys<br />
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Many thanks to Mary Ann for reprising her Betty to my Wilma. I think we both needed the release that only music festivals with great bands and great friends can provide. Until next time...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a little love in my cup<br />
i love you, too shaky knees<br />
well done!</td></tr>
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<br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-75149116412495026482015-05-20T16:26:00.000-04:002015-05-23T08:19:31.506-04:00In Which Barney Blows Betty And Wilma Off At The Shaking Knees FestivalOkay, so first of all...OMGERD! I'm penning (read clicking) this drivel on my ... wait for it...<br />
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BRAND NEW MACBOOKPRO, MUTHAFUCKAS!!!<br />
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That's right. This Luddite has finally got her bad self her own machine to pollute with an endless stream of redundant photos, musical bootlegs and Internet bile until it moves like a slug using a walker to cross a four-lane highway, and I curse like a sailor at it's fractured framework, poking and pounding at random keys with increased velocity and fervor until I am reduced to a literal Screaming Mimi, howling my frustrations at the top of my lungs before bursting into uncontrollable sobs of damnation, vowing to blow up every pasty-faced, egghead, computer genius nerd for the ruination of society and my fragile self confidence.<br />
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Then Geo will casually reach over, remove the blue steel 45 clutched in my hands and press the power switch on.<br />
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Or so I envision the disagreeable tableau resulting from my incompetent computer skill level. But I digress...<br />
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So, my long-time friend, Mary Ann and I (formerly known as Betty and Wilma from our SXSW experience <a href="http://blame-it-on-being-a-girl.blogspot.com/2010/03/yabba-dabba.html">five years ago)</a> haven't been on a music adventure since 2010. Atlanta's Shaky Knees Festival came on our radar because my band crush, Old 97's were on the bill. Have I mentioned my love for them before?<br />
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hashtag sarcasm (as the kids say)<br />
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Anywho, truth be told the line up was so incredible that had my favorite foursome NOT been involved, we still would have gone. No shit. The Avett Brothers, The Pixies, The Strokes, Wilco, Dr. Dog, The Kooks, Jukebox the Ghost, Frank Turner, Kaiser Chiefs, Mountain Goats...<br />
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HOLY HELL!!<br />
<br />
It took all of one day to jump online and buy a pass. Surely Howard would jump at the chance to reprise his role as Barney, the lone Y chromosome in our music fest, right?<br />
<br />
Wrong.<br />
<br />
He declined.<br />
<br />
Because he is a pussy.<br />
<br />
Then he posted this photo, and I kinda lost my breath.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlyjhg2rWOpjWeZYTACUhVkxmCzGjuV-mp12sPNJjYEWSBLoEPPZzwrpMHoj2-6SuM8Tw3l6FarUuTRETgte2IO6xVkbP5WTnHxdRBDz_q32bdENxkaPtjkOtSqfh0HLFBeUUD98M2_qQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-05-19+at+4.32.27+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlyjhg2rWOpjWeZYTACUhVkxmCzGjuV-mp12sPNJjYEWSBLoEPPZzwrpMHoj2-6SuM8Tw3l6FarUuTRETgte2IO6xVkbP5WTnHxdRBDz_q32bdENxkaPtjkOtSqfh0HLFBeUUD98M2_qQ/s400/Screen+Shot+2015-05-19+at+4.32.27+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">throngs. in the hot georgia sun.<br />
what was i thinking??</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Clearly, I had not thought this through.<br />
<br />
I had the image of SXSW in my head. You know, lots of little bars to go in and out of, ample restaurants, indoor plumbing...<br />
<br />
There was NO indoor plumbing. This was PORT-O-JOHN CITY, PEOPLE!!<br />
<br />
But you know what? Shaky Knees was a fantastic event. In its third year, this festival was extremely well thought out and executed. Bands started and ended at the scheduled times, ample port-o-johns (which I'll get to later), cleaning crews working round the clock, lots of different food trucks.<br />
<br />
Impressive.<br />
<br />
There were two areas, one with three smaller stages on a blacktop parking lot, and the second with the headliner and co-headliner stages on a baseball field and soccer pitch, respectively. Each section ping-ponged acts between the stages so you didn't miss any bands. Occasionally there were time frames in which multiple bands of interest were playing simultaneously in both areas, but generally for us, it worked out well.<br />
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My only suggestion is to incorporate a 10 minute gap between acts so festival goers can schlep between the two staging areas without having to bail early on a band or miss the start of another. But even at that, once we got halfway to the other end of the park, we could hear the bands clearly. And let's be honest, aside from the Old 97's, I didn't HAVE to be in the front of the fray. We happily danced in the perimeters under the glorious shade, sweating our phantom balls off.<br />
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One of the most impressive aspects of our adventure was how civilized, courteous and well-behaved the unwashed, schweddy masses were. I thought for sure the combo of excessive sun + alcohol + lack of food would = projectile vomiting and unruly behavior. But no one horked up a lung, passed out or got carted away in cuffs. Even the unmarked lines for the Johns were mannerly.<br />
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And OMGJEBUS let me tell you about these toilets!!! Even after three days in the white-hot, Georgia sun, there was no smell. Not chemical. Not floral. Not rotting remnants of Texas Tacos.<br />
<br />
NONE. ZERO. ZIP. NADA.<br />
<br />
On Sunday, at mid afternoon, I reluctantly took my place in line to answer nature's call. When my number was up, I steeled myself for the stench trail of a thousand humans before me to assault my senses within the confines of the vertical oven. I said a little prayer, opened the door ... and was floored by the lack of aroma. I was dumbfounded. How could this be??!? It was nothing short of a fucking miracle!!!<br />
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<br />
I had to do it, even though I warned myself against it. I had to look into the dark pit of the Seventh Level of Hell. Surely it had to be empty.<br />
<br />
It was not.<br />
<br />
I regret my curiosity.<br />
<br />
But DAAAAAAYUM, that sweat box smelled purty! AND they had ample tissue and hand sanitizer.<br />
<br />
Whoever manufactures Johnny-On-The-Spot toilets, FOR THE LOVE OF HUMANITY, SHARE YOUR SECRET WITH THE UNIVERSE!!!! There is a Nobel Prize waiting for you.<br />
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<br />
<b>Impressions of the bands Day One:</b><br />
Jukebox the Ghost and The Kooks = Spectacularrrrrrr. Kaiser Chiefs... meh (left after three songs); safe to say I'm done with the Mountain Goats; happy to finally see the Pixies if only to confirm I like just three of their songs, and the Strokes are disappointingly monotonous. Work on your banter, son.<br />
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<b>Day Two:</b><br />
Mariachi El Bronx is my new favorite way to cure a hangover. Real Estate is a great new find who sound similar to Death Cab For Cutie. The Devil Makes Three were fun, from what I can remember. Neutral Milk Hotel is worth all the hype. Wilco is great for the songs I love, but GD it, stop with the jamming already! The Avett Brothers continue to outshine so many, except my Texas boys.<br />
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Frank Turner After Party at Masquerade: Good God Almighty, he is a ball of pent up punk energy. Super entertaining. I'm a little bitter we left before he stage dove and rolled over the feral audience.<br />
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<b>Day Three:</b><br />
A little bit of Damnwells... a little bit of Nikki Lane and her shorty shorts in need of pixelated pants. Both crowd pleasers. Up front for my beloved Old 97's brand of ultra satisfying rock, and all is right with the world. A repeat of the force of nature that is Frank Turner and crew. AGAIN we leave for the other end of the park and miss his stage diving antics. WTF, Frank??!? We could have sworn you wouldn't cross the abyss between the stage and fans. Dr. Dog is the perfect accompaniment to lying in the shade with a cocktail. Trombone Shorty is cra-cra. Ryan Adams could have been awesome, but JEBUS, enough with the long jams already!! Old Crow Medicine Show were hyperactive fun for the four songs we stayed to hear.<br />
<br />
The end.<br />
<br />
This is getting very long-winded, SURPRISE! I think I'll post photos, video snippets and twitterisms in another post. But first, here are some random thoughts about our weekend in list form.<br />
<br />
1. Mobile maps apps will mess you UP! Our walk was supposed to be an eighth of a mile. Instead, we got lost on the highways of Atlanta, and ventured four miles from our destination. My Uber app didn't work, finally got Mary Ann's Uber to work. 90 minutes later...we get to the fucking gate. Found out later on our return we went the wrong way, and I am a ginormous asshat who can't be trusted to follow directions.<br />
<br />
2. Lots of dresses were donned, fancy and well... sheer, short and funky.<br />
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3. My novel based on day two of the Shaky Knees Fest: An Abundance of Side Boob.<br />
(Sincere apologies to John Green)<br />
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4. Waaaaaay too much cooter shots from chicks in ridiculously short shorts. Frankly, seeing one labia shot is one labia shot too many. I don't care how brazilian the bush.<br />
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5. Young people smoke a lot.<br />
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6. Enough with this vaping shit.<br />
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7. I smell GANGA!! STILL no sharing. WTF, man!<br />
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8. SKF is single-handedly championing the resurgence of fanny packs, UNironically.<br />
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9. Young people are rather adorable and baffling.<br />
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10. Sometimes bands you thought would be awesome aren't. I'm looking at you, Kaiser Chiefs, Ryan Adams and The Strokes.<br />
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11. Much like with brussel sprouts and grape leaves, I keep trying, but I just don't like the Pixies, or Wilco jams.<br />
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12. Festivals are worth the effort for new finds.<br />
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13. They don't call it Hot-lanta for nothing. It's like Africa hot down there, and by "down there" I don't mean my nether DelMarVa region. Praise little baby jesus for clouds, and trees, and breezes.<br />
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14. Gourmet Popsicles are worth their weight in gold on steamy days.<br />
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15. Sometimes a long, hot shower at the end of a l2 hour day baking in the sun is better than sex. <br />
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16. Uber is all that.<br />
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17. Humans are super friendly in this setting, despite the wretched heat. Maybe it's the pot.<br />
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18. A Barney towel is THE festival accessory. Keeps the shmootz off yo ass and ain't nobody gonna steal that shit.<br />
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19. Jesus carries a fanny pack, and digs Five Guys. Hey, if it's good enough for the Son of God...<br />
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20. Survival equals: hydration, hydration, libation, hydration, libation, chic peas, libation, hydration<br />
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21. Food consumption gets fucked up in the scorching Georgia sun.<br />
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22. FYI: Everyone on the planet gets hungry at the same time making food truck lines unbelievably long. It took us three days to figure out when to forage for food in a timely fashion. <br />
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23. Not sleeping is my new jam on trips such as this.<br />
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24. Backpacks make excellent pillows at airports when flights are delayed.<br />
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25. Old 97's remain the ruler of my musical universe. Praise be to Alt-Country.<br />
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<br />
All in all, Shaky Knees was a fantastic experience. So fantastic that I'm afraid to attend a different festival for fear it will eat my soul. The bar was set high with this one.<br />
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Well done, Atlanta. Well done.<br />
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<br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-61300075754839721482015-05-12T16:41:00.001-04:002015-05-12T19:31:46.910-04:00New Release Day: The Traveler By The Lovely Blue-Eyed OneOkay, so as my acerbic friend, Marco likes to tease, today is a High Holy Day for me. It is release day for Rhett Miller's new album, The Traveler.<br />
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As I associate all things Old 97's/Rhett as my version of church, his comment is apropos. However, that does not diminish the fact he is a jerk. </div>
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But I digress…</div>
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<div>
The 12 tracks on The Traveler are a perfect companion piece to last year's tumultuous collection of self-reflection, the glorious Most Messed Up. This solo work is a continuation of the same themes, still contemplative only softer, lighter handed, and less sweary. In fact no swears were given to create this work. </div>
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Instead it is a beautiful collection of storytelling revolving around love, loss, anguish, temporary bliss, longing, a tinge of regret, and a healthy dose of cleverly worded sexual encounter wrapped in Mr. Miller's signature ebullient melodies which betray the content. </div>
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This album covers a wide variety of stylings from the feel-good Most in the Summertime to the waltz of My Little Disaster to the pure power of pop on Jules and Escape Velocity to the slow ballads of Good Night and Wicked Things to the dirgy Dreams vs Waking Life to the happy-go-lucky élan of Lucky Star.</div>
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The thematic arc starts with the strain of an undeniable pull of restlessness (Wanderlust), then travels through the bright flame of desire (My Little Disaster), the entrapment of long-term relationships (Escape Velocity), acknowledgement of bad behavior (Wicked Things) and comes to a hopeful end with bouncy Reasons to Live which recalls the same spirit of The Grand Theatre (2) final track, You Call It Rain. </div>
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<i>"You and I with love in our hearts/there is no telling where we can go</i></div>
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<i>Thank God I didn't die/when I wanted to/Thank God I didn't die/I wouldn't have met you</i></div>
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<i>I have found reasons to live"</i></div>
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Also, tons of sworn-worthy lyrics with which to fan yourself. </div>
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<i>"Heaven knows there probably is no Heaven/except for in this room and on this bed/That's what I said"</i>- Lucky Star</div>
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<i>"My little disaster rolls over at dawn/remember when we woke up and got it on/I ask is that right now/and she says indeed/it's never too early for your hour of need"</i></div>
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<i>"Life is too short to say no when you're asked/to share a shag rug or to pull off a flask"</i> - My Little Disaster</div>
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And it all magically comes together with the unique sound of Black Prairie, whose musical force makes these songs soar. I love this collection. There's a lot of life to this one. This one hits the mark for this disciple.</div>
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But I'm just a fan, not a record reviewer. I'm completely biased and not very eloquent. For a more cohesive perspective, read A.V. Club writer, Annie Zaleski's take on The Traveler <a href="http://www.avclub.com/review/rhett-miller-and-pals-team-americana-perfection-218905">here</a>. She uses all kinds of pretty words strung together.</div>
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<i><span style="background-color: #f7f7f7; color: #282828; font-family: 'Droid Serif', Georgia, serif; line-height: 30px;">Last year’s Old 97’s record, </span><span style="background-color: #f7f7f7; box-sizing: border-box; color: #282828; font-family: 'Droid Serif', Georgia, serif; line-height: 30px;"><a href="http://www.avclub.com/review/after-20-years-together-old-97s-still-deliver-same-203680" style="-webkit-transition: color 0.1s; box-sizing: border-box; color: #357ebd; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.1s;">Most Messed Up</a></span><span style="background-color: #f7f7f7; color: #282828; font-family: 'Droid Serif', Georgia, serif; line-height: 30px;">, was a raucous, ribald chronicle of abject drunkenness and reckless confessions that bristled with unpleasant personal truths. Frontman Rhett Miller continues harnessing that freewheeling honesty on his excellent new solo album, </span><span style="background-color: #f7f7f7; box-sizing: border-box; color: #282828; font-family: 'Droid Serif', Georgia, serif; line-height: 30px;">The Traveler</span><span style="background-color: #f7f7f7; color: #282828; font-family: 'Droid Serif', Georgia, serif; line-height: 30px;">, but casts a more forgiving eye toward unruly behavior and judgment lapses. “Wicked Things” admits to indiscretions, but the secret shame is shared between two people, while the frustrations detailed in “Escape Velocity” stem from circumstances out of the narrator’s control, and the poetic waltz “My Little Disaster” is a tender, whimsical snapshot of a misguided romantic dalliance.</span></i></div>
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For your listening pleasure, here's the link to Rhett's interview with David Dye and performance of Wanderlust, Most in the Summer Time and Reasons to Live <a href="http://xpn.org/player/player.php?LiveStreamGUID=77af76dd-cb65-4dee-a8a9-bcb747cb4aa2CategoryGUID=c747c304-8a34-4649-8b76-05462b8923d">here</a>. </div>
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You can stream the album <a href="http://www.npr.org/sections/world-cafe/2015/05/12/406150241/rhett-miller-on-world-cafe">here</a>. For Fuck's sake! Just go buy the damn thing <a href="http://www.spin.com/2015/05/rhett-miller-the-traveler-new-album-old-97s-stream/">here</a>!! It will replenish your soul. </div>
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Go in Peace. Praise be to the Music Gods. Amen.</div>
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Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-21200383055248868692015-04-14T18:17:00.000-04:002015-04-14T18:17:34.851-04:00In Which I'm Going Straight To Hell On The Back Of A Cheesy-ASS EpicOkay, so last week was Easter Sunday, and ABC aired the long-ass, old-school, Biblical epic, The Ten Commandments. When I was a little nipper, the annual airing of Charleton Heston's abomination was a HUGE deal. We'd all sit in front of the our 36 inch color console and be in awe as Moses parted the red sea, turned the Nile blood-red and talked to a burning bush.<br />
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And no, I'm not talking about Lily Munster.<br />
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Hey- OOOO!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pDFFUFt8PVeqG0lZutVqOE17g4w61ubf2zq1LpoHw5ojqrgd_fPNskf4YCf33waZbbqAgtjPMyNrN32nd7xyqehtI93YAxhmozm-Q9jaHHBiEksPYRZT67nNQHgckDtk2nj7TzuIc7k/s1600/IMG_9608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pDFFUFt8PVeqG0lZutVqOE17g4w61ubf2zq1LpoHw5ojqrgd_fPNskf4YCf33waZbbqAgtjPMyNrN32nd7xyqehtI93YAxhmozm-Q9jaHHBiEksPYRZT67nNQHgckDtk2nj7TzuIc7k/s1600/IMG_9608.JPG" height="320" width="293" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">for thine magic staph</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I could not WAIT for it to play every Easter. I thought it was da bomb, because when you're eight, you have taste for SHIT. As an adult, The Ten Commandments (and Ben Hur and Cleopatra) falls into the abysmal, mind-numbingly overacted, racist historical-hot-mess category. Pasty white folks passing themselves off as Egyptians... Hooka, PLEASE! Ain't no amount of brown makeup gonna make pearly-faced Ann Baxter into an arab beauty. Ridonkulous. There are no words strong enough to properly convey how hideously laughable I find this movie.<br />
<br />
The only scene worth staying conscious for is Edward G. Robinson's gangsta delivery of <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIZRPUdm5kGFrNerzGfI9s9gx7ieSjlpuoETLP_xvGxkYO8lYuYC_G-49XefyGxlr1xuf26HmcQsih97lw-WTIaNUs14966BDbi2oD6p6xK9yniQ4L3-VuL-iD7JbDv9tGhzwYzpdT_8/s1600/IMG_9591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMIZRPUdm5kGFrNerzGfI9s9gx7ieSjlpuoETLP_xvGxkYO8lYuYC_G-49XefyGxlr1xuf26HmcQsih97lw-WTIaNUs14966BDbi2oD6p6xK9yniQ4L3-VuL-iD7JbDv9tGhzwYzpdT_8/s1600/IMG_9591.JPG" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">vomiting from your acting </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, back at my damnation...<br />
<br />
So Geo and I are in Big Mar's living room slowly recovering from our food coma, when he turns on the TV to ... you guessed it, The Ten Commandments. It's the scene where Moses (still believed to be Egyptian) is signaling a crapton of slaves to raise a super phallic obelisk-ick (ex-be-alidosious) in front of the Pharaoh's pyramid. The scaffolding covering the underside of this dick-pic breaks away crushing hundreds of slaves, but hey, big high-fives all around in the owner's box safely tucked miles away.<br />
<br />
Go Moses!<br />
<br />
So, after all the back-patting and ignoring of dead Jews, the Pharaoh starts jumping on Moses' shit for being nice to the filthy underlings. <br />
<br />
Pharaoh: So what's all this bullshit I hear from your whiny-ass, half-brother who has a striking resemblance to Yul Brenner, about you feeding the unwashed masses who do my petty bidding? <br />
<br />
Moses: Well, yeah. They gotta eat. They stomp a lot of bricks, dude. <br />
<br />
Pharaoh: What the Serious FUCK, Mo-Mo??!?<br />
<br />
Moses: Strong men make many bricks. Sick men make few bricks. Dead men make NONE!*<br />
*actual dialog<br />
<br />
And that's when I looked at Geo and said, "comma... MOTHERFUCKER."<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw0dD0OIWjcIxVb_xhIxGLSoDKNxYwBZrYbnM8hDXG4ZqvOVKuH4BwG2wZbVBmzhejfEl5VM5bfV5PXNcGJBky8yDlmPt2uIBAtO3BThWQNL9jBKpqkabKphW3Dr7NiOAYoT2Q9AVGmUY/s1600/IMG_9592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw0dD0OIWjcIxVb_xhIxGLSoDKNxYwBZrYbnM8hDXG4ZqvOVKuH4BwG2wZbVBmzhejfEl5VM5bfV5PXNcGJBky8yDlmPt2uIBAtO3BThWQNL9jBKpqkabKphW3Dr7NiOAYoT2Q9AVGmUY/s1600/IMG_9592.JPG" height="181" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">redundancy is my middle name</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Seriously. How magnificent would it be if Moses punctuated every declarative with... MOTHERFUCKER. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQl0c32E9jCfM6SkjWKQ2S4mTTSwAsqEX-R_MFYfCOt9jSNSvoQjyePCRlVVesQCsCD14J8BJ7tCNzjAJovsaueVU-vEZLV1rsGXA_hSGcj3ESiEHC7OuLs21oNYkbaQ4pY1MaKVoiz8M/s1600/IMG_9590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQl0c32E9jCfM6SkjWKQ2S4mTTSwAsqEX-R_MFYfCOt9jSNSvoQjyePCRlVVesQCsCD14J8BJ7tCNzjAJovsaueVU-vEZLV1rsGXA_hSGcj3ESiEHC7OuLs21oNYkbaQ4pY1MaKVoiz8M/s1600/IMG_9590.JPG" height="301" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">BOOM!!</span><br />
<br />
Drops staff.<br />
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Backs away with arms wide, gangsta like.<br />
<br />
"Come at me, Bro! I'm divinely intervened, asshole."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKt2Wq74xcQh_igoROHlQiYVaDQuQglcwS1o2IP8Y3ol58xtkHQUYGkCTIVcZnd693X7PsFX46CcTJL5yh_H4PEHYwnkigNdNKHtADcmLdJPceAkar39VVjHRJu2Vo81NexIeJpUWGkQ/s1600/IMG_9593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKt2Wq74xcQh_igoROHlQiYVaDQuQglcwS1o2IP8Y3ol58xtkHQUYGkCTIVcZnd693X7PsFX46CcTJL5yh_H4PEHYwnkigNdNKHtADcmLdJPceAkar39VVjHRJu2Vo81NexIeJpUWGkQ/s1600/IMG_9593.JPG" height="222" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
<br />
Big Mose dropping the MF bomb might actually make that turd watchable. If nothing else, it would make a great drinking game. <br />
<br />
So naturally, I kept on with the embellishment, ad naseum because that's how I'm wired. My DNA demands I beat a dead horse for my own amusement, irritating all around me. After about the tenth time amending the dialog, Geo looks at me with weary eyes and says, "You realize this is a Biblical movie, right? You're going straight to Hell." <br />
<br />
Yep. <br />
<br />
Directly. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.<br />
<br />
And then there's this gem a friend sent to seal my afterlife fate.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOWCmrOH8xdL5Ip8LDBZt0S4oVV138rwcIoABMQDWWFML-wPgeU7DpYhyYedfmj2LFi39r9dNdAK3LgIp_57a_x5AvUjcftY4rSPy8LthRrlG0Xpm7CGy6K734TIEtTnfTefE8y02Ifs/s1600/IMG_9523.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOWCmrOH8xdL5Ip8LDBZt0S4oVV138rwcIoABMQDWWFML-wPgeU7DpYhyYedfmj2LFi39r9dNdAK3LgIp_57a_x5AvUjcftY4rSPy8LthRrlG0Xpm7CGy6K734TIEtTnfTefE8y02Ifs/s1600/IMG_9523.PNG" height="400" width="310" /></a></div>
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Don't stand too close to me. You might get singed. <br />
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<br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-10360392874454770582015-03-23T18:01:00.003-04:002015-03-23T18:01:39.372-04:00In Which I Serve Up A Wilderness Hate Highball With A Funny Video ChaserOkay, so this past Thursday my KD gal pal, Beets and I jumped into a Hot Tub Time Machine set on 1978, and ventured to the high North 40 to see Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes. In spite of his 66 trips around the sun, SSJ remains a powerhouse from the rock wall of sound era. I haven't seen them since the 80s. They were super fun!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2ixbDfQJFfOQLSQOo2jPVTjriCOaFs4_pQIgbwWuecl6kz-j7u1u6QgOv5fgKb2G8SDgqBD0WfppGRWK0zD6RgdTZ6eOMuzlKo-W5cYNmMGMFgzQrA33KMQLVYOVo4xB3-DPgNgFPH0/s1600/11059326_10206354191834075_8675955148824713996_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2ixbDfQJFfOQLSQOo2jPVTjriCOaFs4_pQIgbwWuecl6kz-j7u1u6QgOv5fgKb2G8SDgqBD0WfppGRWK0zD6RgdTZ6eOMuzlKo-W5cYNmMGMFgzQrA33KMQLVYOVo4xB3-DPgNgFPH0/s1600/11059326_10206354191834075_8675955148824713996_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
Clad in his usual Chuck Taylors, baggy jeans and signature Raybans, he belted out hit after hit in all his raspy-voiced glory. There was an eight-foot catwalk jutting mid-stage upon which he joked about being Mick Jaggar, cueing the fangirls (aka, middle-agers) to jump up and join him. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx78a-emgrZfCrep9QyJ9BSAhYO2J1VqehwCfO5722foiGLXr2PBj35psJeHA9TK61iwv8wgTbsqSAJGvi0nFgKa4TftcZzh8t2n_TrG26In2riR7sxtLeoKcWgAhazFyltlebB2NBvuw/s1600/11061204_10206354205514417_2071758601164722736_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx78a-emgrZfCrep9QyJ9BSAhYO2J1VqehwCfO5722foiGLXr2PBj35psJeHA9TK61iwv8wgTbsqSAJGvi0nFgKa4TftcZzh8t2n_TrG26In2riR7sxtLeoKcWgAhazFyltlebB2NBvuw/s1600/11061204_10206354205514417_2071758601164722736_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">johnny and the chicks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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They played for a solid two hours, all grinding guitar riffs, pounding backbeat and ballin' brass section. Each horn player took his turn on the catwalk, hamming it up for the crowd. Clearly, they all had as much fun on stage as the dancing masses in front of them. Despite it being a school night, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRVkS6Owp9Q">nobody wanted to go home</a>. (You see what I did there?)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ballin' brass on the catwalk</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Side note: we were in the younger set of his followers (HOLLA!), but DAYUM those grey hairs represented well on the floor, dancing and singing. Gives a girl inspiration to never say die, which is code for "I'd rather die than stay home in my muu-muu, sipping tea and watching Downton fucking ABBEY."<br />
<br />
Not gonna happen. <br />
<br />
So what does this have to do with the aforementioned wilderness? Well, calm your impatient ass down, Chester and I'll tell you. Jebus, take a pill.<br />
<br />
As I eluded to at the top of this mess, Jergel's is in a town about 35 minutes north of our humble, suburban/urban abode. Beets lives about 15 minutes further north in a bucolic setting, the opposite of suburban/urban. <br />
<br />
Let's be clear. I'm a city girl. <br />
<br />
Through and through. <br />
<br />
I don't like the widerness. The wilderness is creepy as SHIT! The wilderness will fucking kill you.<br />
<br />
When driving through rural areas, I'm always startled at how pitch black the world is in the rear view mirror. In darkness that thick, I have a tendency to either a) open my eyes wider than humanly possible in a futile attempt to gather any sliver of light that may exist, or b) close my eyes and pretend the black hole doesn't exist. I know. It makes no sense, but somehow closing the blinds on my optic nerves is a comfort. Being as I was driving, B was NOT an option.<br />
<br />
Following Beets through the heart of the Forbidden Forest, her high beams eerily illuminating the stately leafless trees felt like being in the Wizard of Oz. I imagined the trees coming to life, tossing pine cones, apples, squirrels... Then the crazies in my head took over and the woodland creatures turned into flannel clad, psycho killers, wearing clown masks, wielding machetes, jumping on THE CAR AND OMGDON'TLOOKINTHEMIRROR!!!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
*shudder*<br />
<br />
*deep breath*<br />
<br />
Yeah. I don't like the wilderness. <br />
<br />
<br />
Anywho... <br />
<br />
to cleanse the palate of that unsavory imaginary savagery from the deep recesses of my overactive mind, here are a couple of videos from the ever-entertaining interwebs last week. Okay, full disclosure, I'm using this platform to keep these belly-laugh beauties forEVAH. And I'm not even sorry about it. <br />
<br />
First up is a sign language interpreter who really needs to come out of his shell. <br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/S0OeBrQBPNc" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
I want to parTAY with you, Sir!<br />
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Last, but certainly not at all least is the March 16th episode of the brilliant @Midnight. This show is my life support. Chris Hardwick is a GENIUS! Geo and I never EVER fail to bust a gut laughing at the irreverent silliness of this program. Occasionally, there's a grouping of comedians whose wit makes us cry. This was such an episode.<br />
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Not just funny... Sofa King funny. <br />
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It's only 23 minutes. As Donna from Parks and Rec says...<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="288" mozallowfullscreen="" scrolling="no" src="http://www.hulu.com/embed.html?eid=4dakgnih2tpzcpxtizy7ya" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="512"></iframe>
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Dude, Google Feud is my new favorite game!<br />
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I cannot stress enough how brilliant this show is. It is the great mood lifter. Better than any prescription pill. YOU SHOULD ALL WATCH IT!<br />
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Seriously. Do it. NOW! Don't let the terrorists win.<br />
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<br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-70889752221391898402015-03-08T12:19:00.001-04:002015-03-08T12:19:21.894-04:00In Which I Complete A Bucket List TrifectaOkay, so there are a number of events/activities/happenings on my bucket list, which is code for shit-I-want-to-do-before-I-croak. And by "number of events", I mean a crapton. Some bullet points need to be thinned, like sky diving, getting a tattoo on my hip, licking Paul Rudd's face. Those ships have sailed, a mere speck on the horizon of the deep blue sea of youth. At this age, I can't fathom surrendering to the pull of gravity, plummeting towards the earth at warp speed and trusting a flimsy parachute will open to prevent me from splattering all over the earth. Not to mention soiling my drawers high above the tree line. And as for the tattoo, ain't nobody got time for a wrinkly-ass tag on a saggy backside. <br />
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Anywho, going to Mardi Gras, The Conch Rebellion in Key West and searching for five-time Strong Man winner, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0XU61eBoSU">Magnus Ver Magnusson</a> in Iceland are still high on the list.<br />
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Who am I kidding, so is licking Paul Rudd's face. Some day I will meet you, adorable Sir!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="404" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//giphy.com/embed/oXJzhHWH8r8Q0?html5=true" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="480"></iframe>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNNETAkck00NAW5IHbBD_xZElAsJNeLjtdY-t7Y_P1zQ1g2O7P13KehYoz_lGa5J3wbURKvm-gzUTJ5M63HBh0SEczwUxVppK6X9S4lfktaqST2y8xh90lErfplZkb0W6KDIy5LE0j48/s1600/Paul+Rudd-bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNNETAkck00NAW5IHbBD_xZElAsJNeLjtdY-t7Y_P1zQ1g2O7P13KehYoz_lGa5J3wbURKvm-gzUTJ5M63HBh0SEczwUxVppK6X9S4lfktaqST2y8xh90lErfplZkb0W6KDIy5LE0j48/s1600/Paul+Rudd-bed.jpg" height="400" width="392" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#RAAAAAWR<br />
#ladyboner</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
However, I'm happy to say I did get to cross off three items during the last month of 2014. <br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>Bucket List #1: Pens vs Rangers at MSG</strong><br />
<br />
Geo and I have always talked about doing a Penguins' hockey arena tour, sporting our colors of support in other cities. As is our annual tradition, we spend the second week of December visiting my sister in northern New Jersey. As luck would have it, the luscious Sid and company were playing the Rangers at Madison Square Garden during our vacation. <br />
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Can you say STOKED??!?<br />
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Geo, fearing retribution from a perceived unsavory New York contingent, respectfully declined, leaving the path open for my sister to walk the gauntlet with me. <br />
<br />
Side note: Another tradition of our annual pilgrimage east is watching the Steelers play at a local sports bar. For the past three years, we have occupied the long side of the bar with the same group of ex-pats and Jersey black and gold fans. Together we eat free popcorn, drink tall boys and cheer on (or scream at) our collective favorite team. Okay, full disclosure, I'm not a football fan at all, (I know, right? WTF??!? Sacrilege, especially in the Burgh) but I look forward to this outing every year. It's so much fun being loud and obnoxious with these people. The camaraderie makes the sport bearable. <br />
<br />
But I digress...<br />
<br />
When I told our NJ compadres about going to MSG the next night, they all kinda stopped and said, "Yeah, good luck with that." I gotta tell you, their reactions rattled me enough to contemplate not wearing my Crosby jersey... <br />
<br />
Yeah, well fuck that noise. I wore my baby blue Crosby shirt loud and proud. <br />
<br />
My sister and I had dinner at a burger joint in Penn Station, deep in enemy territory, where the entire wait staff wore Rangers t-shirts and 80% of the diners donned Rangers red, white and blue. <br />
<br />
Cue the dramatic music... Da Da DAAAAAAA...<br />
<br />
Sitting down, I said to the Ranger-clad fan across from me that I hoped he could still enjoy his dinner with me sitting next to him. He feigned disgust, then laughed. Turns out his son is a Pens fan. All in all, there was a lot of good natured ribbing back and forth between us and other patrons. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-AR1RyZdBDOax_72saRk7n2N2jpLlkdrvAChR6KQwqBMtyKu35FcAL_umOkloyPw7zk4MNYQlrTFHaadDPmC4CQH24wmbMZ6CkIT9hZ9WMDzz2ZslAuds-dc1ns-sE4OdcKwx3nUWHl0/s1600/me+and+messier.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-AR1RyZdBDOax_72saRk7n2N2jpLlkdrvAChR6KQwqBMtyKu35FcAL_umOkloyPw7zk4MNYQlrTFHaadDPmC4CQH24wmbMZ6CkIT9hZ9WMDzz2ZslAuds-dc1ns-sE4OdcKwx3nUWHl0/s1600/me+and+messier.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VvZagq6F2G7OveShcyb1TpXeWzSGJC8ht7YETa8w6v9UUxFRs1-LesBFvoRVpS9-lh3b9OA7IBbOoHI19UcZL6lkR6uY22uHcDOLMh6yy1N52r2G9suhswBjnQz5jfokBjBEzuFzd7E/s1600/rangers+fan.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VvZagq6F2G7OveShcyb1TpXeWzSGJC8ht7YETa8w6v9UUxFRs1-LesBFvoRVpS9-lh3b9OA7IBbOoHI19UcZL6lkR6uY22uHcDOLMh6yy1N52r2G9suhswBjnQz5jfokBjBEzuFzd7E/s1600/rangers+fan.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pens and rangers fans getting along<br />
there's hope for humanity yet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So far, so good.<br />
<br />
I was never in MSG before. It's all bright, sparkling white and clean. When I showed my ticket to the usher, he leaned over and suggested I might want to go into the gift shop and buy a proper shirt. "No, really. It's right over there." Very funny, wise ass. But the joke was on me, because this was the give-away. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4XWCMgTTIfS0E-C2Kb1QXNLEACs5vN-eoJ17Y9OLvUe-Wv8wzQFkOxIZ8lZc4s5ZMCRJG2g7WK2d4wOpWXUjufqWV2_wKlJWVdvk4WDHi0kh3IHHRzmCiL0lLgUWRT6xPOnKFNcYXBgE/s1600/Ranger+rag.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4XWCMgTTIfS0E-C2Kb1QXNLEACs5vN-eoJ17Y9OLvUe-Wv8wzQFkOxIZ8lZc4s5ZMCRJG2g7WK2d4wOpWXUjufqWV2_wKlJWVdvk4WDHi0kh3IHHRzmCiL0lLgUWRT6xPOnKFNcYXBgE/s1600/Ranger+rag.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">as Geo said, it'll make a great rag to wash the car</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The game was exciting and fun and frustrating as hockey games can be. We lead initially, then got behind by two with seven minutes left to go in the 3rd period. My sister was ready to write the game off as a loss after the Rangers' third goal. <br />
<br />
Wha??!? C'mon! This is hockey, MOFO. In the time it took for me to slowly look at her in disbelief and tell her there was a ton of time left to score, the Pens stuffed one past King Heinrik into the net. Less than a minute later, we tied the game. <br />
<br />
And that's why I love hockey. The fate of the game can change in a heartbeat. <br />
<br />
Anywho, we lost in overtime, which stung a little being as I HATE TO LOSE TO NY TEAMS, but we still came away with a point. Despite the loss, I thought it was a great experience. We had a terrific time. <br />
<br />
Some notes: <br />
A) Being New York, there were celebrity sightings in the audience posted on the JumboTron. That night it was Matthew Brodderick and Catherine Keener. <br />
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B) Their scoreboard is genius! The bottom half of the board lists who's on the ice throughout the game. Something ALL scoreboards should adopt. <br />
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C) Win or lose, the Rangers gather at center ice and salute the fans at the end of every game. Classy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2Fck0SUQ75bSIkKUPNQRp6wVZTEWAT5mkP8cyaGE7vIWOhdc6pCpBnvkgA_7977o3u8bmCINsTibd2PFlRfgwkNOtqVPRxIyoAqISefT56trGLGjlzdMjt1PyM670ASpsShyFIomEcM/s1600/Rangers+thank+fans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ2Fck0SUQ75bSIkKUPNQRp6wVZTEWAT5mkP8cyaGE7vIWOhdc6pCpBnvkgA_7977o3u8bmCINsTibd2PFlRfgwkNOtqVPRxIyoAqISefT56trGLGjlzdMjt1PyM670ASpsShyFIomEcM/s1600/Rangers+thank+fans.jpg" height="246" width="320" /></a></div>
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And, as much as I hate myself for saying this, their goal song ROCKS!!! <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Av1cTYQN0f0" width="420"></iframe>
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<br />
Watching the Pens battle the Rangers in Madison Square Garden... <strong>CHECK!</strong><br />
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<br />
<strong>Bucket List #2: Ingrid Michaelson's Holiday Hop</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
Every December, pop singer Ingrid Michaelson puts on what she calls a Holiday Hop, exclusive to New York City. It's held at different venues each year and sells out quickly. This past December, she held her 8th Hop at Webster Hall in the middle of our vacation. <br />
<br />
How fortuitous. <br />
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Geo took a pass on this opportunity, so once again, my awesome sister, Laura stepped in as proxy. Double shout out to her because she had no idea who Ingrid was.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr6bqppg6_aTh4lSDHcbMWwYQyITssDV_vYuhvkj4PGRSTcO8IBA2rzbDQmJJfb0fMaUG_4Qz2eIGwkqhT8Ay2pXoaANfVMYVo37HKMh6ueGuokAaPmU51BHNp_J0C_cccXD4oaVgUtaI/s1600/P1070861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr6bqppg6_aTh4lSDHcbMWwYQyITssDV_vYuhvkj4PGRSTcO8IBA2rzbDQmJJfb0fMaUG_4Qz2eIGwkqhT8Ay2pXoaANfVMYVo37HKMh6ueGuokAaPmU51BHNp_J0C_cccXD4oaVgUtaI/s1600/P1070861.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ingrid in her holiday garb and uke<br />
cuteness overload</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Normally it's safe to get to a show during the opener because the floor isn't packed until right before the main act, thus enabling one to stake out a good position near the front. Not so with this show. We got there roughly 10 minutes after the start and the place was PACKED!! Having never been to her Holiday Hop before, I didn't realize the opener was actually Ingrid and her band dressed as seniors performing twisted carols under the name Ethel and friends. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/E_ua9PfQIwY" width="560"></iframe>
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<br />
They were pretty damn amusing. Heads up, mofos: if you ever find yourself in possession of tickets to the Hop, get there early to stake your claim near the front. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qhwuRrqyghPl1wEEx-urJ3A_qXCPU_kULv1D11CeaC3rvb74Pajr4Yo9Yu0dOEIpxuVqGPFsRHjP8Sp7l2Fht0hDY_g61uhs65na7RUQz7aNoxZgBcu_zZvKK06ulPD4jsWIPiCprFI/s1600/P1070860.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qhwuRrqyghPl1wEEx-urJ3A_qXCPU_kULv1D11CeaC3rvb74Pajr4Yo9Yu0dOEIpxuVqGPFsRHjP8Sp7l2Fht0hDY_g61uhs65na7RUQz7aNoxZgBcu_zZvKK06ulPD4jsWIPiCprFI/s1600/P1070860.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ukeleles are serious bidnez</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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When Ingrid finally took the stage as herself, she charmed her fans with her crystal clear voice, wee ukelele and her bawdy banter as she flounced around in an adorable short green dress with bright red bow. Good thing she wore red shorts underneath. Just sayin'. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WslDpn0kE-g" width="560"></iframe>
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You and I is one of my favorite songs of hers. Helloooo...ukelele. Anyway, they always have fun with this one. I say it all the time, how great is it to hear the masses singing your words back at you?<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QT98FZQDVgc" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
She ended her master set with this rousing Christmas Medley. She's a delight!<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Z3lFUBpDSZQ" width="560"></iframe>
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<br />
Go to Ingrid's Holiday Hop... <strong>CHECK!</strong><br />
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<br />
<strong>Bucket List #3: Ringing in the new year with Old 97's</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiTKua-KAnW3nn0IWpsWkmOeyhR_4HnwMXWOD8-Uesff0Y7aSfYQTdTPJ7IIFhNhSUJHeQ_ivXPv1asqAb8B4Pduw2xv5DEmD4STidM3o1ND7uEHP2_OyeZGH4NVka6ZO-5snzR2i4MU/s1600/2015+(Tippie).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxiTKua-KAnW3nn0IWpsWkmOeyhR_4HnwMXWOD8-Uesff0Y7aSfYQTdTPJ7IIFhNhSUJHeQ_ivXPv1asqAb8B4Pduw2xv5DEmD4STidM3o1ND7uEHP2_OyeZGH4NVka6ZO-5snzR2i4MU/s1600/2015+(Tippie).JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy of kristie gripp</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<strong></strong><br />
Anyone who knows me or has read this bloggity blog blah, knows I adore all things Rhett Miller and Old 97's. I can't help it. They satisfy every pore of my music-loving being. It's safe to say they are MY band. Forever and always. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggOPmN_9O-ssACk4mW9BGf8nsjieKfqtnmKmQecNzPE09b-MOVSnpElg2Uyc122lAYW4NrkpwVXiK9QJeJJPIZzod7pmjMRYTBHYjjWTPetyC6WeUh5zWTf-FbDo67ka_WSYtt0SoYDiQ/s1600/NYE+all+four.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggOPmN_9O-ssACk4mW9BGf8nsjieKfqtnmKmQecNzPE09b-MOVSnpElg2Uyc122lAYW4NrkpwVXiK9QJeJJPIZzod7pmjMRYTBHYjjWTPetyC6WeUh5zWTf-FbDo67ka_WSYtt0SoYDiQ/s1600/NYE+all+four.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the most hard working, hard-charging band of awesome</td></tr>
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<br />
Usually they book a multi-date year-end gig in their native Dallas. Oh yeah, seeing them bust it out in Texas is HIGH on my list, too. Like top shelf, I-can-die-happy-now placement. <br />
<br />
But I digress...<br />
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As the gods would have it, my favorite foursome booked a two-night stand in Washington, DC for New Year's Eve. <br />
<br />
Holla!! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit44gB8MOSOEv1ZCsRy67ywzFmFJvpPWtou0LzPJnlccAKNTXRwkEBiuVbcarvaMoDxoi7_IZMyYc-_SyhGdRv9OfTT_OGzVMbBagBWGPWLHIlR8SZYMNiByK0OItOS8KjIYRbAFwGZ5A/s1600/Murry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit44gB8MOSOEv1ZCsRy67ywzFmFJvpPWtou0LzPJnlccAKNTXRwkEBiuVbcarvaMoDxoi7_IZMyYc-_SyhGdRv9OfTT_OGzVMbBagBWGPWLHIlR8SZYMNiByK0OItOS8KjIYRbAFwGZ5A/s1600/Murry.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">seriously long legs on the Murry man</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBg0M-y226a7PQSnrv0RucrehYf59Mi1SOEz9NwiWbyPe0X91FTgU2y43rvUy4cfXeMGDS-mT7gauzK965GL4qCw886-LwOy-GA3Wd7gPvmbFhbyW2RZC4Bq3b2L9w1ssC79R-7q76tXU/s1600/Rhett+hair+and+Ken.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBg0M-y226a7PQSnrv0RucrehYf59Mi1SOEz9NwiWbyPe0X91FTgU2y43rvUy4cfXeMGDS-mT7gauzK965GL4qCw886-LwOy-GA3Wd7gPvmbFhbyW2RZC4Bq3b2L9w1ssC79R-7q76tXU/s1600/Rhett+hair+and+Ken.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">even in a blur, that mane is magnificent</td></tr>
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The Hamilton is a dinner theater space holding about 700. The tables sit on a succession of increasingly higher risers with a shallow standing area in front of the knee-high stage. Naturally, Cindy and I planted ourselves down front, right of center (Murry side) alongside our New York fan friends. That's the cool thing about traveling for Rhett or 97's shows, there is always at least one person I know sharing the front row. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT2cwXdx9bNj0tDPljBzsLTEe4IwzgX81G8svEHsKDLApQ9G-FEwWVgVmbVhTETUA50JnKvDf3R6KkNmZDqoB-1-DqbSFwfpSz1Hh2uc_h9JoGVZFqJVj_XQWPFY-cBfiYhLpehlYC3Xs/s1600/Rhett+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT2cwXdx9bNj0tDPljBzsLTEe4IwzgX81G8svEHsKDLApQ9G-FEwWVgVmbVhTETUA50JnKvDf3R6KkNmZDqoB-1-DqbSFwfpSz1Hh2uc_h9JoGVZFqJVj_XQWPFY-cBfiYhLpehlYC3Xs/s1600/Rhett+2.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">no caption required</td></tr>
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This was an interesting set up. The band played from 10:15-11pm, at which time there was a half hour break for the club to deliver ball jars of gumbo, glasses of champagne and party hats/noise makers. Then my favorite Texans returned at 11:30 to ring in 2015 at midnight, bust out the champagne and play us out until 1am. <br />
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Oh my God! So so so very much fun!! It was like getting two concerts in one. Each bit performed at full throttle. I can't express enough how amazing they are live. They never disappoint.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQJqcEmBR5QT7QZ0hAENGVyvggOsMU1palOH_lmdz_AfS3SHgPS_VzD4n-7lSixGRen1BvqMC1UDfrAFcttpsY5PndP9kRTZ-EjCkLVTfFLsb84A2jt16V3aehvqv8x_EwFGjzdYKwVU/s1600/Ken+Rhett+hair.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQJqcEmBR5QT7QZ0hAENGVyvggOsMU1palOH_lmdz_AfS3SHgPS_VzD4n-7lSixGRen1BvqMC1UDfrAFcttpsY5PndP9kRTZ-EjCkLVTfFLsb84A2jt16V3aehvqv8x_EwFGjzdYKwVU/s1600/Ken+Rhett+hair.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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At midnight, Rhett popped a bottle of champagne, clinked glasses with some fans in the front and grabbed my friend, Suzanne's homemade Old 97's hat to wear during a rawking version of Auld Lang Syne. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxyHvmW5w0lj6Ph1nA4lBaEUpAL79mj-LOUMgy2EnNtHnsPXGBcAqkFmRe102a6PNWkpUirASjzCloZ4qdABhvH83FPC1sc3mkfpzBFCCbLl-DcKbOBf6_i_KwJXUXf6hv_ICrigmrluI/s1600/Rhett+in+hat.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxyHvmW5w0lj6Ph1nA4lBaEUpAL79mj-LOUMgy2EnNtHnsPXGBcAqkFmRe102a6PNWkpUirASjzCloZ4qdABhvH83FPC1sc3mkfpzBFCCbLl-DcKbOBf6_i_KwJXUXf6hv_ICrigmrluI/s1600/Rhett+in+hat.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">happy new year!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-uSpLc2QH4D3LOna5rfFWSzjB8eyNEu_X66S8bjGpbjuBA76OkrxTwOUkXGy9aOrRQgpB5wz3UQ4Eael0DRDstEsFK8j9185pAzJmJqe4ik70jTt2-4PPXLUnTCTs4Q_ofE8aydMoCo/s1600/Band+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-uSpLc2QH4D3LOna5rfFWSzjB8eyNEu_X66S8bjGpbjuBA76OkrxTwOUkXGy9aOrRQgpB5wz3UQ4Eael0DRDstEsFK8j9185pAzJmJqe4ik70jTt2-4PPXLUnTCTs4Q_ofE8aydMoCo/s1600/Band+3.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">post midnight fervor<br />
props to the hamilton for the trippy lighting</td></tr>
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Then they just got more cranked up from there, working everyone into a frenzy through the final lingering, bittersweet note of Time Bomb. The euphoria lasting long afterwards like a Charismatic's revival meeting. Standing before them, anointed in a spray of Rhett sweat...they are my church.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp489f2YJn9UaBD15b2d6R8GB99EBjOuAxvc3ZDah15UKoFfKzBf40TxFy7d-qCkF3agoWBqO1rJ3YVLhzvPwBrvkXIRjjw0pswA3D4LZ_kXkNVVc1MgXQ0wXJzFzoSlb-j5xhthhmUrQ/s1600/pre+jump.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp489f2YJn9UaBD15b2d6R8GB99EBjOuAxvc3ZDah15UKoFfKzBf40TxFy7d-qCkF3agoWBqO1rJ3YVLhzvPwBrvkXIRjjw0pswA3D4LZ_kXkNVVc1MgXQ0wXJzFzoSlb-j5xhthhmUrQ/s1600/pre+jump.JPG" height="640" width="419" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">love his shadow <br />
soaking up the adoration from his kick drum perch</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtskP9pt2vq_15btIHtmvbAvF8aaQIBJcLVXibocLeZ0tkatmi_1wZvwb57pn6e4tGUZP0nChlYsLyKmhostDrv-APfLEHocinsZhjmzr6g7CH02bjfaqt3Xgu1MwjGMNhZMdHVlmjpQE/s1600/Jump!.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtskP9pt2vq_15btIHtmvbAvF8aaQIBJcLVXibocLeZ0tkatmi_1wZvwb57pn6e4tGUZP0nChlYsLyKmhostDrv-APfLEHocinsZhjmzr6g7CH02bjfaqt3Xgu1MwjGMNhZMdHVlmjpQE/s1600/Jump!.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">time bomb jump</td></tr>
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Speaking of Time Bomb, perched precariously atop Philip's kick drum, occasionally even the magnificent Mr. Miller is not impervious to the laws of gravity and champagne covered flooring. The consummate professional Rock God didn't let a tumble stop that train a-rollin'. 100% all in. ALWAYS.<br />
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I love him and them with every fiber of my pointy heart. This will go down as one of the best New Year's Eves I've ever spent in all my copious trips around the sun. The only thing that would have made it perfect is if Geo was at my side. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTjOaenuWaLuPIz8nXqHyXYBvX5ig9DlpcNY0-SqgdVDxT1OV-HE9DsjUby6DCuq6BceKsHIddPeA_x2Kit13ojiDGYGunxNeqsO0jn_FUPuM9Qus4hwfYn9Pd7MLqJlhjeckePM3FwuQ/s1600/Guitar+Lift+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTjOaenuWaLuPIz8nXqHyXYBvX5ig9DlpcNY0-SqgdVDxT1OV-HE9DsjUby6DCuq6BceKsHIddPeA_x2Kit13ojiDGYGunxNeqsO0jn_FUPuM9Qus4hwfYn9Pd7MLqJlhjeckePM3FwuQ/s1600/Guitar+Lift+2.JPG" height="640" width="489" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the holy spirit of rock and roll shooting forth from his musical scepter<br />
that's church, baby</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizeQz-j8rvJ9ODxoUINACb7NFD-G797rnVanN0vnzA9s9D0DE4SQjMoIvv9jyvaOiH3ffiFgLWEeeDW918XbcRE_9Lklokjg1hbjhSpaeeF6hZzMYeg_v310HWBa7CBXEk1DUzimCxJH4/s1600/Guitar+Lift+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizeQz-j8rvJ9ODxoUINACb7NFD-G797rnVanN0vnzA9s9D0DE4SQjMoIvv9jyvaOiH3ffiFgLWEeeDW918XbcRE_9Lklokjg1hbjhSpaeeF6hZzMYeg_v310HWBa7CBXEk1DUzimCxJH4/s1600/Guitar+Lift+4.JPG" height="640" width="481" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">another triumph of rock </td></tr>
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AND I still got to uphold our annual tradition of flipping off the old year. With this kind of greeting, 2015 has gotta be a good one, right?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOP5zCsQhg1yOO962zmM2-hqy6_ZdqMzLRKq7330efk4P0y1s5kvYyHsmGXwOrGrnGgpM2JbbC4yTrfb9ZFEqXRALcBx2yGko4hU9ns3TmCflmRM6VjqYeX8QnUCYWRrvZs1fSXbIfrsk/s1600/flip+off.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOP5zCsQhg1yOO962zmM2-hqy6_ZdqMzLRKq7330efk4P0y1s5kvYyHsmGXwOrGrnGgpM2JbbC4yTrfb9ZFEqXRALcBx2yGko4hU9ns3TmCflmRM6VjqYeX8QnUCYWRrvZs1fSXbIfrsk/s1600/flip+off.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ring in the new year with Old 97's... <strong>CHECK!</strong><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
NYE Setlist </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
10:15-11:00pm</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
504</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Champagne, IL</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Give it Time</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Crash on the Barrelhead</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Wasted</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Niteclub</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Lonely Holiday</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This is the Ballad</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
W TX Teardrops</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Nashville</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Every Night Is Friday Night</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Big Brown Eyes</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Over the Cliff</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(now is the time when we consumed quantities of gumbo and champagne)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(it is also the time for rhett to change from blue shirt/dark jeans </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to dark shirt/light jeans. well, played, mr. miller. you didn't think i noticed, but i did.)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
11:30-1:00am</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Longer Than You've Been Alive</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Melt Show</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Guadalajara</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mama Tried</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Dance With Me</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Wheels Off</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Miss Molly</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Old 97's Theme</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
countdown: Auld Lang Syne<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Most Messed UP</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sweet Blue-Eyed Darlin'</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Barrier Reef</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Let's Get Drunk and Get It On</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Doreen</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
4 Leaf Clover</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
---</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Victoria</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Roller Skate Skinny</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
King of All the World (request)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Going Going Gone</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eyes for You</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Time Bomb</div>
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<div align="left" style="text-align: center;">
AMEN</div>
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Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-5620606947123795962015-01-18T10:10:00.001-05:002015-01-18T10:14:05.470-05:00Random Acts Of Friendship (And Family)Okay, so full disclosure, I've had this skeletal piece of prose languishing on deck in the dusty bowels of Blogspot for oh, I don't know... five months now. Poor Baby's been left in the corner to fester and rot while I grappled with an inability to finish a post, a paragraph, a prime rib.<br />
<br />
Oh wait. Prime rib I CAN finish... with flourish, boy howdy! The others... meh. <br />
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Aaaaaanywho, it's 2015 and DAMMIT, it's time to get on with it and clean out the closet. So let's hit the reset button and put this turkey on the table, shall we? Why am I suddenly hungry?<br />
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Aaaaand.... GO!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXZYzp_8M3pTNPeFRHwDLnNU5uqkoPeDn09jgCi1DXy00YBld-SKkk7MBWAZqSMr5g8o5aEiCp9Fmiwx58-nEK1PBwVd-qL14VnP2NgRcDkCQUrMaW2C6pv2KjlvOXSQN-QNVnMNnjfRs/s1600/IMG_6903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXZYzp_8M3pTNPeFRHwDLnNU5uqkoPeDn09jgCi1DXy00YBld-SKkk7MBWAZqSMr5g8o5aEiCp9Fmiwx58-nEK1PBwVd-qL14VnP2NgRcDkCQUrMaW2C6pv2KjlvOXSQN-QNVnMNnjfRs/s1600/IMG_6903.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pre binge drinking/snacking/toking</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ig205qGJSSIzI_-0AJL9rLelKU32D6oWafVOlsl2V8z0eIgOzqiEbXtJSCDpR6RuPuoSsHSbT4OpglmTuS3PfYNdsJ5ofQBC73MIZM0I70v1xg_qrlWyKGcTWDafMTG66nqHCEeVsUE/s1600/IMG_6887.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ig205qGJSSIzI_-0AJL9rLelKU32D6oWafVOlsl2V8z0eIgOzqiEbXtJSCDpR6RuPuoSsHSbT4OpglmTuS3PfYNdsJ5ofQBC73MIZM0I70v1xg_qrlWyKGcTWDafMTG66nqHCEeVsUE/s1600/IMG_6887.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">beach fest provisions<br />
just add sunshine<br />
and sand in your crack</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Okay, so my Special K bud, Beets and I chucked our family responsibilities and Thelma and Louised it to the Jersey shore. Strangely I didn't take any photos of our revelry (besides the ones above…shut up), but instead snapped a few shots from the I-will-kill-you-in-your-sleep collection being proffered at the antique fair by a creepy cat I just know is a serial killer in the making. I mean, HOLYGOODGODJESUSCHRIST!!! WHAT THE SERIOUS FUCK!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZOmT_knyxVHgDy92lGBq05Liqmytcq1FfYE2bY8Ao4hIbxpSUtJrBct1RFxHw_D7dAebFRukODKyUndgej6k178nU3Qd7dQ9anUvg38-KPw6EAnqW8ZcOA_204y5qyDNaPg6IaiCm2-o/s1600/IMG_6889.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZOmT_knyxVHgDy92lGBq05Liqmytcq1FfYE2bY8Ao4hIbxpSUtJrBct1RFxHw_D7dAebFRukODKyUndgej6k178nU3Qd7dQ9anUvg38-KPw6EAnqW8ZcOA_204y5qyDNaPg6IaiCm2-o/s1600/IMG_6889.jpg" height="400" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't make eye contact<br />
Don't make eye contact<br />
Don't make eye contact...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR9SMBrFZ0I7GqUqWcOsuDv05fbOD5tmb3lyGck1MrCPMbAi7960X49CyMirN0qd4DVy3mUC2JYgh_QOnJFLX_eBBMfL1zNeboojn2C5hfHzNo_I5SYMHo2PXg7etZi0JfJPAL-_nZPCM/s1600/IMG_6888.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR9SMBrFZ0I7GqUqWcOsuDv05fbOD5tmb3lyGck1MrCPMbAi7960X49CyMirN0qd4DVy3mUC2JYgh_QOnJFLX_eBBMfL1zNeboojn2C5hfHzNo_I5SYMHo2PXg7etZi0JfJPAL-_nZPCM/s1600/IMG_6888.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">is this really the most sought after part <br />
of stuffed vermin?<br />
isn't killing small animals the<br />
first sign that you might be<br />
a serial killer?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-iRmbL0adl_bdvn01FeIa_iw8Wghuf0iH2C5niukDljH3s4_kNqEQ67-vXtA1VO6dCj7tPfm_Nh5-LvRIAE2wzS_4tEcrNP6E6456SiISAmQXXeFFRRCT2fkvB9GcxdsRm9G4zP_7V4o/s1600/IMG_6892.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-iRmbL0adl_bdvn01FeIa_iw8Wghuf0iH2C5niukDljH3s4_kNqEQ67-vXtA1VO6dCj7tPfm_Nh5-LvRIAE2wzS_4tEcrNP6E6456SiISAmQXXeFFRRCT2fkvB9GcxdsRm9G4zP_7V4o/s1600/IMG_6892.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">you just knew this fucker was into clowns<br />
definite serial killer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He definitely has young women chained in a well somewhere in a farmhouse in middle Jersey. Other than that nightmare, a sun-filled, snack-fueled, inebriated fun time was had by all.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz5griVkG0v37G1wx67mCejYJbXXWiLdjlfbBRNtFT1X31AlIN_jyPJmtGLFReHG3RYsfJQ0k1-A0naTbQVZTmwRExz5ySx0fbiekHCtcUv_UIa26gTEQ5qlt6Q7haSlshbdFn5M1Ya8s/s1600/kitties.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz5griVkG0v37G1wx67mCejYJbXXWiLdjlfbBRNtFT1X31AlIN_jyPJmtGLFReHG3RYsfJQ0k1-A0naTbQVZTmwRExz5ySx0fbiekHCtcUv_UIa26gTEQ5qlt6Q7haSlshbdFn5M1Ya8s/s1600/kitties.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the guuuurlfriends kitten club<br />
with our pussy shirts...<br />
and ob tampon, muthafucka!<br />
long story. don't ask</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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You know how it's not as easy to connect with people the older you get? Adult humanoids can be more guarded as they age, not willing to let their protective force fields down long enough to really become close friends. Well, I have been #BLESSED (as the Twitters say) to have made not one, but three---I said THREE MUTHAFUCKA!-- new kick-ass girlfriends to dine, drink and dish with. Not to mention dangle GD prepositions. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQiMvYKu9t_8i17JIrgIPFK0MOPOcJs08EmzKVHpUQdCz2OswwMCUXoZiw3bEimCn0ps_DgUDnzZ-oRkjrCUFX51Ce9B1-s-GzcIJfiRZb3e5NgjsjY0Na0Jgw-xPISTOZQ0H5UAYlnYE/s1600/954816_10205398648549056_7496683691965240341_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQiMvYKu9t_8i17JIrgIPFK0MOPOcJs08EmzKVHpUQdCz2OswwMCUXoZiw3bEimCn0ps_DgUDnzZ-oRkjrCUFX51Ce9B1-s-GzcIJfiRZb3e5NgjsjY0Na0Jgw-xPISTOZQ0H5UAYlnYE/s1600/954816_10205398648549056_7496683691965240341_n.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">babes at the WYEP birthday bash<br />
billy joe, bobby joe and a double shot of betty joe<br />
(i'm carbon dating myself with that Petticoat Junction reference)<br />
(look it up, wiseass. it took place in HOOTERVILLE. 'nough said)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Abby, Suzanne and Denise are the veritable BOMB, y'all! We hit it off immediately. We are all on the same page. Oversharing is encouraged and no topic is off limits. The force fields are down, waaaaay down. I laugh so much when I'm with my Kitty Bitches. (That's the moniker we've given our posse. It stems from one of our conversations, but for the love of coconut coffee, I cannot fucking remember why. I blame vodka.) They are a gift from the Guuurl Gods. Seriously. They are the real deal. Love their asses!!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq6E0Tsbvl0ZCk94Ui6s28lr8mLIxZl8_IeYqj-J4J1s1W22p3w4zpwbhqVPssbwD7AJBCr6KknNpWZEBmitW9SR_as7Le7b5sdb1nKfyqjKuBdKW6sp_2sYUXR1tmfe6bsZuptsntkfg/s1600/10346214_10205400873004666_2652169499850579537_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq6E0Tsbvl0ZCk94Ui6s28lr8mLIxZl8_IeYqj-J4J1s1W22p3w4zpwbhqVPssbwD7AJBCr6KknNpWZEBmitW9SR_as7Le7b5sdb1nKfyqjKuBdKW6sp_2sYUXR1tmfe6bsZuptsntkfg/s1600/10346214_10205400873004666_2652169499850579537_n.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">phone in one hand, wine in the other, surrounded by friends<br />
yep, my happy place</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04P-B01lu7MRTS7p3iX_MgmurouWntbwpBE1n2K9_t2IAi7YF3Jy03R5BCYtmbN_cK9TJ4orkuJwyErKpZhW9MUds7-9gNn_hHDodAVRmrtnrkiw_Bs1KBBv4nC7ennNMOi3wdB_toz4/s1600/10675676_10205400873484678_8982933386550008487_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04P-B01lu7MRTS7p3iX_MgmurouWntbwpBE1n2K9_t2IAi7YF3Jy03R5BCYtmbN_cK9TJ4orkuJwyErKpZhW9MUds7-9gNn_hHDodAVRmrtnrkiw_Bs1KBBv4nC7ennNMOi3wdB_toz4/s1600/10675676_10205400873484678_8982933386550008487_n.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the picture of elegance</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrw_0yl9adJdqv2Ts6X91SPKmMalUsTj0yqcI45hsz7f-oruahaDj0agx7x_f_flt8oVzyR4lEVG1jFLXWOMvQE7iNNCdcb6uJW6Otx82CtgMJBMRn4Yiqbr4UZan0UmeDIY3Lcbnxa4s/s1600/IMG_7678.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrw_0yl9adJdqv2Ts6X91SPKmMalUsTj0yqcI45hsz7f-oruahaDj0agx7x_f_flt8oVzyR4lEVG1jFLXWOMvQE7iNNCdcb6uJW6Otx82CtgMJBMRn4Yiqbr4UZan0UmeDIY3Lcbnxa4s/s1600/IMG_7678.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DeDe photo bombed by Pirates manager, Clint Hurdle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2GtoKLpD4NfJV5Kr12cJSqHt_6Q8oYRwDG01S9pbodyv0D4znhMh-7idQ7KcoS2ft4zrkUWc3iAXRP2OpU9xWuCUbqbag8nuh1VMCRNQ-wi0edslNcSSC-J9Q1Md6KFiPFvt-ti-sSkE/s1600/IMG_7683.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2GtoKLpD4NfJV5Kr12cJSqHt_6Q8oYRwDG01S9pbodyv0D4znhMh-7idQ7KcoS2ft4zrkUWc3iAXRP2OpU9xWuCUbqbag8nuh1VMCRNQ-wi0edslNcSSC-J9Q1Md6KFiPFvt-ti-sSkE/s1600/IMG_7683.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abby's hubs<br />
honorary gurlfriend subjected to tmi talk</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7BY1M0zNQk-mewK8DWlB7d5PK-bTPjRN-c6LBmXRxJlGqIAZSK63VeLNqySipdqRZ7YymfWk3hQuf8yXcXRwlrtstiUxlbOQnHFpb4-Qbv4OvcvtS5PnnxO4ZsN8sR_zcIKCW0QxQ1zU/s1600/IMG_7680.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7BY1M0zNQk-mewK8DWlB7d5PK-bTPjRN-c6LBmXRxJlGqIAZSK63VeLNqySipdqRZ7YymfWk3hQuf8yXcXRwlrtstiUxlbOQnHFpb4-Qbv4OvcvtS5PnnxO4ZsN8sR_zcIKCW0QxQ1zU/s1600/IMG_7680.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></div>
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Besides general carousing, we four took in the Riverlife celebration in September. Held on the north shore in front of the casino, Riverlife is a swanky-ass, gilded affair with fancy foods, signature cocktails, dancing, a riverboat cruise and demure behaviors from society folks. <br />
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I know, right? How'd we get in there?<br />
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Fortunately, frivolity was encouraged. And we frivoled the fuck outta that joint, especially the photo booth.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Mu5PKg_MBFQ_ROJIwBgHDAxCB2jzyp46ZnMke9q9jtH89k9419qXqmVx1WGtlLXPUzJGqZoUYjE35huCWtEhviomx1S5STUbYZnr7JJxO2MmtOtf0-ngqvCPsn4yoMH_RCtJxliEda4/s1600/10456190_10204104791196431_508829186175230360_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Mu5PKg_MBFQ_ROJIwBgHDAxCB2jzyp46ZnMke9q9jtH89k9419qXqmVx1WGtlLXPUzJGqZoUYjE35huCWtEhviomx1S5STUbYZnr7JJxO2MmtOtf0-ngqvCPsn4yoMH_RCtJxliEda4/s1600/10456190_10204104791196431_508829186175230360_n.jpg" height="248" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2B1t_SXmOrOFUcKqdbTmonHF_VzdfuFUtdebSjFo9z2n_dUHgF-18qRPs-S86rs6nRIyxL5FyV4RFlUgGGeAw4Dhl78geSMTvZs_Mld5ULrSjGx1QWoOOrvX3qVnBvCFfm4OvKxw5_r4/s1600/IMG_7098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2B1t_SXmOrOFUcKqdbTmonHF_VzdfuFUtdebSjFo9z2n_dUHgF-18qRPs-S86rs6nRIyxL5FyV4RFlUgGGeAw4Dhl78geSMTvZs_Mld5ULrSjGx1QWoOOrvX3qVnBvCFfm4OvKxw5_r4/s1600/IMG_7098.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFubK3SiTR_5-RKHFSnMLyBgMl9rxPIyqSkGgFBgGlMfyF8Nb8cBYN0O7U80AZhw1bw1ibWPlulbb_leplYf83_bQysVw1oQ3wuLU8TLVcJxhoS9gME81Rrb4VL1cjw9ufOUkdDvCQ68/s1600/IMG_7099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFubK3SiTR_5-RKHFSnMLyBgMl9rxPIyqSkGgFBgGlMfyF8Nb8cBYN0O7U80AZhw1bw1ibWPlulbb_leplYf83_bQysVw1oQ3wuLU8TLVcJxhoS9gME81Rrb4VL1cjw9ufOUkdDvCQ68/s1600/IMG_7099.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lovable asshats<br />
coincidentally WEARING hats</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Suzanne wore this knock-out vintage gold number that was straight out of the chifferobe of the impossibly curvaceous Joan from Mad Men. She was henceforth referred to as Joan. #Raaaawr <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3k4SiuRg9u29EaSTgsTMkbAg0zSCWL-4IZhNAg2EWMvBxCc6hghKgvUx-CysGC9jm4ZdZZc0L88pQ_Fzj527Xl8e0lFEr6rXi19trFePRnP24mS_Feef3kd8kxHAflVTtFUPrplBUciQ/s1600/IMG_7088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3k4SiuRg9u29EaSTgsTMkbAg0zSCWL-4IZhNAg2EWMvBxCc6hghKgvUx-CysGC9jm4ZdZZc0L88pQ_Fzj527Xl8e0lFEr6rXi19trFePRnP24mS_Feef3kd8kxHAflVTtFUPrplBUciQ/s1600/IMG_7088.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">beeewbs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPXgXPO6rOheCOSnpr73ckpowdZV4RRJZqzyC4SFq42Zay49XsB2lmTOJbTMw50Xi6tTqQivErfYyUE1Jys5oacrbINKdgzNUhgpxvx1TjJLTozXo3HL4OW55Hl7p3un26MysLS98rG94/s1600/IMG_7095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPXgXPO6rOheCOSnpr73ckpowdZV4RRJZqzyC4SFq42Zay49XsB2lmTOJbTMw50Xi6tTqQivErfYyUE1Jys5oacrbINKdgzNUhgpxvx1TjJLTozXo3HL4OW55Hl7p3un26MysLS98rG94/s1600/IMG_7095.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFmRlxY5VdTz8YtlpINsvtwTxyvEzqshaae-ZmJMar7qwZNdf6FNw9n9NGUgBJl8m63kbF5ZidoPgHjIllMD08_jITSVYslNHyiUmYPAIw2ioFtQJnUXnT4ONjoaZ77Tmklii7x_GlCwY/s1600/IMG_7096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFmRlxY5VdTz8YtlpINsvtwTxyvEzqshaae-ZmJMar7qwZNdf6FNw9n9NGUgBJl8m63kbF5ZidoPgHjIllMD08_jITSVYslNHyiUmYPAIw2ioFtQJnUXnT4ONjoaZ77Tmklii7x_GlCwY/s1600/IMG_7096.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhrg2k1OYZLOsflxPXBL88nMyggTDlXuG2QqvBsz9cwUn8bFu1uDn6tQ2hBWagElbDokHDoTErPIhRxwBXO7avHdqFghHxRMtu-rSazvwZr1hu1SDtqlfXUqt11bQLD-nZifSGT6lwqCY/s1600/IMG_7097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhrg2k1OYZLOsflxPXBL88nMyggTDlXuG2QqvBsz9cwUn8bFu1uDn6tQ2hBWagElbDokHDoTErPIhRxwBXO7avHdqFghHxRMtu-rSazvwZr1hu1SDtqlfXUqt11bQLD-nZifSGT6lwqCY/s1600/IMG_7097.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpaD0gi_fzSM_R2V_0KW_x386uSCecKwVQwIzIBQkRBTiowgyglDTSpodWUo2fX9BmTBpDWhtDbtG9ABAJiNcbgS2CGHd7Uf1Mf-ziBIPEVT4CfOVJTAi1q3iZAqQ-mYvsqz5_CVuNXv4/s1600/IMG_7111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpaD0gi_fzSM_R2V_0KW_x386uSCecKwVQwIzIBQkRBTiowgyglDTSpodWUo2fX9BmTBpDWhtDbtG9ABAJiNcbgS2CGHd7Uf1Mf-ziBIPEVT4CfOVJTAi1q3iZAqQ-mYvsqz5_CVuNXv4/s1600/IMG_7111.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">super model fan dancing </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
All in all, we brought an understated elegance to the entire affair. Yeah, we did. <br />
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<br />
<br />
Moving on... <br />
<br />
One of the events I look forward to every year is Savor Pittsburgh. It's a charity event in which up to 30 local restaurants vie for best entrée, appetizer and/or dessert. There's a live band, silent auction and OHMIGODTHEFOOD!! So very much amazing food! Gobs and gobs of it. All in bite size servings. All uncerimoniously shoved into my maw by the graceless fistful.<br />
<br />
Mmmmmm....droool...<br />
<br />
But by far the best part about Savor Pittsburgh is hanging with my favorite Burgher in Beantown, Jimmy McParkway. Together we down too many small plates, consume a wee too much liquor and dance like Elaine Benes. Okay, so this year he would NOT get up to dance because he was being a puss-face tool, but we DID serial photobomb patrons in our pretty, grown-up clothes. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZ3c5TK1EEWqLWmxCBv0drMeU3keOGBVGrib2ntMAnP4ztJBymWVUQ9t2Q7W_9ZSog1Her-znQEh7KqixANpFa431PqoIBAmKxRfkG5DEaK2DQVVQoQuofM5m5cQC-P0yXkgw1QRm7vc/s1600/IMG_6998.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZ3c5TK1EEWqLWmxCBv0drMeU3keOGBVGrib2ntMAnP4ztJBymWVUQ9t2Q7W_9ZSog1Her-znQEh7KqixANpFa431PqoIBAmKxRfkG5DEaK2DQVVQoQuofM5m5cQC-P0yXkgw1QRm7vc/s1600/IMG_6998.PNG" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">how to be a jerk in public</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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YAAAAASSS!!!!! Photobomb perfection!!<br />
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Jimmy, master of the interwebs managed to find this gem on instagram. And isn't the sad truth about photobombing that one rarely ever sees ones handiwork. A Goddamn shame.<br />
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I miss him every. damn. day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBPOEZ0sk2RuQASAggrM6Se8F9suxHmYUcr4ZRGacaaxiXUGyoYXmbwUufPcXynrZQFmVkGa68xwnt2_EFufwmsyHWvDTZlVcl4EdRygML6Qe-txOWu9xbEMzCprfvmIMNk8mDkKZyxlQ/s1600/IMG_7471+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBPOEZ0sk2RuQASAggrM6Se8F9suxHmYUcr4ZRGacaaxiXUGyoYXmbwUufPcXynrZQFmVkGa68xwnt2_EFufwmsyHWvDTZlVcl4EdRygML6Qe-txOWu9xbEMzCprfvmIMNk8mDkKZyxlQ/s1600/IMG_7471+(1).jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this view never gets old</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Fortunately it's just a short plane hop to visit him in his new zip code. Last October I invaded his personal space for a few days. After a sizable flight delay due to a helacious storm of biblical proportion, I dropped in Boston just in time to race off to the fancy theater to see David Sedaris and his man culottes.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEAHzM9H7xNqANSZDgf2aV7-5CHG7VKC3Qcv_chJZDBoThjn_ILKwc18H-TMfNYDoe_bDdfFfsA_1_Y0eqiCeranTV8DhnUhXWPlOgvf9J0ZUG_i8GkxIZykXAS57CKloIwSGF4A8xY9U/s1600/IMG_7482.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEAHzM9H7xNqANSZDgf2aV7-5CHG7VKC3Qcv_chJZDBoThjn_ILKwc18H-TMfNYDoe_bDdfFfsA_1_Y0eqiCeranTV8DhnUhXWPlOgvf9J0ZUG_i8GkxIZykXAS57CKloIwSGF4A8xY9U/s1600/IMG_7482.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVk8Q3ef6mcHqQL9dB61MekO5oceJ8GWDP6I03xMQW0QntJIG87YT-Mg1i0lfLDbTllaOEmE9N-RexA2nwpPrqTDf0P4BEIbyyvXuVmmfb6x_soV7MvFKpUB9Y3O6KxtBsO2n7AIWkx6U/s1600/IMG_7483.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVk8Q3ef6mcHqQL9dB61MekO5oceJ8GWDP6I03xMQW0QntJIG87YT-Mg1i0lfLDbTllaOEmE9N-RexA2nwpPrqTDf0P4BEIbyyvXuVmmfb6x_soV7MvFKpUB9Y3O6KxtBsO2n7AIWkx6U/s1600/IMG_7483.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">swanky venue for the cultured</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We had pretty much explored Boston the prior year, and since it was fall, we opted to hop a train to Providence, Rhode Island to do a little leaf peeping and rummage around the capital.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixp8XtS29jvGVv9GrzSPOGw7ra1Ks-EPv_sKD-oyX4bMMBi-OO6x3Yw1ZHwW_uvuCemkDTSIR-x_igp9S_QkmXPKRS7Q1y6ajEZCJ4aBi6c_k2WP0-QMFwiq58jRG4IQF402czPcjPMwM/s1600/IMG_7493+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixp8XtS29jvGVv9GrzSPOGw7ra1Ks-EPv_sKD-oyX4bMMBi-OO6x3Yw1ZHwW_uvuCemkDTSIR-x_igp9S_QkmXPKRS7Q1y6ajEZCJ4aBi6c_k2WP0-QMFwiq58jRG4IQF402czPcjPMwM/s1600/IMG_7493+(2).jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">fall leaves from the speeding train<br />
Claude Monet would be jealous</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And act like a jackhole. And assault public art like a boss. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ZI98Te2VlF7G2gXSVepXgTrnUVTKlpc-9Z1vCE3I_EI-y1SS1_Rka8f9w57QU95gL-h7YrXK6XsH-_3LObsdVSEGX_DFXPiiNpfNAkbuwM3efjv6pf22PhVT9lgRHVxFvCZZJmOSH3c/s1600/IMG_7518+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ZI98Te2VlF7G2gXSVepXgTrnUVTKlpc-9Z1vCE3I_EI-y1SS1_Rka8f9w57QU95gL-h7YrXK6XsH-_3LObsdVSEGX_DFXPiiNpfNAkbuwM3efjv6pf22PhVT9lgRHVxFvCZZJmOSH3c/s1600/IMG_7518+(1).jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">is that a pole in your pocket...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Providence is a lovely little metropolis. It is the home of <a href="http://waterfire.org/">Water Fire festival</a> in which torches are set up all along the riverwalk (and in the river), artisans set up booths and live music plays all weekend. A small river town north of Pittsburgh has tapped into this Water Fire festival notion the last two years.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivyI2MKfwgjyoXMpXCAJDtoeLyoPNGzQlG79q0g0lM97S78hFEFaqXoidZs9Ow0JnvKWJ_fuSXJgKalw8QascuWjNdCzGHRf14vLmhw9VNImTMtsZ7pXVlOtT4assjMAd1_TPUt92jzg4/s1600/IMG_7499.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivyI2MKfwgjyoXMpXCAJDtoeLyoPNGzQlG79q0g0lM97S78hFEFaqXoidZs9Ow0JnvKWJ_fuSXJgKalw8QascuWjNdCzGHRf14vLmhw9VNImTMtsZ7pXVlOtT4assjMAd1_TPUt92jzg4/s1600/IMG_7499.jpg" height="400" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">providence, ri<br />
permanent bowls for Water Fire festival</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After we sullied the ship sculpture, it started raining. A little at first, then gobs and gobs of it. Nothing left to do but have a cocktail or three, and wait for the next train back. True to his technological bent, Jimmy summoned an Uber driver to pick up our sopping frames. I swear when I visit, he and I take every single mode of transport--save boat--to tool around. Next time we're getting on GD a boat.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3RJ1FVMXLaOAnBvpH0vB0ergocGiJdyQ7EVB7cr1qfEDNxEapVXzRksFkbYJ07TQAv44V-Z6W4QYszuyq7RHhPShmJktmfkY_98vh7af9Ilbu5gyD50SZyqd_dNCBkJJqWLsBqtMpNY/s1600/IMG_7506+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3RJ1FVMXLaOAnBvpH0vB0ergocGiJdyQ7EVB7cr1qfEDNxEapVXzRksFkbYJ07TQAv44V-Z6W4QYszuyq7RHhPShmJktmfkY_98vh7af9Ilbu5gyD50SZyqd_dNCBkJJqWLsBqtMpNY/s1600/IMG_7506+(2).jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one rainy-ass mofo day</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAe4jy9OZ1qBNcdgMvazrfK7R16YJJOucOFCQMet2W5SU0bwFzPbHVoPOdcCNnLqi4oKyAEAkjTcgc9heuhi2oxJhHpcFt3rmoqFIPcOegWMuaKrEoVJOjzxDgYPhxQSdLr6cW7iyr3fk/s1600/IMG_7508+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAe4jy9OZ1qBNcdgMvazrfK7R16YJJOucOFCQMet2W5SU0bwFzPbHVoPOdcCNnLqi4oKyAEAkjTcgc9heuhi2oxJhHpcFt3rmoqFIPcOegWMuaKrEoVJOjzxDgYPhxQSdLr6cW7iyr3fk/s1600/IMG_7508+(2).jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">jimmy is very proud of the tv hat he is wearing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRFfR0l1xSCxNaNI-CJCa1xasxlaxtu5J88ZYSKkGzBVULoCkwTRSshN_gxx6qLMpMiJmSWRNWkvLemgMvYtz9C4T-M4si_-lWhjGe_UN6LM7aanQxZrqXkIHGl6og5JG5kAAkSQh0g4g/s1600/IMG_7509+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRFfR0l1xSCxNaNI-CJCa1xasxlaxtu5J88ZYSKkGzBVULoCkwTRSshN_gxx6qLMpMiJmSWRNWkvLemgMvYtz9C4T-M4si_-lWhjGe_UN6LM7aanQxZrqXkIHGl6og5JG5kAAkSQh0g4g/s1600/IMG_7509+(2).jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">in case you didn't get the idea that it rained</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Anywho, this car was the polar opposite of the one we took the night before. Sweet Baby Jesus! That nightmare on wheels was outrageous, and not in a good way. The driver was very sweet, but Holy CATZ there was barely room for Jimmy to sit in the back because this guy's entire life was in the car with us. And then he had like, a thousand pine tree fresheners dangling from his mirror to, I don't know, mask the rotting road kill in the way back of his Hobomobile? I have no idea, but there was a nasty funk burning a hole through our nostrils. <br />
<br />
No. Just...NO.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to Rhode Island…a pristine, white cadillac with supple Corinthian leather interior and soothing jazz music… Aaaaaa…<br />
<br />
Luxury Limo >CraCra Jeep Dude any day of the week.<br />
<br />
Funny story: When Jim went to work the next morning, his co-anchor asked what we did the day before. When he told her we hopped a train to look at leaves, she said "What? Is she FIFTY??!?"<br />
<br />
No, Motherfucker. I'm 54.<br />
<br />
Okay, to be honest, I laughed my ass off imagining her utter disdain. Surely fifty year olds have hunched backs, hammer toes and <a href="http://www.hoveround.com/home/more-information/?PhoneNumber=8003757308&PageID=1110000296&KWID=43700005300441376&utm_source=GOOGLE&utm_medium=RMIPPC&utm_campaign=Brand&utm_term=hover+round&gclid=CJia96nXncMCFVIkgQodTIQAyQ">Hoverounds</a> to shuffle their twisted bodies to Early Bird specials. To his credit, he shaved a year off my age and defended my fun-loving spirit. I still have some life left in me… Bitch. You're on my list.<br />
<br />
I kid.<br />
<br />
Maybe.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTRHm-gkuEjpU1sQS3V5sPaVRrp_E29DcQ1XZ8lEPMiA8VnBBaa9A-egB2i9zvYlqiLNFlaADTouvuomUtOy26dxRSiHSFX9DEPFZoIVl3t-zZxZdhKjuAGDNvWXAFzTk_J7W7SePVds/s1600/1926784_10153281605193265_9040560317706962548_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTRHm-gkuEjpU1sQS3V5sPaVRrp_E29DcQ1XZ8lEPMiA8VnBBaa9A-egB2i9zvYlqiLNFlaADTouvuomUtOy26dxRSiHSFX9DEPFZoIVl3t-zZxZdhKjuAGDNvWXAFzTk_J7W7SePVds/s1600/1926784_10153281605193265_9040560317706962548_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">slow down there, grandma! you'll break a hip.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And then we ate...<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb9_hbh4QbWXYfz8tuWIZNJ7c0HpBkzapGTdBPgGu8Ly9NdMcogXCdT6PMLkeDIg7T-vEjqEkXd0V833QNR7QtOBu7nfn1pq1RpuqNRNUzk4ZT5cwOacN2TIMLkWHXXhlkjiMcDEBXz1o/s1600/IMG_7531+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb9_hbh4QbWXYfz8tuWIZNJ7c0HpBkzapGTdBPgGu8Ly9NdMcogXCdT6PMLkeDIg7T-vEjqEkXd0V833QNR7QtOBu7nfn1pq1RpuqNRNUzk4ZT5cwOacN2TIMLkWHXXhlkjiMcDEBXz1o/s1600/IMG_7531+(2).jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">breakfast of champions</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BvD5NUucQPT_SlMpkh3qxQefeq4-HwXoGQHP-Ow1dvwM8zIoep36ETLMevPWn1xjT3SaKXAQUhQ-BvcKtgj4rBcXRNbtZkMkkdpDTO95cPubbW349jFQ7Ywx7587vf74Kgp-N9zh4uc/s1600/IMG_7525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BvD5NUucQPT_SlMpkh3qxQefeq4-HwXoGQHP-Ow1dvwM8zIoep36ETLMevPWn1xjT3SaKXAQUhQ-BvcKtgj4rBcXRNbtZkMkkdpDTO95cPubbW349jFQ7Ywx7587vf74Kgp-N9zh4uc/s1600/IMG_7525.jpg" height="400" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the station diner's industrial-ish interior</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3P4dXoQDlkqA6Hknz-nJFGzWgNgasoqV03iQRb1Nvp5ue4MCs34OUmAhlAKeNN9XHuek-uCRkrFEkAD78dWt-YupPSTgWTUSPkV8pLZfKbr7LiOKOTG3KMaueEpv1lAr6Y_FV9k6tUAo/s1600/IMG_7528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3P4dXoQDlkqA6Hknz-nJFGzWgNgasoqV03iQRb1Nvp5ue4MCs34OUmAhlAKeNN9XHuek-uCRkrFEkAD78dWt-YupPSTgWTUSPkV8pLZfKbr7LiOKOTG3KMaueEpv1lAr6Y_FV9k6tUAo/s1600/IMG_7528.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">wtf?<br />
get your shit together, diner.<br />
go heinz or go home!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAN8CIKHz8xiGLTBNHVuBHogpUJayrMk3EK0JpjhGPwI28Y-EQH8Zfs8hKgMQ73cEZrKqX1jYwlF0CZrZt7eK3GgJRtGItg9_SG-Y5EKoUEMfQFNb0AABDq3_ab5Kgb1g9VJvngRZhRI/s1600/IMG_7537+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAN8CIKHz8xiGLTBNHVuBHogpUJayrMk3EK0JpjhGPwI28Y-EQH8Zfs8hKgMQ73cEZrKqX1jYwlF0CZrZt7eK3GgJRtGItg9_SG-Y5EKoUEMfQFNb0AABDq3_ab5Kgb1g9VJvngRZhRI/s1600/IMG_7537+(2).jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">severed hand is the new black</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHug5s5IP4q5eyXLtG5glUizjMxOdVhn_DjsQJpRrPFP3nvqegoucaqAeRA3IYzqYXa1ptSj-oGNhiaw6Zetqy6NDYY0sUobtocmcAf5egH5KHH1Wlb44TdnMRlcYnmFVAwl_Z6IC5Hs/s1600/IMG_7538+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPHug5s5IP4q5eyXLtG5glUizjMxOdVhn_DjsQJpRrPFP3nvqegoucaqAeRA3IYzqYXa1ptSj-oGNhiaw6Zetqy6NDYY0sUobtocmcAf5egH5KHH1Wlb44TdnMRlcYnmFVAwl_Z6IC5Hs/s1600/IMG_7538+(1).jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">or is it?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4G1byiOtScp6ujfNL-rR19nQC0UE4tJHCCp117BEWshJVSMEky65oqN9qg-Pxc10KHrto2c-U57w_vaCTNywcxJPj-QLtHUO7Rcjj4cVe8iF5hZB-4XXypFam3F082n5TzyQnEWXjxk/s1600/IMG_7544+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4G1byiOtScp6ujfNL-rR19nQC0UE4tJHCCp117BEWshJVSMEky65oqN9qg-Pxc10KHrto2c-U57w_vaCTNywcxJPj-QLtHUO7Rcjj4cVe8iF5hZB-4XXypFam3F082n5TzyQnEWXjxk/s1600/IMG_7544+(1).jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">who wouldn't get a lady boner?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Now that Big Mar is in her 90s, the siblings are making the trek home every September to celebrate her latest circle around the sun. It's been great having everybody together for her.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BhemuKlSiWYX5pTlSlQVS50rBy4NmAo_gp_N2DZzCAOE4UuDXx2uQDaLtzLNh1HN6uuSwFLPbOwvm0sQbWSyP79xRjTkgC6uDW4yPsnKI8P5xuC63foueKendmV3fufcDRlI0gv_cFI/s1600/2014-09-25+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BhemuKlSiWYX5pTlSlQVS50rBy4NmAo_gp_N2DZzCAOE4UuDXx2uQDaLtzLNh1HN6uuSwFLPbOwvm0sQbWSyP79xRjTkgC6uDW4yPsnKI8P5xuC63foueKendmV3fufcDRlI0gv_cFI/s1600/2014-09-25+003.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">big mar, her brood and some strays who love her</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-Xe8akl-IHQNM9Z5Mk781sYvRGPSbuqKQ_MCzemF7iuJX02EH4MIVpRH1i7LuDfi2MaxBuOZ5VIMYmRMcmynYZqKqAXeUUawjLu3ZjoAieJPMOgXIVGftKuUDuajWJcemu0bqKpfG70/s1600/IMG_7346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-Xe8akl-IHQNM9Z5Mk781sYvRGPSbuqKQ_MCzemF7iuJX02EH4MIVpRH1i7LuDfi2MaxBuOZ5VIMYmRMcmynYZqKqAXeUUawjLu3ZjoAieJPMOgXIVGftKuUDuajWJcemu0bqKpfG70/s1600/IMG_7346.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sure. make the old lady blow out a zillion candles.<br />
jerks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
This year her birthday coincided with the quarterly <a href="http://trustarts.culturaldistrict.org/event/2522/gallery-crawl-in-the-cultural-district">gallery crawl</a> in downtown Pittsburgh. As much as we are together as a family, we rarely go out anymore. It was a gorgeous Friday night, so SURPRISE! we actually went to town. Madness.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9d0tILjScEy4tTeDameAhybSrRIeAaqHmk9T85fCGT5pKTbGOa9_sBrpUL-8h97JHsW-ME9soyWgRGrHLJY2T-pjTYVqroORHd_33k82_E64pS6HIQWxGS_dQegQD7j8FURiXmhPtdk/s1600/IMG_7355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9d0tILjScEy4tTeDameAhybSrRIeAaqHmk9T85fCGT5pKTbGOa9_sBrpUL-8h97JHsW-ME9soyWgRGrHLJY2T-pjTYVqroORHd_33k82_E64pS6HIQWxGS_dQegQD7j8FURiXmhPtdk/s1600/IMG_7355.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">giant jenga</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzllS-SWrFDucRurvy8-tmyZIvxCtk4mFem25vuBCoPeaZEdYY_CO6GbPlg1MjCsnlsL6JrCCR4jG47-sSqs6Xy4ZcAG3awYpKN_lVhpAv4ExIIw3TSJXzR-cTEp20d-nwVXxJ3QhELPo/s1600/IMG_7362.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzllS-SWrFDucRurvy8-tmyZIvxCtk4mFem25vuBCoPeaZEdYY_CO6GbPlg1MjCsnlsL6JrCCR4jG47-sSqs6Xy4ZcAG3awYpKN_lVhpAv4ExIIw3TSJXzR-cTEp20d-nwVXxJ3QhELPo/s1600/IMG_7362.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">monkey shenanigans</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLjLFORm8_mnOcjVNco1z9oSV-KKyvs2jSnRV4hj671ra5RLpuWFyOwuUZQEwzgjNtojTR6IoTZ5OdhuELH4qBJtD3GX0M1lKGA8C-b5sdqIOByiO1rLyiO9AJApEKpqaMW9z1R-EwKY/s1600/IMG_7367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLjLFORm8_mnOcjVNco1z9oSV-KKyvs2jSnRV4hj671ra5RLpuWFyOwuUZQEwzgjNtojTR6IoTZ5OdhuELH4qBJtD3GX0M1lKGA8C-b5sdqIOByiO1rLyiO9AJApEKpqaMW9z1R-EwKY/s1600/IMG_7367.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">monkey boy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgymtSAsinFY16rE2mFn8COS7I9g_t8dwCB8fuZOK6j7U-lAKxiDxmFg_bVZK97e6zbhC6ymQqDwB1PQBi3Q9SBT269wOxHWi41xCMfjAEmqEB4fUoOquGaGRGTggqlcbi2xGUGq54oqH4/s1600/IMG_7368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgymtSAsinFY16rE2mFn8COS7I9g_t8dwCB8fuZOK6j7U-lAKxiDxmFg_bVZK97e6zbhC6ymQqDwB1PQBi3Q9SBT269wOxHWi41xCMfjAEmqEB4fUoOquGaGRGTggqlcbi2xGUGq54oqH4/s1600/IMG_7368.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the brother<br />
and crazy, hypno eyeballs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I don't know about your family, but as a unit this one takes a while to make decisions. Eventually someone takes the lead and points everyone in a direction. Any direction. It's like wrangling feral cats. Welp, we managed to make it to one of the 30 galleries before getting caught up at the Artists Market and finally just opting for beer, booze and pizza.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj0Xfv42ojD4JwblJnTPrt9_pR0VVpPfUv09XdF0d8eutDAGqopafUWCQtsiJ1yOsuRPNqbPXVym9pffGFjtDqf3wCHp2rh5mOJHZ7LoLrbXUdnfUG6mICQZWJRTbERiOO0-jnSS0yV5g/s1600/IMG_7369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj0Xfv42ojD4JwblJnTPrt9_pR0VVpPfUv09XdF0d8eutDAGqopafUWCQtsiJ1yOsuRPNqbPXVym9pffGFjtDqf3wCHp2rh5mOJHZ7LoLrbXUdnfUG6mICQZWJRTbERiOO0-jnSS0yV5g/s1600/IMG_7369.JPG" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">i can't quit you, silly props<br />
and i can't quit this awesome family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I adore these lovable pinheads! The logistics may be a bit trying at times, but the payoff is always ALWAYS worth it. Hey, we even managed to get out to see local band legends, The Clarks during Christmas break!! Two outings in one year… who can live at that speed?!? :)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Trains, Buses and Automobiles...<br />
<br />
Last, but not least, my best friend from college, Dennis and I took a 24 hour road trip north to deliver a car to his son in the Hudson Valley. We haven't been on a trip by ourselves since sophomore year when we hopped on a bus to DC to "protest" something or other. I can't remember. We were only in it for the sightseeing opportunity. We were opportunistic jerks.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyKh71qxdJ_2Ry1udWWCAqQP_0053NqhG6gKJ_i_fJFPu5NYAMScHaWoMlvX4mVyTPHY6c_raY1K6m-Ft45zInKpiGikUCL_qYTwxlS9QLu2Z2gbIzl2O7AzZCNFvgnKjifsEo2H3idKQ/s1600/meinDC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyKh71qxdJ_2Ry1udWWCAqQP_0053NqhG6gKJ_i_fJFPu5NYAMScHaWoMlvX4mVyTPHY6c_raY1K6m-Ft45zInKpiGikUCL_qYTwxlS9QLu2Z2gbIzl2O7AzZCNFvgnKjifsEo2H3idKQ/s1600/meinDC.jpg" height="400" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">awwwww… ain't she adorable?<br />
whatever happened to her?<br />
oh wait.. she got old, fat and sweary</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Anyways, we have never been in a car, alone, for a solid eight hours. It was marvelous. We have a bit of a past together. The romantic portion was short-lived and didn't end gracefully at all, but we managed to remain close friends for over 35 years. And I could not be any more thankful. The fact that he met his future wife shortly after our breakup helped. I love her, too.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYiRklrLh_X-AFDGS2g4TftC3MtTPLodzHlRS-UZuRjWzbvSPKhzAAoRTztS5mq7Isy_U29BQNP1WO656W6S6aM29znBvU_yUrR7DVde6Y07Czx8j3HX045krecb4wMmAKZj-4yMrmYY/s1600/10423835_10205318233255758_7511081212116822498_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYiRklrLh_X-AFDGS2g4TftC3MtTPLodzHlRS-UZuRjWzbvSPKhzAAoRTztS5mq7Isy_U29BQNP1WO656W6S6aM29znBvU_yUrR7DVde6Y07Czx8j3HX045krecb4wMmAKZj-4yMrmYY/s1600/10423835_10205318233255758_7511081212116822498_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our 24 hour trek began with a beauty shot out of a tunnel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Our car ride was amazing. Dennis and I discussed all the elephants that have been lurking in the room for a Stone Age. He got to ask me everything he has been holding in for decades. We rehashed snapshots from our past life. It is incredible how much I have forgotten or misremember of our brief time together and ensuing college years. I swear he's wrong on some points, but no matter. Apparently I was a lot more forthcoming with my opinions and such. Imagine that. :) <br />
<br />
The cool thing is there was no hurt or pain, just a fondness for our past selves and the silliness of youth. We laughed. A lot. Especially over the drama of it all. It was extremely therapeutic and absolutely delightful. And we will never speak of them again. LOL<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxyNVDIBGf1wnJsh40aVzlcxUbl1paUgsYpzEK7KlmbRWXot-DIKw_TtpDOT2W6EsASPPgfGKdLtwDQFaNvTscMKPbS9lV1JWrU6FIZhtDZXgz5iqb0aRdIm4aQ7ZZY87vJMuT3AFbijQ/s1600/10469911_10204583047047376_2648369055915968712_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxyNVDIBGf1wnJsh40aVzlcxUbl1paUgsYpzEK7KlmbRWXot-DIKw_TtpDOT2W6EsASPPgfGKdLtwDQFaNvTscMKPbS9lV1JWrU6FIZhtDZXgz5iqb0aRdIm4aQ7ZZY87vJMuT3AFbijQ/s1600/10469911_10204583047047376_2648369055915968712_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">there is so much wrong with this</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JwmJZIOKFuoLQ6dQGWAv1VEqAgUVd-o3fmIb2oJ7zjJ6gL8UccXZD5RboxdXC6Iq2srkD-4nyKUUCAXW9yPJwrnRc5WbdVNnG40TYT2LlUMzJuvVeNCY9FfumJCiuxL8CKXa-wVCCa8/s1600/10419454_10204583046447361_8211072596679988501_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JwmJZIOKFuoLQ6dQGWAv1VEqAgUVd-o3fmIb2oJ7zjJ6gL8UccXZD5RboxdXC6Iq2srkD-4nyKUUCAXW9yPJwrnRc5WbdVNnG40TYT2LlUMzJuvVeNCY9FfumJCiuxL8CKXa-wVCCa8/s1600/10419454_10204583046447361_8211072596679988501_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">it's good luck to kiss this bear<br />
no. it's not.<br />
we just made this shit up<br />
#shenanigans</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXVoGHZBY2ut0yXQQwP-chVOoZEv-fbFH-665Fh38FpA3Md-fHsWpvACsUZWYNPMVYrWa_B-TA3K4-7764KTl_81qw_BNlcpXI-EUyXyRCBZGHsu3VZPraNDnfLeMrp6n7PxNKdE8dxjo/s1600/10426801_10205319172919249_9128577624393141581_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXVoGHZBY2ut0yXQQwP-chVOoZEv-fbFH-665Fh38FpA3Md-fHsWpvACsUZWYNPMVYrWa_B-TA3K4-7764KTl_81qw_BNlcpXI-EUyXyRCBZGHsu3VZPraNDnfLeMrp6n7PxNKdE8dxjo/s1600/10426801_10205319172919249_9128577624393141581_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">transporting kim kardashan's butt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
One of the great things about our journey was stopping at random shit we found amusing or interesting. We had no hard and fast timetable. Dennis was game to back track for me to snap a funny sign, seek out a better view of a frozen river or eat lunch in a classic old dining car.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwcgbjN00TXwoIbYK5dgy0apqERjepx1wMU6WMfsAu2pfFWeIidrr34Rg_I7p5VcJoMVBle101nVjdZrpnsvxsuvi-6K_Pu-jztPXWgE0ymad8urGv1ELHiLgG5BRTNAev7sfHnDH4T8/s1600/10406398_10204583046567364_1770440174936712792_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwcgbjN00TXwoIbYK5dgy0apqERjepx1wMU6WMfsAu2pfFWeIidrr34Rg_I7p5VcJoMVBle101nVjdZrpnsvxsuvi-6K_Pu-jztPXWgE0ymad8urGv1ELHiLgG5BRTNAev7sfHnDH4T8/s1600/10406398_10204583046567364_1770440174936712792_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">retro lunch</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmzBAY8nKpQ1BBw4CCupvAESLapwvDRCmxSVYdinbexQmzLjepo_XrUQ1eoIHzyfa0JxjZdl-PdE3YqpYHxFFJRiTXJAYUY-5bNUtTWxu4o-hGa2b5nF4UhSeTkHP0fj3WvhL8MHsgDmM/s1600/10644908_10205320173504263_702948516820120095_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmzBAY8nKpQ1BBw4CCupvAESLapwvDRCmxSVYdinbexQmzLjepo_XrUQ1eoIHzyfa0JxjZdl-PdE3YqpYHxFFJRiTXJAYUY-5bNUtTWxu4o-hGa2b5nF4UhSeTkHP0fj3WvhL8MHsgDmM/s1600/10644908_10205320173504263_702948516820120095_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">even these hoopies know enough to use heinz<br />
seriously. get with it boston!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4gIip9swcgQMREXCbjTuog32sSVxRDqCDEF7sc_A_A8wsETI21cCb8qRQZhY-qzNDqbpGdxBExZLMuAD5tyhOijb4BcFF0eC-SlNs8cislgAU1TxEermlln1dSbtxLtFds7OcdUq4ZvM/s1600/1932289_10152568822331359_7851615946700743452_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4gIip9swcgQMREXCbjTuog32sSVxRDqCDEF7sc_A_A8wsETI21cCb8qRQZhY-qzNDqbpGdxBExZLMuAD5tyhOijb4BcFF0eC-SlNs8cislgAU1TxEermlln1dSbtxLtFds7OcdUq4ZvM/s1600/1932289_10152568822331359_7851615946700743452_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">menu cover redo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXFA4XCosMnlijSpMLWjdko0tXhDnXxNGgbsR1C36VDy_1LUHpdylWegSujVKyIz1YJDtCC8lAIWIESVb8dhxE0NQC1zoKHWUfxGlxgOld2PPsxtWA5Y-CInoIebYPFC_mIu8ytA1CVg/s1600/10387613_10204583046807370_7481950338962838730_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXFA4XCosMnlijSpMLWjdko0tXhDnXxNGgbsR1C36VDy_1LUHpdylWegSujVKyIz1YJDtCC8lAIWIESVb8dhxE0NQC1zoKHWUfxGlxgOld2PPsxtWA5Y-CInoIebYPFC_mIu8ytA1CVg/s1600/10387613_10204583046807370_7481950338962838730_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">proving middle aged white men<br />
CAN jump</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After dropping off the car with his son, we ate at another diner that was all about deco overload before we boarded a train in Poughkeepsie bound for New York City, where we had four hours to kill before hopping on the 11pm Megabus home.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJkXzV8xeXam8Irg0TaBGDBGEcCdVBvxlF2hRP3rKhrSmtmfh2QsNsfPms1DdWb8SfMosyO9g_M5O189GBjItyuYoH0Jq_dU2YzpVPkqUL6PJPnGrQRb1WOP4DeTYgXCcaXH1mNJK7R_A/s1600/10612975_10204583047367384_6519350738336043985_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJkXzV8xeXam8Irg0TaBGDBGEcCdVBvxlF2hRP3rKhrSmtmfh2QsNsfPms1DdWb8SfMosyO9g_M5O189GBjItyuYoH0Jq_dU2YzpVPkqUL6PJPnGrQRb1WOP4DeTYgXCcaXH1mNJK7R_A/s1600/10612975_10204583047367384_6519350738336043985_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">'allo hudson valley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5kNhUpyyefBatxyWWVujNLo2hT8SfgOaeauZw5L-cAEOjVLAGcWG89uGM5HvHtpMvQAUIlRAKstVee229yCoUvhYyzj5h_6ZI-Bnyg87q1CKIzfcEDffd9fjsRfGVby87rLdVqovi6k/s1600/CIApano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ5kNhUpyyefBatxyWWVujNLo2hT8SfgOaeauZw5L-cAEOjVLAGcWG89uGM5HvHtpMvQAUIlRAKstVee229yCoUvhYyzj5h_6ZI-Bnyg87q1CKIzfcEDffd9fjsRfGVby87rLdVqovi6k/s1600/CIApano.jpg" height="332" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pano of the stately culinary institute</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLqXe_ZwTaR9sr70N7hEy5bxVMgT139hyphenhyphenVEhQ9qtlbwea08-uQhJWq_za0WaWTjNR-X7oItG__f5uN-h8URGOM_Xzv1oDaT_A8DMnZh2cbK7dBznsX1fRegELiUTZvfE3l-2QwGuRPLyM/s1600/10469087_10205321191009700_4379708109191289240_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLqXe_ZwTaR9sr70N7hEy5bxVMgT139hyphenhyphenVEhQ9qtlbwea08-uQhJWq_za0WaWTjNR-X7oItG__f5uN-h8URGOM_Xzv1oDaT_A8DMnZh2cbK7dBznsX1fRegELiUTZvfE3l-2QwGuRPLyM/s1600/10469087_10205321191009700_4379708109191289240_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">appropriate banners decorate the campus</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyWWXVNFbLKiu6pn3NIN5BaXGdrBXMwLyE9hC_d7mbOPLWPamiTbIrBsXU4_6RDT3lKl0SXkX2xsRNR-TSX_Brie3Ys60_sQ7PcRnzABXy0EIhW3bj2SVv4uYjUFzWjzGHo5YDmKDUts/s1600/10392407_10204583047767394_6035896907307604662_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyWWXVNFbLKiu6pn3NIN5BaXGdrBXMwLyE9hC_d7mbOPLWPamiTbIrBsXU4_6RDT3lKl0SXkX2xsRNR-TSX_Brie3Ys60_sQ7PcRnzABXy0EIhW3bj2SVv4uYjUFzWjzGHo5YDmKDUts/s1600/10392407_10204583047767394_6035896907307604662_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">road buddies</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3CpjWXlnfBLAY_TkFUaggh53t51XYDDnLu9TBriYeBJPHu9pHYaWXE-1aYmu5zYcfePFpAoWuHQsxK6armYFbHcP2HB_igHVIXjOdU1kHQyGDqCsY-JBNro53tXCqdTF_C5RvA4Mod_E/s1600/1513650_10205321095367309_102395145687266407_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3CpjWXlnfBLAY_TkFUaggh53t51XYDDnLu9TBriYeBJPHu9pHYaWXE-1aYmu5zYcfePFpAoWuHQsxK6armYFbHcP2HB_igHVIXjOdU1kHQyGDqCsY-JBNro53tXCqdTF_C5RvA4Mod_E/s1600/1513650_10205321095367309_102395145687266407_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">ever at the ready to serve up some<br />
delicious diner fare to sooth all your hangover needs<br />
because really, aren't drunken clientele an<br />
all-night diner's bread and buttah</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVe3O28Fa_96Mv3tJNRNt1HEVqL8qxTjswqrK2DAyb5IthzHa0Q4QinpU7V2LGajTnE5Ts_ES_wXCBCNvxq5OCJHgc7OXA7sp4PdMS7_7yqHwXhG-2qgO2FSBqVJbSawBkHCecwhhLX_I/s1600/10303377_10205321133128253_8612651200178077332_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVe3O28Fa_96Mv3tJNRNt1HEVqL8qxTjswqrK2DAyb5IthzHa0Q4QinpU7V2LGajTnE5Ts_ES_wXCBCNvxq5OCJHgc7OXA7sp4PdMS7_7yqHwXhG-2qgO2FSBqVJbSawBkHCecwhhLX_I/s1600/10303377_10205321133128253_8612651200178077332_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">tres deco</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnPxLJ8KkHRIInVAdIMOcr0YrtpM__e1-aOFp5zut8FgG2QU_BdUzD9hPRbGvXvXRUjkswJPfkq2EF52P56wynpdyN5vqoq_wkKcAarVLvCwjl9WTUSIW2qoi1Fb5AJ1KJGB1mvtJpww/s1600/10366175_10205321128448136_790076713342192611_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnPxLJ8KkHRIInVAdIMOcr0YrtpM__e1-aOFp5zut8FgG2QU_BdUzD9hPRbGvXvXRUjkswJPfkq2EF52P56wynpdyN5vqoq_wkKcAarVLvCwjl9WTUSIW2qoi1Fb5AJ1KJGB1mvtJpww/s1600/10366175_10205321128448136_790076713342192611_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">most folks drop a deuce<br />
this creeper drops a … pumpkin<br />
just add this to the list of shit that weirds me out</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_CYPYbxLyXvhEjdSglNXuJ2ej_FLLUR5DDFvW4d_9wwssP3-KKY3YrEvXSFGfNjZuj3AfmsKy3oaSwBVySpL7BE7CaHFzNGOf-pIRP8ygApj6VfYUjaKyc38ojsDIKL_Jt-Y7YbPKM4/s1600/10484954_10205321103367509_1455720713617043683_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_CYPYbxLyXvhEjdSglNXuJ2ej_FLLUR5DDFvW4d_9wwssP3-KKY3YrEvXSFGfNjZuj3AfmsKy3oaSwBVySpL7BE7CaHFzNGOf-pIRP8ygApj6VfYUjaKyc38ojsDIKL_Jt-Y7YbPKM4/s1600/10484954_10205321103367509_1455720713617043683_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">one-take father son jump<br />
seriously, this new iPhone camera is amazing<br />
one shot, that's it<br />
i may have to have people jump more just to dick with them</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgB-9PFaeql_gGnPYiN3UowppVNKkKb76iXiXWOZDqXA0W4koEqHOp8smqMpF7hQxjfZDnBaC7dH035uV2yKiwnzBrcPWl_OCqHAtCqVvQiW2oqhFXOqpajVYVFAfdHKxn-EXCmhBTRJ4/s1600/10665199_10205321220210430_7946032612523393118_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgB-9PFaeql_gGnPYiN3UowppVNKkKb76iXiXWOZDqXA0W4koEqHOp8smqMpF7hQxjfZDnBaC7dH035uV2yKiwnzBrcPWl_OCqHAtCqVvQiW2oqhFXOqpajVYVFAfdHKxn-EXCmhBTRJ4/s1600/10665199_10205321220210430_7946032612523393118_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">busting outta this rural setting for the big city</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We hit up three bars between 3rd Avenue and Broadway near Union Square, photo bombing clueless, self-absorbed 20 somethings, downing craft beers/cocktails and laughing over one stupid thing or another. It's so great to know it is still so easy to hang with Dennis.<br />
<br />
He's my buddy forever.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_Q9pP8rnAR0XEJUUh2RCfrOA3xnEOyAevT1qZTI34TwWDZnasX8qShScrjC4Mjs1tD26i29yrSRAsg3SB1JC5NUxJfj3awRR1NaV5cuosa_MZepPzZvFm58XxNBNzNeZh-qbcJl7L3E/s1600/1476701_10204583051647491_4054932291077177421_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_Q9pP8rnAR0XEJUUh2RCfrOA3xnEOyAevT1qZTI34TwWDZnasX8qShScrjC4Mjs1tD26i29yrSRAsg3SB1JC5NUxJfj3awRR1NaV5cuosa_MZepPzZvFm58XxNBNzNeZh-qbcJl7L3E/s1600/1476701_10204583051647491_4054932291077177421_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybQDorxgwb2EncPVsVo6xABqGWo-w-jgSldxMEErwtpS94r8PonB5LZPaIADABJPb9nx-E7aCEnqX4uj9b_fzXCBTpAes7pQSKclW6IvubJM_B9t5NbdetLlxD2JSZr49ofparqM86dU/s1600/10353028_10205322850051175_2563764214213071723_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybQDorxgwb2EncPVsVo6xABqGWo-w-jgSldxMEErwtpS94r8PonB5LZPaIADABJPb9nx-E7aCEnqX4uj9b_fzXCBTpAes7pQSKclW6IvubJM_B9t5NbdetLlxD2JSZr49ofparqM86dU/s1600/10353028_10205322850051175_2563764214213071723_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">the majesty of grand central</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidoUHERnTrOdMLV29s8wZEsoXYWEeAwwLYeUiaTxKaFxKD6pyifyAJggnu_1GD4lOURXmvwCEbIO3aCUNGPMPULR-0wpBrtdLozc4Gwzb_AwQ5OcNq_KecyTFTOshE7nggaoQSW-0ppXQ/s1600/10384577_10205322808330132_6388126283853650221_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidoUHERnTrOdMLV29s8wZEsoXYWEeAwwLYeUiaTxKaFxKD6pyifyAJggnu_1GD4lOURXmvwCEbIO3aCUNGPMPULR-0wpBrtdLozc4Gwzb_AwQ5OcNq_KecyTFTOshE7nggaoQSW-0ppXQ/s1600/10384577_10205322808330132_6388126283853650221_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">no bathing your stanky ass in grand central toilets, mofos</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5vxjH3xCdd6Ewsu9cKaxY6wwChq3Ujb6pbb8zTRC3HhhAoXYTxQEWrBXZJVLVLzm3y7G9DLqDOoTmInBlF4E5qghsQ4XV6v6QlPhKCPAM0bbpOHkf_RJn8mkWYhyphenhyphentzuspMfM6wkuh5z0/s1600/10155207_10204583049927448_6715535504155623275_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5vxjH3xCdd6Ewsu9cKaxY6wwChq3Ujb6pbb8zTRC3HhhAoXYTxQEWrBXZJVLVLzm3y7G9DLqDOoTmInBlF4E5qghsQ4XV6v6QlPhKCPAM0bbpOHkf_RJn8mkWYhyphenhyphentzuspMfM6wkuh5z0/s1600/10155207_10204583049927448_6715535504155623275_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">the most beautiful building in ny</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiANhmyiuFZpEDQUSYd8tbQA3m2__5mVpbhaK3-JtDig6dkr50w972JqTYLbqbSatG_a8sWGmJBxa2MOdpsErJuWVxQxSuMIl-xtkNmvxOlPjtpjUxGG0BHxeUupFli-8c_HdDSdE19eFE/s1600/10304792_10205322278996899_8400741967707526800_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiANhmyiuFZpEDQUSYd8tbQA3m2__5mVpbhaK3-JtDig6dkr50w972JqTYLbqbSatG_a8sWGmJBxa2MOdpsErJuWVxQxSuMIl-xtkNmvxOlPjtpjUxGG0BHxeUupFli-8c_HdDSdE19eFE/s1600/10304792_10205322278996899_8400741967707526800_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">stop #2 wherein we photo bombed<br />
a gaggle of self-absorbed 20-somethings<br />
who probably STILL haven't noticed us in the background<br />
LOL</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkrHhbsK-6gmtxbsUuQvnv-alfPBBEdiZjszt7lq3lbJUekI0-y3Slw6sDe8-ZXP_KI-x8VRdJCTCtufON3FbV80EguV_fHSaAc2RpmP23sDzjT3xOYzX4sKwQpv84YCojkt5WQhMh2fg/s1600/bear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkrHhbsK-6gmtxbsUuQvnv-alfPBBEdiZjszt7lq3lbJUekI0-y3Slw6sDe8-ZXP_KI-x8VRdJCTCtufON3FbV80EguV_fHSaAc2RpmP23sDzjT3xOYzX4sKwQpv84YCojkt5WQhMh2fg/s1600/bear.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">someone needs to take his meds</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxZQ-jjWvOqOAzm2k4ND3vPxIxYUegG2BVa_i10Bu8aeS5BDk5ucx8JB9HBFfRgYTQZk5gzr2AWyGplV_Lfr9HqKIDoTnsmGkuvTuyf4SDIHhG76pIOsx8txCa6aLbgY0P2ESJXXAxQ9w/s1600/empirestate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxZQ-jjWvOqOAzm2k4ND3vPxIxYUegG2BVa_i10Bu8aeS5BDk5ucx8JB9HBFfRgYTQZk5gzr2AWyGplV_Lfr9HqKIDoTnsmGkuvTuyf4SDIHhG76pIOsx8txCa6aLbgY0P2ESJXXAxQ9w/s1600/empirestate.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the empire state informing us it's cold<br />
um... yeah!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlachDb6T6PHe6gKnr2lF1oT6dbkE08Cvz9EM-5D0LWVPO4zF5GtGhYgP2DwvzQrfsXqky3yn2Ahyphenhyphenev9XNNSct2XQdAMHB1SxXJm__pFI_pQDnWqgbBIJOqd2AXAmUzVxl6DTbUQ1NBms/s1600/10678775_10205322878651890_8680757664979140982_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlachDb6T6PHe6gKnr2lF1oT6dbkE08Cvz9EM-5D0LWVPO4zF5GtGhYgP2DwvzQrfsXqky3yn2Ahyphenhyphenev9XNNSct2XQdAMHB1SxXJm__pFI_pQDnWqgbBIJOqd2AXAmUzVxl6DTbUQ1NBms/s1600/10678775_10205322878651890_8680757664979140982_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">it is balooooooooon!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBNaDSujLio4fiI9wwiE2Zno1Pv2TN7gFTV6rW91-FH_gFyW4RPOxIHw_VoZm8sTene1XY3CtvukT9CXL2WskV9kvkFT00R6friN-LYiftbV1tg8VUjBCzB5MJuTVhK2G9IKUxXqoamXk/s1600/10389991_10205322868051625_6672057033546971140_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBNaDSujLio4fiI9wwiE2Zno1Pv2TN7gFTV6rW91-FH_gFyW4RPOxIHw_VoZm8sTene1XY3CtvukT9CXL2WskV9kvkFT00R6friN-LYiftbV1tg8VUjBCzB5MJuTVhK2G9IKUxXqoamXk/s1600/10389991_10205322868051625_6672057033546971140_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">flatiron building art exhibit <br />
of war journalists <br />
their notes are afixed to the helmets</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhim_TGzxZnis8Yq5x0N43x0rUIE9vNk0CY08Atn53ZYmORUEdXYsYrFcOwbOyAYn3mIbrFTBVsYhf0whVN7sVUuoWphh0WsBso9nWUsL4_F4z_7dS1UnTKwxRo2x3QVWzBmUvPB-RMaXw/s1600/10801921_10204583051207480_292314706208729050_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhim_TGzxZnis8Yq5x0N43x0rUIE9vNk0CY08Atn53ZYmORUEdXYsYrFcOwbOyAYn3mIbrFTBVsYhf0whVN7sVUuoWphh0WsBso9nWUsL4_F4z_7dS1UnTKwxRo2x3QVWzBmUvPB-RMaXw/s1600/10801921_10204583051207480_292314706208729050_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heartland Brewery<br />
the third stop on our way to the megabus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4FabEhtMnPpT8Tx1CkChz1y8Vf3hct4QwBxXGUPJrgpYHowx2nILMHEXx4CtfVlxOE-58r7K7jxmdNSzHsQ-wzjy0VQn-mrsG_z1oX8PJu4JcKANuAFOEQhCEjzb9VIr0TQAM6Ljg2Zw/s1600/10387306_10205323280261930_4046481729645546298_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4FabEhtMnPpT8Tx1CkChz1y8Vf3hct4QwBxXGUPJrgpYHowx2nILMHEXx4CtfVlxOE-58r7K7jxmdNSzHsQ-wzjy0VQn-mrsG_z1oX8PJu4JcKANuAFOEQhCEjzb9VIr0TQAM6Ljg2Zw/s1600/10387306_10205323280261930_4046481729645546298_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">disturbing things you see at the Megabus stop</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-kXR8NoSSlELY-6oNzACr-T6_MJPRbKLXlWTng7ls-KtnOg0nb8LaTXEHmhEvZcVYnLznIk3kSqtIMV7HN2Ru9-MjZ8ufuUItHaI93A_6MvjT4K7CswPPoNGB_Yh3m3GyZ99HWBmY5JQ/s1600/10624961_10205324175484310_1941156503664554731_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-kXR8NoSSlELY-6oNzACr-T6_MJPRbKLXlWTng7ls-KtnOg0nb8LaTXEHmhEvZcVYnLznIk3kSqtIMV7HN2Ru9-MjZ8ufuUItHaI93A_6MvjT4K7CswPPoNGB_Yh3m3GyZ99HWBmY5JQ/s1600/10624961_10205324175484310_1941156503664554731_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sunrise to sunrise<br />
home sweet home<br />
where the eff's my bed?!?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-27157947855750804812014-11-26T15:45:00.000-05:002014-11-27T08:45:01.624-05:00Saturday In The Kitchen With Big MarOkay, so once or twice a year, I gather mass quantities of fresh vegetables, olives, pickles and tinned tuna, and head over to Big Mar's house to can our Northern Italian family's version of antipasto. Unlike more traditional fare, there are no lunch meats or cheeses, just the above ingredients in a tomato base that is a magical treat to the taste buds.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYPx6ybzO_ETTo_T5Bwq7rk4ZxuUGzdX7pOA5NV788jLxnIVYYJxLJHFLH9BCSvFDwwiO5DFV3jUoFf9Rhw7A1WqxLWO9uS0O-vbrIin_Dbyo5FFyAKqca4xO3wWfVPgNsrkuu5iF6YtQ/s1600/63472_10205375121197921_2505566584898206018_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYPx6ybzO_ETTo_T5Bwq7rk4ZxuUGzdX7pOA5NV788jLxnIVYYJxLJHFLH9BCSvFDwwiO5DFV3jUoFf9Rhw7A1WqxLWO9uS0O-vbrIin_Dbyo5FFyAKqca4xO3wWfVPgNsrkuu5iF6YtQ/s1600/63472_10205375121197921_2505566584898206018_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my beloved Big Mar: kitchen warrior</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8hp4i171LHwFO_7Q6vTjjh8E5f7pvR9UvFQu2hcdNYyavFn7SZ-PKCQZZC68W1saLXX1o3K9DDFOsg0bJYdYz9OLo_jnIxlVNP62r12Bg1BCoie57g5BGzIjUW1pLlaS-xFtBBk3GBMI/s1600/1920104_10205375129518129_1707567597220627349_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8hp4i171LHwFO_7Q6vTjjh8E5f7pvR9UvFQu2hcdNYyavFn7SZ-PKCQZZC68W1saLXX1o3K9DDFOsg0bJYdYz9OLo_jnIxlVNP62r12Bg1BCoie57g5BGzIjUW1pLlaS-xFtBBk3GBMI/s1600/1920104_10205375129518129_1707567597220627349_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and now she's had enough of my<br />
interwebs nonsense</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The chopping and par-cooking and canning takes all goddamn day, but seeing the rows of jars stacked neatly on the shelf leaves me with a sense of satisfaction, not only for the yummy snack we'll devour throughout the winter months on the days I don't feel like cooking (read: nearly every damn day because I'm a LAZY SHIT), but also for the satisfaction of keeping this tradition alive another generation.<br />
<br />
Besides the obvious consumable end-game, my favorite thing about this long-ass process is I get to spend quality one-on-one time with the woman who brought me aboard this roller coaster we call life. She may be 93, but she is full of élan.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPy0Z8UwgNA349Qhl68rpHjZDKlD_hXcvZN6nBAU_zo3Ec7bYBOzdAZtMFx5dXCpByZhJWQxhmVd50ZI4UX1xfKvWQZowtSKp5LMyerLwo1KQfSg_ItVunsYBqDwUWp9kdfJkKAkT7gs/s1600/221711_2062486762203_200785_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcPy0Z8UwgNA349Qhl68rpHjZDKlD_hXcvZN6nBAU_zo3Ec7bYBOzdAZtMFx5dXCpByZhJWQxhmVd50ZI4UX1xfKvWQZowtSKp5LMyerLwo1KQfSg_ItVunsYBqDwUWp9kdfJkKAkT7gs/s1600/221711_2062486762203_200785_n.jpg" height="320" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">shenanigans!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJ-W2UE3rRkuqk331lh4bAn3i9fHwjwReqYfF-xJN-8HOPch53AY8jPN9rP7zD0bW194POpz9i2XWwYnj31iHMDsyeZo4dRVrsZvgtJyM5VoDon70SP6cjgiJRRZF-g_nhTi9JRBNm8Y/s1600/1926784_10153281605193265_9040560317706962548_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJ-W2UE3rRkuqk331lh4bAn3i9fHwjwReqYfF-xJN-8HOPch53AY8jPN9rP7zD0bW194POpz9i2XWwYnj31iHMDsyeZo4dRVrsZvgtJyM5VoDon70SP6cjgiJRRZF-g_nhTi9JRBNm8Y/s1600/1926784_10153281605193265_9040560317706962548_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">i may not have inherited her elegance,<br />
but i like to think i have her irreverence down pat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In spite of her physical trials, her spirit remains light, buoyant and a wee bit bawdy. She's an absolute joy to be around. Warm and welcoming, she thrives in social settings. Her big, full heart and infinite kindness envelopes everyone in her path. (Except for Uncle Fred who was a right-royal mean mother-scratcher asshole, but that's a story for another time.) There is literally ALWAYS room at her table for another place setting.<br />
<br />
And fuck YEAH, can she cook. Unbelievable. <br />
<br />
Big Mar is a shining example of how to enjoy the time one has on this spinning orb. She looks that bad boy in the face and says, "bring it, MoFo!"<br />
<br />
And Holy CATS is she smart!! A voracious reader, she keeps up with ALL current events local, national or global. She puts me to shame. Had she been born in my generation, she could have been anything she wanted to be. And what she wanted to be was a Chemist. Sadly, her accident of birth placed her in a generation and financial circumstance that kept her goal out of reach. And yet, she is not the least bit bitter.<br />
<br />
Nope. Not. One. Bit.<br />
<br />
Instead, she chooses to focus on that which brings her happiness, namely her family, her friends and Steve Harvey. I am not even kidding about that last one. She LOOOOOVES Steve Harvey. That little fact cracks me the hell up. My sister, Toni and I aspire to be her when we grow up. We should be so lucky. She kicks ass at this living thang.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/tgMS9VtcTCk" width="560"></iframe> She bought this for Geo, because, C'MON! Even at 93, fart machines are fucking funny!<br />
<br />
<br />
But I digress...<br />
<br />
So, Saturday I go over to her homestead for Canning-Fest and find her in the kitchen, mixing up fruit cakes, a CD of 40s music cranked to 11, doing her little old lady shuffle dance, and singing like a boss.<br />
<br />
Throughout the afternoon while we waited for the veggies to cook, she told me stories of my Dad's antics including the one in which he fleeced four grand from fellow soldiers on the boat home from the war. He later blew it all on a bus trip across the country to see his brother in San Diego. A trip which included a couple days dalliance with a little filly he met in Indiana.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ltxIAqUIyUW5LmBbX6oC0qaybHt1ZB2SDefrgUKEq5-7x_hbxSmR7Z0vFjw4Z_EGGlVOtQ5ROs-hsGIWuP7glwm7VRtqT-n8mjhZU7v_4kLxWlMj1cnS_7QlFH6ZuNzoMWWEjzTaEeQ/s1600/232323232%7Ffp93232%3Euqcshlukaxroqdfv86-3=ot%3E2325=547=;8-=XROQDF%3E28344;673-248ot1lsi.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ltxIAqUIyUW5LmBbX6oC0qaybHt1ZB2SDefrgUKEq5-7x_hbxSmR7Z0vFjw4Z_EGGlVOtQ5ROs-hsGIWuP7glwm7VRtqT-n8mjhZU7v_4kLxWlMj1cnS_7QlFH6ZuNzoMWWEjzTaEeQ/s1600/232323232%7Ffp93232%3Euqcshlukaxroqdfv86-3=ot%3E2325=547=;8-=XROQDF%3E28344;673-248ot1lsi.jpeg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">soldier boy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
This all happened before they met. He had seen horrible things during his three years abroad. I get that all he wanted was to distance himself from the war with a little comfort from the embrace of the open road, a bottle of whiskey and a random, healthy female. It's so crazy to think of your parents as 20-somethings, adrift and acting like, well … 20-somethings.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizoXx73vdb0oVgqpEDrz3HH1VC7xXnsu4_Hs_htDqXJeUz8PGDI5BKnAeYapD-1gm1qxw4oe4SrRipkcHSVk-sTlJ4zEspHxJU2kagK9jxlYks7Ja__FuDNjeZtf8_zrGiNBG3pAEh8Z4/s1600/Jack+Jones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizoXx73vdb0oVgqpEDrz3HH1VC7xXnsu4_Hs_htDqXJeUz8PGDI5BKnAeYapD-1gm1qxw4oe4SrRipkcHSVk-sTlJ4zEspHxJU2kagK9jxlYks7Ja__FuDNjeZtf8_zrGiNBG3pAEh8Z4/s1600/Jack+Jones.jpg" height="320" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big Mar's musical heartthrob </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJvSasqr-86hoqPPr1hixEk1oJutgNVQGSyf3hd7Pj6OcSsLJM0KlRRZVkft9S9xn1l2P1Fqpq-CIsGWVoc2eAll0Dzfoec4-YrQ8H7JA32_QDnJkJwBAemfx769ZEgfbrLrZTQ_scZM/s1600/Jack-Jones-Together-268485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJvSasqr-86hoqPPr1hixEk1oJutgNVQGSyf3hd7Pj6OcSsLJM0KlRRZVkft9S9xn1l2P1Fqpq-CIsGWVoc2eAll0Dzfoec4-YrQ8H7JA32_QDnJkJwBAemfx769ZEgfbrLrZTQ_scZM/s1600/Jack-Jones-Together-268485.jpg" height="319" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lighten the eyes to blue, add a little scruff and a mole…</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
At one point we put <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Jones_(singer)">Jack Jones</a> on the player, and I wrapped my arms around her shrunken little frame while we danced to her favorite song. Jack is totally her Rhett Miller. She likes to tease me about my obsession with the blue-eyed lovely one, but guess what?<br />
<br />
I said... GUESS WHAT?<br />
<br />
(this is where you say, WHAT, muthafucka?)<br />
<br />
I FINALLY got her to admit that SHE would have followed Mr. Jones around the country, too if she had the chance.<br />
<br />
Ha! I KNEW IT!<br />
<br />
I know my time with my beloved Big Mar is limited, although not so limited that she can't buy green bananas, if you get my drift. There's still a lot of life left in her, but it's more tangibly finite with each passing year. I know someday her Energizer Bunny battery is just going to wear out, which makes these afternoons all the more precious. I'll take days like this as long as I can.<br />
<br />
And who knows, maybe one day when my 5'8" frame has shrunken with age and my hearing is diminished, I'll be in my kitchen, elbow-deep in antipasto, Rhett Miller and Old 97's cranked to 11, singing and dancing with my niece, telling scandalous stories and passing on this tradition to the next generation just like my Mum.<br />
<br />
<br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-4490868166761775112014-11-05T13:21:00.002-05:002014-11-05T13:30:05.097-05:00Godspeed, Baba<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicwa42kRTwvybTNiKjyNcmpWVOSmhdXC09dWuNVtd5-WiPk2dhqjADS7S38w1k9XenJjVpdfkXGlRc5fmz5t28KOQ7lHsUcbpF_RYR-07tMsSrZfbeKUXfMTgnNp1I0I82Icro5HVzmWs/s1600/IMG_7620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicwa42kRTwvybTNiKjyNcmpWVOSmhdXC09dWuNVtd5-WiPk2dhqjADS7S38w1k9XenJjVpdfkXGlRc5fmz5t28KOQ7lHsUcbpF_RYR-07tMsSrZfbeKUXfMTgnNp1I0I82Icro5HVzmWs/s1600/IMG_7620.JPG" height="303" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
I knew when I saw Geo's cell number pop up on the Caller ID that something was horribly amiss. He could only manage to say my name... and then the flood of tears came.<br />
<br />
His mother had passed away.<br />
<br />
Do you know how tough it is to witness your strong spouse crumble? It's heartbreaking to watch his heart break.<br />
<br />
The thing is, none of us expected Stancy to ever be able to live in her home again, but no one thought we'd be saying goodbye to her so soon. I touched briefly upon <a href="http://blame-it-on-being-a-girl.blogspot.com/2014/07/in-which-i-attempt-to-cope-with-lifes.html">her travails</a> earlier this summer. She had been doing somewhat better over the last few weeks, but her C-Diff flared up again, and I believe she just decided to call it day. She passed peacefully in the presence of her oldest. On her own terms.<br />
<br />
Good for her.<br />
<br />
Stancy didn't have an ideal marriage. Out of the turbulence, she raised four wonderful men, the third of whom I will be forever in her debt. For over 30 years I had the privilege to be Stancy's daughter-in-law. I wasn't always the most attentive, caring or thoughtful daughter-in-law, but I like to think we loved each other in our own special way. She was a good person, who did the best she could with the circumstances she was given.<br />
<br />
Her smile was bright, her heart was huge and her devotion to the Pirates was infinite. She knew more about baseball than most announcers. In her youth, she played the game in her small hometown north of Pittsburgh. A rarity for a woman of her generation. On a whim, she and a girlfriend would hop in her car and drive the couple hours to Oakland to pony up two bucks to watch her beloved Bucs battle against a rival club. Her unwavering dedication over the past dismal 22 years paid off. Stancy finally got to see not one, but TWO winning seasons. She never gave up on them. EVER.<br />
<br />
She also was a wicked good baker, sharp as a tack and enjoyed sarcasm. She loveLoveLOVED Vince Gill (none of those other "fake country acts"), homemade cheesecake and did I mention the Pirates? But mostly she loved her family unconditionally, especially her delightful grandchildren who called her Baba.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLlPsHMa9f1SFxoG_IJK_R7P6_sUPbMMeNAfthPc9WukgWEyL16B5JaU8qLL0TCmwb8-CI-H7H5aYmqCf0ueONAk1QmnskcpSNylo02ePRiNIJ7xriQHAcnM5h3Noe6Od8Di5iyQPujV8/s1600/IMG_7621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLlPsHMa9f1SFxoG_IJK_R7P6_sUPbMMeNAfthPc9WukgWEyL16B5JaU8qLL0TCmwb8-CI-H7H5aYmqCf0ueONAk1QmnskcpSNylo02ePRiNIJ7xriQHAcnM5h3Noe6Od8Di5iyQPujV8/s1600/IMG_7621.JPG" height="288" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex was her buddy<br />
these two were two peas in a pod</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpRekY9P4NBXwdJ_k0WkLI3HWT9StqOmGVKOwpnEtwYZGfeAcqxtaWirqAbhL_wDNpyQWd-rs91duL7NFdV_x6g_7-CuB8biC34blfQawsqecJdL3tRo-RpNFPwL705A8WDP4BrdVCdZs/s1600/IMG_7622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpRekY9P4NBXwdJ_k0WkLI3HWT9StqOmGVKOwpnEtwYZGfeAcqxtaWirqAbhL_wDNpyQWd-rs91duL7NFdV_x6g_7-CuB8biC34blfQawsqecJdL3tRo-RpNFPwL705A8WDP4BrdVCdZs/s1600/IMG_7622.JPG" height="233" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">many years ago with all her treasured offsprings' offspring</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHjyA8xYAfhVM6XpE96ZIfbhcx7uO_2jsanQAt9ooqv6Xpcvz7BRaCnb522vonpEKMcYMCda3xJTe5ysziBAIETG_kDfnF_q0YxHp6Wx9sWEkGqUnLnQyNFkJPC9eCQOqqjh0LEtgo9M/s1600/IMG_7623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHjyA8xYAfhVM6XpE96ZIfbhcx7uO_2jsanQAt9ooqv6Xpcvz7BRaCnb522vonpEKMcYMCda3xJTe5ysziBAIETG_kDfnF_q0YxHp6Wx9sWEkGqUnLnQyNFkJPC9eCQOqqjh0LEtgo9M/s1600/IMG_7623.JPG" height="230" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the unmitigated joy in her face while holding<br />
her grandson, Matt says it all</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I'm not going to lie, Orthodox funerals are rough. If you aren't depressed when you enter, you're desperately clutching for Xanax afterwards. The dirge-like chanting, repetition and incessant incense just magnifies the sorrow.<br />
<br />
And oh my goodness, the poor kids. They were devastated by the service. This was their first loss of a significant family member. It's difficult enough as an adult to process the magnitude of what's happening, but as a young adult, it's unfathomable.<br />
<br />
We all rallied around each other during the grueling ceremony, holding on while the tears flowed. And as the priest gave Stancy absolution, the eternal flame, which never goes out... extinguished. And her spirit was gone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b>Side Note</b></i>: Sitting beneath the vividly painted icons of Saints and Deity, amidst the rhythmic chanting, my mind began wandering about subjects like the physical act of dying, spirituality and the inevitable departure of my beloved Big Mar. My eyes focused on the icon of the Virgin Mary, and honest to God a joke popped into my head. You know, the one about St. Peter turning an unsavory person away at the Pearly Gates, only to have Jesus encounter the same man in Heaven moments later. Perplexed, Jesus asks how he got inside. The man replies, "your Mom let me in the back door." And I realized, OMG, that's my Mom! She's the non judgmental soul, welcoming everyone in through the back door with open arms, a hearty laugh and big ass table full of food. She IS that joke. I don't mean to sound disrespectful and callous, but what a wonderful gift it is to embody that punch line. It made me smile during a difficult moment.<br />
<br />
<br />
In contrast to her somber final send off, the viewing could not have been more lovely. It was more like a get-together than a viewing. The space itself was warm and homey. There was a nice steady flow of visitors throughout the five-hour block. People were eating pizza (Stancy's favorite), cookies and pizzelles.<br />
<br />
Stancy would have loved it.<br />
<br />
There was laughter and storytelling and comic relief when the kneeler broke. I am not making this up. At one point Geo's brother, Mark had the kneeler up on one end tightening the bolt, while his other brother, the priest dressed in full cassock, was wielding a red monkey wrench. All of this happening in front of the casket. It was hysterical and unorthodox and his Mom would have LOVED that, too!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbd1how0oHVkviMQTwz9cj-rulEiLYbCkBcoB1tLQQWB1VoR5oVKZif3MEDEDB0edsC2yu3r300ISMBQZ7Y7WC-jJsgIX9tzhtYhlEBGlDaIn7hl2mhLNTiRvYGFXE0DbDzxB9Pe30GI/s1600/IMG_7608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbd1how0oHVkviMQTwz9cj-rulEiLYbCkBcoB1tLQQWB1VoR5oVKZif3MEDEDB0edsC2yu3r300ISMBQZ7Y7WC-jJsgIX9tzhtYhlEBGlDaIn7hl2mhLNTiRvYGFXE0DbDzxB9Pe30GI/s1600/IMG_7608.jpg" height="400" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Father Bob wielding the Holy Handwrench<br />
<br />
and yes, i am THAT person who snaps a photo at a funeral<br />
but, c'mon! it's funny</td></tr>
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Fortunately, Robert ditched the wrench before the <a href="http://www.saintelias.com/ca/music/orderOfBurial.php">Parastas</a> began, because THAT could have been painful…<br />
<br />
<i>In the name of the Fath--OUCH, Son and Holy Ghost. In the name of the Fath--OUCH!, Son and Holy Ghost. In the name of the Fath--OUCH! Son and Holy Ghost...</i><br />
<br />
<br />
In these difficult times, comfort comes from the strangest places. After all our extended family made their way home from the repast luncheon, I decided to go to <a href="http://www.nightofthesingingdead.com/">Night of the Singing Dead</a>, because after a week of mourning, a good, strong dose of stupid-funny was in order. Two thirds of the way through, one of the characters stopped in the middle of his bit to say no one is really gone if they've touched your life. They live on forever in your heart.<br />
<br />
I like to think Stancy's watching over us up there, talking baseball stats with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bob_Prince">Bob Prince</a>, playing catch with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roberto_Clemente">Roberto</a> and baking pasca with her Mom and sister.<br />
<br />
Godspeed, Baba. Thank you for your wisdom, your humor and your spirit. You will forever be in our hearts.<br />
xo…infinity<br />
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Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-60055499258649122402014-10-06T20:03:00.001-04:002014-10-06T20:03:05.483-04:00Summer Music Round Up With A Side Of Whine Oh, hey! Remember me?<br />
<br />
Yeah… well, I was supposed to wrap up this braggy BS weeks ago, but I didn't. I just could not muster the energy or enthusiasm to sit down and scribe a fabrication of my goings-on for whatever you call this rambling mess of a blog.<br />
<br />
Truth is, even now, this very minute, I'd rather sit here in my criminally comfy yoga pants, with a glass of boxed red wine and binge watch the rest of Orange Is The New Black, Ray Donovan and Sherlock instead of press fruitlessly on with this post in my cavewoman stilted vernacular.<br />
<br />
Me go places. Me have fun. Me lose hearing.<br />
<br />
I'd yadda yadda yadda this fucker, but even the yadda bits would be uninspired. Jebus Christos, I need a swift kick in the buttocks!!<br />
<br />
ANYWHO… (maybe ALL CAPS will stop the whining…hmmmmmmmmmmmm…nah)<br />
<br />
ANYWHO, I promised myself I'd toss some nouns, verbs and overused adjectives at the screen and finish this GD MoFo American Classic. Hell, I might even dangle a participle or two on yo ass. Not to mention hang a couple of prepositions out to dry all gansta like. HEY, WON'T THAT BE FUN, KIDS!!!<br />
<br />
Wait… How the hell did this turn into a grammar tangent? Oh, yeah.<br />
<br />
STALLING!<br />
<br />
Not to be confused with STALIN, who was a ginormous Muthafuckin' JAGOFF. <br />
<br />
ACK! And to think I was shooting for brevity with concise bullet point observations on this bad boy.<br />
<br />
*sigh*<br />
<br />
You know what? Fuck it. I'm pressing on. My track record for finishing ANYTHING lately, a book, a project, a fucking bag of obesity-inducing chips (okay, so THAT is the one thing I DO finish) is abysmal. So here goes. Prepare to be underwhelmed.<br />
<br />
Wouldn't it be hilarious if I ended this missive right here? Ha Ha! PSYCHE!!<br />
<br />
And now I just carbon-dated my ass with that term.<br />
<br />
yaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/K5hkNoyHkRE" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
(a little thang me and Jimmy McParkway would sing to each other from Matthew Perry's ill-fated sitcom wherein he and I apparently were the only viewers. yaaaaaaaaaay…)<br />
<br />
But I digress. Again.<br />
<br />
BEHOLD! The rest of my Summer of Narcisim… I mean, Summer of Music.<br />
<br />
<br />
· <b>House Concert 2.0</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0TIfHl4_y6lH_xsgTka_d-LwUEllWPL_oPzBbEzYJKyXsTK8KfRF4_C82oYEqTQZTxaukI3abttGc_kj5nQ2qF1id4CKZHEz2Amgo-cNUiybIqVygJY17bLv8Ev-XhyphenhyphenXHLs5Fkziq0r0/s1600/IMG_6922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0TIfHl4_y6lH_xsgTka_d-LwUEllWPL_oPzBbEzYJKyXsTK8KfRF4_C82oYEqTQZTxaukI3abttGc_kj5nQ2qF1id4CKZHEz2Amgo-cNUiybIqVygJY17bLv8Ev-XhyphenhyphenXHLs5Fkziq0r0/s1600/IMG_6922.JPG" height="297" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spring Standards harmoniously rocking' the haus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Okay, so last summer Geo and I hosted the uber talented Brooklyn trio, The Spring Standards. We enjoyed James, Heather and James so much, we <strike>cajoled</strike> <strike>pestered</strike> sweet-talked them into a repeat performance exactly one year to the day of their 2013 visit. Through the miracle of technology that is incomprehensible to this Luddite, the kids broadcast our little dining room show out over the interwebs via Concert Window.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCbfMWhhDzjZnnMdgcV4FjCn7lx4vzEWm6pameLo3wt__SU24hev1idB8MJTYTxf7m2Z5tjl14Tl09nvTQjM-bia4nOGIGrQy0nB-TgbXGz7myCENBMNnAXAf5RZTXjkLbR49yKi3CDVE/s1600/IMG_6919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCbfMWhhDzjZnnMdgcV4FjCn7lx4vzEWm6pameLo3wt__SU24hev1idB8MJTYTxf7m2Z5tjl14Tl09nvTQjM-bia4nOGIGrQy0nB-TgbXGz7myCENBMNnAXAf5RZTXjkLbR49yKi3CDVE/s1600/IMG_6919.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">james squared on the schwang</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
The weather was ideal, the company of family and friends was superb and the music was spectacular. Along with those who have become regular house concert attendees, there were a number of newbies, including our dear friend from Texas, Myra Jean.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJnWYI7QiWHt0jmoKncS7DYh4F-uQvhMRT4SMSlKrZ09tbmsYgI6lUcZn2gc08GUuF-GxipFah7xV9n00awrpf0Y2Wczv-m7ShjoURpD6VjQL4LCa7UF90GEx0chTEwhm0pzb9LKz9et4/s1600/P1070671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJnWYI7QiWHt0jmoKncS7DYh4F-uQvhMRT4SMSlKrZ09tbmsYgI6lUcZn2gc08GUuF-GxipFah7xV9n00awrpf0Y2Wczv-m7ShjoURpD6VjQL4LCa7UF90GEx0chTEwhm0pzb9LKz9et4/s1600/P1070671.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">that's our southern belle, Myra in front of the monitor</td></tr>
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Here they are singing some of our favorites of theirs. Their harmonies are gorgeous.<br />
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<br />
Geo and I have supported these three via Kickstarter for a number of years. For whatever reason, they're really sweet to us. They find our name amusing, and made up a little song and dance to go with it, all in good fun. Who'd a thunk when I saw them for the first time four years ago at SXSW, they would be hanging out on our deck, noshing on snacks and singing in our dining room. Sometimes life is too cool.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Z11O1qoEbyY" width="560"></iframe>
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Everyone seemed to genuinely enjoy themselves and each other. After the band left, we all piled on the deck for more food, drink, and lively conversation late into the night. You know it's a great party when people don't want to leave. It could have been because of the world famous Prantl's burnt almond birthday torte, but I prefer to believe it was the camaraderie.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ycml3ZMm0xyKF3QLq3r1l92jpbhqanXp_O-A6DsVbmeEeUaigcDnWRJe08ShX2yJId0q8EjILeQOM0WVizchnGGO8M_sxj6Wo-nYfcM4o7V3WU5clU1TCcrIcNUeRhwCC1tUm7uCRhU/s1600/IMG_6921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ycml3ZMm0xyKF3QLq3r1l92jpbhqanXp_O-A6DsVbmeEeUaigcDnWRJe08ShX2yJId0q8EjILeQOM0WVizchnGGO8M_sxj6Wo-nYfcM4o7V3WU5clU1TCcrIcNUeRhwCC1tUm7uCRhU/s1600/IMG_6921.jpg" height="400" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TORTE reward</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<br />
· <b>Matt Nathanson at the Library</b><br />
Another highlight of the latter days of summer was <a href="http://mattnathanson.com/">Matt Nathanson.</a> I've been wanting to see him ever since Steph and I watched his Denver concert on AXS last October. He's a pure popstar with thick floppy hair, mischief in his eyes and enough swivel in his hips to give the lovely blue-eyed one a run for his swoon-worthy money.<br />
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His shows are plain, old FUN! From the minute he stepped on stage, the audience was on its feet. He engaged the crowd immediately, prompting sing alongs, talking with some of those at the stage and playfully calling out patrons not willing to join the fun.<br />
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Sprinkled throughout the 90+ minutes, he did an entire bit about letting his inner Whitney Houston out,<br />
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as well as several mash-ups, mixing old songs with his own like Get High and Grease Lightning. The entire theater sang with him, following his every command. Again I say, how cool is it to stand back and hear 800+ people sing your words back to you.<br />
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Mash ups, flowing curls, and those hips…<br />
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One more for the road. My favorite of his, Faster. Mmmmmm….<br />
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The deal was you buy a t-shirt, you get to meet him briefly for a photo. Yep. What can I say? I'm a sucker for smart, witty, adorable floppy-haired crooners who enjoy shaking their asses.<br />
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· <b>Bleachers at Mr. Small's</b><br />
One of the great pleasures of having younger friends, or any friends for that matter, is exposure to new musical acts who would otherwise fly deep below my radar. I like to think I dwell in a well-rounded musical estate, but in reality, I just bunk in a small passageway in the back by the water heater.<br />
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Lizzie has been instrumental in introducing me to such musicians. Besides Chad Stokes and Matt Wertz, both of whom were represented by the label she worked for in Boston, she has a friendly relationship with the popular band fun. Her favorite member is Jack Antanoff, famous as much for being Lena Dunham (of Girls fame) boyfriend as for being the guitarist for the power pop icons. His current side project is fronting the band <a href="http://www.bleachersmusic.com/strangedesire?redirect=false">Bleachers</a>.<br />
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Aside from their hit, I Wanna Get Better, I was clueless. But honestly, half the fun of these ventures is hanging out with Lizzie and her cousin, Gen. Bleachers were extremely energetic and fun. The modest crowd pretty much knew all of his songs, participating in every verse and chorus. For someone who is normally in the background, Jack is a very charismatic front man and lead singer, bounding from one side of the stage to the other, belting out lyrics and playing a mean guitar. And talk about sincere. If he said it once, he said it 20 times how much he appreciated the support he receives from the Pittsburgh area. I have it on good authority from Lizzie, he is a genuine sweet, sweet guy.<br />
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The setlist was not long, but his cover of a favorite Mountain Goats song, This Year was definitely a highlight.<br />
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And this rousing performance of his hit, I Wanna Get Better closed out the show. He even took time to shake the hands of everyone in the front row before departing backstage. Sweet.<br />
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·<b>Jukebox the Ghost Live and Direct, WYEP</b><br />
And lastly, <a href="http://jukeboxtheghost.com/">Jukebox the Ghost</a> stopped by the studios of the magnificent WYEP to play a handful of catchy new songs on their radio-only tour through the Northeast. Based out of DC, this three piece band has a lot of heart, a full sound, and a great sense of humor evidenced in the performance/interview <a href="http://www.wyep.org/audio/live-direct-with-jukebox-the-ghost">here</a>.<br />
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Aaaaaaaaaand… DONE!! WOOHOO!!<br />
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<br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-57890681378396390152014-09-22T10:22:00.000-04:002014-09-25T18:12:31.846-04:00In Which We Experience Chicago In The Warmer Climes Thanks To A Rhett Winery Show<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4pjavs1xbsZBrK_m9b8VGJxR_f_FdUHxwqc89ic64UZp5sGCEUbEVftg-caJh_H77MiTghK3M3yz6oT5LzTuvJxWewk78Q5e4OVDtuZwhDiAQ-oqk7DFUiUFyZj-ik3BiUvDOTROAWc/s1600/P1070770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4pjavs1xbsZBrK_m9b8VGJxR_f_FdUHxwqc89ic64UZp5sGCEUbEVftg-caJh_H77MiTghK3M3yz6oT5LzTuvJxWewk78Q5e4OVDtuZwhDiAQ-oqk7DFUiUFyZj-ik3BiUvDOTROAWc/s1600/P1070770.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a><br />
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Okay, so there were a number of other events that occurred between The Stone Pony and now, but Cindy and I just got back from an overnighter in Chicago to see Rhett Miller's solo show at the Chicago City Winery---I mean, c'mon! You know me. Who else would it be, right?---and I figured, what the heck, it's kind of a theme. Might as well write about it while it's somewhat fresh in my deteriorating memory banks. <br />
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I've been wanting to see Mr. Miller play in Chicago ever since the Winery opened several years ago. The original New York venue is one of my all-time favorite places to see His Magnificence perform, so I've been curious how the Chicago house would stack up. <br />
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In the heart of a reclaimed industrial area, this space is downright cavernous compared to New York. It encompasses the equivalent of three large storefronts. The first is a dining/bar area populated with enormous metal vats filled with house-blended wines. The second is the wide open lobby with oversized individual yellow-frosted wine bottle light fixtures hanging from 20ft+ ceilings. The entrance to the concert venue is just beyond the lobby. The third space is a roomy, gated outdoor patio where guests can dine, drink or just hang out. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the beautifully appointed patio space</td></tr>
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The venue is laid out similarly to the SoHo space, but with a lot more breathing room between table rows. There isn't as intimate a feel to this room, but the extra leg room is welcomed. And honestly, no matter the size of the room, Rhett fills it with his commanding stage presence. He's just one man with a guitar, but his unbridled energy draws everyone in like a moth to a flame. <br />
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He seemed as at ease on this stage as the one in New York. The energy in the room isn't quite as electric as the Big Apple, but has a more calm, polite, Midwest vibe. Like every city, their were the "regulars" in front and scattered throughout, feeding back the love. It was a great crowd who sang along and cheered especially loudly for his Chicago-centric songs. He played a nice combination of solo and 97's songs, newest and more obscure, and a couple of unexpected covers. One fan who drove five hours to get to the Winery, posted a list of requests on Rhett's Facebook page. He was kind enough to play them all, with the disclaimer if he messed up the lyrics, she had to help him, particularly on Sleepwalking. He did, and she did, willingly.<br />
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(the blue-eyed lovely, bathed in violet light, singing one of my favorites from MMU)<br />
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Two of the many things I love about his solo shows are a) the way he changes up his interpretations of his songs and b) his playful banter with the audience. <br />
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Each song sounded so fresh. The slight changes in emphasis providing a different meaning, a new feel... an extra naughtiness. Perfect example is 4-Eyed Girl. The chorus is "La La La I'm in love with a 4-eyed girl. She knows how to move me now. She knows how. BaBaBaBaaaaaa..." On Thursday night, when he got to the "She knows how", he stopped strumming and spoke the phrase slowly, with a verbal wink, "SHE knows how..." before playing on. A double, double entendre.<br />
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*swoon* <br />
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Cigarette, please!<br />
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Besides talking with the crowd, he told a number of amusing stories, including this one about cursing on stage in Nashville the night before.<br />
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One particularly funny yarn came about because his stage tuner quote, "shit the bed" the night before in Nashville. He searched to procure a new one that afternoon from a mensch of a man in one of those sketchy, locked storefronts where you must be buzzed in. Never a good sign, right? According to Rhett, despite owning a music store, this old dude had no knowledge of music. Struggling to explain what a guitar tuner was, for what seemed an eternity, the old geezer finally pulled out a dust-caked box containing a tuner from the 70s. He insisted it was the best because it was "<a href="http://www.roland.com/support/article/?q=faq&p=TU-2&id=1832635">chromatic</a>." Rhett bought it and, of course, it sucked. He couldn't get it to tune his middle strings after the second song. I believe "Fuck a DUCK!!" was the phrase used. Ha Ha! Fortunately, the opener, Dylan Pratt, came to the rescue, lending his turner. The crops were saved.<br />
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Okay, maybe you had to be there, but to hear Rhett go on and on in a crusty, old guy voice was pretty damn funny. <br />
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There was so much extra goodness going on between his entrance with whiskey glass held high and the last thrust of his sweat-soaked, extra long, luscious locks. Ridiculously entertaining. His showmanship is without peer. He is ALWAYS worth the journey.<br />
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And as if giving his all on stage for 90+ minutes wasn't enough, he came out afterwards to kibitz with fans. He graciously signed merch, posed for selfies and took the time to speak with every person in line. Turning each one (male and female) into super fans in a matter of minutes. Welcome to the fold! Here, have some Kool Aid. Ha Ha! <br />
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I know I sound like a broken record, but I just cannot express enough how much I love this man and his music and his big ole beautiful brain.<br />
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Extra bonus: I finally got to meet a long-time Twitter friend in the flesh. Yasmin, is a lovely young mother about to hatch another lovely being. There's a saying, great bands have great fans. Time and again, with each new person I meet, I find this to be true. <br />
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The City Winery Chicago is a place I can see visiting again. And because I am a total geek, here's the setlist from this most excellent evening. <br />
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Chicago Winery Setlist 9/18/14</div>
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Drowning in the Days</div>
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The El</div>
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Longer Than You've Been Alive</div>
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Buick City Complex (a rare treat!)</div>
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I'm a Train Wreck (another rarity)</div>
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Need To Know Where I Stand (by request)</div>
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Curtain Call (another fave oldie)</div>
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Disconnect (this one makes me want to hug him)</div>
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Champagne, IL (crowd favorite)</div>
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Murder or Heart Attack</div>
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Melt Show</div>
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4 Eyed Girl</div>
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Sometimes (by request, so sweet!)</div>
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Busted Afternoon</div>
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No Baby I (by request)</div>
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Bird in a Cage (chosen by a girl in audience)</div>
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Roller Skate Skinny</div>
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Wheels Off</div>
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Sleepwalking (by request)</div>
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Singular Girl (w/Hydra verse!)</div>
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This Will Be Our Year (Zombies cover)</div>
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(*2014 really DOES seem like his year)</div>
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Let's Get Drunk </div>
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Our Love</div>
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Nashville</div>
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4 Leaf Clover</div>
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Hank Williams Cover</div>
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Most Messed Up</div>
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Time Bomb</div>
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Cindy and I could NOT have ordered better weather to explore the Windy City! Sunny and temperate, with neither exhausting humidity nor bitter winds, the Metropolis shined. Jebus, this town is amazingly clean and free of Big-City stench. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a calder in the mist</td></tr>
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We stayed in the city Loop which made it perfect to walk to Millennium Park, Navy Pier and Michigan Avenue. The park was super fun. There was a new sculpture exhibit, Women of Chicago featuring ginormous heads of local women. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT97kxyho4s5yGPMdawCJm99b2IysuGEk0yzX-ZX2X3IGaTuXZwESr16tlxIo62vDoQXEWWO8gdxh8OA3sZc_L7ZEM0M4kjPpCkahdmSG0qFp2mKTMOk3vwfXQ3uGEF1FDjDW2Jpqp5G8/s1600/P1070745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT97kxyho4s5yGPMdawCJm99b2IysuGEk0yzX-ZX2X3IGaTuXZwESr16tlxIo62vDoQXEWWO8gdxh8OA3sZc_L7ZEM0M4kjPpCkahdmSG0qFp2mKTMOk3vwfXQ3uGEF1FDjDW2Jpqp5G8/s1600/P1070745.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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The glass block obelisks bore faces of men and women smiling right before they would purse their lips for a stream of water to spew forth onto the children playing beneath. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjOHXDS_6GOI49HqB3Wwl45GYs2FMBJQi6aZaOvOyGKzTyJEJaTND9XMIWNmKR7Ho6_Wt04NYT9T_HIYw2vaqC2gOOPJhFbhdnHGXCk1fCWtXb0G3MaBSTtOV2ju6b9iDiuBEmD2ZjTRs/s1600/IMG_7260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjOHXDS_6GOI49HqB3Wwl45GYs2FMBJQi6aZaOvOyGKzTyJEJaTND9XMIWNmKR7Ho6_Wt04NYT9T_HIYw2vaqC2gOOPJhFbhdnHGXCk1fCWtXb0G3MaBSTtOV2ju6b9iDiuBEmD2ZjTRs/s1600/IMG_7260.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">coolness</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijgWyPQ-yUzhrJNlORfTqHJHgH8uypYxJLQJTEfKddwJ8b0tUFf641EQPupr7CltiB34WCDY_AqpFlDW6JIzKkDpPGERfUunvr2yYdfcbtTSgUtvedyQKVce5Aoof4xevgllK9momfQbg/s1600/P1070750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijgWyPQ-yUzhrJNlORfTqHJHgH8uypYxJLQJTEfKddwJ8b0tUFf641EQPupr7CltiB34WCDY_AqpFlDW6JIzKkDpPGERfUunvr2yYdfcbtTSgUtvedyQKVce5Aoof4xevgllK9momfQbg/s1600/P1070750.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">urban water park</td></tr>
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And then, of course, there was the bean...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCy2yzdgZO2ZcqbTQO1jcH3hnopsjOJKrv_hI4CVwWDtra9E_zztQJoir24QZmjtIenhyGLA5BvMO8r04veqXnMC5jQRgyQf4_xPNGiOyn5AMlGDyOPabJZx1OxyKZq1GTtBCU7FJUbCM/s1600/IMG_7262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCy2yzdgZO2ZcqbTQO1jcH3hnopsjOJKrv_hI4CVwWDtra9E_zztQJoir24QZmjtIenhyGLA5BvMO8r04veqXnMC5jQRgyQf4_xPNGiOyn5AMlGDyOPabJZx1OxyKZq1GTtBCU7FJUbCM/s1600/IMG_7262.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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If you aren't charmed by this whimsical structure, we can't be friends.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjBkeDr15ZEFdboyu4YEdVvQVDVdDpqg1fQTf7dYXxbH_vdekFtB4iM5nJY_lCfKUykQ6Q4lADfwBxKsCxb9XCwuZ5wPfCYl1edWhCf_yUvg8zB74Byr05xo1SfvSB-feJ1Qf-sxPz67A/s1600/IMG_7263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjBkeDr15ZEFdboyu4YEdVvQVDVdDpqg1fQTf7dYXxbH_vdekFtB4iM5nJY_lCfKUykQ6Q4lADfwBxKsCxb9XCwuZ5wPfCYl1edWhCf_yUvg8zB74Byr05xo1SfvSB-feJ1Qf-sxPz67A/s1600/IMG_7263.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cindy communing with the bean</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2jPxaUP6dqcCJDt2pC3MIYWApqWmj8uv9EcyQuXCwBnpr7ZKQfyUhS1f8ja-SvCCTVvyQdLFzMGGk06KiOyuX-uAJOnxAYNdj0bhB8_OrTc2h5Y8Q0DeNrneI0FvPo7uit24MONDfac/s1600/IMG_7269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2jPxaUP6dqcCJDt2pC3MIYWApqWmj8uv9EcyQuXCwBnpr7ZKQfyUhS1f8ja-SvCCTVvyQdLFzMGGk06KiOyuX-uAJOnxAYNdj0bhB8_OrTc2h5Y8Q0DeNrneI0FvPo7uit24MONDfac/s1600/IMG_7269.jpg" height="400" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">every angle is an irresistible treat</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgexRdrUJ75ZSZ_t7HEPHskCfIKfEA8BGBTVaBOQ-iBcfo-0ah3yGa4FI2jc6qvVkr6DGw8BTnlivdq4iPRid8t1IlQoD1JhYkZuPHpMFWpdeGjgZeZ6wdADzdh2qeyPsGa6GfvV_Fx61I/s1600/IMG_7270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgexRdrUJ75ZSZ_t7HEPHskCfIKfEA8BGBTVaBOQ-iBcfo-0ah3yGa4FI2jc6qvVkr6DGw8BTnlivdq4iPRid8t1IlQoD1JhYkZuPHpMFWpdeGjgZeZ6wdADzdh2qeyPsGa6GfvV_Fx61I/s1600/IMG_7270.JPG" height="297" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">amish album cover</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3osK1fO3-niPDFAFDTDyiK9JMoFikz_-jBvsHMoSmhQIV3TIu8NJW_Xn3nzAzJjFkP9HWL4q12C-qVOSKmfrCcU396AIdOsmKqktBYdidmQNtWyDB7aiOVgKl2ckg4mUqpZkcP66Z3C0/s1600/bean+nonsense.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3osK1fO3-niPDFAFDTDyiK9JMoFikz_-jBvsHMoSmhQIV3TIu8NJW_Xn3nzAzJjFkP9HWL4q12C-qVOSKmfrCcU396AIdOsmKqktBYdidmQNtWyDB7aiOVgKl2ckg4mUqpZkcP66Z3C0/s1600/bean+nonsense.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">jerks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7vpjdYyalvMax6m1Y8qjLxz3J-rUV71yONXpTUdtBa5hXvhkZkMslt3p7nAQ1EFvWy-rsIWo8kv_RF2CJ7zWhw8FCxso-b3LJvYeLZQPDuyx_0af2Wli4r2oukkd31Ffus8qlIyeOVUk/s1600/P1070755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7vpjdYyalvMax6m1Y8qjLxz3J-rUV71yONXpTUdtBa5hXvhkZkMslt3p7nAQ1EFvWy-rsIWo8kv_RF2CJ7zWhw8FCxso-b3LJvYeLZQPDuyx_0af2Wli4r2oukkd31Ffus8qlIyeOVUk/s1600/P1070755.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">last one<br />
promise</td></tr>
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After indulging our inner child at the park, we headed uptown to Intimacy to get my ta-tas properly fitted. It wasn't as weird as I anticipated. There was no wrangling of the girls. Instead there was a skilled assessment of my current undergarment. It failed, miserably. Now I gots me a stand-up foundation garment that holds 'em high, boy howdy! There's even some long-absent cleavage involved. <br />
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Watch the eff out, y'all! My tats ROCK, BABY!!! <br />
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My only complaint about this wonderful urban setting was the bathroom in the kickass diner near our hotel. That stall was SMALL! And by small, I mean miniscule. So much so that my knees rested AGAINST the door as I perched precariously. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE2MGZgBufLmr_c2IVqO7oGRgzEQPe0plXGFWno6ryEwKI-wBD_U8xfvXHanktCIuQJY_wE5DIv_izHHVbTpSs8fdB5AXe6deNVAX25M49eKUNdDfOCuKL720TT_8UF7h6BLIxhvfDDaM/s1600/IMG_7232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE2MGZgBufLmr_c2IVqO7oGRgzEQPe0plXGFWno6ryEwKI-wBD_U8xfvXHanktCIuQJY_wE5DIv_izHHVbTpSs8fdB5AXe6deNVAX25M49eKUNdDfOCuKL720TT_8UF7h6BLIxhvfDDaM/s1600/IMG_7232.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'M NOT A GIANTESS<br />
I SHOULD NOT BE TOUCHING THE DOOR<br />
(tmi moment of the day)</td></tr>
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Seriously. Thank baby Jesus I didn't have a dress on, because that bad boy would have ended up in the turlet for sure. Can you say, super awkward? Then, I had the grand pleasure of plunging the bowl to get the GD thing to flush. Let's just say I was thankful there were no kids dropped off at the lake. <br />
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#BLESSED<br />
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Please enjoy more photos from this wonderful city. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chicago river</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"rump" tower<br />
well, he is an ass</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgw1DZs6pzpwWaQpxHnZB5BMmfi0EIKTXgSgcvBj2vkZeiI74Lr3QwNZZ9jNlSPwAlkdK1RqURBPn6UZ586JK8amylM8bQ5fOsPko1xNjjXTDGlH3_EDdHKK3QNbscdHFYiQW3jHenMXw/s1600/IMG_7286.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgw1DZs6pzpwWaQpxHnZB5BMmfi0EIKTXgSgcvBj2vkZeiI74Lr3QwNZZ9jNlSPwAlkdK1RqURBPn6UZ586JK8amylM8bQ5fOsPko1xNjjXTDGlH3_EDdHKK3QNbscdHFYiQW3jHenMXw/s1600/IMG_7286.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this busker was playing Guster<br />
he earned a tip</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLKtX91NX8C7y0jjLVgeHYfDrDVUk8baZxgAT3PH-KBaT2FzhhURiNVuW5OZcbB6iEA7PEHhXYMgVk0qpsvw9ANdwcR5QvKJcv-VIG3qTF6k06gJIHlytskltdDSzfs_NEJouBuR54RE/s1600/IMG_7288.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLKtX91NX8C7y0jjLVgeHYfDrDVUk8baZxgAT3PH-KBaT2FzhhURiNVuW5OZcbB6iEA7PEHhXYMgVk0qpsvw9ANdwcR5QvKJcv-VIG3qTF6k06gJIHlytskltdDSzfs_NEJouBuR54RE/s1600/IMG_7288.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">bridge abutment on Michigan Ave</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sooooo bummed we were a week too early for this</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">these four buildings look like they are all connected<br />
perspective is a wild thing</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Navy Pier<br />
what a difference ten months makes<br />
last November there was no one here </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lunch al fresco</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFwjTdZjs5fYaaDs3uzrir5f4NibZIou8ry6e5zDygQT_TCEQBBb7jg5rOcNzsnCbJyWPZVDY7U6Ln5g75xUPohsVhWazFcYUYUmpMj7r7vg0ajKAJzdS9rfZom8l5PSTcKP6LVo0Twc0/s1600/P1070780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFwjTdZjs5fYaaDs3uzrir5f4NibZIou8ry6e5zDygQT_TCEQBBb7jg5rOcNzsnCbJyWPZVDY7U6Ln5g75xUPohsVhWazFcYUYUmpMj7r7vg0ajKAJzdS9rfZom8l5PSTcKP6LVo0Twc0/s1600/P1070780.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ACTUAL sailors at Navy Pier<br />
go figure</td></tr>
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<br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459171053509748215.post-10666021068713202032014-09-17T13:14:00.001-04:002014-09-20T11:09:03.277-04:00What I Did On The Last Bit Of Summer Vacation #Bragaboutit (Part One)Okay, so as Summer's glorious reign begins to wane, I thought I'd reflect back on some highlights from the second half of my favorite season on this spinning orb we all call home.<br />
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Sun + Surf + Friends + Old 97's = PERFECTION<br />
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What could be the cherry on top of the beach-time-with-girlfriends sundae? Why, having the greatest live band alive perform at the shore, of course. I was stoked when the summer leg was announced and my favorite foursome, Old 97's was set to play in both Dewey Beach AND the legendary Stone Pony on back-to-back evenings!! And to add to the pot 'o music gold, Tommy Stinson of The Replacements fame was slated as their opener. <br />
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Steph, Melissa and Sheila joined Cindy and me for the beach bash. These ladies are so awesome to be with. There is no drama, no walking on egg shells, no jealousy...just a loving, supportive sisterhood that rocks out together.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVe629bmkGmJEA_x_w1wB0PQX-ZrC2jNUZ8kII65KYPLYxbm0WEN4Mg5JT9mMi0ZJ_SqbttwcdWqCUVxjm6SJkVN7OVdafmfkLbaS3JTKH9211sbF5bONe6SYo7oyZ7nPB1agQ-y7563Q/s1600/10537038_10204181065268555_511695457724727124_n-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVe629bmkGmJEA_x_w1wB0PQX-ZrC2jNUZ8kII65KYPLYxbm0WEN4Mg5JT9mMi0ZJ_SqbttwcdWqCUVxjm6SJkVN7OVdafmfkLbaS3JTKH9211sbF5bONe6SYo7oyZ7nPB1agQ-y7563Q/s1600/10537038_10204181065268555_511695457724727124_n-1.jpg" height="240" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Melissa making an impression</td></tr>
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It was all about Melissa that night. She's a guitar freak who knows her shit regarding axes (Man, that lingo sounds uber lame coming from me. It will cease and desist. Promise.), and she lovesLovesLOVES Ken from the 97's. I'm not sure which she loves more, him or his guitars, but either way he/they rev her engine.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">oooo…pretty red to match my blood shot eyes</td></tr>
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Anywho, it was her day, fo sho. She hit the trifecta. Outside the venue, she got to talk shop with Murry, the bass player about his bass and other equipment queries. Then she met Tommy Stinson coming out of the men's room before the show and impressed him so much, he dedicated a song to her, calling her out by name. THEN, Ken was grinding his guitar all up in her euphoric face during the show. <br />
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WINNER!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">"how do you like my ax, Melissa?<br />
my guitar's not bad either."<br />
BadaBING!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"THE tommy stinson, muthafuckers!!"<br />
or something like that<br />
you get the idea<br />
there was glorious cursing</td></tr>
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Rhett introduced Tommy, twice in fact because the crowd wasn't getting the gravitas of the situation, punctuating the second go-round with "the Great Tommy FUCKING Stinson!" I had no idea what to expect from the former child prodigy and founding member of the Replacements. He was unexpectedly jovial, charming and engaging with the audience. He laughed all the way through his set, poking fun at himself for forgetting lyrics occasionally. I liked him a lot. I understand why Mr. Miller enjoys his company so much.<br />
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Besides, who wouldn't love a legendary punker who isn't ashamed to dangle store rewards cards from his badass, punk rock, large-link chain, huh?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">no shit, man<br />
he likes him a savings<br />
and no, i was NOT looking at his package</td></tr>
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At the Pony, whenever he duffed a lyric, he burst into a rousing chorus of "Hey, Good Lookin'". As Chris Hardwick from the brilliant @midnight would say... POINTS!!!<br />
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Now if only the audience would shut the hell up!<br />
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The setlists for this tour are predictably Most Messed Up heavy. I've been lucky enough to catch enough shows to hear ever song from the album performed live. (as the kids say on The Twitter: #Blessed) The shows have been uncharacteristically similar except for a number of slots wherein Rhett mixes it up from show to show. I've noticed there're about five or six master lists recycled throughout these legs. However, the blue-eyed lovely one is conscious of fans seeing back-to-back gigs, and he takes great pains not to do the same list two nights in a row.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXR80kE50mZwJp5uRDko3GMMdBsVWFR5tudenvJoX4FFZDrY_g1CNguNeDvCMunDMt4o0kO74NJBfdPCx4CA3BQ_35kMzHCrVPeFsUk_b5bWYDpUS7QxLCndqLUlbv1L65aIepr5ZKNhY/s1600/P1070595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXR80kE50mZwJp5uRDko3GMMdBsVWFR5tudenvJoX4FFZDrY_g1CNguNeDvCMunDMt4o0kO74NJBfdPCx4CA3BQ_35kMzHCrVPeFsUk_b5bWYDpUS7QxLCndqLUlbv1L65aIepr5ZKNhY/s1600/P1070595.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">oh, hey there handsome</td></tr>
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No matter. These four play their brains out, and Rhett changes-up his interpretations from one venue to the next in accordance to the energy of the house, or his mood, or the amount of Jameson in his red solo cup. :) Or so it seems to me, but what do I know, except they are NEVER boring or phone it in. Besides, they have such an enormous ouvre of amazing material, I honestly can't fathom how he chooses what they play from night to night.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Vm6NCIV0oLX5JTtFHonlv5VaiYxGlMphWuA5ibELeVfbzuwllDQvMIO24EzHqbJ-OWAA5jU0oRLxA3wQR0ACW6lCb8P9Wy87eLv7hjVMm-c0_qiluT2RWaLzMwtI7kv3woT9sZyP2lc/s1600/IMG_6791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Vm6NCIV0oLX5JTtFHonlv5VaiYxGlMphWuA5ibELeVfbzuwllDQvMIO24EzHqbJ-OWAA5jU0oRLxA3wQR0ACW6lCb8P9Wy87eLv7hjVMm-c0_qiluT2RWaLzMwtI7kv3woT9sZyP2lc/s1600/IMG_6791.JPG" height="297" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">guest geetar hero</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs0GLNsvayuWOw4apTJvXDfWF0tkkhZfGjPkZevSZEXXNm6yx0ISMkZj3pOEs5foD6igfRkYYRiH_vRIgYXHLPkdFjlqB36NeKx29-JYDGSYmNw57gbf_OT6aur3BpveiqoJ2nAezdugU/s1600/IMG_6783.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs0GLNsvayuWOw4apTJvXDfWF0tkkhZfGjPkZevSZEXXNm6yx0ISMkZj3pOEs5foD6igfRkYYRiH_vRIgYXHLPkdFjlqB36NeKx29-JYDGSYmNw57gbf_OT6aur3BpveiqoJ2nAezdugU/s1600/IMG_6783.JPG" height="400" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">rockstar move<br />
perspective is a funny thing<br />
#bigfoot<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSuudGEFc0izzL1AjKtjZ-yfFM6xybaFDiDFi-mcRLMeNIfvbtS86AFnS22EdnKctA3DP2AfxeRAZQvtTVMbOxnyDrQT6k8dgt1sVp1txbF_ZvHoAzd2E3K_vLWsXTFf1k-07wHBc3wA/s1600/P1070626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSuudGEFc0izzL1AjKtjZ-yfFM6xybaFDiDFi-mcRLMeNIfvbtS86AFnS22EdnKctA3DP2AfxeRAZQvtTVMbOxnyDrQT6k8dgt1sVp1txbF_ZvHoAzd2E3K_vLWsXTFf1k-07wHBc3wA/s1600/P1070626.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">rockin' the white pants<br />
this pose… *sigh</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnPnB_gQI0QiBt4GZgjuUGCVXWp9CxSoLg9_taZk1T0snjFl7Nw6vh6ThpqV9H3SrtvTJFTw71jep6E3lhY7DcH0Dv-N3eIWhx5NcQMwXjdUKJlCHBOkHElw1DHFGV8JbFAHwoR_AahkM/s1600/P1070622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnPnB_gQI0QiBt4GZgjuUGCVXWp9CxSoLg9_taZk1T0snjFl7Nw6vh6ThpqV9H3SrtvTJFTw71jep6E3lhY7DcH0Dv-N3eIWhx5NcQMwXjdUKJlCHBOkHElw1DHFGV8JbFAHwoR_AahkM/s1600/P1070622.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_PuojEIFwKhzWDIcotxhMlmUXauMbGn3KdsPZQTdXz-z3QcxG7tnnJiNE_EAs07L3IqLpuacgf4y8cf-3PKA0Cs_ypvvt-ZIetWABN43KBezmBYum8bKEDxPTY6p4CKUZnlBmuqTFWkg/s1600/P1070617.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_PuojEIFwKhzWDIcotxhMlmUXauMbGn3KdsPZQTdXz-z3QcxG7tnnJiNE_EAs07L3IqLpuacgf4y8cf-3PKA0Cs_ypvvt-ZIetWABN43KBezmBYum8bKEDxPTY6p4CKUZnlBmuqTFWkg/s1600/P1070617.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">see that look<br />
yeah, he's thinking about how hawt I looked in my tankini four years ago<br />
what? shut up!<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvcFVyEGY_s4OaC9oIMIXaaNsmXLASR40H3bAmdbxIAeHnRzTGzOoDLQkrRlodPI3SBDpeFX2YRRdnw_Amp1U8sJIbZJbW8svEiZnsW1p02qB7wf5SJL-TT9fRYBHF6AawThqypibEnA/s1600/IMG_6861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvcFVyEGY_s4OaC9oIMIXaaNsmXLASR40H3bAmdbxIAeHnRzTGzOoDLQkrRlodPI3SBDpeFX2YRRdnw_Amp1U8sJIbZJbW8svEiZnsW1p02qB7wf5SJL-TT9fRYBHF6AawThqypibEnA/s1600/IMG_6861.JPG" height="627" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">ridiculously cute</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijCbdtj_S24EqTe63oOsIi3a0auAfpp_4h1c_25q9kiF8Pcyd1yC0RZGgS1-8EJTrMpdsjGdInAkJjgprJsV8AceDSaiaTqJfAqKCVKlMmWHI1O6L7dwm1JOv7xTfTRogFW617X9G2V3o/s1600/IMG_6787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijCbdtj_S24EqTe63oOsIi3a0auAfpp_4h1c_25q9kiF8Pcyd1yC0RZGgS1-8EJTrMpdsjGdInAkJjgprJsV8AceDSaiaTqJfAqKCVKlMmWHI1O6L7dwm1JOv7xTfTRogFW617X9G2V3o/s1600/IMG_6787.JPG" height="297" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ken, after his red guitar finally worked</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDjQcKtZAyuK7jfx7jCYSMvhkBClIX5aL9kUYBZMz70jgye0DACA31upuZlKJZ-lmKtVYo56gX4jUE19brcczE1Sgt3toJA717BcGZCCdY7eO8uo7QO0MF-Jr62Yt0MZXzOpBLCi6N1w/s1600/IMG_6859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDjQcKtZAyuK7jfx7jCYSMvhkBClIX5aL9kUYBZMz70jgye0DACA31upuZlKJZ-lmKtVYo56gX4jUE19brcczE1Sgt3toJA717BcGZCCdY7eO8uo7QO0MF-Jr62Yt0MZXzOpBLCi6N1w/s1600/IMG_6859.JPG" height="400" width="333" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I dig Rhett's new trend of slinging his<br />
guitar to the side while singing<br />
hawt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
In Dewey they came crashing on stage with a fierce WUZZA and didn't let up until Rhett raised his guitar triumphantly over his head after 90+ glorious, sweat-soaked minutes. In between they had fun playing around with each other and the fans. There was no female opener to join Rhett on 4 Leaf Clover this evening, but Tommy came out to play alongside Ken on Intervention. They never disappoint. EVER. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnHwgGx6eGfpGOk4EqZUDOtgfQOejnWdUuO6SoAt-T42MhDisipxeMQ_P3kNx0uTn2AJ8HzlcMf62LYJsKDF9MsDygXuGvgH9FoV4xBZP5DxsPa0khYcyjvn3K5V2erMrlH2GLQzA_XTo/s1600/IMG_6781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnHwgGx6eGfpGOk4EqZUDOtgfQOejnWdUuO6SoAt-T42MhDisipxeMQ_P3kNx0uTn2AJ8HzlcMf62LYJsKDF9MsDygXuGvgH9FoV4xBZP5DxsPa0khYcyjvn3K5V2erMrlH2GLQzA_XTo/s1600/IMG_6781.JPG" height="297" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCb1coi-ZQVooDxha4Csy21yIUSl7iqhr7Pv9CEZ_PbuAGGF2as8lRkUG7LKXKyNvDC3J9QPyC49FWYxJpOyL686Jmdq6Tpyh7UpewrpKe3KigiadQEl57r6Nk7gg9-IjVeyTjI5BesKQ/s1600/IMG_6782.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCb1coi-ZQVooDxha4Csy21yIUSl7iqhr7Pv9CEZ_PbuAGGF2as8lRkUG7LKXKyNvDC3J9QPyC49FWYxJpOyL686Jmdq6Tpyh7UpewrpKe3KigiadQEl57r6Nk7gg9-IjVeyTjI5BesKQ/s1600/IMG_6782.JPG" height="475" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">another triumph of rock in the books<br />
red solo cup celebration</td></tr>
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<i><b>Weird Note</b></i>: halfway through the show, a fight broke out. Yes, a fight. What the Hell, Eric?* I didn't see the brawl myself, but the end result was a man being carried out upside down by security. Or so I'm told. WTF, man. It's the beach. Calm the fuck down!!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>*a That 70s Show reference</i></span><br />
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And what is with dudes busting in front of their women folk to be against the stage?? Where the fuck are their manners?!<br />
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Also, this happened…<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3lGqvCFUxJtQvwbs9GFrMP1EwPv9Gjk6x54u2Q3ufRrcCKlf56qeXX-jtRAkA9iohLaUlTrxm2h3hwqm1a9FVWbjw0mbzyNFG_OKatMhmSn6-Ts6yoScOO6cMJexEdz68t7qFIVWqCnA/s1600/IMG_6757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3lGqvCFUxJtQvwbs9GFrMP1EwPv9Gjk6x54u2Q3ufRrcCKlf56qeXX-jtRAkA9iohLaUlTrxm2h3hwqm1a9FVWbjw0mbzyNFG_OKatMhmSn6-Ts6yoScOO6cMJexEdz68t7qFIVWqCnA/s1600/IMG_6757.jpg" height="396" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">dude's got a freaking jet pack!!</td></tr>
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Moving on to Jersey... <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPciG_x7yiUzTJVQK4vDHE8flftJKfsKe-0oDbUePGky3zd3eHIJuI4eszBDF4897ww14KGGLRDuvYNZCjbBsB1asTv4KTXW0VVovlY31kxOkpyOh5c-4_AUvUCH-NdOUGUlZLNYpM6nY/s1600/IMG_6822.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPciG_x7yiUzTJVQK4vDHE8flftJKfsKe-0oDbUePGky3zd3eHIJuI4eszBDF4897ww14KGGLRDuvYNZCjbBsB1asTv4KTXW0VVovlY31kxOkpyOh5c-4_AUvUCH-NdOUGUlZLNYpM6nY/s1600/IMG_6822.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">we got a little extra sun on this trip</td></tr>
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Both shows were fantastic, but The Pony was especially off the charts! Crazy high energy that made me tired just watching them.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLp4LnUVngBdoxLefjuQXAfD8ThIFgAS7e-R1wLpGNDjcqdBYFrlvLF6UlURco1xyiPmqrzDT97CljkGVScNSm_2LLKEateC-RDCBanEB3WGjI3TFzP2pb3vnUfd47SqImfRn629Sub2M/s1600/IMG_6844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLp4LnUVngBdoxLefjuQXAfD8ThIFgAS7e-R1wLpGNDjcqdBYFrlvLF6UlURco1xyiPmqrzDT97CljkGVScNSm_2LLKEateC-RDCBanEB3WGjI3TFzP2pb3vnUfd47SqImfRn629Sub2M/s1600/IMG_6844.JPG" height="475" width="640" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_KA_So-xAgHWi04RxoPTWZZe5zCiS00nIKkh2VylRqGujWV8FewHuCzRNidkvnBbdC3G87sO6kvq5pe007WiYz8sdqc9TymW9F4SukUzP3i_NZF_ORPOkbkWz7V3M3uFXbRe3JvIqwg/s1600/IMG_6834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_KA_So-xAgHWi04RxoPTWZZe5zCiS00nIKkh2VylRqGujWV8FewHuCzRNidkvnBbdC3G87sO6kvq5pe007WiYz8sdqc9TymW9F4SukUzP3i_NZF_ORPOkbkWz7V3M3uFXbRe3JvIqwg/s1600/IMG_6834.JPG" height="297" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">guitar fight</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">whistling boy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3_Ufr2u3H5mA6zST6yJ8GJUopCz8mE7PTSHPjISFHuGKuTknq3zZ4twHC5PbDitDAX55U2Q45-lDmHMKYBuMF50nYF3HXMKL5UxmFudyy1wQJBCUW_F8kSjrTmXBW7-SBPbHNIlDFMY/s1600/P1070652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3_Ufr2u3H5mA6zST6yJ8GJUopCz8mE7PTSHPjISFHuGKuTknq3zZ4twHC5PbDitDAX55U2Q45-lDmHMKYBuMF50nYF3HXMKL5UxmFudyy1wQJBCUW_F8kSjrTmXBW7-SBPbHNIlDFMY/s1600/P1070652.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one kick-ass bass playa</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu-RSVbJAigSHSdjQS7FTwRY6qL2cfWq2vmv4fPo2J0xNHhZ2fjMvmHxv_qX3VlcQJs29_c_A8kLajXD-zHmq6qwS4P8glhFt4VAOqvErzXx6z7ZOYAVE_VGzZ51-WZzeLxyzInAxa8vA/s1600/P1070660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu-RSVbJAigSHSdjQS7FTwRY6qL2cfWq2vmv4fPo2J0xNHhZ2fjMvmHxv_qX3VlcQJs29_c_A8kLajXD-zHmq6qwS4P8glhFt4VAOqvErzXx6z7ZOYAVE_VGzZ51-WZzeLxyzInAxa8vA/s1600/P1070660.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Their performance of Longer Than You've Been Alive was downright inspired, sung and played with incredible passion. They maintained that level of verve all the way through the last bittersweet chord of Time Bomb.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ken, shredding</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-fsbfKsGaZ82Z7TGH7KBm9zPn_f0tJ6tYh8sC5Q6cPvCmSbrUi5ccD24qWtBqcqTDZbj7lxggofWBmhAiMgy_9W_FUJ_Jiw4Zrn0Bqt2g1MUshTx2Hhqy70bkPOylHkjOtJ47DFpPoe0/s1600/P1070656.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-fsbfKsGaZ82Z7TGH7KBm9zPn_f0tJ6tYh8sC5Q6cPvCmSbrUi5ccD24qWtBqcqTDZbj7lxggofWBmhAiMgy_9W_FUJ_Jiw4Zrn0Bqt2g1MUshTx2Hhqy70bkPOylHkjOtJ47DFpPoe0/s1600/P1070656.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and the fans were all singing' and screaming' and squealin'</td></tr>
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The packed house was all in, too. One of the best crowds of which I've been a part. Singing, screaming, shaking their asses. No pushing, shoving or fighting in contrast to Dewey. A cohesive unit whose only goal was to be collectively immersed in the moment with a religious fervor. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILWciDyHg8_Xna0ClMODZ6Ey9DBtmyNHUmBNIrhu7KVjqj7ueRvN4JQMUYBT5B3_MKYRUH9hihbAeBl2rTJZ_AedT1IbTIT1SJMoKBBhKps2a0YiJ6COikVVXxKPqsexNwYmOuHWPBvg/s1600/IMG_6871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILWciDyHg8_Xna0ClMODZ6Ey9DBtmyNHUmBNIrhu7KVjqj7ueRvN4JQMUYBT5B3_MKYRUH9hihbAeBl2rTJZ_AedT1IbTIT1SJMoKBBhKps2a0YiJ6COikVVXxKPqsexNwYmOuHWPBvg/s1600/IMG_6871.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">from the interwebs<br />
thank you stranger for your photo skillz</td></tr>
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NJ's favorite daughter, Nicole Atkins stepped up to sing a spirited 4 Leaf Clover with Rhett. And then they unveiled a new, pumped up version of the more somber Dressing Room Walls. <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/GWFeJILFqX0" width="560"></iframe>
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(There are a whole slew of videos from the Pony on Charlie Cirillo's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtkQ-CotokE&index=57&list=UUFq4pfZQO5BvFUINwk_eFgA">YouTube Channel</a> including Every Night, Most Messed Up and Time Bomb. I don't know him, but clearly I agree with his taste in music.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijDX_-Dy6xG20ftL7sT09EG7Y5yNVTCx18a6KU7U7LDvGvY8Mj4MyZjVjxg3bTvO6mcQQNP2ImTB8EJT6Kw84xr-xyYLVuq54k6puOyBhjxf4R8xHmqr34QwPvLkd8hd0la0CqdCYVvMY/s1600/IMG_6833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijDX_-Dy6xG20ftL7sT09EG7Y5yNVTCx18a6KU7U7LDvGvY8Mj4MyZjVjxg3bTvO6mcQQNP2ImTB8EJT6Kw84xr-xyYLVuq54k6puOyBhjxf4R8xHmqr34QwPvLkd8hd0la0CqdCYVvMY/s1600/IMG_6833.jpg" height="320" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pre-rock jump<br />
the waiting is the hardest part...<br />
(courtesy of denise zimmerman)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSrWyx5rcmAFo5Gy0qS0fOwJNEM947qtNpUqqqacCzq2aa_NmQxbZLKiFe3K6MU6X0Q1TwMbXdn_cuBTxjCZA6SYdQ6yVY_r-HovOXsUgniJg0ZyWooMe7YTOiTsT8BwVKQamkAXGJtw/s1600/P1070669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSrWyx5rcmAFo5Gy0qS0fOwJNEM947qtNpUqqqacCzq2aa_NmQxbZLKiFe3K6MU6X0Q1TwMbXdn_cuBTxjCZA6SYdQ6yVY_r-HovOXsUgniJg0ZyWooMe7YTOiTsT8BwVKQamkAXGJtw/s1600/P1070669.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the satisfied smile says it all<br />
no, thank YOU all for an amazing evening</td></tr>
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The entire concert was so fabulous! Truly a "triumph of rock." The beach setting definitely agrees with these fellas. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbRSacDCXao8mnZeMBhnQczJPbovmL6U19TOk6XGteOjoq3fxiNBWL4LxQL3g0xmwj_LsZ4OjbB3dCJf8fAkIMLXHzE1FufL4Vi7YYIC6MGftQ4Zem36Pc_p6cvupBdWB6xh__OoM03I/s1600/IMG_6816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxbRSacDCXao8mnZeMBhnQczJPbovmL6U19TOk6XGteOjoq3fxiNBWL4LxQL3g0xmwj_LsZ4OjbB3dCJf8fAkIMLXHzE1FufL4Vi7YYIC6MGftQ4Zem36Pc_p6cvupBdWB6xh__OoM03I/s1600/IMG_6816.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">life is better at the beach</td></tr>
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Cindy and I got a rare chance to visit with everybody briefly after the show, including Mike, their tour manager and Jeff, merch guy extraordinaire. Even though they had a long drive to Massachusetts ahead of them, they graciously took time to speak with everyone who was waiting around. I really love these gentlemen.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">i threw in the finger for no extra charge</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xqo8EZ-Yms3neeMyHLkMyXCWVzy0OQNcBMwGrrm10iB5aJ9TbrxfANZxyFK9HJ0Y_rPOb0xWBPg6qMVll68carpKqtZfpUjCiW00aDsXSZ2loJRyjbhZCLH7Au9flsfy9lMK_Af5j1Q/s1600/IMG_6827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xqo8EZ-Yms3neeMyHLkMyXCWVzy0OQNcBMwGrrm10iB5aJ9TbrxfANZxyFK9HJ0Y_rPOb0xWBPg6qMVll68carpKqtZfpUjCiW00aDsXSZ2loJRyjbhZCLH7Au9flsfy9lMK_Af5j1Q/s1600/IMG_6827.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></div>
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This was the first time I've ever been to the Pony or Asbury Park. It was too cool to be in this storied venue. The walls are covered with hundreds of guitars, photos of performers (primarily Bruce) and the soundtrack is distinctly Jersey. The house has such a great vibe. You can sense the spirit of legends oozing from its walls. It's a perfect space for my Texas Monsters of Rock. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDC902fL9oUKdvaW46g-EA0m_pMV8zLzx_4DRMMEjgNFYpBsbUsRwZXs1iNtQXvJn-tTil1vc0b8jzNVZOk7bsOCdRTt1UPV_BBRNwgLyEWOjqEkfVkAlsVbCMfyPXny6jP50FUHVC-Vc/s1600/IMG_6810.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDC902fL9oUKdvaW46g-EA0m_pMV8zLzx_4DRMMEjgNFYpBsbUsRwZXs1iNtQXvJn-tTil1vc0b8jzNVZOk7bsOCdRTt1UPV_BBRNwgLyEWOjqEkfVkAlsVbCMfyPXny6jP50FUHVC-Vc/s1600/IMG_6810.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the pony is strangely isolated</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLPzRiIVydJEj_N-J_vooqW26869jLOgxwg05mj4eDE112iSIAlvqBkvFuTb33F1T9Zw6vkYPeoactt73FS3pNioi5S7AWCC0z-rB3weI8a9g_qFjEHEFk5-iT8ScUZurVwm0XZGeg3c/s1600/P1070636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLPzRiIVydJEj_N-J_vooqW26869jLOgxwg05mj4eDE112iSIAlvqBkvFuTb33F1T9Zw6vkYPeoactt73FS3pNioi5S7AWCC0z-rB3weI8a9g_qFjEHEFk5-iT8ScUZurVwm0XZGeg3c/s1600/P1070636.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9F3ttCOEwaRL-89qSrgrCh-qJ_usvdhmYPDLjfgmsdKWEVi1Ou-VDxiBKe5eyVW8vibhGVBEWQGO2x85TBI5Qkab40ZhNfvAPYn4sK6QHdKuDogV7RXNwZBbC0wkR4ieiG5HfzwM8WAw/s1600/P1070635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9F3ttCOEwaRL-89qSrgrCh-qJ_usvdhmYPDLjfgmsdKWEVi1Ou-VDxiBKe5eyVW8vibhGVBEWQGO2x85TBI5Qkab40ZhNfvAPYn4sK6QHdKuDogV7RXNwZBbC0wkR4ieiG5HfzwM8WAw/s1600/P1070635.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bruuuuuuuce</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNdPiS8O1P2snNJEtqFM3XtJC6Epd9JammDKOHuP6E8-AKzhgX01y9-6bkH9qpZHvTRG9-9oZbmiGTgaTNKTyZfTbPfQoxl86uCwklyrdEcCRGJiDwUVtpnmAw4tr3vHyp6UGgfCpbd40/s1600/P1070637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNdPiS8O1P2snNJEtqFM3XtJC6Epd9JammDKOHuP6E8-AKzhgX01y9-6bkH9qpZHvTRG9-9oZbmiGTgaTNKTyZfTbPfQoxl86uCwklyrdEcCRGJiDwUVtpnmAw4tr3vHyp6UGgfCpbd40/s1600/P1070637.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1001 guitars</td></tr>
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Asbury Park is not at all the dangerous dump of yore. It has become gentrified over the past several years, and transformed into a beautiful destination. The boardwalk is cleaned up and filled with swanky restaurants, shops, an adorable spray park and an arcade museum filled with vintage pinball machines. The beach is clean and well attended. The surrounding eight block radius, which once was sketchy, is now a bit of a hipster haven with boutiques, trendy coffee shops and organic fare restaurants. It is lovely!!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnbqfxP0sdeb1hoVnauWR3iKT3brhs3xAWeSgAWhiTDK8Xquq4i4wrj676vCQvKxEQnTo_PKPbv7WzukRXZKAk0KZMsFxrSrNAD-40Y6svhAymMlFplLHOh6aa7Rl3ae0pXAOyNtPQiAw/s1600/IMG_6812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnbqfxP0sdeb1hoVnauWR3iKT3brhs3xAWeSgAWhiTDK8Xquq4i4wrj676vCQvKxEQnTo_PKPbv7WzukRXZKAk0KZMsFxrSrNAD-40Y6svhAymMlFplLHOh6aa7Rl3ae0pXAOyNtPQiAw/s1600/IMG_6812.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">spray park on the boardwalk<br />
you know, for kids</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9sWvOJMAC8baveRLhg-ThNCtIB1JffU0ej_dy2ONWf7fQBf_9SdNLP8zAMIC_WzTny9XVgDCq1BjXJprvehfOW2y_rouOy_GMUIm09R9FWBaeugPpFGVJVM-xHLlg0ewthSmnJCR2Uv4/s1600/IMG_6820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9sWvOJMAC8baveRLhg-ThNCtIB1JffU0ej_dy2ONWf7fQBf_9SdNLP8zAMIC_WzTny9XVgDCq1BjXJprvehfOW2y_rouOy_GMUIm09R9FWBaeugPpFGVJVM-xHLlg0ewthSmnJCR2Uv4/s1600/IMG_6820.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tilly<br />
this freaky-ass visage was everywhere</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">swan rides on the adjoining river</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3rVlC5X7hohOZZn5a9lJlUhS1nLNzcYlUiHcJHy6uv2Rdu3_TYWo5lYaq4SAHsv_P1WbGeuS-EPGl4YejDqPHTFH8aErpuVsP9alPGq9gujpWLw_R9ytpcEd94qjDd93FsTLw7BuwPw/s1600/IMG_6831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3rVlC5X7hohOZZn5a9lJlUhS1nLNzcYlUiHcJHy6uv2Rdu3_TYWo5lYaq4SAHsv_P1WbGeuS-EPGl4YejDqPHTFH8aErpuVsP9alPGq9gujpWLw_R9ytpcEd94qjDd93FsTLw7BuwPw/s1600/IMG_6831.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hipster breakfast joint, Toast</td></tr>
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We stayed at a gay hotel at the end of the boardwalk called The Empress. I had high hopes it would be similar to the ultra fab OUTNYC in New York, but alas, the amenities were less than fabulous. The pool area, replete with dangling disco ball, Tiki Hut bars and handsome males was gorgeous, but the rooms were in serious need of updating. I mean, standard issue bottled shampoos, gels and lotions??!<br />
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Hooka, Pa-LEASE!!!<br />
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They need to spring for the spa-quality product dispensers if they want to be a drag-queen destination. So disappointing. I have faith they will step up the renovations in time for our next jaunt east to have our faces melted by the 97's. <br />
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As indicated by the title, more end-of-summer fun to come in later posts. Until then, here are the setlists to peruse at your leisure if you are so inclined, as I am because I'm a big setlist nerd.<br />
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Dewey Bottle and Cork The Stone Pony<br />
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WUZZA WUZZA<br />
Streets of Where I'm From Streets of Where I'm From<br />
Dance With Me Dance With Me<br />
Longer Than You've Been Alive Longer Than You've Been Alive<br />
She Loves The Sunset Indefinitely<br />
Ex of All You See Ex of All You See<br />
Niteclub Niteclub<br />
Lonely Holiday Bird In A Cage<br />
Give It Time This is the Ballad<br />
Iron Road Iron Road <br />
Nashville Nashville<br />
Every Night Is Friday Night (without you) 4 Leaf Clover (w/Nicole Atkins)<br />
Question Question<br />
Let the Whiskey Take the Reins Wish the Worst<br />
W TX Teardrops W TX Teardrops<br />
Barrier Reef Wasted<br />
Let's Get Drunk and Get It On Barrier Reef<br />
Mama Tried Dressing Room Walls<br />
Big Brown Eyes Let's Get Drunk and Get It On<br />
Intervention Can't Get a Line<br />
Career Opportunities Big Brown Eyes<br />
4 Leaf Clover Doreen<br />
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Most Messed Up Every Night Is Friday Night<br />
Time Bomb Most Messed Up<br />
Time Bomb<br />
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<br />Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628942992101705298noreply@blogger.com0