I found this...

...tour dates are booked in the USA for LA and NYC in December.


LONDON (Reuters) - The Spice Girls are expected to announce a reunion tour on Thursday, ending months of speculation about the five-member band that brought "girl power" to the British music scene.
The band sold around 55 million albums and topped charts around the world before Posh, Scary, Sporty, Baby and Ginger decided to go it alone -- with varying degrees of success.
Geri "Ginger Spice" Halliwell left the group in 1998 and the other four have pursued solo careers and jobs outside music since their last album "Forever" in November, 2000.

Do you think you can handle it?

- Caitlyn

Working the phones and front desk for law offices. Lawyers are nuts. All of today has consisted of is *headdesk*.

Only an hour and fifteen minutes left.

*headdesk*

- Caitlyn

I tried letting you leave for a while
Contorting into hundreds of pieces
Crashed and shattered from loneliness
Writing what had been done unthinkable
I'll try you some other time
For now I'll let your words come
Without you soon and still, I'll die again

With child and without you
I didn't mean
But what we didn't mean is not what we had not meant
If you had only just

If shame doesn't do it, I will
We would have been free
You'll leave alone
Like I never thought you would
I'll rip past the vein
You will have awoken
Seeing a friend

- Caitlyn

Although my lover lives in a place that I can't live
I find I like a life this lonely
It rips and pierces me
In places I can't see
I love the rip of nerves
The rip that wakes me

I'm writing about Alfred Marshall and it is hailing outside. What? Was it 90 degrees day before yesterday?

- Caitlyn

I go to Toronto, London, St. Louis and Chicago for a week!

Yee Haw.

- Caitlyn

I write because I am assigned to and because I think that I must. I write because I am not an incompetent writer. I write to tell the amazing stories of others and vicariously, my own. Writing usually makes me angry, but when I write well, I know that I do. I want to inform others, teach others what I know. Though my knowledge is weak and my distinctions of myself and the world usually seem to reverberate in truisms and useless emotional roller coasters, I know that there is something that I have and know that others that should do not.

I can't stand it. I'm at Austin Java, trying to write a paper due tonight, and there's this English guy next to me having an argument with a girl. He's very sexy. Oh God, he just used the F-word... even hotter. Ever since I got to the convention center to pick up my badge (an hour ago) there have been British people everywhere. Christ. I can't handle the sexitude!

Sadly, this is just the sample...
More British people to come,

Caitlyn

No one posts to their Livejournals these days...

Tisk tisk.

Well, I went out to Carnaval Brasiliero last night. It was erm...interesting.

I was dressed in black like a whore in a feather mask.

I saw some people there, like Jessie. We exchanged hellos and and it got to the awkward point to where I said, "Well... I'm gonna... go now. Yeah."

I at least appreciate that we have the relationship where we can still have a conversation while I am dressed like a whore.

I remain justified because my whoriness was really not that bad. Many women were topless and nearly bottomless.

I'm considering whether my personality should allow sluttishness in public. It is fun, but I think the conservatively dressed lot is sexier.

See you tomorrow world, and welcome to the new week.

- Caitlyn

I am publishing the following restaurant guide in the Townies Guide during SXSW. I need immediate feedback. The more scrutiny the better. Even tiny stuff counts! I haven't finished entering all the addresses, etc.


From the freezing northwest parts of 360 and 2222 to the border town feeling of 2nd and Congress, townies and visitors can find a span of restaurants that will give you a taste of what makes the Townies call Austin ‘Home.’

Mars
Mars is located in a small refurbished town-home off of the one-way-south end of Guadalupe Street on San Antonio. When asked if they recommend it, some Austinites may tell you that they’ve never heard of the restaurant. My first visit there was for a reunion between an old friend and I. He wanted to go somewhere high-class, and indeed it was. It is an excellent place to talk business, or meet a date. I waited for mine at the teeny-sized bar in the back. The bartender quickly worked his nook as if he were a New York hotdog vendor. He was not only serving the people that waited by the bar, but to everyone else in the room. The dimly lit dining rooms are set in three. There is not much space in the warm wooden house, so moving from place to place and following your server is a chore. This also serves as a reason to make reservations, especially when the South by Southwest weeks come into play. Despite those worries, the exquisite dining makes room among the crowds of people. Foreign and positively unpronounceable dishes are provided by the service there. Feel free to decipher what is on the menu, and if your palette does not find an item titillating, the waiters are quick to understand. Mars calls its food that of the “Pacific rim” with parts of their dishes from India, Africa, China, Japan, and Thailand. Some of their entrée meats are prepared for hours before serving in a tandori oven that claims its own spot on the menu. During my first arrival at Mars Restaurant and Bar, I was in a hurry to get to a gig that I had to play on South Congress Ave., and the wait for my entrée was nearly so long that I was risking missing my food and show. But if you’re prepared for a night devoted to wining and dining, this place will receive you warmly. I personally recommend the milk & honey chicken supreme.
Bar, vegetarian option, seafood, dessert, parking available, evening only
1610 San Antonio, (512) 472-3901
Hyde Park Bar and Grill
HPBG, as it is better known, is among its kind in the Hyde Park neighborhood. Hyde Park is superfluous with landmark old homes from the late 1800’s and early 1900’s, back when it was a country area with a horse racetrack. The Hyde Park restaurant has preserved its country home feeling, but its walls are decorated by local photography, and between the old rooms, there are etched glass dividers depicting different foods. When you first walk in, a waiter will immediately greet you and lead you left or right, because ahead, there is a fine and proud three-sided bar that engorges most of the foyer. Their dishes are tamer than that of the aforementioned establishments, but no less rich. They have standard American dinners with sides like garlic mashed potatoes, and greenbeans, and entrees such as fish fillets and chicken-fried steak. Though their dishes, standard, the ingredients are fine, and will not leave the stomach feeling like a stone. The only thing that will do this is their portions. Hyde Park is, and should be notorious for the size of their servings. Their single-serving plate of fries takes a party of at least four to devour as an appetizer. Their main courses behave with no exception.

Mother’s
When was the last time that you awakened that angry vegan in you? For our fair city’s large vegan and vegetarian population, mom has created a place for them called Mother’s Café and Garden. You’ll be asked if you would like to be seated inside or outside, and if you select the outdoors as your option, you will actually be seated indoors. To the Mother’s staff, outside means more potted greenery, koi ponds, and corrugated pellucid plastic, shielding your head from the copious birds and pecan leaves that make up the Hyde Park neighborhood. But because this food and atmosphere is vegan, or even “hippie”, it should not, by any means, be taken to indicate that their food is less than superb. Their vegetarian lasagna is a rich delight with spinach and thick cheeses sandwiched between moist noodles. They also have the standard veggie burger (the Bueno Burger) topped with sprouts that the Austin Chronicle rated to be “best veggie burger” by its reader’s poll. Mother’s also prides itself on its vegan Belgian chocolate cake, which leaves me feeling like Augustus Gloop in my dining aftermath. It is even more spectacular a la mode with Amy’s ice cream.
Beer, vegitarian or vegan only, dessert, parking available
Las Manitas Avenue Café
I’ve spent over a month of my short life in Mexico and Central America. I’ve slept in the Guatemalan jungle and eaten breakfast on dirt floors with the natives. I’ve searched Austin for its best shot at Mexican food. I now feel that I can safely say that I know what good (and bad) south-of-the-border foods taste like. Las Manitas of downtown makes me forget that I am in the U.S. The establishment is humble and crowded with patrons and staff that speak as if English was their second language. Colorful art accents the walls. The black beans and rice plates compliment enchiladas, flautas, or migas unlike any other Mexican food joint that I’ve been to north of Mexico. The colors on the walls are as busy as the staff and waiting customers. If you’re feeling extra risky, try their authentic menudo (Mexican tripe soup) for a hangover cure.
211 Congress Ave. (512) 472-9357
Kerby Lane
If you think University of Texas students are sexy, or you want a round the clock breakfast for your unabating party schedule, try Kerby Lane. The Guadalupe Street location is always packed with Longhorn fans the day after a game, and on Saturdays and Sundays it is the hangover remedy for anyone that sleeps within its five-mile radius. It’s laid-back booth-seated atmosphere might trick any unsuspicious patron, but their menu has been carefully assembled with multinational seasonal entrees. Notwithstanding their urban location, Kerby has managed to keep many of its ingredients locally grown and pesticide-free. Their traditional Tex-Mex menu is constantly stretching the limits of the word ‘traditional’. Steak is a breakfast option and Greek chicken is topped with Feta and tabbouleh for the toga-wearin’ cowboy.
Kerbey Lane Cafe | South
2700 South Lamar Blvd.
Kerbey Lane Cafe | U.T.
2606 Guadalupe St.
Kerbey Lane Cafe | Central
3704 Kerbey Ln.
Kerbey Lane Cafe | Northwest
12602 Research Blvd.

Well, that was enough.

I woke up in today's morn in the nine 'o clock hour. I decided to take my morning to do SAT prep. I went on the collegeboard website to check out my options because I left my prep book in my downtown location. It had some nice questions and they offered a free test that I could print out... all 45 pages of it. My printer is too valuable for that crap.
I also found myself inspired to write my article for the Townie's Guide. It is all about food reviews and where to eat in Austin. I was so inspired that I wanted to go lunch at one of the restaurants listed. I stepped onto the icy backporch. I opened and slammed the back gate to hear a shatter like glass that I have never heard from a tall wooden gate before. I did my normal requirements for preparing the car to leave and noticed that the ice on my windshield was not going to come off soon and nor would the wipers come unglued from their nestling places. I got a broom handle from the garage and started whacking at them and left the car running. I'm sure that if I lived any further north, the locals would be snickering at my ill-fated and nearly comedic efforts. Summer frolicked out of the back gate to help. She got the windshield, the back window and tried many methods. I unrolled a back seat window to speak with her while I was inside of the car and opened the passenger's side door to unlock the ice that was keeping it shut. Summer peered through the door and stuck her tiny hand in to ask me a question and I slammed it. It caught her hand and I opened it quickly. "God damn it, Summer! Why are you putting your hand in the fucking door?" sounds like what I said. She looked at me like she was pleading for me to understand how much pain she was in. As I began to curse her longer, she screamed louder, like she was serious. I grabbed her hand from her, understanding that it would be bleeding profusely and ran her inside, determined not to let her see what I had done to her. Not only from the guilt, but to keep her from panicking more. My cupped hands caught all of the blood, and I washed them- feeling guilty but glad that I had helped her. Everyone else inside helped me get her down and have her fixed up. When the doctor came home he diagnosed that it was a laceration and a bruise. She hadn't torn her tendons or broken bone, but the flesh had come loose.

Shit, why did I do that?

-Caitlyn

Well, here's a sensitive but necessary subject.

It is almost feels like dying. It almost is like dying. Moving away, finding a life without the six (seven if you count Kim) people that I live with. Our relationships will be different. Our feelings will be different, and Amber and Summer will lose their parents. Tiffany and I are both leaving in Autumn, and we were the mothers to Amber and Summer when our mom left us. They'll be alone. Dad isn't home much. He works 8-7.

On the nights that I'm scared, I won't be able to crawl into bed with you, dad. I won't be able to wake you when I have my migraines to ask you for advil. I won't be able to jump on your bed on Saturday mornings to tell you that you sleep in too late and that we need to go out for breakfast. You'd always say yes.

I won't be able to tell you to turn off CNN, because its ruining the last of your youth. Why does it always take this long for me to realize that I always wanted you around? I didn't want to hate you when I did. I hated it and myself. Had I been at peace with my life, I would have loved you like this sooner.
You know, I never wanted to be like you. Still don't. I will probably not do much of what you want me to. We have days worth of arguments and cuss words for each other under our belts. Days of not understanding or making sense of whether we really love one another. Being with you and like you are very different experiences.
Next decade is the fifties, dad. I'll watch you get sick or have complications, weaken. I won't believe it. My daddy will never be old. He will only be strong, like he has always been. He has always been strong and tossed me in the air and caught me when I came down to smile at my amusement.
Why did you make me believe that our relationship was so bad? Just because you weren't mom, didn't mean that much. She didn't leave because of you either. It was her. She never got to live her teens or early twenties. She was the wife of a doctor and a mother, that was it. She had to go nuts for a while. None of this shit was your fault. Your parents expect too much of you. You've done enough for them. Being a wealthy physician should be enough. Fuck them if we need to be Baptist. You're good enough for anyone, especially Amy. All you can do is love her. She'll change her mind eventually.
When I step out of the door, I'll give you a kiss, I'll cry, I will tell you never to worry, and that I love you more dearly than anyone who has tried to be a father to me. I'll be home soon.
Thanks for letting me live,

Caitlyn

There's a fly buzzing around my head. Its small, like a gnat. I saw Andrew Sorell last night. I've liked him since I knew about him, I think. He was friends with my classy uncle Jep since high school, and since, he has befriended my dad. I liked Andrew because he is a classy guy like Jep. Not in the same way, but definitely to the same level. He manage(s)d Exposé and works at Autostrata, the place where my dad bought the Lotus Esprit. He and my dad are like children in the way that they run around scheming about how they can get rich. When completed, the report back to home base to tell of their findings. This applies mostly to real estate investment. My dad likes adventurous people like Andrew because he wants to be spontaneous, but only has the guts to do it if someone is holding his hand (or dragging him in my case).
I arrived at Andrew's to find him in the kitchen working on dinner. I decided to make myself appear kind and ask him if he needed any help, expecting him to educate me about the culinary realm while working. He took the time to explain everything to me as I'd thought, and he treated my very kindly. In the kitchen I met his wife for the second time and her brother who was 21 and in the marines. All of them except for Roxanne played the Fact or Crap board game and I won. Andrew and I got pretty competitive with each other and he ended up calling me a cheater, which I sort of was. We watched TV after being nearly dead on his corn chowder meal and talked about the cracked up show called Squidbillies. Look it up, or watch it on Adult Swim on CN some night, you'll love it or hate it. I like it though.

I have leftover butterflies from dropping $----.-- on fancy clothes that you will see in the weeks coming. I told my dad that he would never have to do it again, which may have made him happy, but still sad. I don't have much more time with him here, and I'm about to go. I'm going to miss him.

- Caitlyn

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/6240659.stm

Female readers saddened or enraged by the previously posted article may find a sense of jocundity in the article above. Why ring in the new year with a frown? Why not some COLOR??!?!?!

http://arts.guardian.co.uk/filmandmusic/story/0,,1982573,00.html

The article above is wicked and was written by a man that lived in the romantic period. The confused soul wandered out of his grave and into downtown London just as one of the Guardian's best arts writers was being raped and shot. They must have had an immediate deadline the next day to hire this man to write that which destroys our century's music.

I'm having one of those days in which I miss the times from before I was born. This is not just one of those (italics) days. I may not have had one of those (italics) days before today.

I was on YouTube - broadcast yourself -, flipping through videos of a newly discovered and cherished band of mine. I realized that the videos on the website were made before I was born or when I my diapers cushioned my ass when it fell to the floor.

'Damn I wish I was there', I'll think to myself, whilst watching the headbanging mosh pit thrust and push like a sweaty teenagerockmob. But if I were there, my pretoddleress wailing would drown out any of the good stuff.

This problem may have been one of the reasons why I never bothered to commit myself to The Rolling Stones, AC DC (I think they truly suck), Jimi Hendrix, Amadeus Mozart, or Blondie. One must suffer the loss of only experiencing music and art on CD or in the midst of a different culture, which completely metamorphoses the exposure.

I'm even realizing that my musical experience from only three years ago has transformed and shall never be the same. I cannot do anything about it. For the things that I was never old enough to know in their time I can only now dream about. For the things that I knew that have changed, I'll just have to let it go.

As we become more technologically dependent, it becomes easier to be victimized by an erasing past. In MS Word, one can make a time-line of their choice, and if one realizes an error after finishing year 2006, they can always return, cut, copy and insert into the desired space. The new information shall forever remain there as if it always existed.

I have three letters that can resolve this entire journal entry.

WTF.
-- Caitlyn

Want to know what the U.S. has planned (or not) for '07?

Want to know how mind over matter works?

Listen to me and the rest of the KOOP girls tomorrow (Thurs.)night from 6:00-7:00 on 91.7.

Next week:

Guess who will be hosting!

- Caitlyn

Ah. I am a member of some great LJ communities. It is nice. I send my thanks out to those who have contributed to my life in this way.
Other than that, I stood up Doug's fiancee today because I forget things. My self-esteem has finally hit its low today. I knew it'd come soon.

I haven't been taken out yet because I've talked to some people and gotten some emotional issues cleaned up.

I have also gotten some nice things worked out for my plans next year and conversations regarding that have come up and some nice results have come of them.

I shall reveal no details because I am uncertain of what will happen and do not want to start anything. I also do not want to scare those that frequent my LJ with information because I do not want to have to deal with said LJ reader spazzing tomorrow morning.

I had an interesting night last night. Kimmy and I went to Spiderhouse and worked on our essays. There, we found Marc Carboni (that boy is fucking everywhere), who told me that he was ACTUALLY moving to New York in three weeks to pursue a theater career. I'm happy for him. He's quite a determined person. My night slowed to a miserable halt at about three when I nearly made it to the toilet to purge all of my coffeeshop chai and fried steak dinner (I'm glad that I rid my bowels of the latter). It was a sink-to-wall-to-floor experience. At about five a.m., I got myself some water and tried television for a while. I watched something on AMC with a nun teaching a schoolchild how to fight. I thought a shower might be a fix, and it helped (after vomiting in the shower and falling asleep). I came to the bed sometime around six and decided I was ready for the land of Nod.

Eh... more final prep time now?

We’re on the way to Dallas. D-Town. Mmm. I am not excited, just nauseated. On my left, you’ll find a not so bright gentleman crayon, His name is Josh, the drummer. On his right yo’ull find Harrison. They’re singing ‘bout gummy bears. WTF. I am in the last row of the Unbearablesmobile riding backwards in my seat.

My lord, Josh smells. Maybe its his Cheetoes.

My mind is like a disappointed executioner. It tries to pool busy tasks like it does every evening at six. It finds a couple of kills, like a squirrel and like-rodent. They’re the warm up for the intensive laborious tasks later: people. Some might think that killing people as a regular job is easy and simple. In truth, it doesn’t take the same blade-heaving. It takes correct angles and thought to do it properly. I eventually give up on trying to accomplish tasks in a dark bumpy stinky Marshall van.

I can't figure out if I have the shivers from being cold or my coffee.

I'm sitting in NOA outside of my classroom long before it begins. The best parking spots are available before noon and it's 11:35. I stole Kes's sweater to keep me warm for my travels from 8th street to Dean Keaton. I didn't want to take either of my two jackets because they have less sentimental value. At the same time, I face the sweet sentiment of Kes getting mad at me and calling me inconsiderate for stealing his sweater. I would have told him about it if I could find him.
We did Latin together this morning. It was enjoyable. I studied a lot last night but it wasn't enough to impress either of us today. I need more regular memorization time. Mondays and Sunday nights aren't enough. I'll change that next semester.
I should actually be worried about the hell-arising exam next week in Psych. I asked Eric M. this morning if he could break my knee, because under such circumstances I could get a doctor's note and take the exam on a later date.
I also just got out of my bootstrapping entrepreneurship class. I left that class feeling accomplished. We will be making a film about our experiences of our work this semester and our experiences.
All of my Tinkerbell thoughts have been removed because I am achy now. I have pushed by body into a corner on the floor to avoid having my face seen by one of my classmates. He's a nice guy, and he has been kind enough to talk to me unlike nearly fifty others, but he's sort of creepy and he passes me notes during lectures while I'm trying to listen.

I wish I could've eaten lunch today.

- Caitlyn