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Be there or be … not a fan of zombies (i.e. square)
I dig zombies. That’s no secret.
I try to talk to my friends about zombies and they give me the same look one gives a miniature train enthusiast who starts geeking out over cabooses. I dress like a zombie and implore the rest of Waco to do the same only to be largely snubbed. The life of a living dead lore enthusiast is not an easy one, my friends. But alas, my time has come. The premiere of the Waco zombie movie, Risen, is upon us (Saturday).
I haven’t even seen the movie yet, but I already love it because it’s about zombies and it’s intensely local. “The whole thing was shot here,” said Risen director and local boy, Damon Crump. “This is a good place for this stuff to happen because evereybody’s willing to help you out here,” he said.
Places you may recognize? A Woodway neighborhood, the IGA store in Hewitt and the Bellmead Civic center. Waco is also mentioned in the script, and FOR ONCE, not in the context of the Branch Davidian standoff. Pay attention and you may also hear mention of quarantines in small towns, such as Lorena. Risen writer David Talbot intended for the movie to be Waco-centric.
“One thing’s always frustrated me about movies and TV — everything is always set in L.A. or New York, nothing takes place in between,” Talbot said. Talbot, 30, was born and raised in Speegleville, and now is a dad and techie in Woodway. He said he grew up dying to get out of the area and then, as a grown up, he looked around and realized the Waco area is actually pretty cool.
“I’m a really weird advocate for Waco and Waco tourism,” he said.
With plenty of horror, a little humor and zombies that move both fast and slow, Risen, and it’s homegrown director and writer, not to mention all the extras, are poised to earn Waco some pretty good zombie cred.
Talbot was bit by zombie mythology (pun intended) as a kid, watching George Romero’s zombies stagger-step across the screen. The once cult following of zombies seems to be bigger than ever these days. Talbot said the attraction to the undead is simple.
“Romero said it best — they are us,” Talbot waxed philosophical. Werewolves and aliens are a rarity, he said, but everyone has had an experience with the dead.
“We’ve seen dead bodies, even if it was at a funeral home, and dead bodies scare us,” Talbot said. “Zombie mythology just amplifies that.”
There’s no official canon of zombie lore, but Talbot, with his Z-smarts, was able to answer some questions for me. Like, except for the talking(?!) zombies in HBO’s Return of the Living Dead series, most zombies aren’t on a strict brains diet.
“Romero’s zombies would take a bite out of anything,” Talbot said.
He also places epidemic zombies above voodoo zombies in the battle of who’s creepier. With epidemic zombies, “One creates 10 creates 100, until it’s hopeless,” Talbot said. There’s also the apocalypse via zombie factor.
“You can’t really top the end of the world,” he said. Indeed.
Crump and Talbot will be at the Risen premiere at the Hippodrome Saturday. As will I. Come geek out with us. Zombie attire welcome. (Though I’ll be skipping the Karo syrup blood this time, too messy!)
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I don’t know what drupl is, but I know why you think zombies eat brains
I have just a little of this and a little of that for you in this post.
— Let’s talk tweetups. I’ve been to two this week. The first was hosted by The Cowley Group who wanted to pick the brains of us pretty intensely local Twitter folk about the future of downtown Waco and how social media might be a part of this futuristic and awesome downtown.
I had a lot of fun. Because the Squarebar appetizers were free, but mostly because I actually got to give my opinion, lots of them, in fact. Whereas, usually I have to lurk in the corners and be the mute reporter. I care about Waco and it was fun to talk about that with other people who feel the same way.
Tweetup #2, I was TOTALLY out of place. Like, I can’t begin to tell you the level of out of placeness I experienced. It was the first meeting of Refresh Waco, which is sort of a local techie community. A Twitter friend encouraged my attendance (most likely to laugh as my eyes drifted off into midspace and the conversation floated over my head). I knew it was for techies, but, ever the journalist, I was curious and went anyway.
The conversation went something like this, “Drupl, j-query, joomla and javascript. The Open Office Linux Mootl and Cisco.” I understood the “and” and “the.” Luckily I brought a friend with me who has major tech bonafides (don’t worry, sweety, I won’t brag on the specifics).
Anyway, I think this group could be a lot of fun and highly useful for local techies. If I knew more than how to upload photos to facebook and how to buy songs off iTunes, I would go back for meeting No. 2. But since I don’t … If you’re interested, check out refreshwaco.org
— On another note, Austin Avenue sucks. There, I said it. The stretch just south of 18th Street is bumpy and ugly and miserable. Dear City of Waco, I don’t know what you’re doing there, but I don’t like it (frowny face). Franklin Ave and Columbus are my new BFFs.
— I have major money woes at the moment. I’m tying to pay off my MRI bills, the Ireland trip and, to top it off, my car air conditioner is kaput. I’ve already added freon, it’s just plain broke, I’m telling you. Anyway, to save money, I’ve suspended my Gold’s Gym membership. So I need to know, is there a free inside place to go walk? Besides the mall? Poor, yet exercise conscious, minds want to know.
— Lastly, the highlight of my week was my interview with David Talbot, who wrote the screenplay for Risen, the Waco zombie movie. I’ll blog the interview next week, but for now I’ll just remind you that the Waco premiere is at the Hippodrome June 27. Go. I am.
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Alas, poor Wendy …
Alas, poor Wendy! I knew her, Horatio: a lass of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy …
I hope the Bard doesn’t mind me taking liberties with his words. They just seemed so appropriate.
One day, I’m going to do something stupid which will cause my demise and when that happens I hope you will bury me in Oakwood Cemetery with an epitaph something like, “Here she lies, a living comedy of errors.”
Let me ‘splain. I went out Tuesday evening to some farmish area around Elm Mott to help my friend Jackie feed and care for some horses and then go for a hike. She has this awesome arrangement with these two sisters. They let her board her horse, Penny, and Jackie, in turn, helps take care of their animals and do chores and what-not.
Jackie invited me because I had made a facebook status statement about wanting to bushwhack through a rainforest. She figured hiking through overgrown Texas brush is about as close as I could get to slicing through paleolithic palm fronds with a machete.
So I went and discovered a few things. 1) The area around horses smells really bad, 2)The fly spray we used on the horses smells even worse, 3) Redheaded horses love me, 4) Central Texas wild areas are gorgeous, 5) I’m allergic to nature and should probably not ever make plans to bushwhack anything.
Tuesday night, I showered until I no longer smelled like horse. Apparently that wasn’t enough. I continued itching all over until it reached its red, splotchy crescendo Thursday afternoon.
As fate would have it, I actually had a single Aveeno oatmeal bath treatment at home. I sunk into the breakfast-like waters after dosing up on Benadryl. I woke up maybe an hour later, sitting in cold oatmeal and with a raging backache due to my strange tub sleep position.
Today, I’m suffering massive lower back pain. But I don’t itch anymore. Glass half full? Half empty? I have no idea, at this point I have hurled the glass at the wall and watched it shatter into a million pieces. (Pieces I will undoubtedly step on later)
I’ve decided I’m God’s own little jester. He always gives me just enough rope to hang on and then get my feet tangled up in and trip over. I’m just glad I could be of service.
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Various and sundries
So this blog officially celebrated its second birthday last weekend, so to celebrate I have re-published the second Wendy does Waco blog post, from 2007. I also needed to pull said post out of the archives, because it goes well with an observation I want to make, which is …
Dear fellas, when hiking/running through the Cameron Park trails, please wear some form of accepted athletic gear. Because when you come running at me, full speed, wearing an oversize black hoodie and jeans, I’m either going to scream like a girl, trip you, or, do what I did last night and come to a complete stand still and stare, scared stiff, at you until you pass. You know I’m no stranger to creepy guys in Cameron Park (see previous post), so please, have a heart, at least pull on some basketball shorts and a T-shirt.
For reals though, now is a great time to check out Cameron Park. River trail is open (finally!) and the air is sweet with the scent of lilac or wisteria or something purple. Plus, the cottonwood trees have released all their cotton-y stuff and for some stretches, I swear it looks like there’s snow on the trail.
On another note, I really want to go to the Waco Waterpark. The problem is all the children there. I like kids. But not that much. I have this awesome idea though, a bunch of us could chip in and rent the park for a grown-up only splash time. Whaddayasay? Check it out, we could make this happen.
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An oldie but a goodie
Cameron Park: A cautionary tale (June 2007)
Let me preface this by saying I love Cameron Park.
No, love is too weak a word for what I feel, I lurve Cameron Park (obscure Woody Allen reference). Unfortunately, Cameron Park is trying to spook the crap out of me.
A couple of weeks ago, on a puddled and damp Saturday morning, I wandered into the the park trails, only to be followed in by Creepy McGross guy. Creepy caught up with me and tried to carry on a conversation, using the very best of his broken English. Along the way, he removed his shirt and kept trying to grab my hand.
My creep radar was going off like a town-wide tornado siren, so I turned around to head out of the trails. And ol’ Creepy followed, pausing only once when he turned toward the bushes and said, “I make pee-pee now.”
I picked up the pace and tried to put some distance between us, to no avail. Creepy caught up and told me he needed a cell phone to call his sister because he had this problem, see?
Oh yes, I saw his problem. I really wish he would have kept his “problem” in his pants.
I took off, hopped in my car and found the park ranger and eventually gave a statement to the police. I guess I should have been scared, or felt lucky that was all that happened. But the truth is that I was amused (and humor is the way I deal with everything).
I don’t claim to know the psychology behind flashers, but, if you’re going to show yourself wouldn’t you talk up yourself, like “look how great I am”?
How lame do you have to be to expose yourself, while saying, “hey, my penis is diseased, I need some ointment.” Talk about having no game .
I’m just saying …
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A pillar of strength against baked goods, that’s me.
I deserve a freaking award. I got out of the Collin Street Bakery without buying anything sweet.
Had I visited the new bakery on Interstate 35 two weeks ago, I would have said, “Screw it, my head hurts” and bought something sinful. But this week I’m trying out something new — virtuosity.
Wednesday began so strangely, things really could have gone either way. I got to work early, determined to have a good day … and then ate the small salad I brought for lunch, for breakfast.
I had a lunchtime school board meeting, which is usually all you need to convince you that you deserve pizza. Or chocolate-covered, ranch-dipped, fried cheese. Ya know, whatever. So it’s no surprise that Collin Street Bakery sounded like a good place to go after the meeting (which was a planning session about planning, for the record).
But it turns out that $4.50 at the Collin Street Bakery will buy you the best little chicken salad sandwich in town. The sandwich is small, but intense and packed with white meat chicken. My favorite in Waco. For reals, yo.
I browsed the rows of cookies and lists of cheesecakes, trying to convince myself to get something for the newsroom. But I finally called that idea what it really was — me paying $20 to justify having one piece of cheesecake.
I give the Bakery a very polite two thumbs up. The chicken salad is excellent and a friend told me the bathrooms are really clean (good to know!). It seems like the perfect place to take your relatives who come to town who don’t dig doing the hole in the wall thing.
Take your Grandma to Collin Street Bakery, get her a sandwich and a macaroon and she’ll send you a letter written in precious grandma cursive that says something like, “Wendy, you’re becoming such a lovely young woman! I so enjoyed attending church with you and then eating at that adorable little bakery. What was it called? We’ll have to go there again. Stay sweet, darlin.” (Clearly, your Grandma doesn’t know me AT ALL, but that’s another issue)
Please go and eat something horrible, and preferably chocolate, for me!
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No black socks and sandals for this savvy traveler!
I’ve gone 33 years without being too much of a Griswold, I hate to start now.
I’m going to Ireland in August and I’m completely freaking out over it.
My own Nanny (Mom’s mom) traveled the world drinking wine from a goatskin in Spain and having saris handmade for her in India. But she never got to Ireland, where our family is from. For about 10 years I’ve obsessed about going. Finally it was time to stop putting it off.
Over a month ago, my Mom got sick and scared us all pretty good and the following week I said, “Screw it, I’m going to Ireland this year and she’s coming with me.”
Days were chosen, tickets were bought and then the misery began. See, normal people plan. I don’t plan. I fret. And worry. And second-guess. And over-analyze.
I’ve been going to Mexico since I was, like, 4. Such is the vacation destiny of a Texas child. I’ve also spent a week on St. John.
I’d be less frantic if I was heading back to Mexico or the Caribbean or somewhere of other such southern climes. In those places, I don’t fit in. I know I don’t fit in, they know I don’t fit in and we all happily deal with it. I’m like the pink elephant in the room that everyone DOES see.
But in Ireland, I might fit in. I mean, I could try. I”m super pasty, I have red hair (yes, I actually just said something that stupid, but I stand by it).
So here is the $64,000 question — what’s the difference between being an Irish super pasty redhead, with slightly dorkish tendencies on holiday with her adorable mom … and an American of the same breed?
Difference #1. White athletic shoes. Us Americans love them and apparently other cultures find that funny. I love my Rykas, but am afraid they look too “Let’s get physical” so I’ve been hitting every granola shoe spot I can find looking for something walkable, pubbable, castle trounceable, cobblestone hobbleable (carried away? me? pish tosh!).
Difference #2. Clothes. Umm, all of them, at least all of them I like to wear. My weekend outfit? Khaki shorts, Winthrop University T-shirt, duh. It’s comfy. It’s sporty. It says, “I went to college” or at least “I have a shirt of a college that a lot of other people don’t know about.” You can dress it up with gold flip flops or dress it down … with gold flip flops. Whatever.
I’m clearly a master of persuasion when it comes to talking up this little ensemble, but I don’t think even my fancy words are going to make this outfit acceptable in Ireland. It makes me a little sad. weep, sniffle. Because I like to think my people would accept me as is. But no, everyone on the internet (ok, not EVERYONE on the internet) says I need to wear black and gray and other such lifeless colors.
These are the two things I’ve figured out so far. Please, if you have more advice to keep me from being a Griswold in Ireland, I surely welcome it. Help me represent Waco well!. Oh God, that’s another question, do you actually tell people you’re from Waco?
Help!
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Good characters
Chris Borland is a class act. He’s the secondary school principal at Bosqueville school district who was laid off Tuesday night, a move caused by the district’s major financial woes.
He was sitting at the table when the vote was taken to end his employment and as soon as the meeting was adjourned, microphones and TV cameras were shoved in his face. One TV personality talked over the other to ask Borland questions like, wasn’t he mad, did he have any anger with the decision, what’s he going to do now.
Borland, 35, young for his position, was graciousness incarnate. He entertained the cameras and the questions without frustration. I approached him, after the soundbytes had been gathered, just to wish him good luck and tell him how he impressed me and how I wished I had had the opportunity to work with him on a story.
Cynical and jaded are two of my best qualities. After nearly 10 years in this business and on the education beat, I’ve seen so much of the same thing. Educators who speak in cliches, using words like “engage” until they have ceased to have any meaning to me.
But I think my shrewdness has also left me with a feel for people with plain old good character. I wish I could list them all here, but I feel like that would not be appropriate for me, the news writer. I’ll just say there are definitely some characters … and people of good character, in the Waco area. Borland is one of those.
I invite you to comment and tell me who you think is one of our community’s good characters. Gushing is fine. But if you bash by name (totally not the spirit of this post) I will be forced to curse you with destructive elves in your garden and 7 years of bad breath ;) You’ve been warned, my friendies.
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‘What’s in a name? That which we call Flossie, by any other name would smell as sweet.’
I came home Tuesday evening to find a gift at my door, a two-inch thick tome, the tale of Patrick Magee and Allison McCullars, their journey from County Antrim, Ireland to Savannah, Georgia, and the tracing of their descendants into the late 20th century.
My genealogy, sent to me by my second or third cousin, Shannon.
As cool as it is to be able to trace my great grandmother’s family (The Magees) back to Ireland, and as cool as it is to be related by marriage to Sam Houston (my brother Roger swears the evidence is there!) — it’s not near as cool as knowing the ladies who came before me had names like Flossie Lois and Texana Queen. That, my friends, is as cool as it gets.
The Social Security Administration released today the top five baby names in Texas for 2008. For girls: Emily, Isabella, Abigail, Emma, Madison. For boys: William, Jacob, James, Ethan, Elijah.
True, none of these names are as cool as Flossie or Texana, but they do have a certain old school cache that I respect. These lists have me a little bewildered though. I mean, is Texas 2008 really so white bread that those are the top five names? I’d like to know where Ciara ranked. How about Carlos? Or even Robert? Just a thought.
Me? I’m cool with Wendy. J.M. Barrie came up with it. My Grandad gave it to my mom as a nickname and then me as a real name. Plus, there aren’t many of us. When people come to visit me at the paper, I say ask for Wendy, I’m the only one in the building. My friends should thank me for my ease of name. I have to keep up with three Katys, one Kate, one Kat and one Caitlin. Not to mention Jenn, Jenny and Jennifer.
And on any given day, depending how nurturing I’m feeling, I may call them all “Noodle”, my favorite term of endearment (which I picked up from Jenn and the beautiful, brilliant, 5-year-old Madison).
I’ve bared my Flossie, my Louvain, my Elbert to you. Now, dazzle me readers, make my eyes water with the names of your kin :)
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Escape route needed
So, one day I get up and somewhere along my 2.5 miles from my apartment to the Trib, I decide to bug out, take off, run away … where do I go? I don’t know, but I do know it wouldn’t be to the Waco Barnes and Noble.
An elementary school principal from Clifton was missing for a day, had two counties looking for him, and then was found the next day at Barnes and Noble. Don’t get me wrong, I am totally not judging this guy. I don’t know his circumstances. Plus, don’t we all, at some point, fantasize about just getting away?
I’ve felt the urge to run since I was a kid, but because I’m a good girl, I always come back before the authorities are called. I mean, escape on the pre-panic level can probably be healthy.
In middle and high school, I went out my window and trolled the golf course during the pre-dawn hours. In college, I hit the highway and tore off to Charlotte and back or toured the SC backroads, the smell of honeysuckle thick in the damp air. Me and my bff Amy still make the drive across Paris Mountain when I’m in Greenville.
But I don’t have a Waco escape route — a drive to take, preferably at night, windows down, with the wind blowing the day and all of its damage off of me.
Do you have any escape routes?
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Sinnamon rolls, live music and a spaceship — only in Italy
Where can you get sinfully delicious “sinnamon” rolls, hear live music, grab a jar of pickled okra and have a photo opp with a starship? Duh, exit 386, of course!
This crazy, polka-dotted spot on the map (technically part of Italy, Tx, I think) is just up my strange little alley. Right off of I-35, just a bit north of Hillsboro, I always stop at exit 386, whether I need to or not. It’s like a magnetic force draws me there. Maybe it’s the novelty of a roadside spaceship. Maybe it’s the novelty of a Shell station in the middle of nowhere that sells homemade barbecue and Sweet Leaf iced tea. Whatever, I’m there.
The uber-kitschy Starship Pegasus is no longer open, but is still good for a road trip photo. The story behind the weird little restaurant/gift shop is pretty good too, if a little sad, about a family’s big dream that somewhere along the line got derailed. (I’m assuming the derailed part since the place seems to have been closed for some time now)
Then there’s the Shell station next door to the starship. I wish I knew its exact name, but you can’t miss it, with a long front porch which often is home to someone playing live music on the weekend. Inside, there’s an entire barbecue restaurant, huge selection of homemade jerky, a Texas kitsch gift area (for the folks from Missouri on their way down to a San Antonio vacation) and a complete aisle of local canned (jarred) goods. You know, things like pickled okra, jalapeno jelly and peach cobbler in a jar.
Of course, I’m always most impressed by the array of beverages from Sweet Leaf Tea to every variety of Tazo. What can I say? I’m a drinker.
Back across the highway is a little roadside conglomerate including a gas station, McDonald’s and Grandy’s. Mmmm, Grandy’s, where the less trendy go for amazing cinnabon, oops, I mean “sinnamon” rolls :)
Me and my girls already have a road trip planned to exit 386. We’re just that exciting. And after that? I think Amanda said something about lunch at Luby’s and then bingo. My grandmothers would be so proud :)
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Swine flu sucks
I am so over the swine flu.
Sure, you people are out there worrying about it, but that’s the very least of the media’s involvement with it.
No.1, We have to check out every rumor we hear. It’s not strange at all for an editor to ask you to call around on something b/c his wife called and she said she heard from her manicurist’s sister’s ex-boyfriend that there are three cases of swine flu in Hewitt.
Whether the intel sounds good or not, you have to run the traps.
No. 2, We also have to field phone calls from the public about swine flu, no matter how heinous. Calls like I had yesterday, with someone who insisted he wasn’t racist but wanted to know why the school district didn’t just shut down the schools with the most “Mexicans”. We talked about about the difference between being Hispanic and Mexican and the difference between being Mexican and having the swine flu and we talked about whether or not said caller is a racist. Then, he got tired of talking these things out and hung up.
No. 3, I’m a little disgusted with my own field of employment. Yes, media, I mean you. Shame on you for inciting hysteria about the swine flu. Mostly, I mean national media. I can’t even watch cable news shows anymore. Except for The Daily Show. How sad is that, Jon Stewart has become my voice of reason?
Swine flu, please go away.
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This and that and then some
Update time
Sorry I was away so long, there was a family emergency in San Antonio, then another trip to SA for my nephew’s christening and, in between, a whole lot of trying to catch up on work and Waco stuff.
So, for your entertainment, or complete boredom, here’s me catching you up on some stuff:
Good news — I have a brain. Better news — it has no tumors in it. I had an MRI for my headaches. (I have to brag on diagnostic health for getting me into their open MRI machine right away and making the ordeal as comfortable as possible) So I guess I’m back to the drawing board (what’s a drawing board?) as to what’s causing my brain pain.
Many of you will share my sadness, I’m sure, over the store, Esme’s, closing. Esme’s antique/junk shop at 9th and LaSalle was amazing place to get lost in. Caitlin and I hit it a couple of weeks ago and she walked away with an adorable, vintage-looking, little couch. I was good, the only thing I picked up were these little tiny bottles of water. They have a hand-drawn picture of the suspension bridge on the label and say “He who drinks of the waters of the Brazos will always return.” I have no idea what these are from, but I’m a little fascinated. If anyone knows the story behind these, please share it!
I’m also sad to say that the story I wrote about the Barbie lady (who has, something like, 800) has left me with a sick, nagging nostalgia for the Barbies I grew up with. I actually lost an auction the other day for a Peaches n’ Cream Barbie, my childhood favorite. It seems that 80s Barbies draw a pretty penny now. Woe is me. Anyone else have a favorite 80s Barbie?
Totally new topic, has anyone stayed at the Hampton Inn at Central Texas Marketplace? It’s soooo nice, with flat screen TVs and stylish rooms, plus an indoor pool and hottub. A few of us had a girl’s night there and were super-impressed.
Still haven’t chosen a dentist. I’m avoiding that like the swine flu. (that’s me, timely reference girl)
Oh, and congrats to the Trib newsroom for being journalistically wicked awesome! Check out our awards.
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Tea bagging — The best part of my job.
I stood in my managing editor’s office today and told her, my editor-in-chief and my publisher what “tea bagging” is. And that little exchange made me one of the most useful people in the newsroom today.
My parents would be so proud.
Yes, this has been a fun day, indeed. Let’s put all politics aside for a moment, shall we? What made today’s “tea party” antics so much fun was the use of the term “tea bag” by many well-meaning, yet oblivious folks.
How shall I explain this to you while still maintaining my status as the daughter of a debutante, as a former Girl Scout, heck, as someone who wants to keep her job? Let’s just say that “tea bag” has pop culture sexual connotations. I’m not going to provide you with a link for an explanation, I’ve got a little more class than that (just a little, a smidge). I’ll just say that wikipedia or urban dictionary can give you a more vivid description.
What was interesting to me and to my editors is the dividing line between people who got the connotation and those who didn’t. It seemed to be largely generational and somewhat about sensibilities (liberal, conservative). Yes, I know that there are some really with-it, urban dictionary-reading conservative moms out there who got it. But unfortunately, the damage had already been done by national media hosts who used the term and very clearly didn’t “get it”. And there it was, the humor was born.
I also was amused today when I felt a strange sense of pride and job security because I was the girl who could enlighten her superiors about tb. Sure, I’ve often been the reporter that is assigned to check out people’s myspace and facebook pages. And I’ve fielded my share of questions on trends and slang. But tea bagging, I never saw that coming.
I love my job.
(((I also feel like now is an appropriate time to confess something to you. Gather round, my friends, I’ll only say it once — I was once in love with Glenn Beck, of Fox News fame. I was about 10 years old and he was a DJ at the Louisville, KY radio station where my stepdad was program director. I loved him with all my heart, then again, I also loved my Cabbage Patch dolls and I knew all the words to We Are the World.
If you like Beck, then this confession endears me to you because I clearly had good taste before this liberal society brainwashed me. If you’re not a Beck fan, you find this admission another quirky thing that endears me to you, like my incessant flossing and compulsive “your mom” jokes.)))
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Waco, take me away! (get it? like, Calgon?)
So, the latest on my headache saga is that the alien trying to burst out of my head has given up on my forehead (I guess I’m too hard-headed, haha) and is now trying to burrow through the back of my skull. It nearly succeeded earlier this week when the pressure/pain almost made me pass out at work.
I’ve been reading up on this type of pain and it seems that people far less colorful and sci-fi fanned than me suggest the pain may be caused by tension headaches. Which would also explain why I can barely move my neck and the muscles in my upper back.
Here’s the weird thing about this possible diagnosis. They say tension headaches are often produced by stress. Stress, which, by the way, I don’t think I have. I mean, come on, I’m the girl who dresses like a zombie on a work day. I consider twitter one of my job responsibilities and going to the pub one of my civic responsibilities. If I was anymore relaxed, I would be a mollusk, or a three-toed sloth at the very least.
But the searing pain doesn’t lie (it’s trying to kill me, but I don’t think it lies). So I’m going to the neurologist Wednesday and I’m going to seek some serious destressing activities. I want your suggestions. A facial, which Caitlin is treating me to, is at the top of my list. I’d also love a massage. Any affordable, decent places for that? Or does anyone have a small child they’d like to rent out to walk on my back?
I’m also going to add more regular/ less rigorous exercise to the list. I may try going without the red wine for a while as well. How do you destress? Let me know.
And should this destressing thing not work, I’m also accepting name suggestions for the baby E.T. that may emerge from my neck or an eye socket one day soon.
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The salad days
Some people climb all the highest mountains. Others ride the scariest rollercoasters, scuba the prettiest reefs. Me? I eat all the local chicken Caesar salads. Ok, maybe I aim low, but I aim and that’s what matters, right?
I love Caesar salads. Which is to say that I love caesar dressing and would probably eat my own toe, were it drenched in enough of the stuff. I also love that you can add chicken to a Caesar and voila!, it’s a meal.
So I’ve made a little challenge for myself to try every chicken Caesar salad in Waco and rate them. I’ve had five so far, and figured it was time to let you in on my little salad adventure. I’ll list them in order of my favs so far.
The Elite — the chicken is fresh and hot and juicy and tender, the salad is pretty big and the dressing is just right. It’s a bit expensive, $9 and change before tip. But it still felt worth it.
Olive Branch — the dressing (on the side for a to-go salad) is really the best. Plus, the chicken is sliced really thinly. Also Leah hooks you up with a hunk of her french bread, which I, of course, like to smother in the aforementioned dressing.
Simply Good — the Caesar Pleaser salad is simple and inexpensive ($6). Nothing super fancy there, but it’s quick and a pretty good size.
George’s — Delonda’s Chicken Caesar Salad is HUGE and a reasonable price, $7.29
Cricket’s — This one is not so great and not so huge and was served to me to go, but with the dressing already on it. A big to-go salad no no. It’s also $9.30. Ouch.
If you have any other salads to suggest, please do!
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Indefatigable. That’s me.
I’m thinking that being undead isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I mean, blood is sticky and torn clothes are breezy and that step, drag thing is waayyyyyy more tiresome than it looks.
The zombie flash mob that took place noon downtown Wednesday was a little disappointing. The roughly 10 of us who embraced the brain-eater within ourselves were awesome though! A Twitter friend sacrificed her prom dress for the effort. Still others came caked to the gills in gangrenous gunk. Dear SJ committed to a mean zombie stomp, though some sticky ooze was the extent of her grossness. Even my friend Adam sacrificed a white T-shirt to the bloody cause.
And, because we are zombies of a fairly friendly sort, we had a few living souls along for the fun. We groaned and carried our undead gait clear down to the new Olive Branch for lunch.
I have to admit — brace yourselves — I cursed this city for the poor turnout! I frowned and said foul things about the (wa)CO, all the while gazing on the stylized “W” at City Hall. “APATHY,” I bellowed! “Apathy is why this town will never be great!” (Because greatness is so clearly something that comes from successful flash mobs???)
My friends tried to console me, as I whined and smeared my syrupy ooze on the table at Square Bar. “It was at noon, that’s a horrible time,” they said. (valid point) “It was the first time,” they said. (fair enough) “All of your friends are really lazy,” Caitlin added. (True, but not a good excuse)
It was Michael Wray who was finally able to lift my spirits. “Wendy, pioneers have to be indefatigable,” he said, looking into my gray, sunken eyes.
“Michael,” I said. “I have no idea what that means.”
But he explained that pioneers can’t get fatigued, they can’t lose heart.
“I have been where you are, Wendy,” Michael said.
(“Covered in Caro syrup?” I wanted to say)
“You have to be indefatigable.”
So I spent the rest of the day thinking about that word really hard. Yet I still came out with “indefaggotable” every time I tried to say it.
I’m not going to give up on you just yet, Waco! I’m going to be indefa … whatever. I’m going to soldier on!
But right now, I’m going to go home and cut clumps of syrup-caked hair from my head and soak in oatmeal to calm the fake blood induced hives that are popping up. Ahh, the sacrifices of a pioneer.
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The Waco Mob
I’ve got a message that I’ve been asked to pass on, and while I ususally don’t do that, this message seemed Wendy does Waco worthy.
There may or may not be a flash mob event in Waco some time next week. “Flash mob?” you say? Que?”
I’m a fan and it seems high time Waco get its freak mob on. Soooo, if you’d be interested in participating, email: wacomob@gmail.com. Instructions to come.
Happy mobbing!
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My mouth needs you
HELP! I need people to suggest a dentist for me, ASAP! I got a really bad root canal almost two years ago and the stupid thing has been infected for that long! Anyway, it’s starting to hurt, luckily, most of the nerves in the vicinity are gone. I just want to get the stupid thing pulled. It’s been suggested that I get the root canal redone, but that just makes me angry — SHOULDN’T IT HAVE BEEN DONE RIGHT IN THE FIRST PLACE?!
So, I need a new dentist, one who is soothing and lovely and understands that I’m not made of money and my insurance only goes so far. I’m scared to death of dentists since this root canal, so I need someone who can put me at ease. And if they happen to do sedation dentistry, all the better, so I won’t freak out while they pull this tooth!
Please, all you lurkers, if you’ve got a good Waco dentist, speak up! My mouth needs you!
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Karaoke will never be the same
‘Tis a sad day indeed, my friends. It is the last night of karaoke with Lee Govatos at Scruffy Murphy’s. Lee is moving on to greener pastures, pastures where drunk frat guys don’t think they’re genius for singing the Total Eclipse of the Heart rendition from Old School.
Karaoke night will likely continue, but Lee’s flair can never be duplicated. Who remembers the racy Eurotrash videos that he starts playing between songs after midnight? How about the LOL cat pictures he would flash on the big screen? Who but Lee can pull off doing karaoke to Pump Up the Jam (the most un-karaoke friendly song ever) while smoking a cigarette and consuming a beverage?
Good times, good times … It was at karaoke night that I first observed the drunk-Baylor-girl-in-baby-doll-dress-with-ginormous-purse-teetering-on-heels phenomenon. It was karaoke night where I saw my first gangsta rapping lawyers. Really, I have so much to owe to karaoke night.
If I had never gone to karaoke, I would never have bonded with Kim, Sarah and Amanda and might never have gotten through a bad break-up. They would never have introduced me to Katy who introduced me to my new apartment in the hood, and, ultimately, I would probably be in prison right now for having shot one the of dually, hemi-driving fools at my old apartment.
Also, if I had never gone to karaoke I would never have met my neighbor and friend Kate, who introduced me to Caitlin, who I need like oxygen (but in a less creepy, more heterosexual way and gosh … this all sounded better in my head).
But I think I’ve made my point now (albeit, in a stalker, obsessed kind of way). So, if you love Lee’s way with a karaoke program, come out and wish him well. I’ll be there early to get some 80s lite rock in with Katy. And there will be lots of classics on tap. Lee is even banning the most annoying songs (if you’ve ever been a regular, you know what those are).
Come out, but not too early, I get stage shy. (That’s me on the left, below, on my bday 2 years ago. I even had my own male dancer. Top that)
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It’s hip to be (@) Square
There are two words that I never want to hear again: FREE DRINKS. Trust me, you pay for them eventually. But this post isn’t about my inability to pass up a margarita, so let’s move along.
I checked out the new Square Bar at the Austin Avenue Flats (4th and Franklin) on St. Patrick’s Day and it was awesome. Correction, the bar was nice, the margaritas were awesome-ish. I think technically, Erin Quinn and I crashed whatever was going on there that night, but no one seemed to mind. We hung out with the Fox 44 girls plus Seth Kovar and Nick Piesco and were joined by school board president David Schleicher. We all toured the new flats which are beautiful and totally out of my league.
The bar shares some space with the new Olive Branch, which, by the way, opens today! Best of luck in your new spot dear Leah! And I believe Square Bar opens officially Wednesday, so definitely check it out.
Speaking of downtown bars, I noticed some new art high up on the side of the building that is home to the Franklin Avenue spot, Legends. The art says “Milkbar.” Which, I’m not kidding, I saw and thought, “Mmm, a bar with milk, I love milk, I would totally go there.” I’m pretty sure that such an animal exists nowhere in the world of bars (only in my dreams), so I have no idea what the “Milkbar” sign is about. If anyone knows, please enlighten me!
Latest comments
Well, my little former IGA employee, it is I who think that YOU are Mark posing as someone else!!
In your reply to Mark’s question, did you or did you not call him “honey” at the end of your post?
Well…for your and
... read the full comment by El Diablo | Comment on Be there or be ... not a fan of zombies (i.e. square) Read Be there or be ... not a fan of zombies (i.e. square)
El Diablo you’re just as much an idiot as “mark.” hell, you probably are “mark.” multiple personalities…probably so
... read the full comment by former employee of the iga in hewitt | Comment on Be there or be ... not a fan of zombies (i.e. square) Read Be there or be ... not a fan of zombies (i.e. square)
“Risen” was a great movie! It was funny and had a good story line. I enjoyed the Waco references and local humor. Such a fun thing for Waco!
... read the full comment by birdie | Comment on Be there or be ... not a fan of zombies (i.e. square) Read Be there or be ... not a fan of zombies (i.e. square)
As Mark’s attorney and spiritual advisor, I feel qualified to speak on his behalf.
Indeed, Mark has had a job change or two (dozen) in the past few years. Many of those, however, I’m precluded from mentioning because Wendy doesn’t
... read the full comment by El Diablo | Comment on Be there or be ... not a fan of zombies (i.e. square) Read Be there or be ... not a fan of zombies (i.e. square)