by ihaddad on March 30, 2011
You may not know that my two all-time favorite bands are The Who and Pink Floyd. Choosing which I love more would be a heartbreaking Sophie’s Choice of rock anthem proportions. I could wax on and on about how fan-freaking-tastic they are, but there aren’t enough adjectives synonymous with “awesome.” What I can talk about is graphic design, and aside from both bands being in desperate need of major website re-designs, each of them has a history of really cool album covers. (Note for those born after 1980: An album falls somewhere between this and this.)
Apparently I live in a cave circa 1993, so I just discovered these really cool kicks by Converse. Which one’s your fave?
by ihaddad on March 29, 2011
by ihaddad on March 15, 2011
No offense to Lex Oto, but he might want to rethink that logo.
by ihaddad on March 13, 2011
So here I sit, waiting for people to show up to my event: #BloungeATX Bloggers’ Lounge. There are currently four of us here, and I have food to feed 50+. What the hell am I going to do with 100 chicken wings and 75 corn dog bites? Well, first I’m going to eat. A LOT. As far as my pride goes, meh, I’ll survive. I’ve certainly learned to deal with embarrassment before. Here are just three examples:
1. I insisted on throwing a going away party in my modest home for two VERY popular friends. There were other offers of venues, but I just had to be the hostess with the mostest. The result? 65-year-old women sitting on my living room floor—classy.
2. In preparing to give a talk about graphic design to a group of association executives, I spent so much time making sure my presentation slides were perfect, that I neglected to actually practice my speech. The result? Perhaps the crappiest presentation of all time. Seriously. It was legendary.
3. I used to teach a graphic design course at a community college. Some of my colleagues told me I needed to be tough on the students. As in most things Weenie, I overshot it a bit and became known as the Mussolini of the art department. The result? One of my student reviews called me “The worst teacher ever.”
So there you have it. The examples are endless, but the lesson is always the same: If you plan on getting too big for your britches, be prepared to eat a whole lot of corn dog bites.
**Postscript: #BloungeATX attendance increased considerably throughout the day, though I did end up eating a LOT of bar food. I get to do this all over again tomorrow, so stop on by!
by ihaddad on March 11, 2011
Last night Mr. Weenie worked behind the scenes at the Texas Film Hall of Fame Awards Show. He does it every year—designing the stage and doing the technical direction. I attended the first year but haven’t been back since. Here are some reasons why:
1. Awards shows make me nervous. I’m constantly cringing at how uncomfortable the celebrities look on the red carpet. And why do all the women have their hands on their hips? It’s not like they have any arm fat to hide.
2. Watching the sycophants reporters interview the celebs makes me feel sad.
3. I don’t understand why they insist on having the cameras focused on the losers. That’s just mean. How many of those people actually practice their “I’m a loser” faces before the ceremony? My guess? All of them. (Except Mel Gibson, who pretty much looks like a loser all the time.)
4. How evil is it that the reporters tell the red carpet walkers how lovely they look and then publish stories about Angie Harmon’s Björk impression and Anne Hathoway’s superpower of turning completely invisible when she wears beige?
5. The worst part of the ceremony by far is the acceptance speech. While the prepared speech appears presumtuous, the unprepared is even worse. Not only don’t I care how grateful the winner is to the dolly grip and best boy, but I literally hold my breath, waiting for the inevitable embarrassing blunder.
Now if you were to say it’s easy for me to be so judgmental from my couch, you would be correct. If I were ever to win an award I would probably make every mistake in the book, with the added probability of tripping and spilling my drink on Russell Crowe. Fortunately, the only award I am likely to get is for being the most boring couch potato of the decade, and I don’t think they have a trophy for that, although a golden pillow would be nice.
