Lots happening in ol' Austin town, I'll just run through some highlights and hope this leads to more regular posting. Again. Terror Tuesdays at the Alamo Ritz seem to be turning into a staple for my reliable entertainment. This week, we saw Dead Time Stories, three vignettes of common fairy tales, retold as horrific tales of gore and shock. Course, it also incorporated with quite a heavy dose of silliness, which made it that much better (... worse?). And it settled that age old question of whether Alien has the evil-face-attack market cornered: it does not. Also, the Drafthouse plays this opening sequence to (I assume) all of their movies which features a N.A.S.A. song that I have since become a smidge obsessed with: it's here. Share in the rocking!
Transmogrophy, a household favorite, played a super rocking show at Mohawk last Thursday with a group from SA known as Black Cock (googling that was a perilous adventure in itself, I don't recommend it. Unless... ya know... you're into that stuff. And that's cool!). The show included free hors d'ouvres, cupcakes, beer, and the most delectable girly vodka drink I think I've ever had. So despite the torrential heat, a fine time was had by all revelers and goofballs present.
Last Friday, our house went over to see some friends, and we ended up playing an epic, 4 or 5 hours round of Rock Band. I know that's nothing compared to some devotees' experience, but that was a first for me. Whooo.
And I had to turn that 4:30am bedtime right around because I had some sophisticated plans the following day. My old college roommate and I recently got back into the habit of periodically hanging out, and we set aside last Saturday to have a dainty lunch at Blue Dahlia (the rumors are true: their fritatas are fucking fantastic) before perusing the Blanton's latest exhibit on Fransisco Matto. I didn't know this, but apparently, we had both taken the same survey of contemporary South American art as undergrads from a truly amazing professor at UT. The exhibit itself didn't enthrall me a whole lot, but we did have a lovely gab down memory lane.
Last but not least, or even all inclusively, I'm learning how to not suck at basketball. It's going to be a long and arduous journey (and, if my commitment to this blog is any indication, perhaps one that won't get far at all...) but there's a court right by our house and my roommates are supervising my progress. Here's what I have going for me so far: tripping over own feet during a game is down to twice, and I'm now using the correct terminology of 'shooting' the ball, rather than 'throwing' it. Although you'd never know it, for all the flack I still get for using 'throw.'
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