3 2 1 ... Happy New Year!

Hey - remember New Year's Eve? Is it me, or does this feel like forever ago? How time flies... anyway, here are some NYE photos I've meant to share for a while now. Enjoy.

"What if just kick it?"

Hola, muchachos. I'm afraid this post is going to be a lot like how I feel my thought pattern (and my thesis-writing) is these days... all over the place and most likely totally boring. Sorry, I'm a little frazzled-feeling right now. Anyhoo...

• The Current "Fakebook" event on Friday night at the Fitz was awesome. Chuck Klosterman, Mary Lucia, Tapes-n-Tapes, buddies & birthdays... all in one night! Good, good stuff, all around. If you have yet to discover the brilliance (in different ways) of either Mr. Klosterman or T-n-T, run right out and make some purchases. T-n-T have once disc, so - simple, just buy it. Klosterman has a few books to choose from; I'd start with Sex, Drugs & Cocoa Puffs & and then move on to Klosterman IV.
  
• On Saturday morning I had class, which was awesome, and then went to my cousin's wedding in Forest Lake, which was weird. It was fun and a perfectly nice wedding, but odd, for a few reasons- none of which I really feel comfortable discussing here and now. Sorry, that was rude of me to even mention it. Don't you hate it when people do that? Buddies, next time we're out, over beers or something, we can chat about it if you are curious.
  
• The drive home Forest Lake was horrific. 2+ hours and horrific. And then Sunday was just a bust - shoveling, resting, trying to drive, shoveling some more and then... that's it, I then sat on the couch and watched Babel, read a bit, did a crossword or three, watched the Academy Awards and then went to bed. Shoveling sucks.
  
• I thought the Oscars were mostly a snooze. Ellen was adorable and all Ellen-y, but the show was just... meh. I did very much enjoy the constant mental image I had of the christian coalition types choking back bile and the FoxNews "news" casters' heads spinning around as the show got greener, Gorer, and gayer. What a hoot! O, and it is official - Cate Blanchett is the hottest hottie in town. I thought that dress, and she, was perfection. Crush, crush.
  
• This is cool St. Paul news. Not new news, but cool news.
  

and...

SPRING TRAINING IS STARTING!

(this picture really makes me want to learn Photoshop).

and...

this is a cool photo:

I completely forgot the story behind this (even though I read the entire thing no more than ten days ago) but I think it's actually real, having happened somewhere in... uh, Maine or Sweden.

See? Frazzled, I say.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina.

P.S. I really like Forest Whitaker. I have yet to see The Last King of Scotland, which looks amazing, but I think Forest seems like a real class act. And it seems as though people truly like and have a tremendous amount of respect for the dude. It's fun to see him as the man of the hour.

Imagine the sad Peanuts song when you read this.

The saddest thing ever just happened.

The DQ a block from my house just reopened- which is not sad at all, I know, but that's not the story- and I walked down there for just a little snack. Just a taste, nothing fancy... a nice medium sized twist cone. I was so excited walking back to my house with my twist cone because, not only is it a wonderful day when the DQ reopens, but also, well, a twist cone is just so fucking good.

But I was careless with my twist cone. And it was really, really windy outside. You know where I'm going with this... ?

THE FUCKING WIND BLEW THE TWIST OFF MY CONE.

It just blew it off. Onto the sidewalk. And it just splatted there, a tragic little brown and white splat, once tall and proud and twisty - now a messy pile of splat. And I stood there and stared at it for at least twenty seconds - and then I just walked back home, head hanging low. I couldn't even curse the blasted sky, I was so upset about the empty cone in my hand. It looked so damn lonely I had to throw it in the trash to put it out of its misery.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nna

Woops

Hola.

FUN: We can all stalk Katie while she's in Australia: Katie's blog. It almost seems like it should be a requirement that if a friend or loved one leaves for months at a time - well, then they must create and maintain a blog. What a great way to stay updated and, almost, feel like you are playing along. YAY KT.
___________________________________________________________

FUNNY: This is a snippet of conversation I overheard at LoTo this weekend:

Crazy-looking Old Guy at Bar: "Hey, do you know what's doing in where Mear's Market
was?"

Bartender: "Yeah, Trixx, the wine bar."

COG: "Hmm..."

Bartender: "They are over on Robert right now, just moving to a new space."

COG: "A wine bar, huh. Sounds good. Good food?"

Bartender: "Yeah, probably."

... server walks up

COG: "Hey, do you know what's doing in where Mear's Market was?"

Server: "Yeah, Trixx, the gay bar that's over on Robert."

Bartender: "Woops."


Ciao, buddies.
-Nina

Remember, it never hurts to ask.

I've been a bad, bad blogger. I'm sorry. My excuse: I haven't felt like it. When I'm at work, I'm on the computer 98% of the time and when I'm at home, I'm on the laptop (thesis-writing, working, reading crackpot LOST theories) nearly as much. I just don't seem to get to the blog. I'll try to be better.

So, they announced the initial line up for Bonnaroo 2007. (Remember Bonnaroo, loyal readers? June 2006 Archives, if not.) As much as I sort of hated it, even more so, I totally loved it. And - you couldn't have convinced me then that I would ever say this now - I want to go. Let's do it. Who's in? (Shorts... where you at grrl?)

The line up (so far, they will surely announce a few more) is quite kick ass:

The Police, Tool, Widespread Panic, The White Stripes, Ben Harper & the Innocent Criminals, Wilco, The Flaming Lips, Manu Chao, The String Cheese , Franz Ferdinand, Bob Weir & Ratdog, Damien Rice, Ziggy Marley & the Melody Makers, The Decemberists, Kings of Leon, Michael Franti & Spearhead, ReginaSpektor, Galactic, The Black Keys, DJ Shadow, Gillian Welch & David Rawlings, Spoon, Keller Williams (WMD's, Sasha & John Digweed, Old Crow Medicine Show, The Hold Steady, North Mississippi Allstars, Fountains Of Wayne, Hot Tuna, Feist, Hot Chip, Lily Allen, John Butler Trio, Ralph Stanley & the Clinch Mountain Boys, Aesop Rock, The Richard Thompson Band, Dierks Bentley, Xavier Rudd, Gogol Bordelo, Junior Brown, Tortoise, T-Bone Burnett, Mavis Staples, Clutch, Cold War Kids, Dr. Dog, Paolo Nutini, Brazilian Girls, RX Bandits, The Nightwatchman, The Slip, Girl Talk

(The bolding is mine: the artists who are really selling this for me & those I don't want to kick myself for missing.)

Girl Hog and I have already sealed the deal with a high-five. You know how official that is.

So... as I said, who's in?

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina.

P.S. Happy Valentine's Day!














I hope you got everything you ever wanted.

Days, Merely Days.

I've been a bad blogger lately and, for that, I am sorry. For this, however, I am not: Lost Rhapsody 2

Enjoy.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina

Thanks, Buddies.

Thanks, every last one of you, for a great birthday party!! I can speak for both Girl Hog and myself and say - - muchas gracias. And we love you. So there.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina.

P.S. I'll try to get some photos up when I get my hands on some. I ended up taking only one picture the entire night. It didn't turn out at all, but it was funny - a friend who was at the Justin Timberlake sent a text with only one line. One fantastic line: I want to do him. Hee hee.

Thanks, Sex & the City.

It's over. I'm thirty.

Allow me to present my little emotional crisis, pictorally represented by the lovely and talented (and clearly sober) Girl Hog:

SHUT IT.

Shut it was running on loop through my brain. I didn't want to hear it.

For the two days (or ten) leading up to the big day, I'd been feeling sort of upset about turning thirty. At moments, more than sort of. It's not because I'm afraid by body will break down tomorrow, not because I'm frightened of wrinkles, not because I feel unaccomplished or oldmaid-ish, not even because I feel terribly old. I don't feel old. In fact, I think it's hilarious that I am now such a mature sounding age as thirty. Me? Seriously?

What it is is more of a general melancholy. I feel sad. It is almost exactly the same as when I come back from a great vacation. The "post-vacation blues," I've named it. I guess it comes from the same place: I can't ever go back and do that again, and that makes me sad. Of course there are more trips in the future, probably just as, or more, awesome than the last... but, I can't ever go back and do that again. The same thing, with the same people, with the same excitement and true emotional and personal reactions.

My twenties (at least the last five years of them) were like that great trip that is just- over. Like September in Europe, it all came and went so fast, I didn't even see it go by.





















LET'S ROCK.

Just as it always happens after the great vacation-induced woes, the blues dissipate after a few days. It's time to rock. I just have to get used to the idea and force myself out of my self-indulgence. I'm mostly there now, three days into thirty, looking forward instead of back.

Ya know- I do believe, though, there is a place for some reflection on time gone by, how ridiculously fast it flies away from us... and what it all means for the future. That's why I let myself ride it out and just be bummed out, if that's how I feel.

I've been told my at least seven hundred women in the last week that the thirties are the best time of your life (also seven hundred have told me forties... fifties), and I believe it. I'm ready to rock.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina

P.S. There are some fantastic things about birthdays though...




















Muchas gracies to everyone who took me out to dinner, gave me fun, awesome gifts, wrote me lovely, heartfelt cards (KT - you really warmed my heart, made me grin and made me walk just a little taller), sent me texts, voicemails... and listened and encouraged while I whined on your shoulder. Thanks, buddies.

Et tu, buddies?

Like Paul Newman, Kerouac, the Rat Pack .... Ancient Rome is still cool.

Couple the inherent fascination and gangsta-coolness of Ancient Rome with HBO's unparalleled excellence in production, envelope-pushing and writing; and you have on your hands - - one badass show.















I LOVE IT. Welcome back, Rome.

It does not hurt that half the cast is naked, often.

P to the L to the US...













This, my friends, is Marc Antony. Who also seemingly prefers to be naked. Often.

Come on.

Wouldn't you love, just one time, at work (like Marc Antony), to say this:

"We shall mourn the man and burn the tyrant. And then, I shall serve out the rest of my term as council and then retire, quietly, to the provinces, where I will plow my fields and fuck my slaves. "

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina

Huh

I used to have this recurring dream, before it was replaced with my current something-ain't-right dream (typically a WWII style war scene with bombs falling out of the sky and people running everywhere- but in the here & now. I know, yikes.) in which the brakes go out on the car and I then race down a steep hill, a mountain, or even a skyscraper. There's never anything to do to stop it.

I used to wake up from those dreams feeling so... off. This dull, but persistent, feeling of unease would follow me around for days after one of those dreams.

I haven't had that same feeling for years - probably ten - until this last week, listening to our President give that "surge" speech, I felt the exact same anxious dread spread over my heart and brain until I had to just turn the channel.

Something ain't right.

Sorry, Buddy.

Shit!

I missed Elvis' birthday yesterday.



I realize that it may sound sarcastic when I talk about loving Elvis, but - I mean it. Love me, love my Elvis.

Honestly I'm a huge fan. This is something I really realized this year. Between the aforementioned, new Ipod-induced, rediscovery of my existing music collection, and the summer road trip the trip to Memphis & Graceland (see June 2006 archives), I have come to embrace the authentic appreciation and lifelong endearment I have for The King.




















It may not be hip to be a big Elvis fan in this day and age - but, whatever man, I'm not too cool for school. And I understand that there are buckets of reasons to consider the guy nothing more than a schmuck with a pretty face, wild hips and the voice of an angel (a sexy, sad, messed up angel), who pilfered the reign over rock-n-roll from others, packaged and sold his soul, and then let himself and his talent waste away into a punchline...

But, man, all of that is just so very sad. When the guy was young, pure and polite, and just loved music and his momma - when he would just open up his face and sing - well, it rips my heart out every time I hear it.




















And, good god, tell me that is not hot.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina.

P.S. I heard this is the most requested photo from the National Archives.















It's funny because it's true.

Burgers are for hangovers.

As promised, here are more photographical representations of the mysterious, pre-Cabaret, your-life-and-mine-is-on-display-and-you-can't-stop-me, first half of 2006.

The Stryker Three make a rare public appearance together. Typically, we try not to go out all together, ya know, for the cats... in case something happens.

Saint Patrick's Day was really fun last year. Man, that seems like twenty years ago. It was gorgeous outside, warm and sunny even. We hit the St. Paul circuit & then ended up over in Minneapolis - at The Independent, of all places. Goofy. The details are fuzzy, but I do recall that I lost my special green scarf and by the end of the evening, I was wearing a helmet. Sounds like slang for something, but really - I just had a helmet on.

CHAMPAGNE SUMMER !

The inaugural kick-off to summer event in 2006 was "champagne summer," and, in case you don't recollect (even if you were there), we drank A LOT of champagne. All the champagne in the world, actually. On a 98 degree day. And when all the champagne in the world was gone, we all pin-balled ourselves down the street to the Brown Derby. Oh, good times.

How about the 2007 Stoned Olympics ?

Mel's Cabin 2006 was, as usual, fucking awesome. Man, we love that place, don't we? This year was my TENTH summer going there... unreal. Gosh, I guess that means I've been going there since I was 14. Love it.

Lookey-lou... more field trip to DC pics:

It's the Jefferson Monument - can't you tell? I think this was at the final, of hundreds, maybe thousands, of monuments we visited that day. The boys rested their barking dogs inside while the girls sat outside and administered some minor surgery, patching up heel blisters and bloody toes.

Girl Hog goes to Washington.

Nice little disturbing surprise Easter parade. You should have seen what they had done to the poor bunny. Really quite disgusting.

This was our dim sum experiment gone awry. It was all probably good, whatever it was, but NOT hangover food. Blech.

I think we're all trying to show off for Ben... none of us can even read.

I just love this fucking picture.

Apropos of nothing, this whole Keith Ellison swearing-in business is my favorite news story right now. I just giggled right out loud when I heard he was using a Koran of Thomas Jefferson's in the ceremonial swearing-in. Dude's got a pair.

And this Virgil Goode fool is an idiot. He's using this stupid shit to "strengthen" his case that we need to better control immigration to keep the scary Muslims out of our (white, Protestant) government. Hey, dipshit, Keith Ellison was born in Detroit.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina

Bye, 2006. Miss you. Call Me.

Well, it's all over. Christmas, New Year's Eve, that weird week between them in which it seems half of the world's population just disappears. The roads are clear, the seating is immediate, the half-population still around only really wants to chat and eat.

It's all over. The big year of 2006 - the summer road trip, the quitting of the job, the Europe extravaganza, the new job, the thesis writing.... ok, it's not all over but, shut it, close enough. What a year, eh? My mind spins thinking about it, as if hearing a really crazy story that I can't fully get my head around. Some of it doesn't even feel like it happened to me...

St. Croix (US Virgin Islands, not western Wisconsin), D.C., Memphis, Louisville, Cleveland, Milwaukee, Croatia, Prague, Munich, Rome, Paris, Istanbul, London. Good lord. St. Patrick's Day, Champagne Summer, Mel's Cabin, shows, films, birthdays, dancing in the kitchen...


Some of my favorite pics from the first half of the year, before the birth of the Cabaret:

The happy little family in St. Croix. Right after we all blew through a bunch of cash at the casino.

Our 11th grade field trip to our nation's capitol.

Late night D.C. dirt angels.

Bubbles, bubbles at the Washington Monument.

God, this is almost enough to make a girl cry into her coffee a little.

MORE PHOTOS TO COME, fyi

I tried a couple of times to do a best-of 2006, in music, type entry, like Jason so nicely did, but I just can't do it. I just haven't had a big music year, at least not new music. Two reasons: 1) I've taken to really listening to a lot of talk radio these days. If you haven't yet - check out Stephanie Miller in the a.m. on Air America. And 2) I got an Ipod for christmas last year, and so found myself rather engrossed in my already existing library. I've been listening to albums I haven't for six years, which has been really fun.

But there were a few new releases this year I got into: The Decemberists, The Hold Steady, Neko Case, Bettie Serveert, Lily Allen, Gomez, Kasabian, Muse, Tapes 'n Tapes, The Submarines, Gnarls Barkley, Cat Power. And I actually really like Thom Yorke's Eraser, but it took me about five listens.

My favorite line of the year:

"Hey, citrus & liquor, I love it when you touch each other."
- The Hold Steady, Citrus


Okay, lovers, gotta run. I'm gonna give movies of 06 a shot. Maybe. And let me know what you loved, I'm curious.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina.

P.S. Here's another great line, from the same Hold Steady song: "I've had kisses that make Judas seem sincere."

Feliz Navidad, mis amigos.

I hope everyone had a great time celebrating Baby Jesus' b-day. I had a super Christmas, hanging with the Vickster and running around like an idiot. I'm cat-sitting for two different households right now, one of which has an extremely old, frail cat (Rita) who is sick and refusing to eat or... move, really. I feel so unbelievable stressed out about this cat, I'm almost embarrassed. Honestly, for days, I've been preparing myself to come home, or get out of bed, and find a dead cat. Sigh.

Ok, enough of that, it's stressing me out just thinking about it. Back to my super Christmas. It was really different this year, the first without my great-granny. Quiet. And more than a little sad. The Vickster and I had a really nice time though. We ate tons of food, drank wine & champagne and opened presents... just like always, only different.

Every year, Nanny would act very surprised that she had so many presents under the tree. Even though it really was the same thing every year, she never ceased to show (I think legitimate) surprise and to say "you guys, you did too much." And she was right, we always did too much. All she truly ever wanted was her Tabu perfume and a box of Turtles. Yet we always showered her with sparkely blouses, nightgowns, bejewelled boxes that would just clutter up her room, singing Dean Martin dolls... you get my drift. I love how the joy of christmas gifts is often more for the giver than the receiver. Whether to follow traditions, show off, or whole-heartedly attempt to show someone how much you love and appreciate them... whatever the motivation, it's fun.

Not that I didn't love all my presents - thanks, mom! My favorite, because I'm a big fat dork, is my new Lost board game! I can't wait to get home from all this catsitting and play the thing. Lookout roommates of Stryker.... it's on. I call Sawyer.

I do have plans to do some of that end-of-the-year recap, best of, type stuff. I LOVE that shit.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina

P.S.



















Meow.

are you emotional? Kauai, 2004

Happy Holidays, sugar plum fairies.
Guess what? We got an early Christmas present and the Vickster got to bring Wendi home last week!

Yup, she's home and doing very well. And we're already planning our next trip to Kauai. YAY.

Happy Holidays, lovelies!

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina

Ho(s) For the Holidays: Just a Peek

Another crazy-fun Stryker ladies holiday party is in the books. Fun. Done. Sad. It's hard to believe this was already the fourth year of the fantastic ladyfun, fancy food, mututal adoration, creative gifts, and 'special guests.' I'm already looking forward to next year! And so should you, my little elves...

Just a quick recap, for those who may have missed it for whatever reason (like having a penis):

Nothing says Happy Birthday Baby Jesus like a giant pile of girly goodness.

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me... two nerds in feathers,

...and Tawny in a sparkly sweater dress.

P.S. Congratulations to Tawny on her exciting and well-deserved win in the hotly contested, first (and only) annual holiday sweater contest. I'm betting she is enjoying her pirate pinata right now. I didn't really mean to make that sound so dirrty, but whatever - it's Christmas.

Caution: Irreverence & Blasphemy Ahead.

What do you get when Andrew Dice Clay, Dave Navarro and the Christchild have a three-way?

The best special guest EVER.

'Sup, sugartits. You can call me Baby Jesus...

No caption required, methinks.

Really though, what are the chances that we would find someone who already had a "Bethlahem" tattoo? Amazing. It must be the season of miracles.

I have plenty more photos, but can't seem to get any more to load. Yes, I agree, that is probably for the best. Thanks ya'll for attending, participating, and being pretty. Happy Holidays, suckas!

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina

peace, love and gap

Yo, amigos.

First, allow me to apologize. I've been falling behind lately on Cabaret updates & I'm sorry about that, love doves.

It's actually a good thing though because if I'm not blogging (or watching dumb TV or "reading" Okay! magazine or whatever comes up to distract me) then I'm writing. I've kicked it down pretty hard these days in the thesis-writing race and I'm putting a lot of concerted effort into staying focused... ya know - final laps, finish line looming and and all such racecar metaphors.
















Lots of this around Stryker these days.
















Sometimes some of this too.

By the way, congrats to Girl Hog for completing her second disgusting CPA test. I am very proud of my smartie-pants roomie these days. I've never seen anyone study so hard for anything as Amy does for these exams. Nice job, GH, you've earned that nap.

I'm not sure what (slim) Jim did to earn that nap, but whatever. It's probably exhausting to be so damn awesome all the time.

Okay, so I told Jim that these pictures were just between us and would never go public, but... well, there is nothing to be ashamed of. I think the world needs to see this.















Maybe, though, if you see Jim sometime soon, don't say anything. I don't think he is ready to come out of the kitty-closet yet. That is really his decision.

___________________________________________________________________

Apropos of nothing, here is a small pictorial exhibit of a goofy Sunday at Stryker a few weeks ago...

Tawny, Joelle, Girl Hog and I met up at Whole Foods one chilly Sunday morning and armed ourselves with a ridiculously expensive cart full of fruits, veggies, seeds and supplements. We'd all been reading bits of this change-your-life/raw-foods-can-reverse-global-warming-and-cure-terminal-illness book & decided to try the recommended one-day fast.




















We started strong: washing, slicing, chopping, juicing, boiling. It was actually really fun. I guess it was less of a fast and more of a detox diet thing. I mean, we were allowed to eat stuff, but it was just the stuff that was the problem and led to our eventual failure.

The first item was a fruit smoothie and was just fine, almost good. And then we had some cucumber mint cold soup thing that ended up tasting like grass water and was... foamy. We tried to improve it by warming it up... not improved. It still wasn't the worst thing in the world and I think we each choked down most of it.
















I'm just shaking my head right now at the thought of it.

The next item was a carrot/parsley/lime/litterbox juice thing. Good lord, it was disgusting. We tried to slam it... nope. I'd rather have taken a shot of Karkov than one more sip of that mess. It went down the sink. But, we still hadn't given up. We munched on pumpkin seeds, drank our lemon water, talked endlessly about how it sucked and how much we wanted to beat up the author, and put the rest of our waning hope in the concoction on the stove.

A crapload of veggies, including leeks and turnips, had been simmering all day and now, lucky us, we would get to eat the broth. At first, with the first tentative spoonful, it seemed like it was going to be okay. But then I got the taste of that leek juice down the back of my throat and just threw the spoon down in surrender.

So we gave up.















And then we made a pizza and ordered takeout.

And that, blessed children, was the story of the failed one-day fast. Merry Christmas.

Ciao, buddies.
-Nina

P.S. Guess who's not the blondest blondie in town anymore...
















Moi. I know it's not that different, but to me, it seems like I have hair black as the darkest night. Next time you see me, tell me how freaking hot I am and make me feel better. And then I'll make out with you.