Most of Saturday was thrift store shopping. Austin is full of thrift shops, all of which have something to offer – although the largest one we went to had curiously little that either of us even felt like trying on. The third shop, though, contained the dress I eventually ended up wearing to the Oscar party. We’d been looking through desultorily when Carrie pointed out this white sheath dress with a black empire bodice, white piping, and a white ruffle down the front. “Look,” she said. “You should try this one on!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said.
“No, try it on,” she said. And I did, and it was great and only $10, so I bought it. Carrie bought an art set (the packaging of which Xander later showed some interest in eating, by the way. He didn’t, though). We did not find a dress for Carrie, but as you will see when I get to the Oscar Party part of the triplog, she succeeded in looking very glamorous with existing garments.
Then we went to the fancy pet supplies store. There was a very cute counter guy who was definitely into helping Carrie. When she came up to the counter with her cat food he said “can I recommend something we think is better?” And she said “sure!” And he got out this secret bag of cat food from under the counter and explained why it was better – and indeed, Xander loved it! He also gave her a free sample of actual raw rabbit for Xander to eat, although I think he loved that less than the dry food. This guy was definitely a perfect specimen – i.e., smart, animal-loving, articulate, and very much indie-boy-looking.
Then we went to lunch at a very cool coffee shop called Pacha, also populated with attractive indie people, where an enthusiastic French student described the entire plot of The Birdcage to Carrie because his department was putting on a production of it.
After that, a visit to a shoe store that sometimes has good deals – although this week the deals were mostly on shiny, shiny, multicolored alien lizard moccasins. Which were greatly admired by a woman who was trying on shoes next to me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was just trying them on to make fun of them. “Oh my gosh,” she said. “Those are just wonderful aren’t they? I wish I could buy them, but my foot is just too narrow.”
Then we went to this neat organic co-op that Carrie belongs to and looked at all the neat vegetables, and I bought some cabbage that we never ate, but that I hope Carrie eats. They had about eighteen types of granola, which definitely impressed me. After a reverse-tour of our earlier exploits, looking for Carrie’s sunglasses (unfortunately AWOL), we returned to the house and watched a couple episodes of a British miniseries called House of Cards. Apparently it picks up after a while. After it gets to the murders, maybe. We didn’t get to that part. Or perhaps it seems more scandalous if you’re British.
We got hungry. Carrie proposed a walk to an Indian restaurant (Star of India) about a mile from her house, to which I enthusiastically agreed. We walked up there, and it turned out to be a buffet, and pretty good. Now it has made me repeatedly crave Indian food.
After dinner, we prepared to go to yet another party suggested by Mariam (who also claims to not be that social, but she is clearly mistaken) – a birthday party for her friend Stephanie. We dressed and headed over. The party was in South Austin, in an apartment complex that Carrie said Stephanie had described derogatorily as “being full of nudists.” I laughed because I thought she was probably exaggerating. Oh, I was wrong.
So this place is called The Metropolis, and it's apparently some kind of urban-redesign program initiated in 1998 – and designed it most certainly is. these two pictures give you some small idea of the wacky design scheme of this place, but not much. Also, it may look more impressive in the dark. It’s all over crazy colors and shapes with lots of giant metal sculpture everywhere. The “clubhouse” in the middle, where the party was, is called “Club Met” and features, in addition to pool (site of the nudists) enormous iron chairs shaped like crowns, sculpture coming out of the ceiling, and exposed ductwork. The whole thing is kind of like a gigantic kitschy chain restaurant, like Johnny Rocket’s or the Hard Rock Café or something.
And the people. At first there were only Stephanie’s friends, who were quite nice even if Carrie and I knew none of them but Stephanie herself and her friend L.T., whom I liked a lot (Mariam had not arrived). But then Stephanie invited the Metropolis people hanging out by the pool up, and we were suddenly in the middle of a wild, half-hippie, half college-dorm, half weirdo transient community. Some of the amusingly bad reviews for this place also try to describe the crowd. It was definitely invested in being free-spirited. And drug-addled. And young. Two girls in bikinis talked enthusiastically to us for a while. “I mean, I’ve only lived here a couple months, but anything goes here, anything,” one said dazedly. She was later tremendously excited to find out I was from Virginia – she’s from Blacksburg.
Then Dan appeared. Dan was the crowning glory of the Metropolis-Party experience. He was a diminutive African-American guy of indeterminate age (32, he told us, within about ten minutes of initiating conversation). He is a fixture of the Metropolis scene.
Someone asked about Dan’s t-shirt. It was dark blue and said “Lean, Mean, Medical Testing Machine.”
“Man, yeah,” said Dan. “That place…that stuff…man I was never the same. They tell you you aren’t in any danger, you won’t have any adverse reactions, but man, I lost time. I blacked out. I don’t know what they did to me, but I have not been the same since.”
“Oh…” said the dude who had asked. “Cause I did those studies and nothing happened to me…they just, like, took my blood pressure and stuff.”
“No, never the same since,” said Dan and shook his head. He looked at Carrie, who was wearing her knee-high black velvet boots, which are in fact great. “Wow,” he said. “Look at those boots. Those are Amazon boots. Those are amazing.” Dan really liked these boots. He kept comparing his height to hers the whole night. He engaged Carrie and me in conversation.
He revealed that he is excellent at reading people. “You,” he said to me, “for instance, you’re easy to read.” Then he told Carrie he bet he could guess her sign. He was one off. Then he said he could guess her birthday. “Okay,” she said. He thought for a while, and then guessed – again only one day off.
“Whoa,” I said. “That is….that’s pretty amazing.”
“Can you guess hers?” Carrie asked. Dan thought for a minute. “Hm….” he said. “April.”
“That’s right!” I said. Despite his previous success with Carrie I was very surprised. Then he thought some more. “I’m getting….an 8?” Inside, I smirked. 8 isn’t close at all. Then he smiled. “13th,” he said.
I think my jaw actually dropped. “That’s exactly right!” I said. “Exactly right!” I tried to ask how he does it – is it ESP? He said no, not exactly – more that he’s looking in a way that’s not with his eyes. This was in fact genuinely very impressive.
Then he began to talk about his sexual proclivities. Which primarily center around tickling. “I mean,” he said “most people they thing ‘oh, I don’t like that it doesn’t feel good,’ but what they don’t realize is that there are two types of tickling. There’s deep tickling and surface tickling. And if you’ve ever really had deep tickling….it’s mindblowing. It’s better than the best orgasm you’ve ever had. You may think,” he said, “that ‘oh, that’s weird and shit,’ but look it up on the internet,” and here he gave a very knowing look and held up three fingers. “[third]…biggest fetish.” He nodded. He told Carrie that she was ticklish on her feet, that’s why she was wearing those boots. “You’re protective of them,” he said. “Because it’s your vulnerability.” She tried to tell him that she actually wears sandals most of the time but he wasn’t having it. He knows things, you see.
After a while I deserted and talked to Mariam and L.T., but Dan remained glued to Carrie pretty much the whole time. Apparently he has a friend who is a professional tickler. And makes lots of money. And he kept trying to convince her to either go to his apartment or to her car. Which she was not doing.
Finally the party moved to Stephanie’s apartment (she was by this point one of the drunkest people I have ever seen) and we left. “I’m going to refer to this place as ‘twenty-four hour party people’” Carrie said. I nodded. “It’s…amazing,” I said. “Pretty amazing.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said.
“No, try it on,” she said. And I did, and it was great and only $10, so I bought it. Carrie bought an art set (the packaging of which Xander later showed some interest in eating, by the way. He didn’t, though). We did not find a dress for Carrie, but as you will see when I get to the Oscar Party part of the triplog, she succeeded in looking very glamorous with existing garments.
Then we went to the fancy pet supplies store. There was a very cute counter guy who was definitely into helping Carrie. When she came up to the counter with her cat food he said “can I recommend something we think is better?” And she said “sure!” And he got out this secret bag of cat food from under the counter and explained why it was better – and indeed, Xander loved it! He also gave her a free sample of actual raw rabbit for Xander to eat, although I think he loved that less than the dry food. This guy was definitely a perfect specimen – i.e., smart, animal-loving, articulate, and very much indie-boy-looking.
Then we went to lunch at a very cool coffee shop called Pacha, also populated with attractive indie people, where an enthusiastic French student described the entire plot of The Birdcage to Carrie because his department was putting on a production of it.
After that, a visit to a shoe store that sometimes has good deals – although this week the deals were mostly on shiny, shiny, multicolored alien lizard moccasins. Which were greatly admired by a woman who was trying on shoes next to me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was just trying them on to make fun of them. “Oh my gosh,” she said. “Those are just wonderful aren’t they? I wish I could buy them, but my foot is just too narrow.”
Then we went to this neat organic co-op that Carrie belongs to and looked at all the neat vegetables, and I bought some cabbage that we never ate, but that I hope Carrie eats. They had about eighteen types of granola, which definitely impressed me. After a reverse-tour of our earlier exploits, looking for Carrie’s sunglasses (unfortunately AWOL), we returned to the house and watched a couple episodes of a British miniseries called House of Cards. Apparently it picks up after a while. After it gets to the murders, maybe. We didn’t get to that part. Or perhaps it seems more scandalous if you’re British.
We got hungry. Carrie proposed a walk to an Indian restaurant (Star of India) about a mile from her house, to which I enthusiastically agreed. We walked up there, and it turned out to be a buffet, and pretty good. Now it has made me repeatedly crave Indian food.
After dinner, we prepared to go to yet another party suggested by Mariam (who also claims to not be that social, but she is clearly mistaken) – a birthday party for her friend Stephanie. We dressed and headed over. The party was in South Austin, in an apartment complex that Carrie said Stephanie had described derogatorily as “being full of nudists.” I laughed because I thought she was probably exaggerating. Oh, I was wrong.
So this place is called The Metropolis, and it's apparently some kind of urban-redesign program initiated in 1998 – and designed it most certainly is. these two pictures give you some small idea of the wacky design scheme of this place, but not much. Also, it may look more impressive in the dark. It’s all over crazy colors and shapes with lots of giant metal sculpture everywhere. The “clubhouse” in the middle, where the party was, is called “Club Met” and features, in addition to pool (site of the nudists) enormous iron chairs shaped like crowns, sculpture coming out of the ceiling, and exposed ductwork. The whole thing is kind of like a gigantic kitschy chain restaurant, like Johnny Rocket’s or the Hard Rock Café or something.
And the people. At first there were only Stephanie’s friends, who were quite nice even if Carrie and I knew none of them but Stephanie herself and her friend L.T., whom I liked a lot (Mariam had not arrived). But then Stephanie invited the Metropolis people hanging out by the pool up, and we were suddenly in the middle of a wild, half-hippie, half college-dorm, half weirdo transient community. Some of the amusingly bad reviews for this place also try to describe the crowd. It was definitely invested in being free-spirited. And drug-addled. And young. Two girls in bikinis talked enthusiastically to us for a while. “I mean, I’ve only lived here a couple months, but anything goes here, anything,” one said dazedly. She was later tremendously excited to find out I was from Virginia – she’s from Blacksburg.
Then Dan appeared. Dan was the crowning glory of the Metropolis-Party experience. He was a diminutive African-American guy of indeterminate age (32, he told us, within about ten minutes of initiating conversation). He is a fixture of the Metropolis scene.
Someone asked about Dan’s t-shirt. It was dark blue and said “Lean, Mean, Medical Testing Machine.”
“Man, yeah,” said Dan. “That place…that stuff…man I was never the same. They tell you you aren’t in any danger, you won’t have any adverse reactions, but man, I lost time. I blacked out. I don’t know what they did to me, but I have not been the same since.”
“Oh…” said the dude who had asked. “Cause I did those studies and nothing happened to me…they just, like, took my blood pressure and stuff.”
“No, never the same since,” said Dan and shook his head. He looked at Carrie, who was wearing her knee-high black velvet boots, which are in fact great. “Wow,” he said. “Look at those boots. Those are Amazon boots. Those are amazing.” Dan really liked these boots. He kept comparing his height to hers the whole night. He engaged Carrie and me in conversation.
He revealed that he is excellent at reading people. “You,” he said to me, “for instance, you’re easy to read.” Then he told Carrie he bet he could guess her sign. He was one off. Then he said he could guess her birthday. “Okay,” she said. He thought for a while, and then guessed – again only one day off.
“Whoa,” I said. “That is….that’s pretty amazing.”
“Can you guess hers?” Carrie asked. Dan thought for a minute. “Hm….” he said. “April.”
“That’s right!” I said. Despite his previous success with Carrie I was very surprised. Then he thought some more. “I’m getting….an 8?” Inside, I smirked. 8 isn’t close at all. Then he smiled. “13th,” he said.
I think my jaw actually dropped. “That’s exactly right!” I said. “Exactly right!” I tried to ask how he does it – is it ESP? He said no, not exactly – more that he’s looking in a way that’s not with his eyes. This was in fact genuinely very impressive.
Then he began to talk about his sexual proclivities. Which primarily center around tickling. “I mean,” he said “most people they thing ‘oh, I don’t like that it doesn’t feel good,’ but what they don’t realize is that there are two types of tickling. There’s deep tickling and surface tickling. And if you’ve ever really had deep tickling….it’s mindblowing. It’s better than the best orgasm you’ve ever had. You may think,” he said, “that ‘oh, that’s weird and shit,’ but look it up on the internet,” and here he gave a very knowing look and held up three fingers. “[third]…biggest fetish.” He nodded. He told Carrie that she was ticklish on her feet, that’s why she was wearing those boots. “You’re protective of them,” he said. “Because it’s your vulnerability.” She tried to tell him that she actually wears sandals most of the time but he wasn’t having it. He knows things, you see.
After a while I deserted and talked to Mariam and L.T., but Dan remained glued to Carrie pretty much the whole time. Apparently he has a friend who is a professional tickler. And makes lots of money. And he kept trying to convince her to either go to his apartment or to her car. Which she was not doing.
Finally the party moved to Stephanie’s apartment (she was by this point one of the drunkest people I have ever seen) and we left. “I’m going to refer to this place as ‘twenty-four hour party people’” Carrie said. I nodded. “It’s…amazing,” I said. “Pretty amazing.”
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