I'll Follow You Into The Dark

I went looking for the John Denver song. The Bambi video was just BONUS. You're welcome, Readership.

It's Billy Madison on TBS season again, folks, and MetaBlog will be back in action with what is sure to be great material. Our inside look at the B-School via Mike's dual degree has already offered up some great Gossip Girl-like "Spotted" material. Over at the LBJ School, the First Years are apparently "voting on their class name". (They obviously don't realize that KZ just dictatorially imposed "Wolfpack" on all of us last year with her crazy eyes. #tyranny) And the Social Workers have spent the summer gettin naked in my backyard.

With all this ground to cover, and a whole new class of people to entertain/annoy, MetaBlog needs a new medium. Also, MetaBlog (having lost It-Blog allisongettingmarried.tumblr.com to the cruel passage of time) has a new, annointed blog-darling:

VioletCrownFC's Twitter Account. New Bestie of the Moment Grant (who hasn't yet realized I change Besties like I change my underwear....about once a fortnight) has started a Twitter for the boys' soccer team, and even tricked a few important people into following him. Clearly MetaBlog is the mark of approval 'round here - and Grant/@VCFC - you've got mine.

Baby it's cold inside....

My mom should never delegate Craigslist postings to me, particularly not when I'm under the constant influence of paint fumes, six beers, and #replacementbestie Jordan "Corny Dad Jokes" Hills.

Jordan: "It's called marketing, Bobbi. I took a business class."

http://austin.craigslist.org/app/2506900351.html

Let's just say this was the most reasonable draft, circa midnight last night.

ALLISON GOT MARRIED

Several weeks ago we gathered friends and family in Birmingham so that Mark Zuckerberg could pronounce Allison Lenore Bramlett and Gary Mitchell London Jr. married on Facebook.

And as is the circle of life, with new beginnings come endings, and thus we are here to honor the death of Metablog's favorite blog, allisongettingmarried.tumblr.com. Unbeknownst to the happy couple, we live twatted the whole wedding weekend. I have been waiting to share the transcript until they returned from their six month long honeymoon, mostly so that Mitchell had the option to call me and tell me to immediately remove the post about Joe telling Keith's girlfriend that he absolutely could afford her.

It also took me the entirety of their honeymoon to learn how to take a screen shot (see! above!), but also I learned how to freeze panes in Excel so basically that makes it the most productive 3 weeks I've had since Institute.

Therefore, without further ado, in memoriam to my favorite blog, the farewell post: AllisonGotMarried.metablog.com.

Friday at 5:30pm, Joe asks Keith's girlfriend if she has ever danced naked.

Friday at 5:31pm, Joe asks Keith's girlfriend what her rate is.

Friday at 5:32pm, Joe responds "I really doubt that" when Keith's girlfriend tells Joe he couldn't afford her.

Friday at 9:40 pm

JLo: I mean @sarahswanson you're awesome, but...we'll see.

Friday at midnight

PeteLongworth: @everyone get in the impromptu photobooth

Everyone: @Keith and @Synthia have been practicing this in their living room...

Denver: @Pete So do you always shoot on Nokia?

Saturday:

Denver: @mattyb I've had 1 5hr enrgy b4 this wk, had 7 in last 48 hrs

MattyB: @Denver there is such a thing as too much

Denver: I'm somehow nervous and afraid of falling asleep while standing beside this altar. Taking comfort in the 4 tiny whiskey bottles lining my tux coat.

Emily: @NewLondon yerbeautifulyerbeautifulyerbeautifulyerbeautiful!

Everyone: ditto.

7:45 at Park Lane

the_real_morety: @Nowitzness Joe just told this 50 year old woman he wanted to see her naked..it's only 7:45

MoMoPalmer: @Emily @Nat @ Megz Let's have a diva dance off and also I win

Emily: Balloon grab, RELEASE!

Emily: @EmilysThighs plz don't give out on me during this dance move
EmilysThighs: @Emily no way dude yer going down
Emily: @EmilysThighs why do you have yer own twitter acct?

9:48 PM Saturday Night at Park Lane

Nowitzness: @matttyB I've had 5 drinks and don't feel a thing. I just can't get drunk the 2nd night of a back-to-back!

MatttyB: @Nowitzness Me too!!! Let's go get 3 more!

JLo: @C# we have 25 minutes to buy beer for the after party

C#: K lets go

JLo: Nope I'm too drunk, you go

11:00 at the Liquor Store

C#: @evesfriendCami load up another 8 twelve packs into the cart

NiceLady: Hi, @evesfriendcami

Eve'sfriendCami: @C# that was one of my students parents

C#:@evesfriendcami don't worry, what is SHE doing at the liquor store?

11:30 at Jackson's Saturday Night

Bartenderobnoxious: @Nowitzness you want 6 drinks? I need to see an ID for each one

(after complying with his request and returning 5 minutes later for 6 more drinks)

Bartenderobnoxious: @Nowitzness did you just go outside and give those drinks to people?

Nowitzness: @bartenderobnoxious yes and I brought 6 new ID's for this round!

LOVE IS. IS WHAT I GOT. LOVE IS. IS WHAT I GOT.

Acapellagroup: Wait whats the next verse?

Everyone: ......

Acapellagroup: ok. LOVE IS. IS WHAT I GOT.

Matttyb: @C# I think that D and K are getting together!!

C#: @Matttyb Honey if that hurts your feelings, you probably deserve it.

Matttyb: Oh, ok.

12:15 at the aLoft Saturday Night

Emily: @LLeahy everyone's going to room 408
LLheahy: @Emily no fucking way

Nowitzness: Where did that 6 foot tall asian woman come from?

Everyone_at_aLoft: James, that's a hooker... don't ask questions

Denver: T bringing a hooker to a wedding is either testing my unqualified support for bold moves, or affirming it. At the moment I'm too drunk to tell.

Sunday...

Denver:@ellensmommeg Yeah it was crazy they brought like 300 beers into the lobby of the hotel

ellensmommeg: @Denver You drank 300 beers...?

Denver: @ellensmommeg No. But I tried.

3:19 AM Monday Morning

MatttyB: @Nowitzness after the show it's the after party and after the wedding it's the sunday night party, we've been drinking belveder, we've been drinking cristal... I just went swimming... why did you leave?

The Internet is REAL

Sam says I'm not allowed to blog about my Stranger anymore because in her professional opinion my Stranger is someone who at the very least has seen that I'm a young person with a social lifestyle (#Compound) and at most has BEEN TO OUR HOUSE. So with that encouraging thought I have to return to blogging about my friends' appearances on the Internet*.

We have all seen the hilarious misunderstandings of people (read: conservatives) that think The Onion is real brought to us by James posting http://literallyunbelievable.org/.

But I am here to tell you that THE ONION IS REAL. Proven by this article about Metablog Number One Fan Trent Redden, whose second job is Scout for the Cavs.

http://www.onionsportsnetwork.com/articles/report-kevin-durants-success-could-lead-to-more-nb,20504/

Also, The Onion ran this article about Austin Woody and his fiance.

*A throwback term for the googletubes

One Day We Will Laugh About This Over Tea

Today, in Real Life things that happen in Real Life and not on the internet – a Mystery.

Last night after playing soccer with Jordan and Mike (which consisted largely of them impersonating what Wes thinks is a “header”), Jordan and I walked home and found a letter on my car, in a large Business Reply envelope, with the words, “please read me, stranger” scripted on the outside.

Now, as a girl that has experienced her fair share of Crazy, and once treated flowers on my doorstep like they were a bomb that needed diffusing, I do not react well to letters left on my car. Unless it’s the parking lot of Canyon High School and your name is Dan Orth. Well, I didn’t really react well to those either. Anyway – we go into the house to read the attached note, addressed to me as “Stranger” (capitalized consistently throughout, which makes me reconsider Dan’s criticism of my habit of Arbitrarily Capitalizing Words as an indication of crazy) from someone who is “writing out of desperation” to no one in particular, in an effort to reach out.

Highlights include, but are not limited to: “ I want to know your story, dear Stranger. I want to know your past transgressions, your broken hearts, your noble acts. I wish there was a way to correspond more directly. For now, dropped letters will have to do. I have such love for you, my Stranger, such sincere affection. You’re saving me in a way. Your simple act of reading my letter is instilling in me a small and flickering hope that maybe one day we can laugh about this over tea.”

“I love you, Stranger. In my own way I really do. I hope you feel something similar for me. Until Next Time, Your Stranger.”

Now.

Hmm.

Our first reaction to this was for me, Jordan and Mary to sit around like a remade, culturally diverse set of Boxcar Children at the beginning of a Summer Mystery Adventure using our respective skill sets (Mary diagnosing the person’s mental state, me immediately pulling up Gawker to see if this a Trend, Jordan offering to hook up with the Stranger if she was hot).

But then later, at Flying Saucer, Jordan and I asked our Beer Goddess what she thought of it – and her first suggestion (“notify the police immediately”) made us realize we may not be taking this seriously enough. And that Jordan’s idea, to leave a single red rose on my car windshield, may not be the best way to engage with this person.

So I did the only thing I could do. Took the letter to work, scanned it in, and blogged about it. Wait. Shit. I left the original in the copier.

PS Rick – the fact that my front door doesn’t actually lock just got triaged to the top of your list.

You MADD

As some of you may know, Perfect Roommate Kaitlin Marie Harrigan has left The Compound for a new life in New York. And I can't imagine anyone that could possibly be as generous, good with kindling, and hysterical to replace her. And so begins my manipulative Campaign To Live Alone.

This means I must come up with an alternative funding scheme for the second half of rent. Most recently, I thought to ask Mothers Against Drunk Driving to sponsor the second room in my house, such that there always be a safe alternative to driving home from one of our parties. This isn't actually a terrible idea, except for the fact that it might be a bit too specifically targeted as a marketing campaign and as Grant pointed out yesterday, the Mothers against drunk driving are "all f**king c**ts". So we toasted the death of the idea with a few more beers, then drove home.

BUT THEN, TODAY, I thought to myself, I thought: "which mothers have the most vested interest in this specific marketing campaign?"

Your mothers.

Check your mail, Mrs. Tesfay, Hills, Rivers, and Leffler. You'll be receiving an incredible offer* to sponsor your son's place in a time-share B&B in Central Austin, with a guarantee from me that he will never drive home drunk.

*And a retroactive invoice for time spent on The Compound, sleeping or otherwise, in the past year.

Chic Camping

As we haven’t had a visit from the Austin Police Department in about 3 days, it’s time for the Compound to have another party! Specifically, for Hot Mary’s birthday. I went to the cottage last night to help in party planning, which is something that one would expect would be easy, given that I attend a premier Acting school and Mary attends a premier Listening school.

Unfortunately, other forces intervened. Specifically, as Mary self-diagnosed the other day in regards to a whole manner of things: “The thing about me is, I’ve lived in California all my life.”

Now, Mary had told me the other day that she wants a “beach party” theme for her birthday. In trying to more specifically peg that down, I asked, innocently “like..a Luau?”.

Mary looked at me with as much disgust as if I’d suggested a fetus party. Hereafter that look, (60% disgust and 40% fear that I might be serious), will be denoted with an ellipsis.

Mary: So, I want, maybe, beach balls everywhere, and some lanterns, and some pink flamingos.
Me: ok, well here are some flamingos on Oriental Trading. And palm trees. Do you want palm trees?
Mary: …
Mary: no, too luau.
Me: Maybe I’m not understanding your vision of what kind of beach this is.
Mary: You know, like, chic camping.
(At which point it is my turn to give the ellipsis look)…
Mary: Like, the VIP camping section at Coachella.
Me: That’s not a thing. That’s not a real thing.
Me: Fine. (randomly calling out the supplies I’m finding on Oriental Trading) Ooh! They have religious kites!
Mary: …
Mary: why would we want religious kites?
Me: why WOULDN’T we want religious kites? They say “Praise the Lord” among other messages of hope. And they’re only $13 for a dozen.
Mary:… we’ll put those in the “maybe” column.

Enter Katy Z, stage left (aka gchat)
Me: We’re planning a beach party.
Katy Z: ooh! Can I wear my coconut bra?
Me: NO. It’s specifically NOT a LUAU.
Katy: Well, can I wear a Florida shirt with zinc oxide on my nose?
Mary: No, no Florida.
Me: Well, then how are we supposed to be in theme?
Mary: It’s not really a theme, it’ s just how we’re decorating.
Katy: Ok, so like, Hamptons? Can I wear a big hat?
Mary: Well, I already had a hat party. (…) So she can wear a hat. But, I won’t be wearing one.

Me: Ooh! They have “design your own kites”!
Mary: …
Me: That way they can be religious, you know, if people wanted…or not.

Anyway, I left the cottage charged with the task of making a Facebook invite for a party I don’t fully understand, because I don’t understand any party that wouldn’t enjoy a “design-your-own-kite” station. All I really know is that we’re on a beach, camping, except the kind of camping where indie bands show up to your VIP port-a-potty, and we’re not in Hawaii, and we’re not Saved By the Bell’s beach house episodes, and we’re not in Florida, and we’re not wearing hats. But we are celebrating the Compound’s most fabulous resident, and there will be beer, and I sincerely doubt Katy Z or Mary will be wearing anything that resembles a shirt. So mark your calendars.