What kind of a video blogger am I, I missed out on filming the bike marathon fundraiser on the roof of Jittery Joe's.
Yes, I was on my way to my new second job yesterday (more on that later) and was sitting at the Five Points stoplight when I glanced lovingly at my place of work and noticed two Athens bikers, in full Athens biker garb, aggressively pedaling away on bikes, on the roof. The roof of a coffee shop. In the rain. I haven't used this word this way since high school, but um, random?
Granted, they were stationary bikes. But still, it was SO great! It was impressive, it was (somewhat) dangerous, it was a hysterical sight, but the GREATEST thing about it was that it was the first time that I have seen an Athens biker at 5pts that WASN'T IN MY WAY on narrow Milledge Avenue!!! It's like, come on man, I get it, you're on an earth-friendly bike, I'm in my Mazda, you win - but I've got places to go, too! At LEAST stick to the bike lane, I mean really. Man, I wish they would all just switch to stationary bikes and convene up on the roof of Jittery Joe's. It's not like they have places to go, anyway. Except maybe like, GNC, for their protein bars and crap. I would be willing to bring all the protein bars GNC has in stock to the roof of Jittery Joe's every morning so that bikers would flock there and stay out of my way. I would throw in some Nalgene bottles, too.
It's too bad I didn't get up before 2 pm yesterday due to X-treme Girl Talk hangover, otherwise I coulda gotten footage of the bike marathon and put some clever Rocky soundtrack tunes to it. But lucky for you, I have a pretty great video to post anyway. Girl Talk on Friday was, of course, a blast; it was an evening of rapid inebriation that I hadn't experienced since maybe Freshman year, followed by a dance concert with enough beats, flashing lights, and fanatical fools to make those "Krush Girls" look like the hired help at a retirement party. With the flashy lights and the ecstatic crowd, it was the closest I've ever come to a rave, and the closest I ever want to come. Sadly I feel like I've gotten too old to shake m'tailfeathers at a mashup dance concert, but it was worth it to sell myself out juuuust a little bit (I think I made something up about being a videographer for the city of Athens, which isn't a complete lie, if you think about it) to get onstage with Gregg, with Brooke and Jodi, and all the Day Glo-ed, American Apparel-ed 19-year-olds, because you know, those kids have heart. "Those kids." Am I one, too? Just a kid? Well, I sure never want to grow up, I'n tell you that much.
Ladies and gents, I present to you a small portrait of what I think it is to be a kid in Athens in 2008 (apologies if it induces seizure...):
Showing posts with label Jittery Joe's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jittery Joe's. Show all posts
29.1.07
The Unevents in Kelly D-M's Life, or Why Dior under Galliano Owns After All
I think the best thing I can say about my 2007 thus far is that Sundays have been significantly less depressing. Unfortunately, I know that this is only because I am leading a rather dull life this semester, and the days have just sort of amalgamated into a foggy gray drone of (and in this order):
My Radetzky March cell phone alarm at 7 AM; Green Tea or Chai Tea or Orange Spice Tea or Rooibus, depending on how dark the circles under my eyes are; vitamins; clumsy and unattractive early morning sprints to catch the bus; the green rays and the growl-squeak-growl of the copy machines at work; job ads; the daily "are you gonna take a lunch break?" "no." exchange between me and my boss; blogs, blogs, blogs, and gluttonous amounts of facebook; Nick Hornby and Haruki Murakami and James Joyce; the bleak 45 minute walk from work home that I take for my daily exercise; my salmon-colored room with its rainbow-colored string lights, that is always cluttered even when it is clean; whatever is on Travel Channel or National Geographic Channel before I go to bed; and finally, bed. All this underscored by the music played by my iPod on its shuffle setting, which obviously gets old considering I have been too lazy to update it with new music (I know it's hard to believe, but yes, even Chris Bridges, even Kevin Barnes will wear on you after a while).
Weekends are basically the same except my exercise doesn't come from sprinting to the bus and walking home by the intramural fields where the hot soccer players look at me funny because I am unconsciously auditioning for my own private (or not-so-private) iPod commercial, and I don't usually work but instead sit in my room writing notes to myself of things I should do but never do do because I am too busy writing notes to myself. So, because my life right now is so unvaried, Sundays don't seem particularly depressing in comparison to other days. I don't use them to wallow in the blues like I used to, but instead to wallow in that foggy gray of nothingness. But hey, feeling nothing is better than feeling depressed, innit?, and I prefer to think of this change-of-consciousness as a big step in the general direction of Mind-Over-Matterville, USA. Oh, boy! What comes after that? Vaguely-Useful-Member-Of-Societyville, USA?
For the record, today is Monday, not Sunday. My life is so dull that I am resigned to write about what didn't happen the day before rather than what is happening the day of. But you know what, I'm kind of exaggerating things; my life can't be that gray (even despite the gray of the sky in the dead of winter here), because this weekend I actually interacted with real human beings! And did cool stuff! For one, I ate an actual meal that wasn't a rice cake with peanut butter and raisins: a falafel plate at Clocked, mmm, me want more fried chickpea ball eat. Too bad it couldn't have been falafel from Lenny Kravitz' favorite falafelerie in Paris, but we're not pining away over Paris right now, are we Kelly-Welly? No we're not, because we're content at Copy Services in the UGA Library! Good girl!
Anyway, here's what I did that was awesome this weekend:
1) Went to my cozy little 5 Pts Joe's to meet with my lovely unique-named girlfriends, Bronwyn and Sodashi, to discuss sex and the 'situationship;'
2) discovered Target's new line of homeware; subsequently asked myself why I was teasing myself with Target's bounty in the first place;
3) had a movement-based callback for a play, during which we did lots of Tai Chi (who knew ol' Billy Shakespeare was into Tai Chi???);
4) did Ghostbusters and Hot Chocolate with my elitist-but-sweet-as-pie rockrrr pal, Ryan White;
5) went downtown and bar-hopped both Friday and Saturday nights, thanks to the 21st b*day of Brookie's pal, Cherish, and the almost impromptu but much-welcomed visits of one beautiful Moroccan/Israeli, Adria, and one beloved Scotsman, Andrew* (he'll kill me for saying this, but we even got Andrew to tag along to the new gay bar, Detour, and EVEN to dance to the ghastly, why-was-I-ever-born-into-the-free-world techno music they were blaring);
6) and finally, I sobered up - it took the entire weekend, and I'm still a little intoxicated - from PARIS. SPRING. COUTURE. WEEK. And JOHN. GALLIANO'S. INCONCEIVABLY. NO. OTHER-WORLDLY BEAUTIFUL. ART-FOR-ART. MADAME. BUTTERFLY. INSPIRED. MOST DIOR DIOR HAS EVER BEEN SINCE GALLIANO SIGNED ON. CHEF D'OEUVRE. SHOW. FOR CHRISTIAN. "NEW LOOK." DIOR.
......I will post on this tomorrow. I will post on this as it deserves, or I will find Galliano himself and tell him that he just may have replaced Tom Ford for YSL in my book. Maybe even McQueen? Maybe even the original Dior, monsieur Christian? Maybe even God. I don't know. The impossible handiwork and IIIIIIIMMACULATE hair and makeup (done by, I can only assume, Pat McGrath and Orlando Pita) and operatic presentation of it all have my ass knocked so deeply into the floor that I can't think straight. Anyway, I'll think on it tonight, calm down, clear my head, and tomorrow I'll post with slightly less zeal, OK, lunacy, on just why it is so brilliant. Maybe by then I'll even find a flaw or two. Oh, and I'll post on the rest of Paris Couture Week, too, and how excited I am about NY fashion week starting this Saturday!!!!!!!1 And then I'll get a job.
Cheery-Bye!
* Andrew "warmed the cockles of my heart," as a certain someone would say, this weekend with a Woody Allen quote (of course, any Woody Allen quote would make my heart melt, but this one was particularly good), when explaining why he so frequently made the 5 hour drive up all the way from south Georgia to Athens to see his friends: "Well, I don't think money and gas really matter in the end. There's this great Woody Allen quote that goes: '90% of life is just showing up.' I figure any true friends are worth at the very least showing up for." *Swoon*! Woody Allen, the king of quotations, would SO be proud of himself for that one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Song I will be making my iPod commercial to on my walk home today: Junior Boys' "In The Morning," which much to my delight the delightful Winston played at Go Bar on Friday. That catchy squeak synth part of the song plays in my head whenever I make a faux pas. So I hear it at least 21,657 times a day.
My Radetzky March cell phone alarm at 7 AM; Green Tea or Chai Tea or Orange Spice Tea or Rooibus, depending on how dark the circles under my eyes are; vitamins; clumsy and unattractive early morning sprints to catch the bus; the green rays and the growl-squeak-growl of the copy machines at work; job ads; the daily "are you gonna take a lunch break?" "no." exchange between me and my boss; blogs, blogs, blogs, and gluttonous amounts of facebook; Nick Hornby and Haruki Murakami and James Joyce; the bleak 45 minute walk from work home that I take for my daily exercise; my salmon-colored room with its rainbow-colored string lights, that is always cluttered even when it is clean; whatever is on Travel Channel or National Geographic Channel before I go to bed; and finally, bed. All this underscored by the music played by my iPod on its shuffle setting, which obviously gets old considering I have been too lazy to update it with new music (I know it's hard to believe, but yes, even Chris Bridges, even Kevin Barnes will wear on you after a while).
Weekends are basically the same except my exercise doesn't come from sprinting to the bus and walking home by the intramural fields where the hot soccer players look at me funny because I am unconsciously auditioning for my own private (or not-so-private) iPod commercial, and I don't usually work but instead sit in my room writing notes to myself of things I should do but never do do because I am too busy writing notes to myself. So, because my life right now is so unvaried, Sundays don't seem particularly depressing in comparison to other days. I don't use them to wallow in the blues like I used to, but instead to wallow in that foggy gray of nothingness. But hey, feeling nothing is better than feeling depressed, innit?, and I prefer to think of this change-of-consciousness as a big step in the general direction of Mind-Over-Matterville, USA. Oh, boy! What comes after that? Vaguely-Useful-Member-Of-Societyville, USA?
For the record, today is Monday, not Sunday. My life is so dull that I am resigned to write about what didn't happen the day before rather than what is happening the day of. But you know what, I'm kind of exaggerating things; my life can't be that gray (even despite the gray of the sky in the dead of winter here), because this weekend I actually interacted with real human beings! And did cool stuff! For one, I ate an actual meal that wasn't a rice cake with peanut butter and raisins: a falafel plate at Clocked, mmm, me want more fried chickpea ball eat. Too bad it couldn't have been falafel from Lenny Kravitz' favorite falafelerie in Paris, but we're not pining away over Paris right now, are we Kelly-Welly? No we're not, because we're content at Copy Services in the UGA Library! Good girl!
Anyway, here's what I did that was awesome this weekend:
1) Went to my cozy little 5 Pts Joe's to meet with my lovely unique-named girlfriends, Bronwyn and Sodashi, to discuss sex and the 'situationship;'
2) discovered Target's new line of homeware; subsequently asked myself why I was teasing myself with Target's bounty in the first place;
3) had a movement-based callback for a play, during which we did lots of Tai Chi (who knew ol' Billy Shakespeare was into Tai Chi???);
4) did Ghostbusters and Hot Chocolate with my elitist-but-sweet-as-pie rockrrr pal, Ryan White;
5) went downtown and bar-hopped both Friday and Saturday nights, thanks to the 21st b*day of Brookie's pal, Cherish, and the almost impromptu but much-welcomed visits of one beautiful Moroccan/Israeli, Adria, and one beloved Scotsman, Andrew* (he'll kill me for saying this, but we even got Andrew to tag along to the new gay bar, Detour, and EVEN to dance to the ghastly, why-was-I-ever-born-into-the-free-world techno music they were blaring);
6) and finally, I sobered up - it took the entire weekend, and I'm still a little intoxicated - from PARIS. SPRING. COUTURE. WEEK. And JOHN. GALLIANO'S. INCONCEIVABLY. NO. OTHER-WORLDLY BEAUTIFUL. ART-FOR-ART. MADAME. BUTTERFLY. INSPIRED. MOST DIOR DIOR HAS EVER BEEN SINCE GALLIANO SIGNED ON. CHEF D'OEUVRE. SHOW. FOR CHRISTIAN. "NEW LOOK." DIOR.
......I will post on this tomorrow. I will post on this as it deserves, or I will find Galliano himself and tell him that he just may have replaced Tom Ford for YSL in my book. Maybe even McQueen? Maybe even the original Dior, monsieur Christian? Maybe even God. I don't know. The impossible handiwork and IIIIIIIMMACULATE hair and makeup (done by, I can only assume, Pat McGrath and Orlando Pita) and operatic presentation of it all have my ass knocked so deeply into the floor that I can't think straight. Anyway, I'll think on it tonight, calm down, clear my head, and tomorrow I'll post with slightly less zeal, OK, lunacy, on just why it is so brilliant. Maybe by then I'll even find a flaw or two. Oh, and I'll post on the rest of Paris Couture Week, too, and how excited I am about NY fashion week starting this Saturday!!!!!!!1 And then I'll get a job.
Cheery-Bye!
* Andrew "warmed the cockles of my heart," as a certain someone would say, this weekend with a Woody Allen quote (of course, any Woody Allen quote would make my heart melt, but this one was particularly good), when explaining why he so frequently made the 5 hour drive up all the way from south Georgia to Athens to see his friends: "Well, I don't think money and gas really matter in the end. There's this great Woody Allen quote that goes: '90% of life is just showing up.' I figure any true friends are worth at the very least showing up for." *Swoon*! Woody Allen, the king of quotations, would SO be proud of himself for that one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Song I will be making my iPod commercial to on my walk home today: Junior Boys' "In The Morning," which much to my delight the delightful Winston played at Go Bar on Friday. That catchy squeak synth part of the song plays in my head whenever I make a faux pas. So I hear it at least 21,657 times a day.
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