4square.

I have fallen in love with photo booths. I want them everywhere I go.

That is all.

Lies.

Lying is wrong. It's beyond wrong. Pretty sure God forbids lying in that Bible, ya know? But sometimes lying is awesome.

Let's say for instance you're... a bartender. A bartender in a stupid restaurant with stupid customers who ask you stupid fucking questions all the time. An older couple sits at the bar to have a few drinks. Once you serve them, they continue to talk to you, asking you questions about the building, your job, your life, your co-workers. You get fed up. Knee-jerk reaction? Lying.

This is when lying is awesome.

"Now, are all of you working here part-time? Full-time? Students? What's your story? What's your life about? Your long-term goals? Are you single? Living in sin? A part-time magician? Who are you?"

Once I discovered the art of lying in these situations, these questions became so awesome to answer, almost to the point where I actually look forward to people asking them. In the past, I've been an aspiring astronaut (inspired by Sally Ride, naturally), a music-performance student (majoring in bagpipes, what else?), a florist, a bird-watcher, and, my personal favorite, a blimp driver. (All right, I'm lying, the blimp driver situation was out at a bar. But that happened, and I was really really awesome about it.)

Tonight I told my customers that all of the people who work front of the house are old friends from college; we all needed jobs at the same time that there was a mass exodus from the restaurant and we happened to get hired all at the same time. Once I'd said that everyone who worked FOH was related to someone in the kitchen. Crazy coincidence, right?? I mean, it makes sense when you realize that we have three line cooks, one prep cook, an outlet chef, and a sous chef. That's only six people! And you know, we're all native Minnesotans, except for the sous chef and that server over there, they're a brother and sister from Cleveland. (Those customers were particularly mesmerized by my bullshit.)

I would never lie to a customer about anything like where the bathrooms are located (or at least not until I quit), but I tell you, I absolutely love that post-lie moment, one after you've told an outlandish, outrageous lie, when the adrenaline kicks in. Are they going to call me out? Are they going to ask a question I'm not going to be able to answer and totally stump me? Fortunately these haven't happened yet. I've narrowly escaped a few close calls, but my tall tales are quite superb, if I do say so myself.


They're lying too, just different kind.

Dusty Love.

There is truly nothing more that I love in the world than an awesome song or a great album. This should come as a surprise to few.

I may be a twentysomething in 2010, but I firmly believe that the best sound comes from vinyl, especially music made before 1989. I'm not an audiophile, not by any stretch of the imagination. For me, I feel a certain importance to listening to music the way the artist intended. Elton John wanted me to listen to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road the way that it was pressed into the vinyl, you know? Not remastered on an mp3. (My snobbery takes many forms, but believe me, this form is the strongest.)

I've got a decently impressive vinyl collection, thanks to two pretty rad parents who no longer felt the need to hang onto these precious albums. Let's stroll through the highlights.

Synchronicity by The Police. This is one of my favorite albums of all time, save "Every Breath You Take"... I hate that song. Aside from that, song after song after song on this album is the peak of their career together (well... "Mother" is strange). Unfortunately this was not one I obtained from Mom or Dad, but it was found, buried in the used section of Treehouse Records. This album sounds awesome on vinyl, although the one drawback is having to skip over that godawful song.


Who's Next by The Who. This, babes, is the real deal. My dad bought this album brand new in 1971. I'll tell you, when I was weeding through his box of vinyls, I grabbed this one and he winced with a secret desire to hang on to it. Every crack and pop in this album is met with a smile because it's 100% authentic -- I can almost see my dad as a 16-year-old sitting on the floor listening to the album for the first time. I get as excited as I'm sure he did when the chorus of "Baba O'Riley" crashes through the speakers. This as an awesome family heirloom.


Abbey Road by The Beatles. Another authentic album, this time from Mom. My mom was a teenager when this album came out, and similarly with Who's Next, I get a lot of flashes to my mom when she was but a child listening to this album. Classic! Classic! One of the best things about albums like this is that I don't want to skip any songs. It flows so well, beginning to end, that you get wrapped up in it and are surprised when it's over. Another excellent family heirloom. My parents rule.


Live at the Flamingo by Tom Jones. This deserves a mention for one great reason (aside from the obvious) -- this was my very first vinyl record, another mother hand-me-down. I feel that this was quite the appropriate first album for me to receive. Tom Jones is the shit. He covers everyone from the Beatles to Burt Bacharach to the Grateful Dead on this album. His smarmy banter between songs is just so perfect it hurts, very Vegas in the 70s. When showing off my collection, I always pull this one out to showcase.


The Joshua Tree by U2. I picked this one out myself, obviously. Go back far enough and you'll discover that I've always been a huge U2 fan. Everything up to and including All That You Can't Leave Behind is fucking brilliant, even their artsy-fartsy era stuff. This album specifically sounds great on vinyl because of the way it was recorded (thanks, wikipedia), but the pops of the aging record add to the atmosphere of the songs. Non-U2 fans, learn about this album.


Evolution by Journey. This is another album where the quivers and cracks in the music due to the age of the vinyl add to its charm rather than detract from it, but in a much different way than an album like The Joshua Tree. This is the only album that fist-pumping is appropriate for. When I first discovered this gem among others in the bargain bin, I ran home and played it first, and I sat back with a smile, thinking that it sounded exactly the way that it should. Then I danced by myself for awhile. I think Steve Perry would approve.




These two albums are different from the rest -- bought brand new, but still absolutely vital to my collection. The Velvet Underground & Nico and Trust by Low. These two albums were necessary purchases, but I didn't want them used. I wanted to hear them at the peak of their quality, as the musicians involved in both bands are incredibly meticulous about their sound. Wear and tear would just distract from the sound that they wanted to create. Believe me, you've never heard "In The Drugs" sound as sad or "I'll Be Your Mirror" sound quite as genuine as it does on vinyl.



These albums are Tom Waits albums. Brand new, like the Velvet Underground and Low albums. Tom Waits is my favorite solo artist ever, and I feel his music to be such that I don't want to hear it at any quality that is less than perfect. I need the authenticity. If there's a crackle, I want it to be because he put it there. If it warbles, I want it to be because Tom saw it for the greater good of the song. Nothing but brand new Tom Waits. He's the only artist I'll do that for.

I like to hear music in a billion forms, but vinyl is absolutely my favorite for many reasons. You have to commit to the album if you want to listen to it, otherwise you'll spend an enormous amount of time skipping songs. You can't take it with you -- you have to sit and listen. And most importantly, it sounds so fucking good. As my vinyl collection expands, I feel a sense of arrogance in my musical tastes... but let us not forget that "Hold The Line" by Toto sounds great on vinyl.

Phew.

My eyes are sore, my spine aches a bit, and my right wrist has a weird click to it, but the first post on anne velocity is completed, as my photography blog is now up and running. Please be sure to tell Megan how gorgeous she is, as retouching is not a reality in our shoots. There are many other posts in queue, so, you know, keep a close eye out.

Women. Woods. Wed Wine.

The scene: Biwabik, MN. Eleven girls drive eight hundred thousand miles to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of one wonderful gal. Amid games, jokes, laughter, fresh salmon, and a lot of complete inappropriateness, there were some photos.






























Boy oh boy, did we have a good time or what?




This post was brought to you by the most adorable alarm clock ever.