I'm back from the land of lost souls, silicon tits, and H3's....also known as Dallas, or the 7th layer of hell as I like to affectionately refer to it.
My exodus into damnation began Monday when I agreed to chapparone my little brother to Dallas for a photography conference. I should never make decisions when sleep deprived...because I inevitably regret them once I have to follow through on my promises.
The drive up was awesome. If there is anything that makes me happy, it's speeding my ass off and singing at the top of my lungs while doing so. Weather was perfect and I made it to Dallas in just 2 hours and 25 minutes. Then the sky opened up and shat all over my freshly washed hair with glee.
I left Austin at 1pm, and conveniently forgot to ask mi madre which Hilton my brother was staying at. This little detail slipped my mind until I was 15 minutes outside of Dallas, at which point I realized a city as large as Dallas is bound to have more than one Hilton. So, using my state of the art Blackberry, complete with $300 bill this month alone, I called the mamacita and found out it was at Lincoln Center. Well, I don't know Dallas from a gay man's asshole, and being the stubborn bitch I am, I found myself frantically searching for the Lincoln Center exit, which of course does not exist. The entire drive in I had to pee...bad. I stopped at 4 gas stations in the "bad" part of town before the apathetic clerk at 7-11 took pity upon my baby gerbil bladder and let me use the facilities. Being the genius I am, I bought a map. 2 hours later I still had not found the fucking place, and decided to call and get directions. I guess I asked for bad directions, because that's what I recieved. The worst, most piss poor set of directions in broken english that the concierge could offer. 3 hours of cursing, fuming, and plans to kick several people in the nuts went by before I happened upon the wrong Hilton, which graciously gave me directions to the right one.
I arrive to find my brother in desperate need of a chapparone, uh huh, yeah. Content lil mack daddy with a girl in his room, in the bed. So I try to find something, anything to do. No luck, I decide to hit the sack and try again the next day. And the bathtubs at the Hilton, they rule. So roomy, so deep, I wish I could have stolen the damn tub.
Iconoclast had offered to show me around lame Dallas during my stay, and show me around he did. Went to a couple of bars Thursday night and damn I have it good in Austin where live music and multiple venues abound. Dallas is deader than disco on Thursdays. Friday we hit MincLounge and I had a fucking blast. This place is killer in the decor aspect, and the scene wasn't nauseating, surprisingly. In fact, it was downright pleasant. Good music, good vibe, good folks, and most importantly they make a mean Gin & Tonic, which is purportedly the drink of 50 year old men according to aforementioned individual. Hmmm. Thank you much, you rock! Austin on me next time you're down here ;-)
So, all in all, a fabulous trip. The ride home was a bit spooky...I did not budget this shindig well, and we had a little less than 1/2 tank of gas and $9 dollars, but, it only took a quarter tank to get here (because of my superior cruise control abilities).
I am glad to be home, even if my tub is shitty by comparison.
Money has become increasingly tight folks, so I'm whoring myself out here on SG. Cleaning, Pet Sitting, I will scrub your baseboards with a toothbrush to make money folks.
My exodus into damnation began Monday when I agreed to chapparone my little brother to Dallas for a photography conference. I should never make decisions when sleep deprived...because I inevitably regret them once I have to follow through on my promises.
The drive up was awesome. If there is anything that makes me happy, it's speeding my ass off and singing at the top of my lungs while doing so. Weather was perfect and I made it to Dallas in just 2 hours and 25 minutes. Then the sky opened up and shat all over my freshly washed hair with glee.
I left Austin at 1pm, and conveniently forgot to ask mi madre which Hilton my brother was staying at. This little detail slipped my mind until I was 15 minutes outside of Dallas, at which point I realized a city as large as Dallas is bound to have more than one Hilton. So, using my state of the art Blackberry, complete with $300 bill this month alone, I called the mamacita and found out it was at Lincoln Center. Well, I don't know Dallas from a gay man's asshole, and being the stubborn bitch I am, I found myself frantically searching for the Lincoln Center exit, which of course does not exist. The entire drive in I had to pee...bad. I stopped at 4 gas stations in the "bad" part of town before the apathetic clerk at 7-11 took pity upon my baby gerbil bladder and let me use the facilities. Being the genius I am, I bought a map. 2 hours later I still had not found the fucking place, and decided to call and get directions. I guess I asked for bad directions, because that's what I recieved. The worst, most piss poor set of directions in broken english that the concierge could offer. 3 hours of cursing, fuming, and plans to kick several people in the nuts went by before I happened upon the wrong Hilton, which graciously gave me directions to the right one.
I arrive to find my brother in desperate need of a chapparone, uh huh, yeah. Content lil mack daddy with a girl in his room, in the bed. So I try to find something, anything to do. No luck, I decide to hit the sack and try again the next day. And the bathtubs at the Hilton, they rule. So roomy, so deep, I wish I could have stolen the damn tub.
Iconoclast had offered to show me around lame Dallas during my stay, and show me around he did. Went to a couple of bars Thursday night and damn I have it good in Austin where live music and multiple venues abound. Dallas is deader than disco on Thursdays. Friday we hit MincLounge and I had a fucking blast. This place is killer in the decor aspect, and the scene wasn't nauseating, surprisingly. In fact, it was downright pleasant. Good music, good vibe, good folks, and most importantly they make a mean Gin & Tonic, which is purportedly the drink of 50 year old men according to aforementioned individual. Hmmm. Thank you much, you rock! Austin on me next time you're down here ;-)
So, all in all, a fabulous trip. The ride home was a bit spooky...I did not budget this shindig well, and we had a little less than 1/2 tank of gas and $9 dollars, but, it only took a quarter tank to get here (because of my superior cruise control abilities).
I am glad to be home, even if my tub is shitty by comparison.
Money has become increasingly tight folks, so I'm whoring myself out here on SG. Cleaning, Pet Sitting, I will scrub your baseboards with a toothbrush to make money folks.
VIEW 25 of 25 COMMENTS
variety:
Austin is the place to party, yes. And at times I do miss living there, but only at times. Not that San Antonio is any better, but I'd rather be there than Dallas... don't even start on Houston, YUCK 
trilobyte:
Yeah I noticed 