Deuces up, June.

The rant below sounds more depressing than I actually feel but I just really like this picture for its implied hyperbole of angst.  Also, her hair is so shiny I can't stop staring at it.

A crop of 'The Dining Room (Francis Place) I' by Sarah Jones

I'm just going to pretend that this past week didn't exist because I didn't like it and I'm pouting in full on blonde glory.  (I got fresh summer highlights so there's a lot of hair tossing going on lately.)  But other than that I think I've killed a plant I was really excited about growing, the Hobby Lobby-induced rage is starting to exhaust me and I got verbally abused on a date by a guy claiming to be a stand-up comic.  

Well, that last part was actually absurdly funny and not depressing at all.  I try to keep super personal stuff super private but maybe I should start a new blog for all that kind of dating shit called "Properly Punctuate Your Sexts, Please."  #PPYSP.  

I'm kidding I would never sext someone who couldn't properly punctuate a regular text first.  I'm not a disgusting animal!  Unless you want me to be and use the proper punctuation...?

So I'm just gonna go ahead and take a time out through the Fourth.  I've got a bag of Biscoff cookies and some vodka that I might mix with La Croix - a recent discovery - because I might be drunk already and that sounds like a good idea.  

You know what else is a good idea?  MOAR DRUNK TWEETS RANTING ABOUT RELIGIOUS FREEDOM.  And Robin Thicke just for good measure.

Please blow up something this weekend like homemade bottle rockets or the patriarchy.

Nashville: Cowboy boots, libraries and hipster WASPs.

Last week was was kinda a rough week around the Ranch - my allergies went from sniffles to sinus infection in .6 seconds, I might be living on top of a giant wasp nest because I kill some in my house every day and I have no idea how they're getting in, Charlemagne keeps bringing me dead chipmunks at 3 AM VERY LOUDLY, and my Clarisonic quit working so I have chin congestion.

CONGESTION EVERWHAR!

I feel like I should make a WASP joke here but since I'm not Protestant does it even still apply?

But finally broke down and got some fancy doctoring/antibiotics so my attitude vastly improved.  After 7-10 days.  [MS sidebar: am I one of those people that talks about being sick a lot?  I hope not... it happens every year but somehow it always takes me by surprise. I have a short memory and constantly inflamed nasal passages so I apologize.]

So this week I'm blogging about all the happy things that are going on right now because nobody likes a complainer and also happy things are happening.  

First happy thing that happened was that I had a quick trip to our state's capital: Nashville!  Sinuses be damned!

Despite living in TN I've never actually explored Nashville.  So un-Southern of me.  First I fangirled over some lovely blogger ladies for lunch at Pinewood Social.  Thank you ModFruGal and MeYouandaWiener for your hospitality and camaraderie.

I don't bowl. Have you seen my nails?

Accio Nashville Hipster badge!

Does a Harry Potter reference negate my newly-acquired hipster steet cred?

Oil cans filled with Tender Feelings.  Because I'm the Tin Man of Faux-Hipsterdom...

We did some antiquing downtown where I bought a few small things I don't need.  

It's the American way.

Then we parted ways and I met an historic preservationist friend who was passing through the state.  This worked out well because we both love taking iPhone pictures of buildings.  Yay, dorky tourists!  Also, friendship and shit.

You know I'm a sucker for ivy on a building.  Consume us please, Mother Nature.

The back entrance.  Obviously where I felt more comfortable. (Not an anal joke.)  And no I didn't stay out late at the clubs or bars and listen to people cover Carrie Underwood songs - I had to work the next day!  Universal excuse of old, boring people.

There's a reproduction log cabin in downtown because of course there is this is Tennessee.  To the right of this building is the football stadium because of course there is this is Tennessee.

I would listen to 50 dozen mediocre Carrie Underwood covers if it meant I could see details like this.  Design nerd.

Since I only had a day, walking the typical tourist area was pretty and worth it.  I can mark it off my list.

As well as cowboy boots for miiiiiles.  It is required that every girl there - no matter what your style is in your home city - MUST buy a Forever21 floral dress and wear it with cowboy boots.  Each girl was only marginally different enough that you could TELL they all dressed each other before the trip so no one looked too close to the other one.

Of course, I shouldn't judge their outfits because while my friend and I were standing on the sidewalk some college kid took our picture on the skeevy downlow by holding the camera by his side hoping we wouldn't notice.  His giant flash gave him away and we yelled at him but the antibiotics hadn't kicked in enough for me to run him down and destroy the evidence.  I have a feeling we're on some terrible tumblr dedicated to tourist fashion.  THAT SKEEVY DUDES WANT TO FAP TOO! 

On second thought, I like being a tourist so fuck it.  But if you ever see me on a tourist-shaming tumblr please holler at me so I can cry a lot destroy that asshole.

Honestly, couldn't tell if that was Jesus or Elvis on that roof.  Does it even matter?

Obviously, Nashville is down with some murals and who am I to argue with the Man in Black?

Spent a lot of time here at the Goorin Bros hat store rubbing elbows with some guys with dramatic mustaches while looking in the mirror.  We were trying on the same hats and looking equally fetching in them.  Alas, I only left with a 100 selfies and no hats.

Nashville people hate it when you say Nashvegas.  Chattanooga people also hate it when you say Chattavegas which is why I do it.  I don't need an expensive hat to poorly practice irony.

Boring, old people get excited about library bumper stickers rather than the band directly behind it.  Sounds like me.

Despite the short stay and dangerous air quality warnings advising people to stay indoors, it was a fun little trip.  I laugh in the face of your warnings!! I took some extra nose spray and prayed those antibiotics were strong enough to help my sinuses without being strong enough to wreck havoc on my lady business while away from home.  I was 97% successful.

I hope to start making more trips to Nashville to explore the rest of the city so if you're in the area let me know and we'll hook up!  

Just please don't take clandestine photos of me on the streets.  You'll make me cry murder you.

Later this week I've got other happy things like bedroom updates and other things happening around the house!

Booty Bouquet? Aw you shouldn't have!

First of all, this post is sliiightly NSFW because ASS but it won't get you fired or anything.  I hope...

So I didn't get started on painting my walls as expected this past weekend so I've failed you.  I'm really enjoying this No Spend February and any trip to the store (even for previously approved paint purchases) is temptation.  I went to Costco for Brussels sprouts and wine (previously approved staples) and came out with a 5 lb bag of dried cherries that I have no idea what I'm going use them for.  THIS is why I'm avoiding stores.

I have to go pick up a prescription at Walgreens tomorrow and I'm only allowing myself the drive thru.  That place is a danger zone of cheap nail polish and yogurt-covered raisins.

Could I coat 5 lbs of dried cherries in fake yogurt coating??  Things to think about...

In addition to vision of dried cherries dancing in my head, I've also been thinking about art for the bedroom.  I'm excited to ACTUALLY HANG art on the walls.  I'm a 'leaner' of arty things because I never have anything framed the way I want and I have plaster walls so I'm scared.  But fuck it, let's do it. 

Untitled (Blue Dress), 2000

I'm still incredibly attracted to tropical themes (shut up I don't care I'm feelin' it) and happened to find these photographs by Naomi Fisher that I'm pretty stoked about.

Sparkly Shirt, 2000

'Stoked' being the only applicable word considering I can't even afford to by a print even though I really want a giant wall-sized print of these. 

Untitled, 1998

Ok I'll take a small print.  I just love this one.  

And now that I've lulled you in with a false sense of security, the really good stuff is... sliiightly erotic.

Untitled (White Lilies), 2000

You might see a bit of bush (sorry not sorry) but nothing bad if your boss sneaks up on you.

Untitled (Haliconia in Warm Sunlight), 2000

Just lots of ass. 

Which would be perfect for my bedroom, COME OOONNNN!

Untitled (Dangling Haliconia), 2000

No wait, this one's kinda my fave...

Part of me wishes I could print this out in a giant 4'x6' size at FedEx/Kinko's just for the interaction with the salesperson because you know it'll print reeealy slow and they might notice that that shape is resembling a butt and then oh my it is a butt and then they get really nervous and sweaty for what else is going to print and I'll just stand there and stare at them with one raised eyebrow and dare them to say anything and we'll have a stare off to see who looks away first while butts just print out below us.

Untitled (Black Dress), 2000

But I'll never look away first, guy probably naked Keven wearing a Kinko's blue shirt.  I'll never look away first.

Booty Bouquet, 1998

As you might have noticed, eloquence is not my thang but SnailCrow has a nice little essay about the sexuality (read: genitals of both the human and flora variety) of this series which is worth a read.  He uses the word 'fecundity' and I smirked at the title Booty Bouquet so you can see which one us bloggers owns a dictionary.

Assy Flora Suite of 3, Pink Hibiscus, Royal Poincettia, Orchid Tree, 1999

Well, I don't think anyone OWNS a dictionary anymore but certain bloggers might be more familiar with its contents than others.

Untitled (Dying Yellow Tulips), 2000

You know what I'm about to be familiar with?  A neverending supply of dried cherries.  Do you think Kevin-who-probably-works-at-FedEx-Kinko's likes cherries?  Because we're about to get reall intimate.

Most pics found on Plant Propaganda (superfun new plant/art blog that's worth a look) but more at SnailCrow, Le Cafe Momus and Artist Pension Trust.

Did someone put acid in my humidifier or is it just the sheets?

So somewhere in my bags of bags I've lost my phone cord so trip pictures will have to wait.  I had to go outside and sit in my car for a few minutes in the cold last night to charge my phone LIKE AN ANIMAL!  My neighbors probably think I'm trying to kill myself but too stupid to figure out the correct way to do it.

Until ghost cord turns up and I can give you Germany in all its winter glory, here are some lesbian beds.

This is blogging math.  It always equals out.

Lesbian Beds is series by Tammy Rae Carland and now you know as much as I do about the project so let's enjoy together.

Since I love the spaces we occupy so much I am naturally drawn to art that focuses on those spaces too.  Don't worry, I'm not drawn to strangers' beds so you shouldn't fear me creeping into your house for covert snuggles or photographing you while you sleep.  I'm not Edward Cullen.

Mostly you're safe from me because other people's sheets kiiiinda gross me out.  Not in the "you're a disgusting human being with Cheetos toes and garbage armpit funk" way but in the way that there's probably that sleep smell that all beds and pajamas have.  But your own funk is okay because it's your own and therefore cancels itself out.  

Stink math all equals out too.

But you do not get a pass on raunchy-ass pillows.  Or raunchy Ass Pillows if that's a thing.  If I see that your pillow looks yellow and has large dark stains like maybe you murdered someone in your bed during the DJ Tanner era and then immediately forgot how to use the washing machine for the next two decades then we have a problem.  I don't care if it is your favorite woobie, wash that stinky piece of filth made up of your dead skin cells and petrified drool.

I'm saying this in my best Dowager Countess voice: I cannot abide filthy pillows. 

I'm not sure if she would even say the word pillow in polite company.  I'm not fancy enough to know these things. 

And I'm not sure how the Dowager Countess feels about lesbians but I bet she'd come around pretty quick.

I don't know who these lesbians are but I thoroughly approve of their pop culture mash-up here.

Although I love the plethora of patterns and colors in picture form it would probably drive me to insanity to sleep on such a wide variety of prints.  Dear gawd, animal print?!  Where are my smelling salts?

I require all my sheets to be white.  In recent years I've branched out - hey, I'm growing as a human - to other shades like ice blue, dove grey, off-white and the very bold, even offer white.  I do have a set that are pale cream with a damask-y pattern that was a gift but I only save them for wild nights like when I got a new humidifier or I shave my legs AND moisturize.  I have to mentally psyche myself up for it otherwise I'm very anxious and my Cheetos toes get all fidgety and I have terrible dreams.

I may not sleep on them but I do find it hard to resist a cheery retro print like the ones above.  Maybe I could start a naptime during the weekends in my guest room and use crazy sheets...?  Even if they do have vintage sleep smell and garbage armpit funk from the 60's it might be worth it to try.  It might give me murderous nightmares or maybe beautiful rainbow dreams!  

Will I be bold enough to try?! Let me shave AND moisturize my legs and then we'll find out!

An Augtober kind of neighborhood

I don't know about y'all but I feel like I'm living in an alternate universe this summer.  Global warming made August feel like October and now my sinuses are having a hurricane of snot in my head.  I'm having to chew with my mouth open because I can't breathe.  Thanks, Obama.

I cancelled most of my cable so I feel adrift in a sea of 24/7 non-HD Sheldon Cooper reruns and I'm praying for a swift and painless drowning.  

I joined the 21st century and tried this new "online dating" thang for a hot minute only to realize that I must live in a princess bubble of sequins and sunshine because 113% of the available population in my area is either a sociopath, someone who sends me bad poetry or has Jesus as their sassy gay friend.  Sometimes all three at once.  Everyone is illiterate.  Maybe I'll change my profile pic to me chewing with my mouth open...  

Probably get some weirdo who has a chewing fetish. He'll write me a dirty poem about masturbating to my mastication...  Summer of 2013, y'all!

Anychewzles, maybe because my life is currently very surreal I'm having a love affair with this project by Kid Zoom aka Ian Strange.

He's traveling around the country turning real houses into commentary about suburbia and the icon of homes but frankly I just want a big red cartoon house.

Some design bloggers might suggest matching your crown molding to your wall color but we take things to a whole new level around here.

Maybe it's the hurricane of snot and allergy meds in my head but this seems like a fantastic idea.

Oh.  Yes.  I'm sure my neighbors will think my house is marked by gawd because there's a plague inside but I'll be like "Nope, it's art, fuckers!"

They're gonna be even more confused if I tried to burn the Ranch down for ART then...

All pics (and more) from Arrested Motion

Hope everyone is having a fantastic Augtober with minimal snot hurricanes.  This weekend I'll be plotting what kind of large scale graffiti I'm going to apply to the exterior of my house.

I bet you're starting to think those suburban neighborhood HOA guidelines are pretty damn beneficial now, huh?!

Tough shit.  This is America. 

Where British people paint our houses for art and we like it.

What would a redneck Harajuku Girl look like? Because I'm going to be one soon.

I hope everyone is having a fantastic summer so far.  Apparently it's already July which is basically August which is pre-Fall and being in Fall right now is blowing my mind.  

Might as well put up my Christmas tree.

What else is blowing my mind lately is this great collection of mid-century photography of rural homes in Japan by Yukio Futagawa.

What, what, in the hut.  (Sorry, I know it's not a hut but I was incredibly amused by the rhyme.  I'll do better.)  

I read that Futagawa is considered the Walker Evans of Japanese architecture which was the only sentence I needed to read about him.  I practically took a running leap down that rabbit hole like one of the Supernatural boys was waiting on me at the bottom with a plate of sushi and some ice cream. 

Is there such a thing as Southern Gothic in Japan?  Because I think I'd like to write a saucy dissertation about it.

After I finish this plate of fictional sushi that Dean Winchester is feeding me...

Although he photographed his entire life, Futagawa's most famous photographs of rural homes was published in a set of ten books, this cover being one of them.  He traveled to many cities mapping each one and documenting the architecturally things.

He mostly documented "minka" which were the vernacular houses originally intended for farmers, merchants and working class.  I'd never known the name for these types of structures and I find the word 'minka' to be fascinating and have been repeating it over and over under my breath like that kid Brick from The Middle. 

*miiiinkaaaa...*

Futagawa explained, "Instead of artificial components, minka are made from soil, wood and straw.  The elements are mixed up in such a way that they create different patterns.  The people who live there actually create the houses.  So everything comes natural, nothing is strained." 

Awww you really get me, Yukio. 

I want to name a kid* Minka because it sounds like a valley girl name but when people ask about it I'll scream "Noit'sJapanesevernaculararchitectureyouignorantBITCH!" and then I'll take Minka and her brother Quinoa's hand and we'll sashay our yoga butts right on out of there.

*pet

*miiiinkaaaa...*

I think part of the reason I'm grooving so hard on the minka is that most of this summer has been filled with home stuff.  Not the wood and straw kind of home stuff (ok some mud, I've been in the yard a lot) but the boring yet complicated bureaucracy of owning a home.  The American way.  

I refinanced the ModSauce Ranch which sounds like the most adult thing I've ever done.  It's even more adult than buying the house in the first place and having to talk to my doctor about joint pain and when to start scheduling mammograms.

Because I'm special (my loan was owned by Fannie Mae or Freddie Mac), I was able to use the HARP - the Home Affordable Refinance Program.  Thanks Obama.  Actually, if I'm going to fake thank a person let's thank Elizabeth Warren.  People on Twitter have heard me talk plenty but if you haven't, check your eligibility NOW because I just got a 2.99% rate and moved to a 15 year loan and am still paying LESS a month that I was.  The notary at my closing high-fived me because that might be the lowest mortgage in recorded human history and also I got a lollipop.

Of course, that sounds fantastic but it was weeks of phone calls and bullshit and me asking what exactly truth in lending means to them because the bank messed up a bunch of papers even after I pointed out their mistakes and I actually had to close twice.  Fucking Mercury in retrograde, y'all.  

Also, fucking banks.

So yeah, I'd like to get all 'Pattern Language' up in the Ranch but it's mostly been remembering how to sign my legal name in cursive, ant invasions, broken washing machines and mildewed laundry, flash flooding, figuring out a new budget spreadsheet that I actually have to stick too, cable companies drilling holes in my wood paneling where none need to be, a renewed and dangerous Starbucks addiction to deal with the stress, and also I need a pedicure so bad I've had a few people look frightened upon sight of me in sandals.

*miiiinkaaaa...*

This is like vintage porn to me.  It's the architectural equivalent of old Bettie Page photos.

Make what you will of that.

The only thing better than mid-century photography is the actual published page of the image like these scans are.  It's so grainy and kinda yellow.  Wouldn't you die to own an original set of these books?  

I'm going to check for them on ebay right fucking now...!!

This courtyard, y'all. 

Literally stared at the walkway on the left of this image for five minutes straight.  Wish my summer was filled with nothing but the magic of those stepping stones.

But also the 2.99% interest rate part too.  High five!

All pictures above (and more) from here

Now I have an urge to watch a ton of Kurasawa movies and then cry about my mildewed laundry.

Unfortunately, Futagawa - the handsome devil pictured above - passed away this March from cancer.  Read the Architectural Record obit here.

It's rumored that if you whisper miiiinkaaaa... three times in a bathroom mirror that you'll wake up in Japan and be BFF with that girl from The Grudge. 

Next time y'all read a post of mine I might have a new creepy ass bestie, y'all.