It’s hot.

Not just “gee, I’m a little warm and could use some A/C.” No, this is “Sorry, guys, can’t stand in the sun one more second, I’m gonna pass out if I don’t find shade NOW hot.” I haven’t even had a beer yet and I already feel buzzed. Or lightheaded. Or something.

Besides that, though, just saw “The Like” and “The New Amsterdams”, both of which are fantastic. Heard a bit of “The Walkmen” and “Nine Black Alps”, and wasn’t too hot on “Celebration” nor “Lady Sovereign.” Just not my bag.

Just ran into 2 people I knew, strange since the place is packed.

It’s only 3:15, and music lasts until midnight. I have a feeling we’ve got a long day ahead of us.

(Because DC was anything but liberal in my opinion.)

They advertise for escorts (with pictures!!) in the back of our free weekly! It’s right next to the medicinal pot ads (which the store to obtain such “meds”, incidentally, is next to the fire station.

This post could also be called “Things you don’t see in Westlake, Ohio.”

This weekend, I’m going to Coachella.

Last night, I saw Ryan Adams at the Palace of Fine Arts (which, if you haven’t been, is the best venue EVER), 20th row.

Ryan (not to be confused with Bryan of "Summer of ’69" fame) was much more tormented and angsty than I had realized…not that I mind a tormented and angry artist, no sirree. Give me tormented and angsty any day  (or hell, cocky and assholey. I do that well too.)

Coachella is supposed to be hot, but not TOO hot…then again, it’s in the middle of the desert. MUST remember sunscreen for the scalp lest I recreate the "Scalp Pealing Fiasco of 2005." Let’s just say it wasn’t aesthetically pleasing.

So yes, despite the sprained ankle, things are looking up! The weather is gorgeous, the new site-design has been well-received and despite saying that I wasn’t looking for accolades (really, I wasn’t!) I got some of the kindest emails from you people that I’ve ever seen. Seriously, friends, thank you.

So is it any wonder I’m jumping for joy?

Photo courtesy of and copyright owned by Sean Randall Photography.

Does affection equal emotion?

Should it?

Either way, I’m a fraud.

(And so are you.)

I love that I can be standing in a room full of a thousand people (as I am now at AdTech in San Francisco) and immediately zone in on the cockiest bastard here.

The problem doesn’t lie with my amazing powers of perception; instead, the issue is that I immediately think “yummy.”

Is it any wonder I’m still single?

I went back to Atlanta for The Best Wedding Ever® a few weeks ago and besides my Huge-ass Flickr Photoset™, the pictures that have come out of TBWE bring me right back to three days of fun. When they were newly engaged, they were looking for vendors, and came across Sean Randall’s website. Not only is he an amazing photographer, but he offered a photo booth.

If you’re anything like me, that’s would be the deal breaker immediately – I mean, really, what’s better than having a place to act like a total jackass and record it on film for all posterity!! So, you can understand my glee when I heard that Jess and Andrew had decided to go with Sean.

While we haven’t yet seen the "official" wedding pics, the ones from the photo booth have come through and they’re AWESOME. I’ve refrained from posting all of my faves now (to protect the inebriated!) but I thought I’d again raise a toast to the bride and groom! You’ve inspired me not only on the power of love, but the power of snagging a spouse at Business School. Anyone want to tutor me for the GMAT?

Mazel Tov!

(Photo courtesy and copyright owned by Sean Randall Photography.)

…Then why do wedding dresses still make me envious?

When I first launched this website back in 2001, I would send out emails to all sixteen people that read it and liked my daily diatribe. I hand-coded it all, and every time I needed to write something new I would have to manually archive the old article, link to it, write the new one, ftp the files and hope to hell that I didn’t screw up the table structure because really, this genetics major really didn’t know what the hell she was doing in that Dreamweaver thingamadoo. Clearly, this was pre-blogger era.

Though my traffic was quite spartan (remember, this was around the time my Mom was still learning how to turn on the computer and email was a far-reaching dream for many), I found that I got a lot of feedback. Perhaps it was just the result of an under-saturated maket; a website like mine was novel, a unique form of communication that I used to stay in touch with my far-flung friends. As such, they were quite specific in their reactions…they never missed an opportunity to tell me that the article where I fell asleep in my soup in New Zealand was brilliant or that really, I should keep my antagonistic feelings toward my ex to myself. Either way, they had an opinion.

How things have changed.

Fast forward five years, and while I get a comment now and again (surprising, since my site traffic would make you think I’d get more, but I digress), it’s been a while since anyone has actually taken the time to send me an email about my posts (Mom-induced randoms that she directed here notwithstanding.) This isn’t a pathetic call for attention (not that it’s below me, of course), but I’m frankly surprised. I don’t need to hear glowing reviews, and am not yet masochistic enough to say I welcome your angry hate mail, but the lack of either makes me wonder if there’s really anyone out there.

The opposite of love isn’t hate, you know, it’s indifference. For once, I’m lookin’ for a bit o’ hate.

Foy Vance, I beg of you, stop making us wait!

Ok, I’ve lost most of you…let me digress.

A few weeks back, Gray’s Anatomy had an epic soundtrack – "How to Save a Life" by The Fray was followed by "Gabriel and the Vagabond" by Foy Vance, a song that I’m not a bit obsessed with. Only problem is that it’s not yet released.

I’ve found myself trolling iTunes on a daily basis to get this tune…really, it’s that stellar. In the meantime, of course, I’ve kept myself busy listening to Youth Group and Ryan Adams (in preparation for next week’s show) and Damien Rice (to prep for my SIXTH ROW AT A WINERY coup that I just pulled off) but something is missing. And it’s "Gabriel and the Vagabond."

When it’s released, I’ll let y’all know. Really, it’s THAT good.

So please, please, Foy Vance, I’m waiting patiently – but I NEED this song.

Any time I go to a new city, specifically one where I know friends there, I feel like I’m tresspassing on their lives.

"I’m Aubrey. I know [insert person here] from [insert place here.]"

What I’m actually saying is: "I’m an outsider. I don’t live here. I don’t know you, don’t know when you mistakenly kissed each other, don’t remember when your boyfriend puked on your roommates’ bed, don’t know all the things that make you connected."

I want to come right out and say it, but I never do.  I want them (she!) to know that I’m not a threat.

The guys don’t know how to deal with me; nor do the girls. I’m this anomaly in their current existance, who needs an explanation when the one they can give is often generic?

I’m a traveller. I’m not Walden, I will never gain fame nor fortune from it. But that’s me, that’s who I am. I travel, therefore, I am.

I’m sorry. I’ve got a life I don’t share with you; to be honest, one that you don’t need to know about. I love you for what, for who, you are; but please, know me. I’m not a threat.

And while you’re at it, please, please tell my guy, neither are you.