March 17, 2010

Tweet this. A rare update from our Bard of Austin....

By Dr. Bud E. Bryan

Austin. We're in the throes of the famed South by Southwest Music Festival down here - otherwise known as SXSW - which has now grown to the point of pure bedlam. As if that weren't enough, they've added the SXSW Interactive Festival to the mix, so now we not only have hordes of people wandering around town in a daze, we have swarms of people stumbling around texting their brains out while in a daze. Not Good, as we like to say at AE.

It's worse than a bad - or good - zombie movie (rent Zombieland btw, it's awesome) downtown, because at least the zombies have a single-minded purpose. The crazies down here are going in a million different directions tweeting their asses off, wasting their - and everyone else's - time. It's pathetic, really. But not as pathetic as Chevrolet trying to hitch their wagon to the social media star here. I could go on a long diatribe about corporate involvement in the SXSW, but it's a futile pursuit. Chevy is the latest in a long line of companies trying to be part of the hipness quotient down here, and I think it's a total waste of time and money.

But of course they're absolutely convinced that they're learning something. I beg to differ, because the only thing they're learning is that they're disposable, just like everything else connected with the SXSW. They may serve a fleeting purpose for a minute during the event, but I doubt if any of the hordes go home thinking that the coolest and most memorable part of being at SXSW was their free ride in from the airport in an Equinox.

Needless to say, it's as if we're New Orleans natives who stay away from the Quarter during Mardi Gras. This too shall pass.

Ah, enough about that.

Miss Jolene came home going on three weekends ago and what can I say? She had three options. 1. She was going to come home, get her shit packed up and go back to L.A. for a full-time job. 2. She was going to come home, pack her shit up and move somewhere else in town. Or, 3. She was going to come home, pack her shit up and move closer to her family in Dallas.

Note that all of her options have the fundamental underlying premise of continuing her life without the ol' Budster, as she has finally had enough of my shenanigans. Only, she hasn't done any of that. There has been no packing, as a matter of fact. Oh, she's brought up her options in a few conversations, but it's as if she's waiting to decide what she's going to do based on the smoke signals that I'm giving off.

Only I'm not giving off any. I mean what can I possibly say at this point?

So we've just been hangin', sort of kicking our feet up and letting the world roll by a bit. I think Jolene needed to just soak in the Austin vibe for a while, get busy in her kitchen, have a few laughs, and just "be" for a while. I don't think she wants to think about packing anything or going anywhere for right now.

We did manage to get rip-roaring drunk one night, however. I was asked to be a judge at a Tequila tasting at a private home, a real high-falutin' deal with lots of movers and shakers in attendance. The high-roller - whose house we were at - was considering launching an all-new tequila here in Austin, with a national rollout to come later if he can get some real momentum in the market.  So he gathered a list of influencers - including yours truly - and we proceeded to taste the new stuff up against the established super premium tequilas, most of which you'd recognize.

Well, needless to say what started out as a staid, even serious event quickly deteriorated into one of the best parties of all time. I've never seen so many happy drunk people in my life. Jolene and I sat back in amazement as the deal went completely off the hook. At one point I was even blatantly propositioned by a friend of the host's wife in the kitchen. I had noticed her looking at me from across the room earlier but I didn't think anything of it. But when I went looking for some water in the kitchen, she was leaning back by the sink, with a big glass of water in her hand.

"You want some?"

Now, she said it meaning the water, but, she had this little smirk on her face indicating that she wasn't talking about the frickin' water, if you know what I mean.

Forty-something and plenty hot looking, she had on an obligatory little black dress on that was short. And I mean s-h-o-r-t. With a scooped out neckline revealing plenty of perky cleavage.

"Uh..." That's the best that I could come up with, seein' as I was hammered my own self.

"You're the writer, aren't you?"

"Huh?"

"The writer on that auto-something website, right?" She started walking toward me.

"Autoextremist.com."

"Whatever. You seem to like women, a lot. I find that to be a real turn-on." She had a wicked grin on her face.

"Uh..." I was stammering now...

"Let me repeat the question," she said, as she leaned back on the island, right up next to me. "Do you want some... of this?"

With that she took the glass and started dribbling water down her dress, between her breasts. And right about then a chill went up my spine and I heard...

"Well, well, well, Bud, can't I leave you unattended even for a minute?"

Jolene breezed in the kitchen, took one look at the woman standing there and deftly grabbed my hand and pulled me away and out the door. I glanced over my shoulder as Jolene led me out to see the woman in question flicking her tongue at me suggestively. Y-i-k-e-s. No words were spoken between Jolene and me. She just gave me a little smirk, called us a cab, and it was all we could do to get our asses up on the porch and in the house before collapsing.

Ten minutes later and there would have been trouble, but fortunately, I escaped another nuclear incident. But just in case you're staging a tequila tastin' I would be glad to consult on the project, for a fee and a boatload of free tequila, of course.

Jolene's going off to Dallas today to spend the rest of the week visiting her family. She asked if I wanted to go but I declined, as spending time in close proximity with her crazy-ass sister is not a value-added activity from where I sit.

Besides, I have places to go and people to see.

I have to have lunch with Nadine, who is cantankerous as all get-out lately because she thinks I've had my balls removed now that Jolene's home. Not really, I just didn't think it would be good form to disappear for three hours at a time to go get hammered with Nadine, at least not yet anyway. So I'm looking forward to seeing her, and getting my dose of shit as only Nadine can deliver it.

And Janey is coming in to town. She has given me a lot of rope in hopes that this will only be a momentary gap in time while this situation with Jolene runs its course. But I do expect "thin lips" from her when I see her, at least at first. Most guys of a certain age know what "thin lips" means. It's when a woman is royally pissed at you but she's trying to keep from blowing her stack, so that the situation doesn't deteriorate into a shouting match. That doesn't mean she's any less royally pissed, it just means that she's counting to ten before she has your ass on a platter. It's a fine line, I know, but hell, I like it out there on that edge. If you ain't almost crashing, you ain't tryin'. Or something like that.

The Jesse thing has been put on permanent hold out of a stroke of wisdom on my part, and the fact that Janey threatened to have me de-balled for real if I even got near Molly's flirty little trouble-makin' friend again. I was happy to agree. I must be getting old, even I knew there was nothing good about getting anywhere near Jesse again...

And finally, I have to do something I can't - and won't - talk about.

All I can say is that I'll save it for the book.

Adios until the nest time.