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May 31, 2007
Explain to Me This...
How is it that I can be Rufus Wainwright's number one fan, a member of his mailing list, a friend to his MySpace account and an ambassadorina to all things RUFE - having seen him live THREE times and turned countless friends on to him and so forth - and STILL I have to hear he's coming to town from the Garth? Rufus, why do you forsake me soooo? I even have the McGarrigle Christmas Hour CD.
Dedicated? That's ME, Rufus! ME!
Regardless of this latest snub, thank God for the G and his apparent "in" at Ticketmaster. He sent me this e-mail this afternoon: In other news, did you know that Rufus is coming to the Fillmore on August 7th? Tickets are $40 through ticket-biatch... and I broke all land-speed records to get home and nab two. Seriously, I almost coldcocked some dipstick in a white Taurus who was going SEVEN on Cherry St. Or something equally dissatisfying.
"Out of the way, oldtimer...I've got MUSIC to HEAR!!"
Anys and of courses, to all of you who'll be mile higgety come August 7th, I command you to buy yourself tickets. Now.
Best. Live. Show. Ever.
To the rest? Go check out his new LP. Loving it, as I do all the rest. I won't forsake that boy...no matter how many times he tries to shake me. I'm on him like gay on blade.
Posted by Bree at 03:35 PM | Comments (0)
May 30, 2007
Quoth
"Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes." - Henry Thoreau
What a DORK. Getting new clothes is arguably the only value of any enterprise. And that includes new jobs, new towns, new husbands and new children.
Do you think this is the kind of stuff underlying why my BF refers to me as the pessimistic nihilist?
Huh.
Anys, far as I'm concerned, I can't wait to hit up the Flatirons Mall on Sunday and git. me. some. spanking. new. P. Design. duds. Chick's gotta look styley, quaff ex-lax, etc.
Posted by Bree at 05:17 PM | Comments (0)
Count Balance
To counterbalance ("That word is redundant," Bree sniffed.) the saaaaaad weepy mcweeps picture of me below (which, I'll have you know, was snapped right here in the Baker District of lovely Denver...ah, this town - she's been so good to me. Easy to see why I'm back.), I hereby present this, the picture representing me at my absolute happiest (New Years, 2002 - about 45 minutes before McNamara jubilantly tackled me onto the sidewalk on Amsterdam Avenue):
First name: Pass the. Second name: Kir. Last name: Royale.
Posted by Bree at 04:49 PM | Comments (0)
PR Meet Design; Design? PR.
I just got an e-mail that said, in part, "Downer day on sweetandbitter. For what it's worth, I believe that only acceptance of something you know to be untrue, unfulfilling or unsatisfying constitutes failure.
Failure would be if you stayed living a soul-crushing existence in NYC. Failure would be if you chose to do PR instead of contemplating what it would be like to do your own thing. Failure would be if you resign yourself to anyone else's opinion of you."
Hear, here.
To that end, and to alleviate the bumm I've been cultivating over in the Park Hill area, I've been thinking about all the exciting things that lie in store between now and that day in 2099 when I finally pass away from this mortal coil. One thing that gets me revved?
The first meeting of an (as yet named) design club here in town last night. Nota benz Jamie at DesignKlub's wee write-up on it, and shoot her an electronic if you'd like to get on the list.
And, not calling it failure or anything, but I, erm, did offer to serve as PR rep for this group. How could I not? It's chockablock with an exciting mix of industrial, graphic, fabric, fine and ceramic artists (incl. my new favorite person, Angela at Inv/Alt), gallery and shop owners and even just a few hobbyists - all of whom can benefit from my masterful use of the em dash and AP style city abbreviations.
Apple don't fall far from the press release tree, apparentaments.
You can run, but you can't hide.
Rhythm is gonna get you.
As are sub-heds.
Jeebs.
(See, Rick, told you I posted more when I was unhappy. Or was it that I posted more when I was happy. Shittt. Now I dun furgot. Pass the herb.)
Posted by Bree at 03:28 PM | Comments (0)
Wait Just a Minute...
Now I really mean it.
First the Bubonis, then killer hail and now TB?! Can I come home please?
Posted by Bree at 02:59 PM | Comments (0)
Don't Let the Melodrama Hit You on the Ass
Just having one of those days. Bear with me, suckakkas. All will be well. I have mondo faith and mondo guts and mondo love for the people and the world around me, so even in my present state of blehh, I am happy(ish) and I am blessed(issimo).
THAT SAID...
Can I come home now?
And I keep on moving forward
Even when I’m down
I keep on moving forward
all the time
Posted by Bree at 02:10 PM | Comments (0)
Things to Do When You're Feeling Blue
A primer:
1. Take dog for walk in Cheeseman park
2. Argue with Starbucks staff regarding number of shots in a grande latte ("But I guess I just don't understand...tell me again why anyone would be satisfied with two?")
3. Lie in bed and stare at the hole where the missing screw should go in the switch plate
4. Moan
5. Call people
6. Don't pick up phone when people call back
7. Try to read
8. Decide to get really really skinny, because if you were really really skinny, you wouldn't have any more problems
9. Celebrate that decision with some Nutella on toast
10. Cry at random - like while picking up your car from the shop or contemplating whether or not to get a fruit salad.
11. Look at the picture you took of yourself on the saddest day of your life, and remind yourself that no matter what - you will never be that sad again:
(nor will you ever again get highlights.)
--
Pleased to say I've accomplished all of my goals for today except #1.
So, I'm off to the land where men love me: the gay and narrows of Cheeseman Park.
If you need to get in touch, I'll be the one moping around, staring with great melancholy at trash blowing by in the wind, trying to turn my frown upside down and convince myself that gaddamnit, I am not a failure at everything I do, regardless of this thing you call "overwhelming evidence" - all whilst wrestling a boxer known for being "100-percent full of beans." I also might randomly be crying and or puking. So if you do approach me, bring some Kleenex. (Generic brand is fine too.)
Posted by Bree at 12:30 PM | Comments (0)
Today, Today, Today.
Today's the day I finally start working. The P's and I are having a meeting tomorrow night to discuss new merchandise lines, which means all the info I've been collecting for the past six months or so needs to be organized and collated and other official office-type things. Like bound. And highlighted. Also stapled.
Exciting stuff.
Just wish my mind was on it.
Posted by Bree at 10:04 AM | Comments (0)
May 29, 2007
As If In Answer...
to the news posted below (aka: I! Got! A! Job!), the heavens just opened and unleashed a hail storm ne'er seen by the likes before:
"What in the..? Who in the..?"
That was pluuuum freakytowns. In fact, I daresay I might go so far as to call it Over the Top. But probably just the once.
Posted by Bree at 01:48 PM | Comments (0)
Mems Day (and Oh what a Mem it Will Be)
The new bosses.
Mems was totally the word this past Monday, which was spent (at least in part) in breathless, half-drunken hiking up through the hills of Evergreen, Colorado with Paul and Pifuka. Sometime after the hike and between margaritas 2 and 3, we actually were able to get some business talkin' done leading to this...the major announcement of the year...
Ready?
Details are hazy, due in no small part to the agave, but it looks like I'm going to be hired on by P. Design Gallery to head up both their marketing efforts and some new merchandising initiatives.
Yes.
Me.
Employed.
How novel.
The plan is thus: I would bring in and develop all the lines and aesthetic and stuff I was eying for TSC - but instead of going at it alone, would be able to combine resources and noggins with the P's and make both our businesses work together as a well-lubricated *whole.
Meetings are happening this week. Lawyers are being called and accountants are being seduced, as is both my want and my right. Things are popping o'er in D-town down. More detes TK as they say but cheers. Your girl is finally on her way to financial solvency. Er...or something.
Posted by Bree at 11:10 AM | Comments (0)
May 27, 2007
Thinking, Thinking, Thank
Thinking more and more recently about making this site password-protected. Some crazy stuff is happening here, but I'm hamstrung (for want of a better word. Like stramhung, for instance.) by the fact everything I commit to type is Google-able.
Troof and honesty with a hard H, I only ever wrote with the intention of friends and family keeping up with my steez and its very various permutations. I am always surprised when someone unexpectedly references the site, or I hear from some random reader (rarer, probably, than happens to most). Surprised in a kind of "errrr...wait, what?" kind of way. Surprised in a "hang on a sec, has anyone seen my diary anywhere?" kind of way. Surprised in a "there's a dude totally looking in my window and my gun's totally, like, jammed" kind of way. Surprised in a somewhat uneasy, mildly bilious and overly analogous kind of way. Clearly.
So. That's what I'm thinking. Pretty surprised over here, as if I had to tell you!
The real deal? Recently I've got lots to say that I don't want privy to any Tom, Dick or G. Gordon. Mainly about how the business of The Scarlet Conservatory was turned on its EAR on Friday afternoon and may be a TOTALLY different animal than what I've been preparing for. WHOA, kids. Huge. It's huge. Like a blue whale penis. Or Saturn.
But, for a number of reasons, I can't really be candid about the situation right now because I don't know who's reading the site, and that's frustrating. My big mouf - and the trouble it gets me in at times - cracks me up, but now that I'm an adult trying (relatively) hard to be a good, thoughtful and honest person, the ramifications are a bit more profound. Like Proust. Or Kellie Pickler.
Obveez, the password will be e-mailed to my address book and then pretty much to anyone who e-mails me for it but this way, I can have a substantial amount of control over what information about me is available to the public. And now that I'm Mrs. Successful Businesslady, I think the whole "Whooooooeeey! Last night, after I took all SORTS of drugs and hardcore 69ed like CRAZY with some harelipped cousin of a rando I ran into that Marie totally banged that one time in college, that's...that's when the real party started!" persona has got to retire from public life.
Oh but she will live on. Both in memory and on film. Of that you can rest assured.
Posted by Bree at 11:30 PM | Comments (0)
Five Word Movie Review Sunday
My brother kills zombies! Face!
Posted by Bree at 01:03 PM | Comments (0)
May 24, 2007
Six Things
Things I like: Diet Coke with vegetables, the new Rufus Wainwright CD (and not just 'cause of that kick-ass stars imagery rocking all over it), this lil piece by Ryan McGinness that my newly hired designer sent me in the ways of TSC logo inspiration:
Things I Don't Like: When people write "favs" instead of "faves," including punctuation inside of quote marks, moths.
Posted by Bree at 09:36 PM | Comments (0)
Plan B
If this whole store thing doesn't work out, I'm weighing the pros and cons of a career in "bee beards."
I am fucking so fucking all over this.
Back off, bitch.
It's mine.
Posted by Bree at 04:58 PM | Comments (0)
Denver? Hippest EVER According to the Paper of Record
Check out the lowdown on Denver's emergent design scene in last Sunday's NY Times (link via Capt. Spicer and First Mate WiFi). Nod in placid profundity at the mention of our buddies over at P Design Gallery (picture on the far right is a fine representation of their steez - though that front and center Archie Bunker cum Jason Miller chair is fast on its way back to the east coast, nota benz. Get in there real quick like if you want to eye its majestic tackitude.) and marvel again at young Bree's prescient prescience in moving to this loverly town, as well as her undeniable aptitude for writing woefully misconstructed and needlessly complicated "sentences."
Prescient.
Prescience.
Posted by Bree at 09:46 AM | Comments (0)
Live Blogging the Presidential Press Conference
"One area I've been disappointed is beef." - GWB
Me too, G-dubs. Me too.
Posted by Bree at 09:16 AM | Comments (0)
May 23, 2007
Without Further Commentary
Anyone who heard anything about my Easter Sunday will surely get a kick out of this one...
Posted by Bree at 07:31 PM | Comments (0)
Me and G in Floridey
I like this picture.
I do not, however, like Florida.
Unless we're just talking short-term flings stylez.
In which case, sure.
I'll take her.
But there's no way she's getting her hands on my PIN.
UPDATE: Brushed once again by the loosest possible definition of fame, I hereby weakly recant with great glee everything negs I ever said about Fla. Good Holy God, this is the club we were at in Miami Beach last week! They too lovingly scoff at the Brit! I knew I had some commonalities with the "trannies and gay guys," I just knew it.
Posted by Bree at 12:59 PM | Comments (0)
May 22, 2007
Dear God
That were fun.
Minus, of course, the chutney (above). Which was both fun and delicious.
And now I'm back in rainy D-town, kind of fat and kind of tan, with no Internet connection, a probable UTI and a raging plague of the Bubonis ilk incubating about five minutes from my home. Aaaah!! Bienvenue, indeed.
Tonight, I'm celebrating the return to dehydration and dry heat with a sojourn to the Hold Steady/Heartless Bastards show at the Ogden with several of the kiddados. I'll be the one with the painful privates. You be the one with the fedora.
More updates and so forth regarding the trip to come once I get the Interwebs up and working back at the homestead. Considering the BF is a computerin' sort of character, the lack of connectivity is all very cobbler kid having no shoes...
Posted by Bree at 01:39 PM | Comments (0)
May 11, 2007
Lord, I Was Born a Traveling Womyn
View of Mt. Greylock from Williamstown
The BF and I are ff in the early a.m. to the familial homestead in deepest Massachusetts. There we will sup on horsemeat soufflé and gooseberry mash, followed by everyone's favorite decadence: prunewhip a la coolwhip. And that's just the first night.
On Wennsday, we'll be flying to Miami for some sort of festive gathering involving bright colors, tanned boobies and Gloria Estefan. From there, we will cruise in the 'stang convertible rental down the coast to the keys, where we will lounge around, lollygag, attend some sort of nuptial event, fish (eh.), swim (eh!) and, most likely, find ourselves face down in a trough of gin and tonic (made with key limes, but of KERSE) on more than one occasion.
Updates will be spartan, but I'll more than make up for it in weight gain. You have my word.
Posted by Bree at 08:07 AM | Comments (0)
May 10, 2007
Microchipping, Meet Your Waterloo
Love the picture, love the idea.
Posted by Bree at 08:18 PM | Comments (0)
Well, Well, Well...Look What the Flickr Dragged In...
Hint (from the horse's mouf): "Look at me! I’m slouching and playing with my plate cause I’m still hungry! What’s new!"
Posted by Bree at 10:01 AM | Comments (0)
May 09, 2007
Realizing Recently That Something is Missing
Realizing recently that something is snaps.
Posted by Bree at 11:49 PM | Comments (0)
Logo Schmogo
Surprisingly, I'm not having the best of luck with the part of TSC I like the most...the design part. Specifically, the logo design. I've participated in enough branding initiatives to know this stuff takes as much time as it does inspiration, so I'm sweating the process very little, kicking back and enjoying the research. To that end, check out these business card design ideas (gripped [xoxotoyouANP!] from kottke as I shamelessly like to do.
Some favorites:
Gilded edges
Metallica (really like it for the grommet...sshhh)
Schoolin' the competition
Posted by Bree at 08:38 PM | Comments (0)
Picnic Nitpick
You know, I don't even like picnics. Something about the trifecta of damp ass, sunburned face and gross ants turns me off every time. Especially if there's a hike involved. Puke-a-rahms. That said, I still totally want this Orange "Metro" P-nic Basket:
I know.
Such a product slut, I be.
Posted by Bree at 10:16 AM | Comments (0)
May 08, 2007
Apostrophy Wife
When it comes to indicating possession with proper names that end in "s," - call me crazy - but I always place an apostrophe before a second "s." None of this: "Marcus' wife is a lovely lady" biznitchy. It's all Marcus's - all the time.
Oh woe. I've fought the s's battle again et again, and hell, will even admit to sometimes bowing to the pressure and sticking with the one "s" thing, but now - now the mystery to where this inane belief was born from is solved! It's a Chicago Manual of Style recommendation. Granted, and in opposition to what my resume says, I only have used NY Times and AP guidelines in any sort of professional capacity so assume this usage is also floating around in one of those.
'tevs.
I do fear them's some boring shit's I just wrote up there. Can you tell I'm tired and cranky and want to go back to work as a writer?
Oh woe is oh wright.
[insert grumble.]
Posted by Bree at 11:17 PM | Comments (0)
Inbox (Special Fox Family Anniversary Edition!)
from: Captain Spicer
to: Lady Sawtooth
date: May 8, 2007 1:04 PM
subject : PS
It was three years ago today that you were wearing a seafoam green a-line number and processing down an aisle with Kel.
Indeed, it twere. Happy Annis, milord and lady!
Posted by Bree at 02:03 PM | Comments (0)
Stupid Babies
Posted by Bree at 12:10 PM | Comments (0)
May 07, 2007
Buy Buy Birdie
During brief breaks in my exhaustive Wikipedia research, I've been spending time spending moola. Among the recent purchases?
1. A krautburger in Keenesburg, CO. What's a krautburger, you ask? Well, Johnny, a krautburger is incommensurate parts old sauerkraut and overcooked, gray, Grade D meat stuffed into a doubly-disgusto dough ball. It's also what I gave the BF for dinner on Saturday because I'm the best. girl. ever. Or something.
2. Espresso beans and diet Red Bull at Starbucks and Costco, respectively. I'm a little ashamed to admit that my caffeine intake has reached near-alarming proportions. The threat level is at Brown. Go on about your business.
3. A Canon Rebel 35mm ($25) camera to replace the OM-1 I won on Ebay that UPS LOST. Fuckers. The "threat level is at Brown" has now taken on new meaning. Naturally, I don't know what that new meaning entails, but it's all more than a little entendric so give it some thought and get back to me. (NB: heroin answers instantly disqualified unless, of course, Keith Richards is somehow referenced.)
4. Plane tickets to Seattle for a June weekend jaunt with the aforementioned BF (hopefully recovered from the Krautburger at that point) as well as Jason and Jakey.
5. A headboard, pillow shams and pillow inserts. Because I'm a girl. And they're pretty.
6. Two pairs Havianas for my upcoming trip to Key West. Because I'm a girl. And they're pretty. And I need something to wear to my Threat Level Brown party.
UPDATE: Lucky Number 7 goes to that beauty up there. A print from Massachusetts-based artiste Dan McCarthy. Though the Squid and the Whale constellation print I covet is sadly sold out, I think this substitution's gonna look reeeeeal nice reeeeegardless.
Posted by Bree at 08:37 PM | Comments (0)
What's in a Name?
Well, if it's Breehy-hinny-brinny-hoohy-hah, quite. a. hoohy. hah. brinny. bit.
[Neigh.]
Although, come to think of it, perhaps a pig squeal is more appropriate.
Sigh.
Posted by Bree at 08:19 PM | Comments (0)
Chowing Down in the Berkshires
Just found out that the parentals will be taking Garth and me here for eats when we hit the east coast next week. This is AFTER we tuck into the aptly named "family pack"* from Jim N*ely's Haus of B-B-Q** and steaks ("Still kickin', padre.") from Lobels. Suffice it, I just crapped my pants in excitement...and by "my pants" I mean "my stretchy maternity pants."
[buuuurp.]
* (3 Slabs of Ribs, 3 lbs Pork Shoulder, 2 Bottles Bar-B-Que Sauce, 1 Bottle Seasoning)
** Why yes, yes we are related. Let's just say my fam's been farming south of the M-D for a super-long time and leave it at that.
Posted by Bree at 03:36 PM | Comments (0)
Latest Haps
Ah dearies. Your little speedracer kid met her comeuppance on Friday morning. Picture the scene: hot chick cruising down I-70 in the Audi, late to the back-cracker, 8 minutes after waking up...a black Expedition comes sneaking up on the left side...but lo - what is this? She never saw it coming. Breaking into first-person: I sideswiped him, causing almost no damage to my car (tiny scrape) and nearly none to his, which didn't prevent his side airbag from deploying in a cloud of sulfurous safety scent. After realizing what had happened, we both pulled off the road and managed to exchange all the relevant info before I burst into tears. I don't know if it was the tears, or the shock, or my incessant apologies and promises to "do whatever to make this right," but the guy took pity on me and was the *nicest* dude ever about the situation. He even gave me some toilet paper. For my face, dirtbags. Get your mind up out the gutts.
In a shell of summation, if I had to have something really scary happen to me - this was the way to go. Granted, I was really shaken and overwhelmed by the experience and spent most of the day alternating between hysterical crying jags and...well...there really wasn't an alternate. I was either recovering from one, in the midst of one or about to start on one. All's well, of course, and natch-0 my friends and family whom I spoke with about it managed to lend really awesome and valuable perspective. (Ex: It's a little too close to a scene from driver's ed. - "red asphalt." - Molly P.) Honest to Betsy, I don't know what I would've done without them. As my Mom said, "It happens to everyone...you think it won't happen to you, but then it does and you slow down and drive more carefully and continue on."
Words of wisdom from Katherine the elder.
I'm just so happy to have been given another chance to prove that, why yes, I am the world's finest driver, thanks for asking.
One more thing...red asphalt?
More like grodes asphalt.
That's just too foul for words. Nice one.
Posted by Bree at 11:21 AM | Comments (0)
Monday Monday
And the start of another workweek commences...
Posted by Bree at 11:08 AM | Comments (0)
May 03, 2007
Worthy of a Post
I somehow realize I have neglected to give adequate mention to an important development in the life of Bree over these past few. Silly me, how could I fail to write that I am head over heels for a boy-person. A boy-person who, honestly, has made me laugh harder and with more frequency than I have since Matt used to get me so riled up I would puke in hysterical glee. A boy-person I'm bringing home to the clowns in a little over a week. A boy-person who showed up just when I needed him most.
His name's Garth.
You'll be hearing a lot more about him.
Posted by Bree at 06:41 PM | Comments (0)
The Quotable Wylde
Everyone's favorite Jeff was quoted re: bachelor parties in the NY Sun today, as referenced by Gothamist and forwarded by Mike. Here she blows:
"A financial adviser and experienced bachelor party attendee, Jeffrey Wylde, 34, said he plans to attend bachelor parties in Las Vegas, Montreal, and Atlantic City this summer. On average, he spends about six times more money on destination bachelor parties than their corresponding weddings, he said."
New respect for the Sun's investigative journalism. They surely couldn't have found a more expert source...
(apologies for blurriness...he's much sharper in real life.)
Elliott's response:
That quote is AWESOME.
Six times! I cant help but do the math.
If he spent 400 on travel to a wedding. 100 on a gift, and another 200 on a hotel... 700 total. That means he spend 3500 per bachelor party, for a grand total of 10.5k on bachelor parties alone this year.
Guy knows how to do it.
Jenny's response:
Forget the tux. Jeff, you should really consider investing in your own stripper.
Posted by Bree at 03:43 PM | Comments (0)
May 01, 2007
Lighten Your Load
Wow.
More info here.
Had enough of the gossamer chair? Come back down to earth with a plateful of batshit crazy here. But really, why stop at the plateful...scoop up a cake of foie gras and chow down on a disheartening Per Se exposé here. This piece makes me a. realize the futility of exercise and b. realize how much I miss New York cuisine. Mmmm.
Posted by Bree at 10:19 PM | Comments (0)