folio fails to respect

i have to say i was extremely disappointed with folio's most recent cover story "ten things i hear about you". i couldn't decide if i was more upset with the author, who splits his time between his hometown of chicago and "florida's first coast", for encouraging a terrible attitude and outlook on the city in which he resides, disrespecting all the things we jacksonvillians love, tossing them, and us, aside as ignorant, backwards, and overzealous over seemingly small qualities.

or, perhaps i was more upset with folio for publishing it. i am pretty sure it was meant to be humorous, but as a person who has lived in a place that views the south in a BACKWARDS and IGNORANT way, i found it offensive. i battled those rediculous stereotypes the entire time i lived in california. i never understood. people in the south don't sit around bashing the rest of the country. maybe that's why the rest of the country does. if we [the south] can't be bothered, then we must be stupid.

what's wrong with us being proud? and if you hate it so much, [insert author's name], then why don't you just leave instead of trying to bring us all down with you? perhaps they [author and magazine] thought by speaking to jacksonvillians, it made it okay to bash us. that way it's not insulting because, i don't know, we are "in the room", instead of talking about us behind our backs. it's not like he published it in chicago, after all, because that would be in poor humor.

i am not opposed to speaking your mind, even if it's negative. or especially if it's negative. but when it's pointless [the article made no real point beyond "jacksonville sucks"] and serves only to make everyone around you look stupid, then you're just an ignorant bully. go back to middle school, or go back to chicago. either way.

my hands are full!

Okay, this post essentially has nothing to do with Jacksonville.

I am not ashamed to say that I am tawdrily, tastelessly, self-loathingly addicted to celebrity gossip. Hey, it's a pastime. I find Perez outrageously offensive to my exact liking. I adore Michael K's homo-centric wit and charm. And X17's blatant refusal to feel ashamed for spending their days chasing and stalking makes me smile on a regular basis.

Perhaps I find it ironic or something. That might make it all better, if I did. But I doubt that's even true.

So here is what I am saying... has anyone ever noticed how celebrities are always carrying like twenty things at once? They carry these ridiculously large bags and then hold all the contents in their hands!

I have a few theories. Perhaps they hold these things as distractions. Like, "I can't see you paps because I am too focused on the huge water bottle wedged between my cellphone and keys and the ginormous scarf!" Or perhaps its like walking advertisement, as seen in Lohan's incessant display of Ariva. Or maybe they just like to snuggle with teeny tiny dogs.

This post is almost embarrassing. No, I am pretty sure it is embarrassing, but it baffles me. Why do celebrities have so much more shit to hold?

Celebrating the Rabid Fox

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Originally uploaded by hilarydarling

Every year, on the last Saturday in February, my friend pulls the world together for the latest and greatest holiday, the Celebration of Life.

Food abounds. Kegs pour endlessly. Music wafts through the air. Christmas lights lead the way through the enchanting garden all the way to the abandoned train tracks that lead your mind down the overgrown trail... We contemplate where we've been, we look at where we might be going, but we always know that back down at the party we are going to celebrate the good things.

The rest of the world hasn't caught on just yet, but this year all that changed with the Rabid Fox Attack.

It all started with a whiz. One celebrater wandered into the woods, following the lights and flowers, when out of nowhere a "dog" bit him on the ankle. He soon realized, however, that no dog had a tale so bushy. Walking toward the party to warn the masses, he was bit again, and again and again.

The fox then attacked another celebrater, this time a clever guy trying to document the moment on digifilm. This time the fox was wildly slung like a wet rag attached to his foot, ripping his jeans into shreds before getting trapped under the wheelbarrow.

There it stayed, scratching at the sides, for hours. The children were playing "Run Away From the Fox". The women were all sort of forlorn, with long, worried looks on their face that the fox might be scared. And the men stood around discussing ways the fox might die.

Animal Control eventually showed up and took the fox away in a net. But it made front page news in the Tallahassee Democrat's Sunday Paper.

Now, we are all worried about our friend who might have rabies. He has to get a lot of shots.

But we will celebrate forever the year of the Rabid Fox.

First Beach Day of Winter

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Originally uploaded by hilarydarling

When I lived in California, winter didn't end until mid-June, when Spring/Fall rolled around, literally rolling through the streets with the fog. And even then a day at the beach meant sweaters and blankets.

It was only February, 16th as I laid on the beach in a bikini. The air was a bit breezy. I did occasionally pull my towel over my shoulders to sheild the cold air. But it was still February and I was on the beach. Only in Florida.

There were five footballs around us, most being thrown obnoxiously close to our heads and towels. Two girls in alternating swim suits (pink bottoms, black tops, black bottoms, pink tops... you get the picture) threw their football with exceptional lack of skill as they flung their hair side to side. A few tourists in sweatshirts fed the seagulls, much to our chagrin, and we laughed as the birds flocked the surrounding area. A guy on a unicycle motioned to one of the mix-matched bikini girls for the football, which proceeded to knock him off the unicycle with a weary "Ohh!!!" and thud.

The beach was packed. It was the day of the Breast Cancer Awareness National Marathon. There were pink flags everywhere. Some dude had created a three-story bicycle (use your imagination, it probably comes close) and was wheeling it down the sidewalks. Walkers made their way across the soft, cool sand. The board shorts were out. The surfers cozied up against the peer. The folding chairs were beginning to make their indentations into the edge of the continent.

And Floridians were welcoming the warmth of eternal summer. Just another day at the beach... in February.

Shangrlatida

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Originally uploaded by hilarydarling

I love music. Especially good music. So, when a good friend told me I had to check out the Shangrala CD Release party at Jack Rabbits on February 15th, I headed her advice. Particularly because she doesn't usually recommend things of this nature, so when she does, I pay attention.

There is something even better than just good music, in general. It's good music that comes out of your home town. It just feels better. For some reason it has this connectedness. Not that I have any claim to this goodness, but it makes me feel a little cooler that I get to experience it before others, perhaps. (Although not that many others, as I have just discovered it.) Or that years down the road, pending possible great success, I can say I knew them when. Or whatever it is. Its just a great thing.

Shangrala is really good. And they're from Jacksonville. Even betta.

Bumper Pool

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Originally uploaded by hilarydarling

I always thought Bumper Pool was an Irish Game. I so associate it with my time in Oakland, my time at McNally's, the best Irish Pub possibly in the whole world. Even the building is green.

There was where I learned to play bumper pool, and there was where I thought I had left it. It was one of those sweet somethings of that yesteryear of California.

And then I found one at Petes Bar in Atlantic Beach. And Petes kind of contains so many of the things McNally's meant to me. Just people being people. A great Jukebox. Cigarette smoke (that I hate, actually, but still). Good, cheap beer. A certain ease. Oh - and let's not forget - Erotic Photo Hunt. Thank you.