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LiveJournal for Canadian Tuxedo Optional.
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| Thursday, July 24th, 2008 |
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![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} ihatesnard realized the other day that she's been on LJ for 7 years. That caused a few of us check how long we've been on here, and it looks like we all jumped on board around the same time. The second half of 2001 was a crazy time, when this "Live Journal" thing was exotic and new. But some of us had "journals" before LJ. Remember pitas? Lindsey had one of those. I had a Diaryland that I'd forgotten all about until Daniel mentioned he had one too. So I looked mine up and LULZED (and cringed) for days. No one needs to read all of that crap, but here are some CHOICE CUTS with present-day commentary. I wish I could go back in time and tell 19/20-year-old me to chill the hell out. ... 8/31/2000: Today is Thursday, otherwise known as my only day to have fun. There's this 'club' in hollywood every week called Cafe Bleu where they play all kinds of brit pop, 60s soul, etc. I love dancing, not to say i'm good or anything (but i think i am). I've met 2 really swell girls there. Maybe someday i'll explain how we met, but for now, all you need to know is Martina just dumped me (one week ago today) and i'm back on the 'prowl'. [I can't believe I wrote "back on the prowl" and put prowl in quotations. Anyway, Martina was a girl I met at Cafe Bleu. We went out for a couple of months and then she blew me off with the ol' "I don't want a boyfriend" line. But she got me into Smile, which came in handy later on.] 9/2/2000: My summer concert schedule is shaping up nicely. I've got Jets to Brazil, Saint Etienne and Travis in the next 5 weeks. And who knows who else will be coming to town.... [I miss Jets To Brazil!] 9/5/2000: Slept in till 11. Got up. Drove around Los Angeles. Went home. Read old newspapers that had been piling up in the corner. Listened to some cds. Watched TV. Tried to go to sleep. Had insomnia. Then, had a nightmare. Woke up this morning slightly less than refreshed. [Wasn't my life FASCINATING?? Oddly enough, this was actually written two months ago.] 9/9/2000: I've been thinking. A little too much. I've noticed how i'm slowly going insane. Well, maybe not insane, but i don't like the road i'm headed down. If i'm this neurotic at 19, imagine when i'm in my 60s. I think i need to seek professional help to 'de-program' the way my brain works. [Rad emo ramblings!] 9/9/2000: Yesterday i got a page from a girl who i used to know. Actually, no, i didn't know her. She's someone that i knew for a while, but then couldn't run fast enough away from. I met Stephanie late last year/early this year, when i was taking the bus to work. We took the same bus and transferred at the same place. I thought she was sorta cute (from afar). I mean, the catholic schoolgirl uniform does it for me every time. One day she came up to me and we started talking. I didn't mind. I had some time to kill while waiting for my bus. I thought she was alright. Not really my type (a little too immature) but i nonetheless gave her my pager number, unaware that i would be making a great mistake. She started asking me really personal questions (do you like sex? do you think about sex?, etc.) The nail in the coffin was when she wrote me a letter saying that she wanted to get married really young and have lots of kids. It was implied that she wanted ME to have these kids with her. How creepy is that? Thanks to her, i purchased a car a little sooner than i would have, had i not had a stalker. With my car, i could now avoid taking the bus, and thus, avoid this seriously creepy girl. [The thing I take away from this story is that I'd almost forgotten I had a pager. Also, I can't emphasize how creepy that girl was.] 9/11/2000: I'm now car-pooling with a girl here at work. When i picked her up this morning, she told me the story of how her dad found my pager number next to the phone and didn't know who this "michael" character was. So he pages me and hears my outgoing message. I have primal scream's "swastica eyes" playing in the background and i go "heyyy it's Mike, leave me a message"... i admit, i sound a little stoned, or tired. Anyway, he asks her who "michael" is and she says it's just the guy i work with. Her dad then said, "ok, but otherwise i really wouldn't want you hanging around with this kid"... [Hahaha, I would pay good money to hear that outgoing message on my pager. "Swastica Eyes" = still a jam! Oh, and I also forgot that I tried to pass myself off as "Mike" for a while. That phase lasted about three seconds.] 9/29/2000: Since by now i know all the songs, i can incorporate my own little moves. My dancing inspiration is Beck. [BECK though! I've never even seen him in concert, but I guess I got it in my mind that I danced like him? What the fuck was I talking about?] 7/24/2008: Today I realized the Internet will never let you forget what a tool you once were. Well played, Internet. |
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| Tuesday, July 15th, 2008 |
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I have this problem. It seems I've acquired this little perk from my job, where I get a free lunch in exchange for picking up food for my boss and his brother. Since I always go out for lunch anyway, it's not a big deal, and hey, free lunch. Some days they'll want Chili's, other days Mimi's Cafe, or Baja Fresh, or In-N-Out, or pizza from Costco. I've been getting lunch for them about 4 days a week for the past few months, which is awesome because it means that I get to save a few bucks every day and that adds up and man do I need every penny. There are drawbacks though, like trying to eat healthy. When I see something that looks tasty my jaw drops when I look at the nutritional information and it's like 1800 calories, or about as many calories as I'm trying to consume per day, not per meal. I try to choose things that aren't obscenely bad for me, but they don't really have that many "healthy" options, so that explains why I've been getting a little fluffy lately (well that, and also because I don't do anything resembling exercise anymore.) Anyway, that's not really my problem. My problem is tipping. At Chili's and Mimi's Cafe they have an employee in charge of taking and preparing your to-go order. And by "preparing" I mean grabbing the orders from the back and putting it in a bag with utensils. I don't consider the work they do tip-worthy, but I get the impression that I'm supposed to tip. Back when I was using the company credit card to pay for lunch, I tipped the guy at Mimi's Cafe about 10%, but now that I have to pay with cash and only get reimbursed for what I actually spend on food, I can't suddenly stop tipping the guy. He expects it now! And it's not like $4 or $5 is going to kill me; after all, I'm getting a free meal, so it'd be like I was going out and getting lunch on my own. But I want to know: do I really need to tip these people? I would assume that they are getting paid more than regular servers, but I could be wrong. I don't want to be a dick! What would you do? Poll #1223812 Tipping Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All Am I expected to tip when I'm picking up food to-go? If yes, how much should I tip? |
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| Friday, June 27th, 2008 |
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 theroadisbeforeus.wordpress.com theroadisbeforeus.wordpress.com theroadisbeforeus.wordpress.com theroadisbeforeus.wordpress.com We'll be updating from the road, so check it out if you can stomach how freaking nauseatingly cute we are. |
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| Thursday, June 26th, 2008 |
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"Welcome to your bachelor party!" "Hahah, I hope my real bachelor party's a lot better than this!" "No, this is it." Tonight is officially my last night in town, my last night living alone, my last night in a long-distance relationship. Tomorrow I'm leaving for Jacksonville, but because I need to pack, organize the apartment, and run some errands (note to self: don't forget to drop off the rent!) tonight, my friends and I got together last night and they gave me a pretty nice send-off. According to Jeric, I'm leaving as Michael Pop but coming back as Michael Lawrence. I think what he meant by that is that I'm coming back a new man or something, but like everything Jeric says, I'm never totally sure. Last night went like this: I got a haircut, then walked 100 yards and met up with Kelly and Jeric, who busted me for trying to primp in the reflection of a vacuum repair shop window, and had a drink at the Good Luck Bar while waiting for Daniel, Esther and Sandra to show up for dinner. Then we walked across the street and ate some pizza and then walked back across the street to the Tiki Ti. I can't remember the last time I was able to park my car and walk to four places, but it was awesome. I'd never been to the Tiki Ti before, but Kelly told me all I needed to know: "Bring a billion dollars in cash and cigarettes. You can smoke inside!! And all the drinks are like, $10+." I think I spent an hour on their website trying to decide on what kind of drink I was going to have, but it was all for naught because I wouldn't be doing the ordering. Drink #1 wound up being a kamikaze shot on the rocks for the whole table, and then drink #2 was something called "Stealth". According to their website, it's billed as "one of the strongest! This drink flies high and you'll never see it coming!" It consists of the always ominous "various liquors", along with Kahlua, 151 rum, amaretto, Grand Marnier & Bailey's. Between that and the pizza, I consumed enough dairy to ruin my stomach for a good week. But that drink was actually really tasty, or maybe I just convinced myself that it was, like mind over matter. It tasted like an ice cream if it was on fire -- but frosty. After my first sip I thought no way was I going to come even close to finishing it. I mean, that kamikaze shot had already gotten me a little wobbly. But somehow I finished it, even if it seemed like it took me 3 hours to do so. The thing about those tropical drinks is that you don't really feel the full brunt until much later. That's why people are forever making the mistake of finishing one, and then ordering two more, and then puking their guts out. I was fine to drive home, but then once I got there, I was totally fucked up. I barely made it into bed. At 3am I woke up and thought I was going to puke. The room was spinning and somehow I'd ended up sleeping at the foot of the bed, sideways. I wanted to die. Thanks, guys. Last night was awesome. Seriously. |
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| Monday, June 23rd, 2008 |
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 I saw these anti-meth ads a while back and meant to post about them, but I forgot. Somehow meth came up in conversation recently and I mentioned these ads and promised to post them, then I forgot about it again, and then I remembered just now. My brain has been all over the place lately. I think by now we've all seen examples of "meth-face" and know that it's not a very glamorous drug. But just in case you were still on the fence and considering giving it a shot, these ads should persuade you to reconsider. So, good job, Montana Meth Project. Anyway, here are the rest of them. They're pretty graphic; some of them are kind of darkly hilarious, but mostly they're really, really depressing -- I really can't deal with the one with blood. Montana, though. I never figured "the Treasure State" as being a hotbed for meth activity, but then again, I couldn't even name a single city in the state, so I obviously don't know anything. I do know that they're way more effective than the Me Not Meth ads that are up all over West Hollywood. These ads look like a Mentos commercial by comparison. |
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| Tuesday, June 17th, 2008 |
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 Here's how our road trip is shaping up: Sunday, June 29 2pm, leave Jacksonville 10pm, arrive New Orleans Monday, June 30 Spend all day exploring New Orleans Tuesday, July 1 10am, leave New Orleans 7pm, arrive San Antonio; spend night with Alli and George Wednesday, July 2 Hang out with Alli and George; leave late-afternoon for Austin Thursday, July 3 Spend the day exploring Austin; leave early-afternoon for Dallas Friday, July 4 Go to the Dallas Aquarium in the morning, then leave for El Paso Saturday, July 5 Leave in the morning for Phoenix; arrive in Phoenix late afternoon Sunday, July 6 Leave Phoenix early afternoon; arrive in Los Angeles at night To summarize, we'll be spending two nights in New Orleans, and then one night each in San Antonio, Austin, Dallas, El Paso(?) and Phoenix. Lindsey's planning on meeting up with friends in Dallas and Phoenix, and we'll be going to the aquarium in Dallas, but what else should we do? So far I think my only plan is to hit up some record stores along the way, particularly in Austin. Does our trip sound feasible? Are we missing anything? Where is the world's largest ball of belly-button lint? Is that even a thing or am I making it up??? Suggestions and comments are welcome. |
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| Thursday, June 5th, 2008 |
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To-do list for the next 30 days:
And it's true. I'm going to go from a sloth-like bachelor's existence to living with a partner. That's a first. We'll have to learn how to make the transition from seeing each other for a few days every month to being up in each other's faces 24/7. I'm ecstatic as could be, and I know it's going to be extremely rewarding, but I know it's not going to come easily. We've talked about things in general terms, but we haven't really gotten down to the nitty-gritty of figuring out how we'll divide up expenses or chores, you know, the important but unsexy and boring stuff that's crucial to maintaining a strife-free relationship. I think we'll be fine though. Especially if we can stand being in a car together for a week. Speaking of the road trip, we're going to be starting a blog so we can update from the road. How nerdy! But she has friends/family that aren't on LJ so it's an easy way to give updates. So look forward to that. Tonight I'll be making my penultimate trip to Jacksonville, and then it's 2 weekends of living alone before the big move aka CRUISIN' USA SUMMER ROAD TRIP VACATIONPALOOZA '08. Vacation! Two years in a row! Crazy stuff, man. I'm so excited I can finally cross off "drive across the country" from my lifetime to-do list. Seriously! Also, from here on out expect lots of Lindsey/relationship/moving-related stuff blowin' up your friends-page. |
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| Tuesday, June 3rd, 2008 |
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I'm not sure if admiration is the word I'm looking for, but I've always thought it was cool when someone was really super passionate about something. Like, as long as their enthusiasm for that thing stayed on the healthy side of creepy (and it's a very delicate line, with juggalos failing badly) I think that's cool. Everyone's got at least one thing that they're the most into out of all the people they know, and to other people that thing sort of becomes their defining characteristic. Whether or not it's accurate isn't the point; that thing acts as a kind of shorthand that's especially useful around the holidays. What do you get Joe Blow? Well, he's a huge (blank) fan, so I'll get him something having to do with that thing he likes so much. And that's why people wind up with crap they don't want or need. Isn't that how it works? I have no idea what my thing is. I think it's for other people to make those assumptions. If I had to guess, I'd say "Ryan Adams". People probably tend to associate me with him, but is that really my thing? Yeah, I enjoy the guy and his music, and my bedroom walls are adorned with posters of his likeness, but that just means I'm a 16-year-old girl, not his biggest fan. I don't follow him around on tour, or even go to every single show when he's in my own city. I don't collect his bootlegs and I'm not on his mailing list. So even with the things that I like a lot, I'm like the most passive fan ever. Or maybe it's the Union Jack. I love the Union Jack. If I get a Union Jack thong for Christmas, it would genuinely make me happy. Anyway, I'm not sure I understand what it means to have the kind of devotion that inspires people to, say, follow the ... Last week I saw Superdrag, who are in my all-time top-five favorite bands ever. You know how it is, you get into a band when you're 15 and that relationship is for life. I bought Regretfully Yours on tape in 1996 on the recommendation of some girl I knew on AOL and that laid the foundation for the type of music fan I would become. I saw them at the Troubadour in 1998 with a parental chaperon. I met so_gracefully at another Superdrag show at the Troubadour in 2001, a meeting which to this day I still credit for being the kind of life-altering encounter that only happens a few times in your life. I think it's safe to say that if it wasn't for Superdrag, my life on just about every level would have turned out very differently. When Superdrag went "on hiatus" a few years ago because the singer found Jesus and started putting out Christian rock albums, it made me sad. Not because of the Christian rock, but because it was the first in a series of "end of an era" reminders that nothing stays the same. The first link to my youth was potentially lost and gone forever. No more shows where I knew (most of) the words to every song. No more opportunities for busting out the air-guitar! No more rocking out with abandon and scissor kicks and falling into people while sober. So when they reunited last year, I was obviously elated. They announced some east coast tour dates and for a minute I had actually considered flying out to see them. I didn't, of course, because I just don't love anything that much. But when I found out they were coming to LA, I was pumped. You know what I learned at the show? That no matter how hard you try, resistance is futile. Once the past is gone, you can't recapture it. In the year 2008, Superdrag are obviously not a band that's hip with the kids. Their fans mainly consist of people who got into them 10 years ago, so most of the crowd was in their late-20s to mid-30s and beyond. That lent the show a weird vibe, making everyone in the room feel even older. It made the dudes on stage seem downright prehistoric. It was like being at a show where everyone there was "the old dude at a show". I'm not saying that I want to go back to being 17 or 21 again, but, yeah, I was hoping to reclaim some of the feelings associated with those times. Some youthful exuberance or something. The music was still great, and they played mostly classics, and I rocked out pretty thoroughly, but I couldn't shake the feeling of defeat, that even after giving it my best shot, the old college try, I had to own up to the fact that I'm getting older and certain things don't give me the same pleasure they used to. The highs don't get you that high anymore. It's a sad realization. But it's okay to let the past go. Also, I don't remember waking up with a sore neck and calves the morning after a show back when I was 21. I guess nature has a way of telling us when it's time to start acting your age. This song will always rule, though. No, it's not that one, it's the other one. Yeah, there was a second single. "Destination Ursa Major" |
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| Monday, May 19th, 2008 |
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I tried calling my mom a few days before Mother's Day to, like, wish her a good one or something, but she didn't answer, so I gave up after one attempt. Hey, I tried. I believe that my efforts as a son are directly proportional to her efforts raising me when I was young. SNAP BURN SNAP. I kid. There are no hard feelings. Really! Yesterday, I read this article in the LA Times and it reminded me of a good story: In March, Lenore Skenazy, a New York City mother, gave her 9-year-old son, Izzy, a MetroCard, a subway map, a $20 bill and some quarters for pay phones. Then she let him make his own way home from Bloomingdale's department store -- by subway and bus. Okay, my mother will never retroactively win any awards for parent of the year -- in fact, her style was, shall we say, borderline negligent -- but I can remember a very specific instance from when I was no older than 5, where I was getting really hungry and needed to eat. Normally I'd scavenge the kitchen looking for ham or bread or cereal, but we must've been out of everything on this day. So I went into my mom's bedroom where she was sleeping (she was always sleeping during the day on account of working nights as a blackjack dealer. Also, I've probably mentioned this before, but I inherited her love of hibernating. Evidence: I slept 20 hours from Saturday afternoon to Sunday afternoon. I'm half Asian and half bear.) and woke her up and told her I was hungry. My mother, bless her heart, reached into her purse and pulled out $10 (back in 1985 that was a lot of money, right?) and told me to go down the street to the Kentucky Fried Chicken to get myself something to eat. Now, before you start jumping to conclusions thinking "terrible parent this" or "worst mom ever that", rest assured that I have other stories I can tell you where you can think that. This is not one of them. Before she sent me out, she gave me some valuable instructions though. Don't talk to strangers, and come straight home. Oh, and pick her up some food, too. I was going anyway, right? And with that, I tucked that $10 bill into my sock and was off. I arrived at the KFC -- I don't even think I had to cross any major streets -- and I'm pretty sure I didn't understand how to read the menu, so I just pointed at stuff in the glass case and asked for some chicken. I handed over my money, assumed that I was being given correct change, and promptly put that money back into my sock. (I carried all of my money around in my sock for years, by the way. My money had a tendency to smell like feet that way.) Then I carried my food home and ate it in front of the TV. And you know what? I thought all of that was normal! It never entered my mind that I could've been kidnapped or molested or worse. I had no fear! I was excited because I was getting to do "big boy" stuff! My mom's methods might not have been the greatest, but she instilled independence in me at an early age that I'm sure has helped me throughout my life. And I think I turned out all right! I mean, I didn't end up on a milk carton! So, thanks mom! You're the best! |
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| Thursday, May 15th, 2008 |
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 It doesn't matter that they haven't even shot a pilot yet. It doesn't matter that it's probably going to be terrible. I will be watching the "spinoff" of Beverly Hills 90210 on the CW. I need something to fill the OC-sized void in my heart. And before you say it, Gossip Girl just looked way too lame even for me. You want to know the best part? The insanely genius tagline. You're not even ready for it. Seriously, sit down and hold on:
Holy shit! Yes!!! I'm sold!!! Jesus, just look at that picture. Look at all the MOM JEANS. Remember when the joke about Gabrielle "Andrea" Carteris was that she was like 20 years too old to be playing a high school student? She's 47* now! Crazy! *To be fair, Ian "Steve" Ziering is 44 and Luke "Dylan" Perry is 41. I guess I never realized then just how old they were and how young I was. |
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| Tuesday, April 22nd, 2008 |
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 Kanye West + Rihanna + NERD + Lupe Fiasco = one of the best shows I've ever seen. The conversation needs to stop being about Kanye's oversized ego and attention-seeking antics -- when he goes off about how great he is, just shut up, nod your head and pay attention. Genius is stubborn; genius is difficult. That's why we're paying them for the privilege to see and hear them. In his show, [SPOILER ALERT!] when his spaceship Jane (!) says, "We need the brightest star in the universe -- we need you, Kanye," you just have to laugh, because that sort of boastfulness has become part and parcel to Kayne's schtick. Underneath all that big talk of being the greatest ever is a man who still believes he's the underdog, who has to go out night after night (and album after album) to prove his worth. It's Kanye against the world, and that's how he likes it. I have never seen a performer so driven, so fiercely focused. He knows he's not the most innately gifted, which makes him work that much harder to stay on top. Daniel said it best when he said, "This wasn't a concert, it was a SHOW." And when you talk about shows, this should be the textbook definition. For sheer spectacle, it was just about perfect. To come up with a theme (Kanye, traveling through space, crashes onto a lonely planet and he has to, uh, sing his way back home. Oddly enough, not written and performed by Tracy Morgan) and then seamlessly work in songs from his catalog to drive the narrative, it was like what I imagine opera must be like. This wasn't 90 minutes of Kanye posturing, either. When his mother died, it humanized him. Having been so visibly fond of her, no matter what your thoughts about Kanye, you had to feel some sympathy towards him. The emotional highlight was when he launched into a reworked version of "Hey Mama" that added the lines, "Last night I saw you in my dreams, now I can't wait to go to sleep. This life, is all a dream, and my real life starts when I go to sleep. My m-m-m-m Mama", and you could see him trying to maintain his composure. Even if Kanye didn't quite get all weepy on us, some of us (ahem) in the crowd weren't quite as stoic. And after that song, in a moment of reflection when he took a seat (after performing non-stop for over an hour without a visible break for water; I was seriously concerned for his welfare at times), Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" came on. Then it was back to the mission at hand, and he closed out his set with a blazing rendition of "Stronger" (which had been teased at the very beginning of the set) and then after a quick wardrobe change (because he'd been able to power his spaceship home, you see), he finally took his well-deserved victory lap when he finished his set with Lupe on "Touch the Sky". The whole thing was brilliant. My only mild complaint (and complaint isn't even the right word) is that for something called the "Glow in the Dark Tour", nothing really glowed in the dark! Sure there were incredible visuals, a stage that looked like the surface of the moon and pyrotechnics, but I wanted some crazy black-light shit too! Maybe he's saving that one for his next tour. |
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| Wednesday, March 26th, 2008 |
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 Now that Lost is on hiatus, thank goodness for new episodes of How I Met Your Mother. I finally sat down with my DVR last night and caught up on the last six episodes, culminating in the one with Britney Spears' much ballyhooed guest appearance. She wasn't terrible, I suppose, but her role and her character seemed so contrived. Obviously her appearance was a ratings grab and nothing more, and it worked, which all but ensures another season of the show. As a means to an end, I can live with that. But watching her really makes you appreciate good acting. There are two things I want to mention about the last two episodes. In the St. Patrick's Day episode where Ted and Barney are at the bar, did anyone else catch when Ted bumped into that girl in the middle of the episode? Does anyone else think that that's the mother? In this week's episode, the two-minute date was vintage Ted, and the show used Big Star's "Thirteen" (probably my favorite song of all-time) perfectly. I almost cried, and I definitely watched that scene about 5 times. It might be my favorite episode of the series so far. Crazy how Sarah Chalke's character almost went to Alicia Silverstone. Too bad she's not the mother, though. |
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| Thursday, March 20th, 2008 |
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 It's the first day of spring, and also 3 months since I turned 27, and a random stranger has yet to inquire how old I am. That would explain why just the other day I had to pause and think about how old I was. The revelation came thusly: Oh shit, I'm not 26! It would seem that the older you get the less people pay attention to things like age. Sometimes I forget that some of my friends are, like, in their 30s! A few years ago that would've seemed so old to me, but when you're staring down the barrel of 30 it stops being so funny. (Also, you're reminded of how fast time flies.) Amazing how just a few years can entirely change your perspective. The good news is that age isn't important anyway, right? Right. But I will say that I'm (probably overly) excited that my friends and I are entering the "marriage/baby" portion of our lives. I'm flying out to Jacksonville tonight. The reason I'm going out there this particular weekend is because one of Lindsey's friends is getting married and Lindsey really wanted me to be her date. Our first wedding together, aww. Seeing as how we're in a very serious relationship, I'm sure we'll both be taking mental notes and such. (Oh, and friends? The good news is that we'll have an open bar. The bad news is you'll have to fly to Florida.) We've both been to our share of weddings, but none of the ones I've been to have ever been for close friends. So I think it's interesting to note that even though we're about the same age (she's 6 months younger) that a good majority of her friends (who are the same age) are already married and in some cases pregnant. I don't know what it means (if anything), but fuck, my friends and I are totally lagging by comparison. I mean, sure, some of my friends are living with their SOs, but none of them are even engaged yet. I know it's going to start happening soon, though, but before it does I really, really want to start a betting pool. So even though no one's married or knocked up (yet!), at least people are cohabitating, which is step one. Or step two after "being in a long-term relationship". I'll be joining the fray come July when Lindsey moves out here and I'm nothing less than completely fucking pumped to the extreme. Originally we'd discussed moving into a new place together, but ultimately we realized that it's way more practical for her to move in with me first. Coming to that decision was a huge relief, because as much as I'd like to live closer to my friends, I also love my apartment and being so close to work. Also, I loathe moving. Of course, this signals the end to my luxurious bachelor's life, but I suppose one can only maintain a college dorm decorating aesthetic for so long. I just hope she lets me keep my Alfie poster up. Maybe if I promise to get it framed? When I was younger it never crossed my mind that cohabitation was taboo. I always figured I'd live with my future wife before getting married. It's sort of like how not having sex before marriage was the most ludicrous notion ever. That just seems like a recipe for disaster on every level. So to me, cohabitation is a logical progression. But that's because I'm not a religious zealot. I suppose that's where the term "living in sin" comes from. I checked, and did you know that it's still technically illegal to cohabitate in 7 states? Including Florida! I mean, no one's going to jail for it, but still, the fact that there are still laws on the books for this kind of thing in the year 2008 blows my mind. Apparently there are all kinds of statistics that say couples who live together before marriage are more likely to break up or get divorced, or to interpret it another way, take a look at all the couples you know who live together and 4 out of 5 of them aren't going to make it. That may be true, but tell me it's not worth taking that risk in exchange for cheaper rent and morning sex? You can't. |
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| Tuesday, March 18th, 2008 |
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 Reading about SXSW is what I imagine being forced to watch a slideshow of someone elses vacation must be like. Or being the only sober person at a kegger. I'm sure it's fun and all, but it's hard to really muster up much enthusiasm to read about it. So I'm glad it's over now and that the onslaught of SXSW updates are going to start trickling to a close. I have read exactly one recap of the festival and it was in yesterday's LA Times. One point stood out to me above all the others: there was no Next Big Thing. I hadn't thought of that in a while and it got me thinking because unless I'm missing something, there really isn't a predominant trend in music right now, is there? You know, the one sound or geographical location that's in vogue where the record companies rush to capitalize on and the media shines their spotlights in order to generate hype to hopefully sell records and magazines. Without thinking about it too hard, this decade we've had garage-rock, electroclash, post-post-punk, freak-folk, Swedes, Seattle (again) and Toronto... but where in the cycle are we at now? For better or for worse, who's the next Strokes? For better or for worse, with the state of the record industry in freefall, will there ever even be another Strokes?And it got me thinking about Vampire Weekend because I listened to their album three times yesterday. I tried and tried and I really can't understand all the hate directed towards them. I missed all the pre-release hype, so all I've read is the post-release vitriol. Until they came along I don't think I ever read a review of what's essentially a four-piece indie rock band's music as being described as "afro-pop". Maybe so, but that term just sounds pretentious. To me they sound like Paul Simon's Graceland and recently remind me of a less alt. country Actual Tigers. But whatever their influences, what's so bad about a band who makes jaunty, highly melodic pop music? It seems like they made exactly the sort of record they wanted and while it owes debts all over town, they're not exactly piggybacking onto anyones coattails. You can't even say that the singer's got a whiny, annoyingly affected voice a la Messrs. Gibbard and Meloy. So I just don't get it. Whatever. I just bought the reunited Kula Shaker's new album last night so I don't even know what that makes me. Perpetually 17-years-old and hoping for a Mansun reunion? Probably. |
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| Friday, March 7th, 2008 |
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 It's come to my attention that Los Angeles Magazine (a magazine focused on all things LA, naturally) decided to invite its readers to nominate their favorite things about LA, and took the top 64 responses and put them together in a "tournament" format pitting each thing against the other in the hopes of finding out what the best thing about LA is. First of all, I'm a huge sucker for brackets (there's also one where you can vote for your favorite Lost character), and secondly, I love Los Angeles, my home of 20 years, so this is of definite interest to me.Still, as much as I consider this my hometown (even though I was born in Las Vegas), I feel like a bad Angelino. I've lived here most of my life (all over, in fact, with my formative years divided between the two Valleys (San Gabriel and San Fernando) and the Westside) and yet there are so many things that I've yet to see or do. Granted, this is a huge city and I can probably live here for a hundred years and still not explore it to the fullest extent possible, but I need to get started already. And I'm so excited that Lindsey's going to be moving out here in a few months, because I can't wait to go on all these adventures with her. As much as I like playing tour guide, there's something to be said about having shared experiences that will be uniquely ours. And even the things that I've already seen, I'll be able to appreciate them in a different light, and see them through Lindsey's eyes. In fact, as long as I've lived here, I still feel like I'm constantly seeing the city for the first time, and I feel like my appreciation for this city is just going to get deeper and more rewarding. Just the other day Lindsey emailed me and said that I needed to write out the things I wanted to do or see on a piece of paper so we could put them in a hat and draw one out whenever we were at a loss for something to do. That's such a great idea, and now I have this list to help guide me. Oh man, there are so many things I want to do! As with anything of this nature, this list is by no means exhaustive -- honestly, there are a ton of omissions -- but it does a pretty decent job of culling together some of the Big Things that make LA great. That it just scratches the surface goes to show how awesome the city truly is. As far as the "results" so far, I'm a little dumbfounded as to how Vin Scully lost out to the Central Library. Or how San Gabriel Valley dim sum lost to the Capitol Records building. I mean, yeah, it's a nice building, but, uh, what? And everyone knows Pink's is overrated! But I'm glad the weather, taco trucks & PCH prevailed. There are some intriguing second round match-ups though, like Amoeba against In-N-Out, MOCA versus the ArcLight, and Disney Hall versus the Getty Center. I WONDER WHAT'S GOING TO WIN!!!!! Okay, I'm done geeking out about this now. |
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| Thursday, March 6th, 2008 |
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February was kind of a rollercoaster. Lindsey visited twice, and those trips bookended a three-week span in which I was either suffering from the flu or pink eye. There was literally a one-day window in between illnesses where I was healthy enough to venture out of my apartment. So most of the month kind of sucked and I spent a lot of time laying on my couch, but fortunately I was malady-free by the time Lindsey arrived last Friday night and that's all that mattered. I was a little tired that day thanks to being out extra late the night before watching British Sea Power (and getting my ear drums eviscerated in the process), but tired or not, I was totally pumped to see my girlfriend again. After I got home from work that day I tried squeezing in a power nap, but that was foiled because I was too excited to sleep. I took a shower which helped revive me, though, and I was looking and feeling pretty good at that point. When it was time to leave for the airport, I took one last glance at myself in the mirror, headed for the door, turned off my lights, locked the door, closed it, and then 1/1000th of a second later realized that I'd forgotten my keys.  Well, shit. I'd timed my departure so I'd be at the airport with plenty of time to spare in case I hit traffic, but I hadn't accounted for something like this happening. The thing is, this wouldn't have even been a problem had my apartment managers not moved to Montana a couple of months ago, leaving the other 11 tenants in my complex to fend for ourselves in times like this. If they'd been around all I'd have to do is walk upstairs to their apartment and ask them to let me in. This also wouldn't have been a problem if it were summer, because I most likely would've left a window open that I could climb through. In the four years I've lived there, I've locked myself out an average of once a year, and each time at least one of those options was available to me. But since it's February and all of my windows have been locked since November, I wasn't sure what to do. Time was ticking and panic started setting in so I tried my windows anyway, since I was fresh out of other ideas. I thought that maybe I'd be able to jiggle the window enough to loosen the little pin that serves as the lock. So I walked around to the back of my apartment building and stood in total darkness manhandling my window, trying to get it to open. I pushed and pounded on it a bit and the next thing I knew, shards of glass were raining down on top of me. Holy shit! I stood there for a few seconds, not quite believing what'd just happened. I'd broken my window! Next thing I know I hear this voice, but I'm not sure if it's coming from my upstairs neighbor or from the apartment building directly behind me. The voice said, "Hey bro, what's going on?" to which I replied nonchalantly, "Oh, nothing. I just locked myself out of my apartment and I'm trying to get back in." I was trying to act all casual even though I was seriously sweating. I didn't even try to look around to find the source of the voice, I just stared straight ahead and spoke calmly, as if breaking my window was all part of my plan and that I knew exactly what I was doing and had everything under control. So there's glass everywhere -- in my hair, on my clothes, on the windowsill -- but at least now I could reach in and open my window. It took a few minutes to do a little housekeeping so I could climb through the open window without injuring myself on little pieces of glass, and once I was in, I went to the bathroom to wash myself off. A piece of glass knicked my forehead and my wrist and there was a little blood, but I was running too late to fetch a band aid. Even through all of that, in the end, I managed to get to the airport with about 10 minutes to spare, so everything turned out fine. The next day I took my window to a glass place across the street and they installed a new piece of glass for $35. Thirty-five dollars! Dude, that's such a bargain! A locksmith would've cost at least twice that much! I don't know how they even stay in business when it's cheaper to just throw a rock through your window whenever you lock yourself out, but hey, keep that in mind, folks. The next time it happens to you, now you know. But I think the best part was the following afternoon, about 19 hours after my break-in, when I heard an aggressive knock on my front door. It was a police officer who told me he was responding to a break-in report from the previous night. Okay, seriously, that's awesome that one of my neighbors (probably the "Hey bro" guy) was concerned enough about my suspicious activity to call the cops. [*** Actually, I ran into my next-door neighbor this morning and he asked about my window and I told him I'd taken care of it already. Then he told me how the cops had showed up that night and there were like 6 of them patrolling the courtyard and banging on my door. I had no idea! So good job, Covina Police Department! I've never felt so safe.] |
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| Wednesday, February 20th, 2008 |
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 Eight weeks into the newish year and I finally went to my first show last night. It's a show that piqued my interest when I first saw it announced, but if it wasn't for Matt Peck being in town and suggesting we go, I probably would have passed on it. Glad I didn't though!The show was Dean and Britta and Keren Ann. While I like both acts enough to own most of their discography, I don't ever find myself craving their records. When I do listen to them it's like, oh, yeah, this is nice, but it doesn't really stay with me afterwards. I usually put on a Luna or Dean and Britta record right before bed, because I think it's good sleepy-time music. So I knew going in that the show was likely to be the least-rocking thing I'd seen in a while, and I was mostly right. Dean and Britta rocked in their own low-key manner; most songs were hazy and restrained, but occasionally Dean would stretch out a solo and coax some vigor out of a song. I love how their voices contrast with one another. I love that they're married and it's awkward to look at Britta because I feel like Dean's going to jump down into the crowd and punch me in the face. Anyway, I really enjoyed their set and I'm glad that I finally got to see them. (I always forget, but it's worth mentioning that Britta was the singing voice of JEM.) Keren Ann was somewhat of a surprise. I'd always figured her to be more of a chanteuse, a pretty voice surrounded by polished session musicians and pristine production. I guess I didn't pay enough attention to the liner notes or her press materials, because she's actually a folky singer-songwriter... of which they're about a dime a dozen. Her set-up was sparse, just a drummer and a multi-instrumentalist who played bass or secondary guitar. The effect was a little sleepy at times, with a few songs sounding like they were vying for a spot on a "Quiet Is the New Loud" compilation. It wasn't all nap time jams, though. She managed to crank up the volume and do a respectable job of rocking out for her last song of the main set, but that was out of character for her. Her music's intimate charm would've been better suited to a smaller room; the sparsely attended show made the El Rey seem especially cavernous. The songs she sung in English seemed particularly insignificant, and instead of reminding me of Feist (which I now realize is a terrible comparison), reminded me of a less ragey Carina Round. The songs in French, though, were more captivating. Probably because I didn't understand what she was saying. It was all very tasteful and well-done, though at the end of the night I would've been hard-pressed to pick any of the songs she played out of a line-up. But yeah, Matt Peck! It was fun catching up on old times and reminiscing about the salad days of LJ. That discussion basically went like this: No one posts anymore. The Internet's changed. We're old now. Also, when was the last time any of us added a new friend? Seems like those days are long gone. Sigh. |
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| Thursday, February 14th, 2008 |
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 For Valentine's Day I bought myself and my special someone tickets to see this show. That's right, this is officially the most expensive show I've ever gotten tickets for. Only $93.67 each! But shit, this is going to rule so hard. And besides, Daniel's worth every cent. I love you, man! And he'll just get me back when REM/the National/Modest Mouse goes on sale at the Bowl. You better get some picnic table seats, son! This will also be my first show at the new Nokia Theater. How are the sightlines from the loge section? From what I can tell, it's about 15% bigger than the Universal/Gibson Ampitheater, so I image it would probably be like seeing a show from near the back there. That's cool. YOAH!!!! |
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| Tuesday, February 5th, 2008 |
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While I was clipping coupons a few weeks back I came across an ad for a free sample of lactose intolerance pills. Since I'm lactose intolerant and like free things, I sent away for some in the hopes that perhaps one day I'd be able to eat pizza and ice cream (not at the same time) and not feel a little alien growing inside my stomach afterwards. (Apparently the thing that sets these pills apart from "the leading brand" is that it contains "patented healthy bacteria" that gives you the freedom and convenience to take a dose in the morning and not worry about every bite of dairy throughout the day. Set it and forget it!) Written on one of the flaps of the sample box is a "lactose intolerance fact sheet" which was highly informative. I learned that 90 to 100 percent of Asian Americans are lactose intolerant. I knew Asians had a higher instance of lactose intolerance, but I had no idea it was that high. The lactose intolerance rate in Hispanics, African Americans and American Indians is also really high. What I gather from this is that all delicious dairy-based foods were created by the white man as part of an insidious plot to wreak havoc on the digestive tracts of foreigners. What an ingenious method of warfare. Well-played, white man. Admittedly, I know very little about lactose intolerance other than eating dairy makes my stomach hurt, but beyond the obvious like milk and cheese, I never really considered how many other things have lactose in them. Check out this list: bread and other baked goods, soups, lunch meats, candies and other snacks, mixes for pancakes, biscuits and cookies. Um, that's pretty much a list of the things I eat on a daily basis. No wonder my stomach is always fucked up. Anyway, I only have enough pills to last me until Saturday, so we'll see if this works or not. |
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| Tuesday, January 29th, 2008 |
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 Pursuant to my previous entry where I extolled the virtues of my Slanket, here are a couple of artists' renderings of the slippery slope I'm on. This is your brain, and this is your brain when you think a Slanket is awesome. It's the gateway to furrydom:  Oh, here's a party I would enjoy: I don't think I'll ever be able to listen to that song the same way again. But seriously though, I'm beyond pumped that STP is reuniting. But man, I hope this isn't like that bad New Kids on the Block reunion rumor. Oof. |
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LiveJournal for Canadian Tuxedo Optional.
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