...conveniently located minutes south of downtown

While sorting through some boxes at my mom's house I found this picture of myself taken in 1994, shortly after my sixteenth birthday. I remember being very upset when it appeared in the fashion pages of my sophomore yearbook because they referred to me as a 'frosh'. A friend who worked on the yearbook later stole the original for me. While wearing this outfit I seriously thought I was the coolest fucking girl to ever walk the face of the planet.

Several days before this picture I had gone to a Hole show in Tempe and purchased the tee-shirt. The coat was from a half off sale at the St. Vincent de Paul thrift store. I made the skirt myself, lavender fur hand-stitched with lime green thread. The boots were found at a yardsale and spray painted silver. I'm also wearing a dog tag necklace that says 'girl'.

On my way home from school the day this picture was taken, three separate people tried to pick me up, mistaking me for a prostitute. My favorite of these incidents involved a 40-something man telling me that he was on a scavenger hunt and would pay me $50 to go to his house and take off my pantyhose. When he saw the look of disgust on my face he assured me that he had more than $50 if needed.

A couple weeks ago, the portable CD player I keep in my car started acting up. When I returned home from Phoenix, I discovered that my evaporative cooler and my refrigerator had both died. A few days later, the switch for my porch light inexplicably popped out of the wall. Then my Sonicare quit working. I lost the shutter button for my camera (now off to Canon for a two to five week repair). Yesterday the (newly repaired) cooler started screaming and then shut down again. My alarm clock has been malfunctioning. Then a fuse blew at five this morning, leaving me without electricity until I could find a way to get to the fusebox (fifteen feet off the ground). To top it all off, my school has apparently fucked up our federal financial aid (my sole means of support) and I'm not getting any money for the summer quarter. My plan is to spend what little money I have left on alcohol.

Last night was Bryan's birthday.

Jeremy got a 'Missing Tooth' award.

Everyone wanted to wear Bryan's dollar-store sunglasses.

We realized at the Buffet that Katie and her boyfriend have the same haircut.

Taylor has grown a mustache.

Stephanie.

Bizzy drunkenly decides to do some squats at Belushi's. Shortly after this picture was taken I dropped my camera and lost it's shutter button.

Monday afternoon cocktails at North on Fourth with Arnie the bartender.

I just saw an M&M's commercial prominently featuring the Iron and Wine cover of 'Such Great Heights'. This moment reminds of the first time I heard 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' Muzak-ed at Walgreens. Only worse.

A friend of mine called the other day to tell me that her mother had phoned, concerned about the terrorist attack in London. They are planning a trip there next month and she is worried that the tube stations near their hotel won't be open.

So, it's entirely possible that I'm the last person on earth to hear of the NYC-based band 'Clap Your Hands Say Yeah' but I thought I'd write about them just in case. While looking around some music boards today I came across a posting in which the author compared hearing them for the first time to hearing 'The Shins' for the first time. Intrigued I checked out their website and gave their mp3s a listen. Their self-titled, self-released debut album released last month through Insound has already sold-out and is now in it's second printing. Being impatient (and broke) I decided to download it on Morpheus (now new and improved and fantastic). You should buy it. And if you haven't yet bought anything from Insound you can thank me for telling you about their site, because they are the all-time greatest internet music store ever. The have everything, including great pre-orders and cds from unsigned bands, and their shipping takes less time than driving to Zia. Seriously. Please buy all your music from them from now on.

Last night was Tracy's birthday

Somehow, one of the few balls I actually managed to hit got stuck in the net that divides the batting cages.

Noah gets ready to bat at the Home Plate, a bar and grill with batting cages out back.

Donovon got way too excited about singing 'Islands in the Stream' at the Speakeasy.

Last Wednesday, on my way to Phoenix, there was a fire which produced a gigantic plume of smoke that covered the sun.

During First Fridays, my friends and I decided to walk to a nearby pizza place to get something to eat. The pizza place had been closed down due to too many health code violations, but I spotted this sign in the window of the liquor store next door.

In the women's restroom at Fat Cat's, a biker bar on Grand Avenue, there is a machine which sells tampons, Tylenol and gum.

This machine in Fat Cat's men's room sells condoms, Tylenol and glow sticks.

This is what Skot thought of 'Evil Eye' Beer, $3 for 24 oz. at Paper Heart.

This accident scene reminded a friend and I of the crappy neo-dadaism exhibit we saw at Paper Heart.