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We'll be driving to Boston for the whole of today.
With this in mind, and because I'm not really sure when I'll have internet access on this trip, I have pre-posted a series of photos of our little car. These will be timed released every day whilst I'm away, so even if I don't get a chance to post there will still be a daily update. I am so organised sometimes.
This one I call "Dashboard at Night".
So the sign I posted yesterday had been changed when I walked passed it this morning. Instead of a non-existent website, it's now a welcome message to Bill Clinton.
He visited our town on the campaign trail for Hillary, and as he was speaking on campus the Doc went to hear him talk. Doc C started queueing at 2pm, and was allowed into the gym where the talk was being given at 4pm. It was standing room only, and they had to set up speakers outside for all the people who had queued for two hours only to find there was no space in the hall.
Apparently, when the warm-up lady was trying to get the crowd all excited about Clinton's talk, she yelled "And you know who's going to be the next president?" and with one voice the crowd roared back "OBAMA!". Probably not the response she was hoping for, but at least it's the right party.
I'd chosen not to go to the talk, but on the walk home Doc noticed three matching cars with dark windows slowly rolling along in the rush hour traffic. He made a joke about the secret service, and then we both looked over to see Bill himself in the back of the next car with an enormous cigar on the go. I noticed the car behind that was also full of secret service suits, and the one in the front passenger seat was definitely keeping an eye on us over the top of his mirrored shades. As the only pedestrians we were probably highly suspicious.
It was all very surreal.
Fortunately Bill's route happened to take him right passed this sign, I hope he saw it.
My suggestion? How about setting up an actual, you know, website at that address? Because at the moment it takes you nowhere and that seems like a waste of your valuable sign-making time.
We went to a local shopping malls yesterday, and one of the shops was having a clearance sale on Prom dresses. It was a dream of manmade fibres and some fascinating colour choices. I will admit to having moved the pistachio green chiffon number to the front of the rack for the sake of this photo.
As you can see from the sign the Prom dresses were a hundred dollars, whilst the sample bridesmaid dresses were a mere ten bucks.
Because, after all, what girl hasn't dreamt of a formal gown stamped with the word "SAMPLE" in big black letters on the shoulder?
Sorry the second picture is blurry, The Doc was very anxious to move me away from the sequins.
I bought this T-shirt from Ye Olde Carlton Arms Hotel when we were last in New York, so that's close to a year. It's been patiently waiting for me to decide what I wanted to do with it; as it turns out I wanted to give it a slash neck, take the sleeves in and undo all of the hems to make it a long tunic top. What were the odds on that?
Whilst I was in the middle of using a seam ripper to take out the hem stitching, there was a knock on the door. It was about quarter to ten and we are so ashamed of our house that no-one we know has ever been invited over, so this was very odd.
When the Doc answered the door it turned out to be a drunk blonde girl called Julie, and a disembodied voice called Brad or something. They were just knocking on doors and saying Hi! To meet the neighbours! Great! We are moving in three weeks, and, as this is student housing coming up to the end of the academic year, I bet almost every one else is too! Julie, exactly how much of that peach schnapps did you drink?
Anyway, Doc was handling the situation rather well I thought, so I stayed on the sofa and carried on seam ripping.
Once Julie had exhausted the Doc as a source of information and entertainment ("Hey, You have an accent!", the Boston accent being almost as much as a rarity as the British accent here) she turned to me and said "Are you sewing?" in much the same tone of voice as I'd say, "Are you making your own cheese?". I thought about explaining that actually I was in the deconstruction phase, rather than the reconstruction phase, but it seemed simpler to say yes and then get the whole English accent thing out of the way at the same time.
Finally Doc C casually asked "So, are you guys students?", which they confirmed they were, and when they asked what he was studying said "Oh, actually I'm a professor..." Julie and Brad went next door pretty soon after that, and were there for quite a while.
Doc seemed surprised that Julie and Brad were invited in next door, until I pointed out that to a college boy a drunk blonde in pretty sun dress delivering herself to your front door is just the best thing ever. Quite honestly the only way Julie would have been even more welcome to The-Boys-Next-Door would have been if she'd had the foresight to be carrying a bucket of chicken and a six pack of Coors Light.
I love the Storm Grate Fish.
I wouldn't dump waste down this drain because it flows to the river, which is obviously where the Storm Grate Fish lives and the Storm Grate Fish looks sweet.
It makes me want to try and get that cigarette butt out from the drain, but then I remember that I'm a grown woman who is frightened that Pennywise the Clown might be down there.
shiver.
On the way home last night we saw this CD jammed in the telephone pole at about head height.
I wish I could say we witnessed a DJ Ninja fighting for his life, and saw him throw this disc, just grazing his assailant's left ear, before it got lodged into the pole.
However, in the morning I had seen the CD lying on the grass as I walked passed. I almost took a photo then, but I couldn't think of what I wanted to do with the shot and I was short for time.
I suspect someone else saw it as they walked passed too, then just picked it up and pushed it into one of the cracks on the pole.
I prefer the DJ Ninja thing myself.
This sign is prominently displayed in the window of a local shop that sells blinds.
I've noticed it several times, and decided I had to take a photograph because I find it so jaw dropping that an otherwise apparently professional place of business would chose to have a two foot high sign with this completely unprofessional message as a major part of it's shop frontage.
I could get into a whole tirade about the stereotypical assignment of supposedly traditional gender roles, right here, right now, but that seems a little seventies.
I'm guessing from the exclamation mark that it is intended to be humorous, but even giving it that, it's at best reminiscent of a punchline in a bad fifties comic strip. I'm sort of surprised and, ok, a little disappointed, that the next window along doesn't have a similar mother-in-law gag in it.
I thought I'd show you more of our neighbours' yellow reclining chair, in all it's natural glory, and the tableau in which it is a centre piece.
Let me explain what you are looking at here. This is the balcony porch of our building, and this is the view from our front door facing the neighbours' section of the porch.
Here you can see the chair. The red and black thing is a monster flag celebrating the University's sporting prowess (I have no idea why the flag is red and black, those are not the University team colours). You may also be able to see a handle sticking out over the balcony railing. The railing also has blue fairy lights wrapped round it and plugged into the exterior lightbulb socket.
If we switch now to the front shot of the balcony, you will see the nautical theme. This is simply created by a life belt and a fish rod lashed to the railing.
And at the end of the rod? Is a fish, of course.
I think they butchered one of those hideous animatronic singing fish wall plaques to get it. I think this mainly because you can still see all the cogs and wires hanging out of the side of it.
Once again let me reiterate that we cannot wait to move.
We spent Saturday in mattress showrooms, thrift shops and antique shops seeing what sort of stuff we could find to furnish our new house with.
Mattress shopping is surprisingly tiring. It's all "Lie down on this, and see how you like the firmness. Ok, now try this one that's recommended by NASA." Then you have to really think about which was more comfortable, and you can't be sure so then you have to lie on them again. After much exhausting lounging in comfort we narrowed it down to two, but before we make a final decision we are actually going to have to go back and lie on each of them for a full fifteen minutes as recommended by all the mattress shopping guides. It's not going to be easy, but we have to do it.
We also found loads of cheap furniture in the thrift stores, but the antique shop we went to was imported English antiques and it was super expensive. I thought it was exhorbitant given what they were selling was really only in decent condition and none of it was that special. Mum, I am telling you now that you would make an absolute killing over here.
Oddly my favourite thing in the Antique place was actually a window:
Yes, that is indeed the disembodied head of the playwright Samuel Beckett in the middle of it.
Because, after all, what home is complete without a stained glass image of your favourite minimalist proponent of the Theatre of the Absurd?
It did lead The Doc and I to decide that if we ever commission a window featuring a disembodied head, it will be Patrick McGoohan as Number 6. Probably doing that eyebrow thing.
Am I crazy, or is this vintage bedside lamp sort of great?
I particularly love the white fringing around the centre of the balloon itself. Do you think that would actually help it, aerodynamically speaking?
Maybe I'm overly influenced by my very fond memories of the lampshade that hung in my bedroom when I was about 3 or 4. It was a pink hot-air balloon, with a furry toy elephant in the basket. I always thought that would be a good place to hide stuff, but by the time I would have been tall enough to do so the elephant hot air balloon seemed a bit babyish and I had a paper globe instead.
Anyway in the present day The Doc thinks I'm crazy. He therefore will not let me buy this.
We walk by this car every day. It's always there, but it's always in a different parking position so I would suppose it is indeed still road-worthy.
I love the metallic green paint, but my favourite thing is the enormous taillight with the metal grill.
On my way to work yesterday I actually did a double take, paused to consider the information my eyes had given my brain and then got out my trusty camera.
Our neighbours had put their rubbish outside their door, and apart from the usual white plastic rubbish bag, there was a large selection of boxes neatly duct taped together, as you can see it's mainly Coors Light boxes with a pizza box and another unidentifiable carton.
So on the one hand, this might have actually been an efficient way to throw away cardboard, without using up loads of plastic. But if they were trying to environmentally friendly then really the boxes should have been flattened, or, even better, recycled.
On the other hand, maybe it's an art installation. I've certainly seen weirder pieces than this before now.
But wait, I hear you cry, what's that yellow upholstered thing with the brown handle? Well, that would be the reclining chair that has sat outside their front door come sun, rain or snow.
The Doc and I have a new mantra now which basically goes "we'removingin4weeks - Deep Breath - we'removingin4weeks - Deep Breath - we'removingin4weeks"
Do you know how hard it is to find a nice plain set of cutlery? Why is it they all have to have really tacky stuff etched or molded onto them?
Are these not the most beautifully plain forks, spoons and knives you have ever seen? They are merely a nice sturdy set of flatware in brushed metal.
Plus this 20 piece service was $10 off the normal price, with a buy-one-get-one-half-price deal on top of that.
I have no idea why the set comes with salad forks, but not butter knives but I'm fairly certain I can live with that.
I was waiting in the car whilst the Doc collected our pizza on Friday night, and I glanced out of the window to see this:
I don't even want to THINK about this, but now I've seen it I can't stop and I don't see why I should suffer alone.
If you can't read the sticker on the wheelie bin sized container, then you can click on the picture to make it bigger.
But really if you can't read that sticker you are so so lucky.
Look! A picture of The Doc!
Ok, I zoomed right in on the his very first white beard hair, but it still counts.
I think it makes him look distinguished.
I took this photo a couple of days ago, the same day I had to unpack my summer shoes and I got a little bit sun burnt on the back of my neck.
Today, whilst we were walking a little bundle of mad love called Lulu, it started to snow.
I cannot get my head around the weather here.
Sometimes I will feel a bit panicky at the thought of living in the town that irony forgot for the foreseeable future, but then I'll see something that I would never ever have seen anywhere else, because anywhere else someone achingly cool and dripping in the aforementioned irony would have bought it already.
For example I give you the best three records sleeves currently on display in the window of that junk shop down by the town hall, you know the one?
You probably can't read the track listing on that photo of the seminal "Skating Time" by Ken Griffen at the Wurlitzer Organ, so I zoomed in on it for your convenience and further enjoyment.
You are entirely welcome.
I know a couple of the tunes, but what do you think "The Bumpity-Bump" sounds like?
That was pretty damn good, but then I saw these two hum dingers:
First of all we have "A String of Pearls: And Other Great Songs Made Famous By The Glenn Miller Orchestra" by Bobby Hackett, which is apparently "in a setting of wall to wall string and brass". What I'd like to know is if I want to listen to great songs made famous by the Glenn Miller Orchestra, why would I not simply listen to the Glenn Miller Orchestra? This seems redundant, Hackett, explain yourself further.
Then we have Children's Holiday by The McGuire Sisters. I have never heard of the McGuire Sisters (Ah, Wikipedia to the rescue once again), but they look sort of scary and fabulous at the same time. What with them being fifties fem-bots, with precisely matching outfits, hair-do's and facial expressions.
However I really do appreciate them giving me the opportunity to use the CinemaScope button on Picnik. I can only wistfully imagine if this had been a scene from an actual film, because I'm sure at this point there would have been a delightful song and dance number set in a park.
With, perhaps, a comedy dog.
I have no idea why the Philosophy and Religion Department Office has two pairs of plastic maracas, and a copy of "New Essay Concerning the Origin of Ideas. Volume 1" on the window sill.
Do you think the maracas are an integral part of the theory behind the essay?
Because that would make it my kind of essay.
There's this sort of club thing where the kids go to boogie on down, and where bands play gigs. However you can't buy booze there (which is why I call it a club thing), the way it works is you bring your own six pack and they hold for you behind the bar. In exchange you are given a ticket so you can reclaim your own beers through out the evening. Weird, no?
I have no idea how they make any money at all, but I'd guess they must be subsidised to provide a much needed venue for the kids to let off steam. It's on campus, and I think that it is affiliated to the University and University Society's get first dibs on staging stuff there.
I walk passed this club thing every day, and I was particularly struck by the line-up for early April:
I love that a band called Urban Sophisticates is playing a gig here, but more importantly who calls themselves "Yo Mamma's Big Fat Booty Band"? I mean, really?
Strangely I am tempted to see them, purely because when we were at University Ginger Jen once put together the best mix-tape ever for me, and it included a song which was just rappers insulting each other's mother in increasingly convoluted ways. And it was one of those songs that you'd find yourself humming for days.
In return I made her a tape which included Adam Ant's B-side "Norman" which Ginger Jen asked me to remove because it creeped her out, and I remember being delighted to find a much more cheerful song (although I don't remember which song it was, I'd guess it was probably from Deee-light's album "World Clique" knowing me at that time) which was exactly the same length and thus fitted that spot on the tape perfectly.
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