dbigtex56

Wasn't able to make the Art Car Parade proper, but was walking down Montrose when they disbanded. Saw the Jesus Monkey car and screamed "HEY GROOOOOOVEHOUSE!" but turns out that the actual owner was driving it himself. Spoke with him later and he was amused that groovehouse had his very own fanclub already. Wanna know something creepy/neat about the JesusMonkey car? Its inspection expires at the end of next month, and the registration's good though the end of this year. So the stickers on his windshield appear as follows: 6 6-6 oooooh......was that planned?

Exactly. Not only the history of the bungalow is irreplaceable, but the materials and workmanship often are, too. We can no longer go to a lumberyard and expect to find the sort of first-growth timber which resists insects and rot, and has an unmatched beauty - to those able to appreciate it. Also, that which makes older neighborhoods desirable isn't confined only to the facade of a structure. It includes signage (such as the blue & white ceramic tiles which spell out street names in older Houston neighborhoods, or the concrete posts with street names spelled out vertically), drainage ditches instead of storm sewers, hundred year old trees as opposed to spindly saplings, and a zillion other things to which some people seem to remain completely blind. And here's where I cheerfully go on record as a complete nut case. Yes, I can experience it again. I've been there, even though those times existed prior to my current birth. There. Happy? Surprisingly, other people feel exactly as I do. While I don't literally believe I've engaged in time travel, for all intents and purposes I experience something very similar. That's why reading dusty magazines or spending hours over microfiche records fascinate me; they eventually combine into a whole which enhances this experience of life on Earth. For a long time I was unaware that some people are completely temporally unaware, if that's the right way of putting it. To them, woodgrain vinyl siding is no different from hand-planed clapboards. Amusingly, they believe that everything in a neighborhood such as the French Quarter really is as old as it looks (it's not). Unscruptulous antique dealers love to see this type walk in the door. My surprise that other people do not (or cannot) understand that time is as much a factor as length, breadth and height in architecture caused me, at first, to feel contempt. This has been replaced by a wary sort of pity. Sure, I feel sorry that some people don't 'get it', but they're still capable of inadvertantly causing great harm. At least colorblind people usually have enough sense to consult others before they repaint their houses. Unfortunately, the same usually isn't true of the temporally retarded.

"They" already are. There's been some significant investments in that area, especially nightclubs, live music venues and loft apartment conversions. This approach works surprising well so long as the city government is responsive. When new developement springs up, it's up to the city to provide sidewalks, traffic control, drainage and whatever else is needed to serve the people. Fortunately, Mayor White seems to share this point of view, and has a good record for getting things done. I hope that new or upgraded sidewalks and consideration of street placement, signage, lighting and traffic lights are in the works between GRB, Toyota Center and the Hilton over to the new developments in the Chinatown area. A couple of weeks ago I walked over to Sheryl Swoopes new club, and crossing the freeway was downright terrifying. A few minor changes could help to make the transition more safe and pleasant. This could really do a lot to promote the area at very little expense. Because he never knows when he might find himself in the woods. And as an aside: there's a difference between "it's" and "its". The first is a contraction, not a possessive. It's short for "it is". That which belongs to something is spelled "its". It's a possessive pronoun, and therefore does not take the apostrophe. For example, you wouldn't punctuate "that which belongs to her" as "her's", would you? No. It's "hers". Here's a couple of examples: "It's fun to watch the dog lick its own 'nads." "Houston takes pride in its modern architecture, and its ability to lick its own 'nads." That concludes today's punctuation lesson.

Maybe it just sort of evolved?

Well there you go. Look for a tie-in with America's Funniest Home Videos, too. Those architects think of everything.

Well RedScare may scoff all he pleases, but I'll still be intrigued by our Hulda. Part of her tragic beauty must be attributed to the pre-Photoshop image which graces the cover. How many seperate images went into her creation? I'm thinking the body AND the hair were spliced on...either that, or she truly has a sci-fi skull. And there's something kind of weird about the hands and guitar too. The perspective is a bit trippy. I'm taken by this album cover the way that some people study Beatle's records for hours. Remember, this thing came out in the 60's; anything is possible. nmain, we're kind of on the same page, but I think the prescription drugs are being consumed by the lady at the table. May be Valium instead of xanex, but why quibble? She doesn't know if she's watching Hulda or squirrels in the park, after no food and a rum & coke chaser. And why are they using a bong as a centerpiece? Her date's mind is elsewhere too. He has that guarded expression that one associates with cheatin' husbands. Think he's the one who slipped her the Valium? There's just something about him that I don't trust. Look out behind you, Hulda! There's something about beauty in danger that captures ones imagination. No other witnesses, either; Miss Valium Head couldn't testify to her own name. Appearently it was a slow night at the Summit. And Hulda was never heard from again. Prove me wrong.

A person who's not Plastic?

Double wow. With Ed Wulfe involved, it's more than just whistling in the wind, and sure to be done right. I'll bet the surrounding properties just took a jump in value, too.

"i was thinking the same! she could/should have been the big head but her immaculate helmet of peroxide locks may have been too grand --- yet so texas. ah, Hulda's poor head has been through enough already. Notice how it's been joined, Frankensteinesquely (if that's a word) to the body of what one presumes is a younger, slimmer girl? And yet she continues to smile and bravely grip her big-ass guitar (which also looks superimposed, to me). If I'm not mistaken, 'a sprengisandi was covered by America and rereleased as "Horse With No Name". I think it may have lost something in translation. "seemann"? oh. Oh, my. Hulda, please don't let us down. That title holds such potential.

Welcome to HAIF, GrandLakes. Speaking of reading things, please acquaint yourself with the guidelines for posting on this forum. Name-calling, 'flaming' and personal attacks are frowned on at HAIF.

torvald, what a great find! Remember when David Adickes' sculpture of the musician at the Lyric Center was wired for sound? I have this gut feeling that Hulda should be revived as the voice of Big Head On Main Street. Modern passersby could once again be "captured in her web of music" (to be consumed later, one presumes?) as she sums up, in Norwegian, all the joy and sorrow of drive-through banking. Does it give a listing of her vocal selections? Any way an mp3 could be posted?

Yeah, I heard she might be looking at a little place up in Huntsville .

What Red said. I don't know that they were screaming. And I don't know that what they said were lies. Do you? What they were doing is asking Rumsfeld to explain what by any reasonable standard are lies. Lies told by him. And I think that's a pretty reasonable request to make of an elected official. PS: Rumsfeld didn't explain.

Seems like that $9000 bed would have to be deeply discounted, after all the 'entertaining' she's done.

Kitchen employees should take a tip from Las Vegas ("What happens there, stays there.")

Funny you should mention that. I ate at Pei Wei for the first time just this week. Seems like every restaurant has come up with its own method of confusing customers, and Pei Wei is no exception. You stand by the cash register and place your order with the employee behind the counter but a waiter (or waiter-like person) brings the order to your table. I find this setup perplexing, as it blurs the line between a real restaurant and fast food. Anyway, the guy behind the counter took my food order and asked if I wanted anything to drink. I said no, and paid the bill. Then, he had the nerve to pick up his tip jar and hold it expectantly in front of me! I tried to ignore him, but he just kept staring at me and pushing it at me...and it was really starting to piss me off. Turns out that it wasn't a tip jar, it was just a very large water glass which he thought I ought to have. But I wasn't lying - I really wasn't thirsty.

And the fact that he did it at the workplace is an indication that it was work related, as well. Usually when the media drop a story such as this, they give the excuse that it's "to protect the family". Funny that families of those who commit other crimes are not given the same consideration.

farrago and oh so long away I fell in love with show before the second you.

If I were that poor little building in the middle, I'd put on sunglasses and hope no one recognized me.

As has been said in other contexts, freedom isn't free. Neither is justice. Someone has to pay for the benefits that we enjoy as Americans, which includes the penal system. And frankly, tax dollars spent to punish a terrorist bother me less than the tax dollars not paid by the ultra-rich. Corruption of our political and economic system is a greater ongoing threat (and expense) to America than terrorism.

If I'm following this exchange correctly, these women are unattractive because they're of normal weight, or not of normal weight, dress conventionally or unconventionally and are on bicycles or not on bicycles. Good Lord. It's a wonder that there's a straight woman alive who's kept her sanity.

Another great thing about the Pig Stand: after consuming the sort of hamburger that most restaurants stopped serving circa 1970, I returned home and watched The Evening Star. To my astonishment and awe, I realized that I'd just sat on the very stool that Miss Shirley McClaine's buttcheeks had graced while making that movie! I'm still filled with wonder and delight (and, perhaps, some of the hamburger as well). There are some experiences that one simply cannot have at a chain restaurant.

Next he's going to claim that he thought the plastic pipe was a flag pole and the victim was Iwo Jima. Sorry that your childhood sucked guy, but you're old enough to know better. Being drunk and high is no excuse.

They really say "foo foo"? There must be more gay millionaires in Houston than most people would imagine .

There's a link to the Chronicle article at the top of this thread. It appeared about the same time this thread was started, so no HAIF members were quoted.