hurricane willa, hurricane vicente, why i hate people



Two hurricanes are building and roiling in the Eastern Pacific Ocean and about to slam hell out of Mexico. Hurricane Willa and Hurricane Vicente. It sucks to be Mexico on a coast facing the Eastern Pacific Ocean right now. I’m so sorry, Mexico. After that, the storms are expected to do a diabolical weather dance up into Texas and deluge already flood deluged soil and dams around here and probably take us underwater in Texas again.

I follow Twitter streams to keep track of hurricanes. It’s kind of terrible doing it right now. The Willa and Vicente streams are full of people screaming “It’s God’s will! God is protecting us from illegal immigrant invasions! Kill them all!”

I’d like to think that’s just fucked up religious right wing extremists behaving that way. It isn’t though. I’ve seen the same thing from people allegedly part of the kinder gentler left, screaming, when a natural disaster was heading straight for a “red” state, “That’s what you fuckers get for voting for Trump die die die!”

You all know, right?, whatever side of a political or state or country border you live on, if you’re celebrating and screaming for climactic catastrophe anywhere, you’re celebrating the death of children right?

Little kids live in all these places. Little kids with no political affiliation and no religious perspective and no comprehension of state or country borders and probably God isn’t showing up to strike those little kids dead because you are pissed off about politics or borders. Probably a hurricane is showing up because everyone in the world has been so selfish for so long the world is ready to shrug off all of humanity and getting ripped up by storms that don’t care about your political or religious affiliations. Or, whether it makes you feel happy and empowered to shout about how great it is other people who might not share those are about to die in a catastrophic natural disaster.



@NWSFortWorth Hates Austin

September 4, 2016

UPDATE: Well this is annoying. It turns out the Twitter weather accounts are EXACTLY like television cable companies and they say things like “we don’t service your area” because — they don’t “service” your area. So you don’t even go on their maps when they report the weather.

I hate being wrong.

Oh well.

My bad, @NWSFortWorth carry on.


@NWSSanAntonio Hates Austin

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the texas sky

June 17, 2015

 

texas_storm_cloud

When I was a kid growing up in California, danger came from the earth.The earth would shake, mud would slide, fire ran along the ground leaping canyons and covering mountains. Here in Texas, danger comes from the sky. The sky spirals, reaches down to rip trucks and buildings asunder, rips along throwing things in its path aside, pouring water, hail, and debris. It’s very disorienting.

 

the platypus tree

April 9, 2015

 

tree_mystery

This tree is a physics dilemma. [Shut up, I like to make all things difficult math.] It is a freaking platypus tree. It has leaves from one tree, blossoms from another, and then it goes all Mars Asian appetizer pea pod spikes.

What the hell is this tree?

 

 

 

Salt_LickThe TNSSG Street Team and —

Terry Rossio are having a total barbeque frenzy Wednesday, October 23rd, in Austin Texas [yes the kick off day of the Austin Film Festival] at a totally famous Austin barbeque place.

Yay!

 


 

I could tell you how to get to this fabulous extravaganza, but —

I don’t want to coddle you.

And —

I am bored with trying to bribe people.

 


 

Choose the correct door below and you will get the details. And could totally show for this faboo barbeque extravaganza.

Don’t choose the right door?

Oops.

 


 

Good luck, Sports Fans.

Love and Kisses,

Your No More Coddling Adams Girl

 



:::door number one:::
:::door number two:::
:::door number three:::
:::door number four:::

 

saturday night

September 1, 2013

saturday_night

chigger hell

August 27, 2012

 

 

Texas reminds me of Malibu. Every time I turn around, something is trying to eat me. Something spider bit me. I am allergic all the time in just my skin and, oh, eyes! — to just the air.

And now. Something ate hell out of my legs.

Fifty bites? I kid not, I lost count after fifty. And here is the thing. After days, the bites were not fading. So I was all WTF? Seriously? Not fading bites? WTF is up with that?

[I get to curse here btw, Stephen Fry says so.]

I went kind of crazy on this.

I bleached every piece of clothing I ever wore a week of pre-bite.

I bleached the wood on the balcony.

I bleached all the bedding.

I bleached the concrete floors.

I probably went overboard and probably I did not even get bit here but how would I know? It feels like I am getting bit by fire ants most of the time it is not like it would stand out. And there are no more bites. But still. The bites do not leave. Ahhh!

 


 

A friend told me maybe they are chigger bites and [holy hell!] chigger bites don’t go away, they just keep going. Under the skin. Living God Damn chiggers. WTF?

Under. The. Skin. [Gack, Alien!]

She also said if you coated the bites with nail polish that would kill them.

 


 

I spent the other night coating my battle scars with nail polish. And it seems to actually be working.

I didn’t have any clear polish though, so I used this fantastical shade of orange. It is still fantastical too — on fifty plus chigger attacks.

If you see a woman at Whole Foods with a half bottle of bright orange nail polish slathered on her legs do not make fun dammit.

 

Your Chiggers Are Hell Adams Girl

 

playing on 6th street

August 27, 2012

 

 


max adams and shanti suttin
photo by vivi gregg

 

 

Through some fluke I ended up on a stage in San Antonio with super models. Don’t ask me how that happened. [Okay actually it happened because I am friends with Audrey Brooks.]

 

 

*Also I so want that dress the other girl is wearing, OMG! Awesome dress!

 

 

So the other night —

My friend Vivi is in Austin and we hit the town. Which really means we just walk a few blocks to Sixth Street and have some beers at a local sports bar. This guy bums a cigarette from me at the outside bar. He moved to Austin from Los Angeles. He used to date an actress. He hates Los Angeles. I say how ironic, he has parked himself next to probably the only two industry people in the bar. He says we should name people we know and see who we know in common —

See, this is how it goes at Los Angeles parties. All the non-smokers converge on the single obvious smoker and bum cigs. And in L.A. I would be expecting this and have the mandatory second pack in my bag so peeps who delude themselves into believing they are non-smokers can smoke a pack of my cigs without thinking maybe they should just give it up, say they are smokers, and go buy their own. (In L.A., the only way to actually smoke any of your own cigarettes is to bring an extra pack for others.)

He asks where I lived in L.A. Simply saying “Los Angeles” is not good enough. “No, WHERE in Los Angeles?” This is to find out if I was in the right zip code and about what I was paying for real estate to gauge my income and success level. It’s like a gold digger asking a man what car he drives to figure out whether or not he can afford her — but more Hollywood power player and less “Can you support me in the style I would like to become accustomed to?”

Then the chitchat begins. It’s not really chitchat though. It’s name dropping, gauging how powerful or important your list of contacts is stacked up against the list of contacts your opponent — I mean the person you are chatting up — has. Even though I dodged this because I really don’t like this game and don’t think I should have to play it at a sports bar in Austin Texas, Bar Guy still managed to drop the biggest name he probably had on his list on my head just to ensure I knew he ran with important people.

The next thing that happens is someone across the bar waves at Bar Guy so he totters off. Whew! Maybe I can smoke some of my own cigs after all. But moments later he is back. He is enraged. He introduced that guy to everyone in town, that guy knew no one when he got to town, now that guy’s too good for him?! Bar Guy can destroy him!

This is very L.A. too. The expectation that someone you introduced around will stay lower on the pecking order totem pole than you and will damn well acknowledge he or she is lower and beholden to you — and unfettered rage if he or she isn’t or doesn’t. Also, “He’ll never work in this town again!” Though I guess in this context it was, The bartenders in this town will never be nice to him again!

He was so enraged, he needed to smoke two more of my cigarettes to calm down.

 


where the art work comes from: that is from dave barstow

 

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