Showing posts with label Play. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Play. Show all posts

Monday, December 27, 2010

25 Reasons to Give Dallas a Chance


Dallas has a lot of haters (outside of Dallas, that is). Austinites rarely have good things to say about the place (including even those originally from Dallas); folks from out of state often misunderstand the city. I admit that, before I visited Dallas last month to write an article on a smaller adjacent town, my own foggy impression of it involved a spangled cowboy boot and big hair. 


Certainly, that stereotype exists there. One only need travel slightly north of the downtown to find the manicured landscaping, terra cotta shopping centers combining local grocers and Hermes, diamond chandelier earrings worn casually with jeans and boots, and hood ornaments you could hang on a Christmas tree. But there is also the opportunity to take in art, high and low, and eat well in a number of ways. 



Thus, I present a list of things to like about Dallas:

2. Dutch modern artist Claes Oldernburg's Corridor Pin, Blue, 1999 in Center Park
17. Make
19.  Green Pet
20. Tei-An
22. Paciugo 

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Lulu's User-Friendly Guide to Chicken Shit Bingo


If you think bingo is for suckers, then you obviously haven’t tried the kind that involves chicken poop, bluegrass music, and a lot of beer. Admittedly, chicken shit bingo is not the kind of activity I sought when I was first settling in to Austin. I was even a little incredulous that the game really existed when my new friend, and local guide, Stephen casually tucked “chicken shit bingo” in among other more genial local activities, like swimming at Barton Springs and strolling along South Congress. Nevertheless, six months later, I can assure you that it does exist, and it’s a little nuts.



Having finally conquered the local spectacle that is Ginny’s Little Longhorn Saloon chicken shit bingo, I will offer the following tips for other newcomers to the “sport”:

1. Get there early — but not too early. I arrived with my friend Lani around 4 p.m. on a Sunday, the time advised by some seasoned ChiShiBi aficionado on another website. The action didn’t actually start until about 5 p.m., maybe a little later, but we were in line for that entire hour facing away from the live music and just out of reach of the free…
2. Boiled Hot Dogs. Ginny, who still works the bar, puts a platter of hotdogs out with a number of fixin’s (ketchup, sliced white onion, buns…). If you want to offset the stress of waiting in line for your bingo ticket, you might consider grabbing a dog or two to nosh on in the meanwhile.


3. Bingo tickets, literally old-fashioned movie tickets with a number quickly scribbled on the back, cost $2 each and come at a limit of one per customer. This means that you can’t buy one for both you and your friend who is holding down your seats within eyeshot of the bird action. Plan accordingly.




4. When Ginny named her Longhorn Saloon “Little”, she wasn’t kidding. The place is small even for the rash of usual afternoon tipplers. But then you throw in the Lacoste-shirted co-eds, camera-heavy tourists (guilty), disgruntled tube-top ladies, and the bar staff itself —which includes many sturdy women, a small bluegrass ensemble lead by Dale Watson, and a chicken— it gets uncomfortable pretty quickly. Plan accordingly?




5. Getting the chicken to poop on your number = impossible. You just need to sit back and let the bozos up front work themselves into a clucking frenzy and cross your fingers that the bird isn’t constipated, as it appeared to be on the night we were there. There are 50 bingo squares, I think, onto which Ginny evenly sprinkles chicken feed at the onset of the round. The chicken just goes to town on this stuff, scratching away and occasionally darting after someone’s dangled finger, but mostly doing her unpredictable chicken thing in an uncontrollable manner. About 20 minutes into the affair, Dale Watson plays a slower tune with his boys, and a compact deuce the size of a green grape finally falls unceremoniously out of the chicken and onto someone else’s square. They will then turn in their winning ticket for, I’ve estimated, around $200. Meanwhile you beat a hasty retreat through the thick crowd to bright, white daylight and your vehicle, which is hotter than a brick oven and parked a block away despite how early you showed up.


6. Needless to say, once it’s been determined that there has been an official bowel movement, people go crazy regardless of whether or not it landed on the number they wanted. I mean, I never even determined where my number (49) was on the board but was (sort of) content just to be able to see the bird working her barnyard magic in such an unlikely setting. It just goes to show that, even with money at stake, the heart-and-soul of the experience is that 50 people, mostly strangers, have come together in a cramped, musty bar to raise their Lone Stars and Shiners to an oft-underappreciated ritual. Who needs multiplex entertainment centers when you can, beer in hand, watch a bird shit on a board for (almost) free?

Thursday, May 07, 2009

Lulu’s 24-Hour 24th Birthday/Goodbye Party Extravaganza

May 28th

Noon – 2 p.m. Ferry Building Market

4 p.m. – 6 p.m. Happy hour at Zeitgeist in the Mission

6:30 p.m. – 7:30 p.m. Costume change at home

7:30 p.m. – 9:30 p.m. Dinner at Little Star Pizza

10 p.m. (doors at 8:30 p.m.)Tiga at The Independent, $18 adv, 21+

It was between this show and the Black Moth Super Rainbow/School of Seven Bells show at Bottom of the Hill. Tough decision, but I reasoned The Independent is easier to get to (especially for the USF crowd) and I hoped this would mean more people would come. If you’d still like to argue for the other show, feel free…

Cocktails and gentle conversation at the Shea-Cortes-Tony Penthouse following the show.


May 29th (my actual birthday)

9:30 a.m. – 11 a.m. Breakfast at Zazie in Cole Valley

Let me know ahead of time if you’d like to come to this. If I can get six people on board I can actually make a reservation and then we won’t have to wait so long.

11:30 a.m. – 1 p.m. Stroll through Golden Gate Park (which may or may not end up at the Bison Paddock).

1 p.m. – 2 p.m. Lunch at Old Shanghai Restaurant in the Outer Richmond

Xiao Long Bao! Delicious.

2 – 4 p.m. Downtime in the apartment. Come help me with last minute packing.

4 p.m. – 6 p.m. Hanging out at Velo Rouge Cafe for happy hour

6 p.m. – 9 p.m. Dinner at home. Come prepared to help. 

9:30 p.m. à DJ Pilooski – 103 Harriet St. See here for more details.

Late night wine and finger painting at my place afterwards? Maybe.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Bay to Breakers... Sort Of.


So, I didn't make it to Bay to Breakers today because I was stuck in the dorm dealing with this:

Accumulation of Matter Outside Dorm

I helped close USF's Fromm Hall for the summer. Many students discovered they had more things than they intitially thought!

Fortunately, later that evening I did spot a few lingering "runners" ordering some grub at Farolito Taqueria in the Mission, where I was enjoying a horchata and Quesadilla Suiza Especial (that's with melted cheese, avocado, salsa, and my choice of meat -- make mine carnitas, hold the sour cream) with Sky.

Fish Have to Eat, Too!
It's a pair of the famous Bay to Breakers salmon! 


Bay to Breakers - May 2007
Originally uploaded by Angie Ryan



Every year a group of "salmon" run the race the opposite way, like salmon heading upstream -- ya dig? 

Watching a salmon wolf down a burrito at the end of the long day made me feel better about missing out on one of our city's most exciting traditions.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008


Phillip Thurtle

Phillip Thurtle, Assistant Professor of Comparative History of Ideas at the University of Washington, told the Davies Forum last Thursday, "Superheroes exist. Don't ever let anyone tell you that superheroes don't exist." The easy-going prof is somewhat of a superhero himself, expanding the seemingly simple world of comics to include issues of industrialization and humanity. Comic books "deal with the failure of industrialization," he said, referring to classics like Superman and Swamp Thing

Explaining the Language of Comics

Thurtle came to us just in time for Free Comic Book Day 2008


This Saturday, May 3rd, many comic book stores will give free comic books to anyone who walks into the store. Head to any of the following local retailers to take advantage of this unusual opportunity:

COMIX EXPERIENCE
305 DIVISADERO
SAN FRANCISCO, CA
(415) 863-9258

JAPANTOWN COLLECTIBLES
1581 WEBSTER STREET
SUITE 190
SAN FRANCISCO, CA
(415) 563-2970

CARDS & COMICS CENTRAL
5424 GEARY BOULEVARD
SAN FRANCISCO, CA
(415) 668-3544

AMAZING ADVENTURES
3800 NORIEGA STREET
FAN STAND 415-456-6161
SAN FRANCISCO, CA
(415) 661-1344

AMAZING FANTASY
650 IRVING STREET
SAN FRANCISCO, CA
(415) 681-4344

ISOTOPE
1653 NORIEGA ST
SAN FRANSICO, CA
(415) 753-3037

2 SISTERS COMICS
901 CASTRO ST
SAN FRANCISCO, CA
(303) 619-0096

WHATEVER
548 CASTRO ST
SAN FRANCISCO, CA
(415) 861-9428

I'll leave you with this gem from my comic alter ego:


Monday, April 21, 2008

The Digitally Literate Go Back to the Land


Balls of marble-sized hail started to pelt the cars and tables outside the small "strip mall" -- if you could call the antique store, country grocery and coffee shop that -- where we paused to gas up for the final leg of the trip home from Humboldt County. "Now I get to laugh at all my friends who just finished planting their gardens. I told them to wait until May 1st!" a shop keeper chuckled as she rushed passed me to bring chairs inside her antique store. "That's country living for you!" she threw in.

I know plenty about country living myself. Growing up, I had few neighbors -- none of them under the age of 30 -- and miles of country around me to explore. I know about scraping knees on the rough bark of Crabapple trees and poking sticks into strange holes in big fields. I know about ice skating on hidden ponds and walking barefoot in the late spring grass. I know about baby ducks and biting things -- mosquitoes, horse flies, greenheads, spiders, ticks, and noseeums. I know about gardens that change with the seasons. I know the patience of letting the land set the rhythm of one's existence. This was the way I grew up. Why was it so challenging to return to this mindset for one weekend?


I moved from rural Ipswich, Massachusetts to San Diego, California the summer before 7th grade, and traded the time I spent exploring outdoors for time newly spent exploring the Internet (note me doing the robot in my new school uniform on the left). 

Since then, the rhythm of my life has been less about seasons and more about e-mail. When I work, I'm online. When I relax, usually I'm online. Whenever I see myself, it's online. Even when my neck hurts, I can't turn away from this technology. Am I addicted or is this the way it has to be?

When we, the Davies students, arrived (finally) at StoneLake Farm for our "logged off" retreat last weekend, I still couldn't turn away from technology completely. My life has become so interconnected with others through it that after only a six-hour drive with my cell phone tucked into my suitcase in the back of the car, I had to answer to texts and voice messages asking me where are you? or why aren't you answering me? 

Initially, I carried my cell phone around in my coat pocket, turning it over and feeling it occasionally like a hand to hold. It reassured me that I was never far from anyone in my contact list. I also had to beg Francis Lake, one of the two homesteaders running the farm, to use his "Internet Cafe" so that I could conduct important Foghorn business from afar. Making a clean break was difficult for me. 

ideal picnic
I think I finally "logged off" when we sat together on the hillside outside the octagon (where we stayed) eating a lunch I had prepared from scratch. The meal was a rather deconstructed Spanish tortilla with seasonal vegetables and a side salad. We drank white wine, ate the tortilla and salad, and enjoyed a leisurely afternoon because we had no where else to be.

nice mosssteven looking demonicwatch the hands
Once I realized that there was no rush, the anxiety I felt fell away and I sank into the retreat. I thought about the food I was preparing and consequently enjoyed it more when I ate it. I looked at the chickens for extended periods of time and played with the dogs. I gathered and sawed wood and stared into the fire we started (Francis started), appreciating its warmth against the growing chill. I dug big holes in the garden and listened to the stream. I went on walks and admired the moss on the trees, the buttercups peaking out of the grass and, eventually, the falling snow. 

On the last day of our retreat, I was the first one up. I took a glimpse at the white snow falling (and sticking!) out the window above my bed. Some familiar rush made me throw my snow clothes on and head outside to enjoy what, fifteen years ago, surely would have been a snow day. I waited for the first person (Lis) to return from the frost-covered outhouse and then lobbed a big snowball at her from the other side of the octagon. Instead of editing Foghorn submissions that morning, I had nothing else to do but throw snowballs at unwitting victims. It was great!

Our trip to Stonelake Farm was a return to a simpler way of life that I didn't know I needed. It felt wholesome. As we packed the cars to leave, I secretly wished we would get stuck in the snow.

Oh yeah, check out my tick bite.


Sunday, March 30, 2008

Cole Valley


My mom recently asked me, "Lulu, if you could move anywhere in the city from your current apartment, where would you go?"

Good question. Although I love my current neighborhood, there are several other San Francisco neighborhoods in which I would consider living - ones that have compelled me to linger in their sidewalk cafes and boutiques a little longer than I normally would.

Kelly Quinn, assistant professor of American Studies at Miami University, would call this feeling a "celebration of slowness." After reading Jane Jacobs' book about urban planning, The Death and Life of Great American Cities, over spring break and then discussing it with Kelly in class, I learned that the special "atmosphere" I love in many San Francisco neighborhoods can be traced back to their particular geographic features.

"There is a short word for this assumption of support: trust. The trust of a city street is formed over time from many, many little public sidewalk contacts. It grows out of people stopping by at the bar for a beer, getting advice from the grocer and giving advice to the newsstand man, comparing opinions with other customers at the bakery and nodding hello to the two boys drinking soda pop on the stoop, eyeing the girls while waiting to be called for dinner, admonishing the children, hearing about a job from the hardware man and borrowing a dollar from the druggist, admiring the new babies and sympathizing over the way a coat faded." (Jacobs)

The small San Francisco neighborhood called Cole Valley just south of Haight St. and east of the Inner Sunset district is one I return to often. To me, it is an ideal neighborhood. In a city chock-full of variety stores -- strange shops to inspire or satisfy every particular need -- Cole Valley offers a selection of shops to support all of its residents' basic needs:

There is a bakery, a coffee shop, a grocery store or two...

Fresh Produce, originally uploaded by luluisforlovers.
Fresh fruit for the walk home.

...a couple of bars (including one wine bar), a cheese shop, a burger joint, a small gym, a laundromat and dry cleaners, a post office, a liquor store, a pharmacy, a video store...


A lone survivor, originally uploaded by luluisforlovers.
Many video stores fall by the wayside with big competitors like Hollywood Video and Blockbuster moving in nearby, but Video Nook has withstood the test of time thanks to local patronage.
 
...a beauty parlor, a garden center, a handful of good restaurants...


Lunch at Zazie, originally uploaded by luluisforlovers.
Zazie is a perennial favorite for brunch with both neighborhood locals and visitors to Cole Valley. 

... an auto repair garage, a hardware store, and a pet store (which is entirely necessary in this area).

Barking Lot, originally uploaded by luluisforlovers.
This guy gets a lot of attention," said Esther, an employee at Cole Hardware. She calls the parking meters along Cole Street a "barking lot" because of the large number of dogs usually tied up there (don't worry, they get plenty of attention).

In the center of Cole Valley, where the N Judah rolls through on a regular basis, musician Patient Zero plays for people while they wait for their bus. He watches the people as they exit the Muni, altering his performance to respond to what he sees. Kelly discussed how public transportation offers an opportunity for citizens to connect with others: "the bus as theater".


Protest Songs, originally uploaded by luluisforlovers.
Patient Zero sings about things like Walmart and voting from different perspectives. Check out his snarky tunes at www.myspace.com/impatientzero.

Kelly also emphasized the importance of trees, noting that they help control microclimates and guard against hot temperatures.

Full bloom, originally uploaded by luluisforlovers.
They also look nice! These bright purple trees (don't know the variety) line a Cole Valley side street. You can learn how to plant trees in your San Francisco neighborhood here.

"Customs vary: in some neighborhoods people compare notes on their dogs; in others they compare notes on their landlords." (Jacobs)

I would say Cole Valley does the former.