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by Rebecca Bernard at McSweeney’s Internet Tendencies.

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Trombone Shorty, at The Parish Sunday night, made me regret a little less that I couldn’t get over to NoLa for Fat Tuesday. Or maybe I regret it a little bit more.

Not that the show was particularly themed, but Trombone Shorty definitely brought his New Orleans roots to the crowded show on Sunday, for my first show of sxsw.

I didn’t know what to expect from the show, but agreed to go along with a friend. We had luckily snagged some VIP passes to the Mashable party across the street, and from the view on the Balcony we could see the line to get into the Parish… and I went along because 1) always down to see a new band 2) I’ve only ever seen great shows at the Parish and 3) all our dude friends were doing that thing where they play pool and bro out.

The line went fairly quick. And shit. Trombone Shorty killed it. (sidenote: there were also free taquitos. hi. love sxsw free food and booze.) First of all, how can someone play the trombone for so long? I tried to play a trumpet once in 7th grade and and it sounded like a crappy shofar. He had full command of his instrument, and played it with energy. He was playing and dancing and laughing the whole show. You could tell that the man loved his music. And the crowd loved not only his music, but him. I was only too happy that I stumbled on the show and that I could start my sxsw week off juuuuuuust right.

Have you ever tried to google your name? Ok, most people have… and I admit it, I just did. Amazingly, even with all the time that I spend on the internet, my real actual self showed up 3 times on the first page! And then I am not to be seen for another 5 pages.

Have you every tried IMAGE SEARCHING your name on google? Cause (since we are all past shame at this point), I have. The first six pages are pictures of adorable but never the less young infants, and then on page seven something shows up. A picture that was posted not of me, oh no, but of two authors that I wrote a review for a year ago for BOMB Magazine’s blog.

And the I’m feeling lucky button? Takes me to an adorable children’s book (of which I have like 5 copies).

Conclusion: Yes, I spend too much time on the internet.

Colombian Fruit Juice

I (with a few friends) recently made a journey to Colombia! It was a great trip, and one that has given me (too) much to describe.

We discovered early on, that Colombia is allll about the crazy fruit. Seriously.

Picking out Crazy Colombian Fruit

photo: courtesy Matt Waltrip

There are so many kinds! But after tasting,

Sampling Said Fruit

photo: courtesy Matt Waltrip

we discovered that many kinds just are not appropriate for eating. It’s all in the juice.
The fruit in Colombia is both mysterious and the single most representative object of the Colombia that I saw, smelled, heard and danced. Even to hear the names of the fruits is to hear the rhythm of Colombian salsa, feel the sticky humidty and the lingering caress of soft waves from the Caribbean.
Lulo
Guanabana
Maracuyá
Borohó
Tomate del arbol
Mango
Papaya
Sólo
o mezclado
con agua
o leche
échate ron
si te apetece

Juice Stand in Taganga

I’m back!

after a long hiatus, I’m getting my groove (?) on again. In case you didn’t understand that poorly used euphemism (for writing), what I meant is that I am going to start posting again. Hooray!


courtesy Party Time Slot Machine Game

i never would have thought:

(extra points for spotting the longhorns hat)

stuff that i like

this music video from woods