There's A Zoo in Austin? With Real Animals?

This week I went to the Austin Zoo with Winks the one-eyed cat and Rohini the one-eyed pediatric neurologist. I am not sure Winks's story, but I hear Ro lost her eye in an ugly bar fight in Long Beach.

The zoo, for those of you who have never been or even heard of the Austin Zoo, is a little out in the middle of nowhere and I am not sure it still qualifies as being in Austin, but it is nevertheless a pleasant place to visit. Between the one-eyed cats, three hundred free ranging peacocks, and a variety of legitimate zoo-type animals it was a relatively respectable establishment. I do use the term "zoo" loosely, however, as it was composed almost entirely of animals hillbillies and rednecks throughout the South and Midwest had acquired for themselves until they got "too big to manage" which I can only imagine to mean they "got eaten" or had their arm or arms torn off by "play bites." As a result it was mostly big cats, monkeys, and traditional farm animals. This unfortunately meant no meerkats, but it did mean there was a good number of very friendly-looking foxes and one slightly less friendly-looking and constantly pacing, brooding fox. With the intent of his stare I'd stay away from the opposite side of the zoo for a while. He's got plans.

So go to the Austin Zoo, see some cats, feed some goats, wade through peacocks, and prize goes to the first to find which animal's only got three legs!

Risky Business

Last month I vacationed to California for family fun time or, as it is also known in my family, Joust. Although we do not actually dawn armor and brandish shields in attempts to impale each other with poles, there is a lot of yelling and noise and inevitably someone will get trampled by a horse. It is just a matter of time before we break out the pikes.

Aside from periodic outbreaks of third grade name calling, no visit home would be complete without... well sleeping on the ground? Mostly it's just periodic outbreaks of third grade name calling. Fruity Pebbles, there was lots of that too. And clothes disappearing into a still as of yet unlocalized black hole. And... Fox News?

Typical family vacations aside, the time was spent in a variety of activities, most important of which being collectively kicking Bowser's backside in Nintendo Wii. That and denying Lucca access to the game. Of course there was also:

• Time at the beach in the gravel and surf
• Three flies up (man Hawaiian girls got weak arms)
• Chocolate covered soggy bananas
• Fireworks
• HORSE (man Hawaiian girls got weak arms)
• Gabby teaching my friend Ro and I to surf
• Eighteen man Nertz
• In-N-Out just once (so sad)
• A never ending game of paddle ball against every last one of my nieces
• Time with Grandma Ruby and Grandma Ruby's nurse
• Time walking home from the park after getting our truck locked in the parking lot
• Time with Matthew and Michael and Michael's cougar
• A corrupted game of Risk complicated by Adam's treacherous general surrender of his empire to his enemy and coincidental wife Ashlee
• An Angels game
• And our surprisingly violent improvised obstacle course (Lily your catastrophic fall was still the greatest)

We even managed to have a beach fire and s'mores for once where Sarah patented the 4x4. At least I think it was Sarah and I think they called it the 4x4. Whatever it was, it was one gigantic wad of marshmallow and chocolate.

The highlight, though, for me at least, was Disneyland. Disneyland! I hadn't been there in like... a really really long time. And apparently they've shrunk the place. It was definitely about half the size I remembered it being. I don't know how they did it; that Disney guy is a genius. Star Tours and Matterhorn may were my favorite rides -- now that the People Mover has been removed -- but Jungle Tour and the Rockets were close seconds save Beeders crushing my hip with his gangly, non-rocket conforming body. There was a slight drizzle, but it made it refreshing, and there were surprisingly long lines at times, but these were vanquished by our Quick Pass running-man Adam. My only regret was that more people could not have been there to see Moriah and Maya run like the dickens away from the animatronic jaguar in the Jungle Book tree house. Seriously, the dickens people. The dickens.

All in all, mostly good times were had mostly. Which is a success in our family so three cheers for that. Next time perhaps we can all sing Christmas carols in matching wool sweaters. I'll bring the tranquilizers.

Photos of the trip (i.e. us standing in various Disney lines!)

Standing in Mud for a Song

Last week, complements of Ro, I went to Austin City Limits. Without exaggeration it was the hottest, sweatiest, and muddiest I have been in a good time. Which, coincidentally, makes for a pretty good time. The temptation to slip and slide about the muddy knolls was present but I remained dignified. Plus no one else was doing it.

Although the two bands I truly wanted to see, Dave Matthews and Flogging Molly, had played the day before, I still got to see a bunch of bands I had never heard of (David Garza, The Dead Weather, and Heartless Bastards) and two bands I had heard of but, really, never heard (The Toadies and Pearl Jam.) It turned out one of David Garza's band mates also apparently does hula hoop tricks? By the end of the evening when Pearl Jam finally came on for their two appointed hours we were shoulder to shoulder with countless thousands of other people in what was likely the greatest exchanging of germs the nation has seen in years. I may or may not have been standing on top of someone. I definitely got to first base with the back of the dude's head in front of me.

Despite knowing all of only three or four songs, Pearl Jam was still pretty great. There was not a whole lot in the way of pyrotechnics or special effects, just deafening music that gave me phantom vibrations and tinnitus for about three days afterward. Crowd surfing was attempted but resulted in the guy being thrown over a shoulder and promptly into the gack, and moshing was impossible due to the complete inability to shift one's body weight. Live music it seems is powerful stuff even if much of it is unintelligible. I suppose that's why any respectable nationalist uprising or religious revival always has a good chorus. Post concert we ate at Wendy's -- and I do believe even the food tasted better.

No Dogs Allowed

My favorite movie as a kid was a toss up between Garfield's Halloween and Snoopy, Come Home. The first was and always will be great even long after Garfield ceased to be amusing to me. The second is possibly the saddest movie I have ever seen. Or, at the very least, the saddest animated movie I have ever seen. The most glaring memory which seems to daily reinsert itself into my thoughts, however, is the line, sung slowly in a deep voice, "No dogs allowed!" sung just about whenever Snoopy tries to go anywhere or do anything in the movie. I will likely go to the grave with that as the chorus in the back of my mind.

This last weekend I felt Snoopy's pain. I was thrown from a swanky Houston club, the Drake, for no good reason at all. Officially it was because of my lack of shiny shoes, but I believe reverse racism somehow played a role. Either my awesomeness or my excellence were clearly being discriminated against here, perhaps both. Although I could not hear it over the thumping base emanating from the club, I believe a distant baritone could be heard saying, "No tennis shoes allowed!" I had even specifically put these not shiny shoes on (and a button up shirt and pants) per the request of my friend, Ro, who I thought had been properly informed specifically to avoid such discriminations from happening. After failed attempts at then going to see a movie and renting a movie -- they were both closed -- we ended up spending the night playing two man Trivia Pursuit until Ro experienced trivia fatigue and began feeding me the answers in order to bring the game to its long delayed conclusion. Clearly the people of the Drake missed out.

In other news, I finally stopped at a Buc-ee's (the Beaver) Gas Station on the drive home just to see what there was to see. It was nice and clean and full of jerky and various Texas themed knick knacks. Oh, and about 3,000 people. I have never before and likely never will again see so many people in an isolated gas station in the middle of nowhere. Although I am not sure, I think this to be a good thing.

"Arrr, I think you be havin' a bit too many peg legs there, matey!"