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YouTube: Country Gold Mine

It can be dangerous to start watching old country videos on YouTube. There’s just too much good stuff to be found, especially live performances from old TV shows. Hours fly by. Here’s a good one I found today featuring a young Loretta Lynn:

The neighborhood bar holds a kind of mythic status. It’s an archetype that is in most of our heads, but few of our actual neighborhoods. I must have driven by Billy’s On Burnet a hundred times, often wondering what it was like inside. Having finally ventured inside, I think we may have discovered the perfect neighborhood burger bar.

When you sit on the porch at Billy’s, you don’t have your own conversation. You inevitably get drawn into a common conversation with everyone else out there (likely including Billy himself). The whole place–inside and out–just exudes friendliness.

I went with the Billy Burger. Solid.

Eliza had the veggie burger. An uncharacteristic choice, but she liked it.

When there are fried pies on the menu, we have a hard time saying no. So we didn’t.

I rode my bike home from work today in the pouring rain. It was awesome.

Eliza had offered to come pick me up, but the sight of stand-still traffic on Congress Avenue made me think twice. I decided I’d rather get a little wet than be stuck in the car staring at taillights. Above all else, I love the location of our house. I especially love the fact that I can bike to work, which I’ve been doing daily for over a month now. At first, I wasn’t confident that I’d make it through the Austin summer, but it turns out that biking in the heat isn’t so bad. (You make your own breeze.)

So now, my thoughts have turned to selling my car. I’ve already cancelled my monthly parking pass. The prospect of getting rid of my car payment has become tantalizing. But just as a backup, I may want to get something older and cheap. I’m thinking something like this:

There’s nothing worse than audience Q&A at public events. The worst strain of Q&A, though, is Q&A with celebrities. I learned this tonight at the Paramount Theater, where the profane, skinny-legged, and utterly likable Anthony Bourdain appeared. I usually make a quick exit whenever an audience Q&A begins, but unfortunately this event was almost nothing but Q&A. After reading a choice anti-vegetarian screed from his new book, Bourdain opened up the floor to the sad and desperate.

As far as I can tell there are three questioner archetypes:

1) The “Please Love Me, I Love You” type: These people are looking for the celebrity to validate some aspect of their lives (e.g., “I’m from New Jersey. What’s your favorite restaurant there?”)

2) The “I Will Prove to You How Much I Love You” type: These people start their awful questions off by quoting to the celebrity something they once said (e.g., “The last time you were in Austin, you said this one thing that I just loved“).

3) The “I’m Not So Different Than You” type: These people make a pathetic attempt to show that they, like the celebrity, have a certain quality. In Bourdain’s case, this involves something outrageous. (e.g., “I know you really like to smoke pot, so I was wondering if you could comment on how awesome that makes a person.”)

It is a testament to Bourdain’s charisma that he was able to be quite entertaining despite the Q&A format. Here are a few of his choice quotes:

When asked about the best meal to cook to get someone into bed: “I say, stick with the classics… Alcohol.”

On people who describe chocolate as “orgasmic”: “I’d really question the quality of the sex you’re having.”

On Cincinnati: “God did not intend for chili to be eaten on top of spaghetti.”

On choosing to leave the Food Network rather than change his show: “One of the first things any television executive learns is that there is no limit to what people will do in order to stay on television. Just look at the Jersey Shore or The Real Housewives.”

On whether smoking affected his pallatte: “That’s why God created salt.”

On food today: “There’s never been a better time to cook in America. There’s never been a better time to eat in America.”

I’m learning that when you buy a house, trips to Home Depot take up a good portion of every weekend. I don’t mind Home Depot, but I’m not a fan of spending the weekend in the car. I will say this, though: trips to Home Depot beat trips to the storage space. When we lived on campus, space was somewhat limited. So every other weekend or so involved a trip across town to our storage space. But when we moved into the house, we ditched the storage space right away. I don’t miss this place at all.

But with the house, the storage equation has inverted. Now we can buy the mass quantities of consumer goods that Americans are supposed to: 32-packs of toilet paper, case upon case of Diet Coke, and gallon containers of mayo. These things are our birthright, and I’m happy to stake my claim. And just in case there’s any doubt, let me be clear: I’m not being facetious. I love this stuff.

So now I have a weekend car trip I can actually look forward to: Costco. True, there are moments in the store when it feels like you’re in the middle of a war zone. Kids are screaming. Old ladies are cutting you off with their tank-like grocery carts. But I love a deal. So I love Costco, too.

Another perspective on weekend trips:

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