please hold.

It’s like… major life events are right around the corner, just about to happen.  So, naturally, I’d like to just sit back and twiddle my thumbs to the soporific serenade of elevator music.

Too bad life doesn’t work like that.

No hold button.  No pause or fast forward on the remote.  No moment in time somehow inherently deserves more or less investment than another.  So here’s the lesson before me: to learn how to live in the now, and be content with that.

But why does it have to be so difficult?

lw

Frankfurt Motor Show 2009 draws alternative celebrity crowd

This year, in addition to the regular swarms of photographers, journalists, important people, and general car enthusiasts, the Frankfurt Motor Show saw a new and unforeseen patron amongst its attendees.

In promotion of the Bentley GTC Mansory Vitesse Rose, cutural icon and fashion tycoon Hello Kitty was on the scene.

“We’re anticipating the kind of crowd that will throng to the Mansory Vitesse Rose,” said Kitty, posing cat-like in the plush pink-and-purple interior.  ”The young, hip crowd that we’ve traditionally marketed to is growing up, and we need to consider their maturing tastes and fancies.”

Although Mansory has only expressed plans to build three of these €269,000 super-luxury chic-mobiles, Kitty hopes to strike a deal to produce three more of the special Hello Kitty edition pictured here, complete with her countenance detailed on the sides.

Toy superstar Barbie, who had also expressed an interest in sponsoring the Vitesse Rose, was not available for comment.

For more images/coverage of the Frankfurt Motor Show, visit www.autoblog.com.

lw

ladies and gentlemen…

IDSA@GT is back.  And we’s ready to rumble.

Next on the agenda… acquire navy blue blazers with that emblem embroidered on it for all members.  Gold blazers for officers.  Hells yeah.

[edit] And we can all wear khaki slacks/plaid skirts and have SCARF AND V-NECK THURSDAYS! [/edit]

- lw

finding a reason to go topless

Now over the course of the summer, I’ve had to make numerous commutes to the city down drab interstates, surrounded by morons in cars, sweating despite the AC, and drowning out my boredom with Taylor Swift…which happened to be the only CD in the car.  And normally, these commutes make me tired and sad.  Today, before embarking on a longish trip to see a friend, I honestly expected much of the same.  But here’s something I didn’t expect: a gloriously breezy, mild-temperatured, sunshiny day, and in the middle of July!  …In the hottest, most humid city on Earth.  …Second to none but a boiling pot of water.  And I made a discovery.  Previously, I’ve considered convertibles to be something of a useless luxury — and a bothersome one at that because it requires drivers to expose their faces.  Which is rarely a public service, because if you drive a convertible then you’re probably an old man with Croakies and a bad golf tan.  However, with 45 minutes of road ahead and Mother Nature smiling upon me, I thought, what the heck — if there ever was an appropriate time for a convertible, this had well be it!

Savoring the wind in my hair and the hair in my face, I found that much of the convertible-motoring community had also noticed the good weather and decided to break out the Croakies.  However, I did discover quite a few convertibles which had miraculously managed to get out of their driveways with their tops still on.  Isn’t there something in a convertible that cries in outrage at such incomprehensible treatment?  This left me wondering why, if you weren’t going to let your car do what it was made to do, you would ever buy a convertible in the first place.

Maybe these drivers just didn’t feel like showing their faces to the world today.  Which is alright, if I and the rest of society are better off for it.  And that leads me to my verdict on convertibles: they’re selfish. Nobody wants to see you in your car.  However, on a day like this was, your own personal driving experience… is just sensational.  So to all you non-convertible drivers, I’m sorry that you have to suffer my face.  Except that I’m NOT, SUCKAS!

- lw

ldubb vs. the porsche panamera

News is that Porsche, legendary automaker and German engineering powerhouse, has come up with something new.  Astounded, I headed straight for my computer to look up photos, but to my dismay, all I found was a Boxster.

courtesy of km77.com

Really, Porsche.  We all knew you suffered from a chronic lack of creativity.  But it’s like our mothers used to say… if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.  So Porsche, if you can’t design something that looks better (and more original) than a flattened toad, PLEASE hire somebody who can.

Also, as a fellow blogger pointed out, Porsche’s first 4-door saloon car comes at a hefty price, and not even in the way you’d first expect.  In order to get your Panamera with Bluetooth phone connectivity, you have to dish out $695 extra. Considering many, er, lesser vehicles come with Bluetooth as standard, that’s just being a little stingy.  For almost the same price, though, you CAN get red seatbelts, which AREN’T offered standard on nearly anything!  ha-HA!

But, like mother also used to say: it’s not what’s on the outside, but what’s on the inside that counts.   Okay, so that doesn’t really apply in every situation, but thankfully there is more to this car than silly looks and silly prices.  If the engineers at Porsche can do one thing well, that’s to make cars go like stink around roads — and the Panamera is no exception.  It’s power and precision, in a car that can carry very-reasonably-sized passengers in the back.  Is that reason enough, then, to forgive its ugly face and join hands in friendship?  Well, if you’re me, then it’s reason enough to respect it as a feat of engineering and welcome it to the Porsche family.  Would I ever, EVER get it?  …Erm, no.  Forgive me, but I’d rather not be seen with a $90,000+ flattened toad.

- lw

“the way I see it” gets the ldubb treatment

So it’s a hot mid-summer afternoon in the city.  Your brain is about on par with a well-done steak, and your feet feel like dragging canoes.  Needless to say, you need something, a lil’ pick-me-up.  In unified chorus, your body, mind and soul all cry — COFFEE!!!

For Techies (and, really, the vast majority of the civilized world), this means beelining for the nearest Starbucks.  It’s become the modern watering hole, a place where all sorts of species… er, social groups… gather to satiate themselves.  On Georgia Tech campus, the only Starbucks within comfortable walking range just happens to be the one in Tech Square.  And if the aforementioned situation happened to describe you, then that’s where you would have found me today… behind the counter, doling out grandes and ventis to the thronging herds.  I mean, people.

And that’s fine.  That’s what coffee shops are for, and I get paid to serve you.  Here’s the thing, though, the entire reason I’m sitting here — nearly 10 mucky, coffee-stained hours later — to share this little rant with you.  And here it is:  FRAPPUCCINOS ARE THE BRAINCHILDREN OF SATAN.

Forget all that “frappuccino light” load of bull, they’re terrible for you.  Even worse, they’re like the mutant offspring of coffee and slurpies, which is just plain indecent.  And, worst of all, they’re the staple drink of spoilt teeny-bopper brats, so if you’re a self-respecting human, you should avoid them at all costs.  The beverages I mean, although you’d be doing yourself a favor to avoid the teeny-boppers, too.

And my hate for them, though strong before, was cemented today by hordes of incoming freshmen and their parents persistently beating us over the heads with frappuccino orders for hours on end.  Seriously, people, you deserve better than that.  As your friendly neighborhood Starbucks barista, I suggest you try an iced caramel macchiato.  Or an unsweet iced coffee with milk.  Or iced blended dog crap, because YES that would still be better than a frappuccino.

Well, that is the way I see it, although I somehow doubt that Starbucks would endorse that message on their paper cups.  (“The opinions expressed here are not necessarily those of Starbucks,” tchyeahhh…)  Anyway, if you still don’t think you can divorce yourself from frappuccinos, here’s something that should make you lose your appetite for good: sausage rugs.  Mmhmm.

- lw

american dreams, american muscle.

So I woke up this afternoon (from a well-deserved nap, of course) to find a 1998 Ford Mustang parked in the driveway.  Random visitor, perhaps?  Roving salesperson about to assault my doorbell?

Wrong.  It’s my brand-spankin-11-year-old slice of AMERICAN MUSCLE!

Sort of.  It is most undeniably a relic of the 90’s — the body work on the profile has the visual appeal of a good set of love handles, while the interior looks straight out of Star Trek, The Next Generation.  As for its pop-cultural impact, it starred as Britney’s ride in  ”Hit Me, Baby One More Time.”  Mmmmhmm.   Here’s the thing – it’s not really American muscle.  Well, it is.  True to form, it sat down to watch some television and have a few bags of Fritos and oh, gosh, the American muscle got fat.  It has fake side scoops, it’s a freaking CONVERTIBLE for God’s sake, and it doesn’t even put down onto the tarmac that much because — although it is a V6 — that engine only produces about 190 hp for a huge car bearing the extra weight of a tan cloth top.  Oh, and it’s iridescent-beetle-green, which should be quite popular with the ladies.  Wait.

It’s actually quite ironic, because I’ve always loved Mustangs.  When the 2010 model came out, I went drool-faced over it.  A Mustang is a classic piece of American culture, full of spirit and character and straight-forward, no-frills mechanics.  You could say it was my “American dream” to someday own one.  So now that this has ended up sitting in the driveway, I’m really very……. happy.

So it’s not desperately pretty.  It doesn’t perform.  I’ll have to get used to steering a hippopotamus to and from the watering hole.  But — somehow — I can’t help liking it.  It has the shiny badges, it has the long pony nose, and the engine, though not exactly eager, still growls with power when you put your foot down.  And really, it’s none of these things that make me like it.  I can only say that the Mustang spirit can’t be dead, not even in a car as grotesquely divergent as this.  And, in the end, I’ve (at least partially) lived out my American dream.

On a side note, its name is Gracie (Lou Freebush).  And it triumphs over the 2010 model in that it does NOT have sequential tail lights, which will always be hopelessly tacky.

- lw

coming soon…

the relaunch of the blog. i may be becoming an internet addict. anyhow, hopefully a real update (and a new look) will be arriving in the near future.

- lw

process book photos and freak-out thoughts…

first of all, here’s the link:

link to picasa

so now you can enjoy fun photos of our models and all the trees we killed during ideation/conceptualization.

in other news, thanksgiving break is in 2 days, and i’m beginning to feel like… it must be crunch time.  the adrenaline’s gonna kick up.  the late nights and early mornings and all nighters will be pulled.  my blood will be replaced with coffee.

it’s gonna be…sick. (in both the disgusting, phlegmy way and the awesome, high-on-studio way.)

lw

trip to piedmont

so in an hour and a half break between classes, i thought sure, why not try to bike to piedmont park.  it’s close, it’s not too hilly getting there, and maybe i can stop by caribou on the way back.

the few, the bike lanes.

fellow biker! and in business attire, too.

cute bike rack.

some notes-to-self:

biking in traffic gets confusing.

saw a few other bikers in piedmont park, hooray

knowing your way around the city is essential, especially with the one-way streets… because if you don’t really know your way around, you may tire out really quickly and get nowhere.

but for tired (and rookie) bikers, coffee shops are AWESOME!

12th street has a hell of a hill. thankfully there weren’t too many cars for me to slow down, but LORD was i tired. (BUT i didn’t give up, so yay)

POTHOLES SUCK

other than the car wreck on 10th and the suicide hill on 12th, biking to piedmont park is actually really fun… good distance, good destination.

i can now get to trader joe’s without asking for a ride.

yep. i think that’s it for now.

lw