Photos of The Peabody Waldorf Boutique and Gallery

These are "before" photos, taken shortly after we moved in in early August. It was a cavernous and overwhelming place, but we had/have a vision and have come a long way in a relatively short amount of time and on a ridiculously small budget. Those photos to follow...for now, enjoy the view that caused me daily panic attacks for about six weeks...




The view looking forward from our apartment



The view looking towards the apartment from the door



745 Broadway, in all its ghetto splendor



What would become our bedroom



The bathroom (obviously)



The main central area in the apartment, closet and mini office to the left, galley kitchen and strangely huge bathroom to the right, sleeping loft/death trap above and to the left



The galley kitchen



The galley kitchen looking across the central area into our closet

Mount Rainier

So, this has been quite an eventful summer and I'm only just now getting enough of a handle on everything that has happened and is happening to be able to write about it.

This post is easy though:

Along with a group of badasses and led by the King of Tacoma himself, I trained for months for and completed a climb to the summit of Mount Rainier. It would be hard to put into words how much this means to me personally but suffice to say that all the cliches about self empowerment and positive thinking that you see on posters in gyms and offices and whatnot? There's a reason that there are mountains in the background of all of those...

Oh, and I took my cat...

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds...

So I think I've been able to distill what it is about dogs that I don't like at all...or actually, what it is about dogs that makes me seriously prefer cats.

What I don't like about dogs is rather more simple than preference: I don't like...nay, I abhor slobbering blind loyalty from any being of any size or shape and cats are generally way more autonomous by a wide margin.

What solidifies the preference for me is my belief that dogs, far more than cats, take on the personality of their owner. Not just take it on, really, but distill it down to the most vital elements. Its as though when you see somebody's dog, you are looking directly at their owner's essence, at their guts. More often than not, I am kind of annoyed, sort of disgusted.

(I will admit that there are notable exceptions...Bandit, for one, although the constant air humping proves my point with a bullet)

This scares me. What if I raise a dog and I end up hating its face right off? Or worse, what if other people can't stand it or tell me "Eric, your cocksmoker of a dog has a giant ego and is far too aggressive?" That would make me sad, and I don't have time for sad, really...

Anyway, in spite of and including all of my theories and preferences, I seem to have acquired a dog. She isn't really mine, but she has spent the majority of her life cohabiting with us and our darling cats and to be honest, I don't want her to go away any time soon. She's a communal pup, so perchance we will be able to sidestep that scary distillation process, and if she does acquire one person's essence I'm not the one in charge so...

Blah blah blah...she's cuter than shit and I love her.

Squee.

Fuck Trees...

I climb buoys, motherfucker!

Don't know what I'm talking about?

You should. Check these guys out here:

The Lonely Island

Or go straight to their videos here:

"I'm On A Boat"

and

"Jizz In My Pants"

Change of plans...

So I ended up not going to Texas/New Mexico after all, and I can't say I'm not glad of it.

Here's a little story from the last time I was there (be forewarned, it is not exciting):

There is nothing to do in Hobbs, New Mexico after 5pm. In truth, there is nothing to do in Hobbs, New Mexico before 5pm either, but we were working, and hard, and it was hottern shit so we didn't realize how little there is to do. I suppose the fact that a quarter of the town turned out to watch us fix a cooling tower may have clued us in to the fact...

Anyway, Friday evening, desperate for some sort of entertainment, we drove to a nearby town, also a god-forsaken shithole, and walked the single, dusty street end to end.

The end.

I mean, can you blame me for not being sad about not returning? However, I will be going there in October now. Yay!

Hi!

Remember me?

I remember all of you too...

I've been a pretty shitty blog owner as of late, but accepting responsibility is the first step, right?
Well, I accept, and as soon as I take my blog out for a long walk, buy it a couple new rawhides, and fluff its doggie bed, I will get down to some serious blogging.

In fact, as I am going to be taking a trip to West Texas for some work and am kinda scared to go alone, I was thinking about taking you all along with me...you wanna go? Do you? Yeah?

Sweet.

Say It Better With Flowers...

So, I haven't weighed in on politics much yet on this here blog, which is strange, especially considering what a dynamic year this was in that arena. I have reasons, which I will most likely get to some point sooner than later, possibly when I have a moment to think about anything but how fucking broke I am...anyway, some things are important enough to come out of semi-retirement, and commenting on Proposition 8 is one of them.

There are few things less productive for an individual or a society than judging others based on their personal choices and not the quality of their character. It, in fact, is a signifier of poor character to stoop that low. Further, changing laws in order to control a portion of the population while simultaneously withholding their rights goes against every democratic principle this country was founded on. The religious aspect of this issue is especially disgusting, criminal even...literally.

I can get you stickers of this if you promise to slap them on a homophobe.