Seperated at Birth? MLB All-Star Edition!

San Diego Padres pitcher Chris R. Young and.....

James Taylor

Padres pitcher Jake Peavy and....

Actor Ricky Schroeder

Milwaukee Brewers pitcher Ben Sheets

Aaaaaand.....

Living Legend, Will Ferrell.

Dear Seth and Laura From Karaoke Night,

It's time to pick a new fucking song. Really really really time. Laura, you own "Black Velvet." Alannah Myles, eat your heart out because the song is now Laura's. You're a goddess of song when you rock this thing! Seth, Bon Jovi wishes he could sing "I'll Be There For You" half as well as you do, all five minutes and forty-six seconds of it. Man, you truly dominate it. Seth and Laura, I don't know what your day jobs are, but you're both professional songbirds in my mind.

There, have I stroked your egos enough? Are you now satisfied that you've proven to everyone in the bar that you can sing? Can we all finally move on now? I mean, let me drop the sarcasm for a second--you guys really are good singers....BUT SING SOMETHING DIFFERENT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!! It's been over a year!

I think I speak sincerely for everyone,

John

Friends, please don't think I'm being rash. As a karaoke connoisseur, I think there is something to be said for someone who sings the same song every week. It's someone making a statement about who they are, what they stand for (I am Neil Diamond's "Love on the Rocks," Karaoke DJ Frankie Dee IS "Don't Stop Believin"). It can become a fun staple of the show. That only works though if the singer isn't completely full of themself. It's a fine, but very boldly defined line. Seth and Laura are standing nowhere near it. They are tipping the scales on the side of obnoxious to be frank. It's easy to see this is not lighthearted sing-song fun to them. It drips in vibrant color like fresh graffitti--they think of themselves as stars giving their adoring fans what they want to hear. There is a line from a John Mayer song that sums it up nicely: "She thinks I can't see the smile that she's fakin' and poses for pictures that aren't being taken." Seth goes so far as to say before his song starts, "Sing along if you know it." "If I know it," Seth?! You've been singing it every g_damn week for 75 weeks! How could I possibly NOT know it?

The good news is that whenever they show up, it makes for a great time to go to the bathroom or to the bar for a refill. I hope they recognize my absence as a symbol of silent protest. Then again if they had the consideration to notice that, we'd never have ended up in this predicament in the first place.

HAS THE WHOLE WORLD GONE CRAZY?!

I was going to do the obligatory "It Really Sucks To Have To Work Today" post, but then I read this story.

It's just baffling to me. I mean, I'm hip to cultural differences and all, but not ones that make no sense on a basic humanity level. I realize that the U.S. is far from perfect and that the rest of the civilized world may look at certain aspects of our American culture and shake their collective heads in disbelief...but I'm going to file this story under "rebuttal: at least we're not fucked up enough to do this."

P.S. It really really sucks to have to work today. But our latest Office Max order came in which is legitimately exciting to me.

Wow, it's only 11:21 a.m.? Shit.

--One trip to Trader Joe's and I am ready to move out of this city. In the produce section, I got stuck with a woman (on her bluetooth headset, of course) who could stop saying "you know?" at the end of every sentence and who spoke of incompatible "energies." Then at the checkout, I got stuck in front of a girl (shockingly also on her phone) who used the word "like" like at least twice per sentence. Then after I escaped, I came out to find that the guy next to me had parked his car literally straddling the line. Split his car straight down the middle. He was intentionally taking up two spots in a crowded TJ's parking lot on a Sunday. I have had it, I tell you!

--Now that I think about it, how many of our annoyances with other people have something to do with cell phones? I'm going to venture 87-92%. Cell phones--asset to humanity or public nuisance?

--Why are photography books always sealed in plastic wrapping at the bookstore. Of all the books that require flipping through prior to purchasing, these merit it most. And yet...

--The good news is Nicole and I are going up to Napa at the end of the month and Bill Gates is picking up our hotel bill (his company actually, but it's more fun to personalize it)! The bad news is that any time you've got a trip (or anything) to look forward to, it can make the days leading up to it more difficult than usual. A small price to pay, I suppose.

--Why does the color black attract lint and hair so much more than any other color? No, you're wrong, it is NOT just that I notice it more on black. There is unquestionably more lint!

--I'd like to give a shout out to Joe. He just got a great new job that's gonna take him down to San Diego. Congratulations, Joey! So I got a guy in San Diego now. Which is nice. While I'm giving shout outs, I'd like to send one to my homeboy Nacho in Lynwood and Little Ray Ray in Covena.

--Will someone--anyone--see Die Hard 4 with me? Please?

Still Crazy After All These Years

Do you ever have those times when something you've loved for years suddenly seems new to you again? I had such an experience last night with the music of Paul Simon.

I stumbled across a program on PBS that was a live tribute to Paul Simon because he had been named the first ever recipient of The Library of Congress Gershwin Prize for Popular Song. I only had time to watch about 45 minutes of it (I will finish it this weekend), but all of a sudden, the songs I have tapped my foot and sung along to for years were rediscovered. Not only that, but it got me thinking, I've loved his music for a long time now, but there is still so much of it I have never heard. They showed video of his 1976 SNL performance of "Homeward Bound" with George Harrison. Awesome. Just spot on perfect. A song and a performance that suck you in and don't let go 'til they're good and done. A pitbull of a song!

The show opened with Paul singing "Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard," one of my favorites, with Stevie Wonder playing harmonica. After that, the performances, as they are for most of these tribute shows, were other great artists singing/playing Simon's songs. Man, let me tell you, Shawn Colvin, Alison Krauss, and Jerry Douglass did a rendition of "The Boxer" that I swear would give the original a run for its money. The voices of Colvin and Krauss fit like a mother and daughter's and the arrangement featuring Jerry Douglass on the (I'm gonna call it) slide guitar(?) was intimate and soulful.

I gotta break out the Paul Simon this weekend. He's a living legend!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In other news, I am listening to the Angel game online...We're not even through the second inning and the Angels have already had two runners caught in a rundown. WTF? This happens all the time. With the Angels being as aggressive on the basepaths as they've been all year (and in yrs past), you'd think they'd be a little better at it by now. You know how when you're playing a baseball video game your baserunners often seem to go when you've told them to stop and turn a solid single or double into an easy out? It's just like that.

But wait! There's more!

Not sure how I neglected to mention this before, but the dividers the showers do have are hardly dividers at all. They are made out of that hazy-but-still-pretty-much-see-through translucent shower door glass. So I am basically showering next to strange men in an "individual" stall that covers less than a hospital gown.

What kind of a world are we living in where the shower dividers in our gyms are more translucent than our coffee? I thought this was America.

Other notes about my new working environment

--I won't go into the details, but there is no way to know if the coffee was made this morning or yesterday morning. And on top of that, it's just disgusting. That's actually no different than WB. Why does no one know how to make coffee? You're not supposed to fill the filter all the way to the brim with coffee!! The coffee is supposed to be translucent! Even motor oil is translucent! This shit is thick. Note to self: bring in coffee machine from old office a.s.a.p.

--I have two windows that I can actually open! This might make everything else worth it. This might seem like no big deal, but, trust me, it's huge. Yuge. Fresh air, my friends! FRESH AIR! Not only that, but let's say the A/C is cranked up to Ice Age levels to make the cavemen feel more at home as it has been this week...just open the windows and let the warm summer air heat this mother back up! Woooo! And I can barely contain my anticipation of the first rainy day.

--There is a bathroom in my office. IN my office. I always wanted one of those, but this is not what I envisioned. Once they are hired, I will be sharing this office with two other people. So whenever one of us goes in to take care of business, the other two are going to have intimate knowledge of it. I gotta find a good dumping spot soon because I sure as shit will not be doing anything in there but the occasional quick urination.

--There is no common area in this building. It is just a long hallway with offices off it. It's weird. I am reminded of the living quarters of the ol' frat house, sans the stale stench of beer and balls.

--The Sony lot is nice. Quaint, if you will. Quiet. On my way from the parking structure to my building, I pass by the "Wheel of Fortune" stage. WHEEL OF FUCKING FORTUNE! If this were "White Men Can't Jump" and not real life, my ability to get on the lot where they shoot it would instantly get me on the show as a contestant (Rosie Perez character on "Jeopardy"). Too bad this isn't "White Men Can't Jump."

Yeeeeeeah...

This morning marked my first day at my new gym. Cashed in my free personal trainer workout which was coo. This broad definitely kicked my ass. So all was well...until I hit the showers. I had feared community showers which would be out of the question. Luckily, there were individual shower stalls.....but with no curtains on them!!!! Did you catch that? I said..

THE SHOWERS HAVE NO CURTAINS!!

Why would there be no curtains?! They installed the individual stalls so they obviously recognize the need for discreet nudity so why do they stop there? A stall with no curtain is not much better than no stall at all! This is an assault on my privacy! An attack on my manhood! My boys are anti-social, damnit! I stood there just looking at it for a solid ten count. Finally, after considering the alternative of stinking at work all day, I just had to go for it. My nakedness was exposed. It was the fastest, most uncomfortable shower of my life. And this is what I have to look forward to five days a week. Thanks, Bally's.

"Street Fight," y'all! "Street Fight!"

I watched an incredible documentary last night called "Street Fight."

STREET FIGHT chronicles the bare-knuckles race for Mayor of Newark, NJ between Cory Booker, a 32-year old Rhodes Scholar/Yale Law School grad, and Sharpe James, the four-term incumbent and undisputed champion of New Jersey politics.

Fought in Newark's neighborhoods and housing projects, the battle pits Booker against an old-style political machine that uses any means necessary to crush its opponents: city workers who do not support the mayor are demoted; "disloyal" businesses are targeted by code enforcement; a campaigner is detained and accused of terrorism; and disks of voter data are burglarized in the night.

Even the filmmaker is dragged into the slugfest, and by election day, the climate becomes so heated that the Federal government is forced to send in observers to watch for cheating and violence.

The battle sheds light on important American questions about democracy, power and -- in a surprising twist -- race. Both Booker and James are African-American Democrats, but when the mayor accuses the Ivy League educated Booker of not being "really black" it forces voters to examine how we define race in this country. "We tell our children to get educated," one Newarker says, "and when they do, we call them white. What kind of a message does that send?"

STREET FIGHT tells a gripping story of the underbelly of democracy where elections are not about spin-doctors, media consultants, or photo ops. In Newark, we discover, elections are won and lost in the streets.

For me, this movie was yet another wake up call (as if there weren't enough) to the sad state of American politics where substance is mostly irrelevant in the face of style and volume, where truth is expendable, and where respect between candidates is quickly abandoned in the interest of "winning." Not only that but the issues of race brought up by the campaign are equally, if not even more, disturbing than the political elements. A Black man in the office of Mayor telling another successful Black man that he is not Black at all, that "You have to learn to be an African-American and we don't have time to train you"? That was one of the more mild indictments made, on the record, by Mayor Sharpe James. Really bodes well, doesn't it? "Idiocracy" was another movie I saw recently and while it was not very good, after watching "Street Fight," it's central theme has never felt more true, that America is getting dumber and dumberer by the day. If you're looking for another reason to give up all hope for American politics and America's intellectual future as a whole, then "Street Fight" is the movie for you!

P.S. In the fridge here at work, they have fat-free half and half. How the hell do you make cream fat-free?

Greetings From Culver City!

Aaaaaaaand we're back!

Had my first day at the new job yesterday. I will say this: Thank God for free internet radio. If not for Yahoo Music's Coffeehouse and Jazz Classics stations, I might have committed Harry Caray. All in all though, it was a decent day. The beauty of the situation is that my lover also works here in delightfully quaint Culver City so we enjoyed a rare Monday lunch visit.

And now today. I went to start my trusty online radio and was greeted with the following message:

LAUNCHcast Is Off the Air - It's a Day of Silence

LAUNCHcast Radio and other webcasters are silent today, from
12 midnight EST to 11:59 pm EST. A recent COPYRIGHT ROYALTY decision will impose punishing fees that could shut down most online radio.

You can do something about it. Go to www.savenetradio.org to find out more, and call your congressional representative before JULY 15th.

Today is only one day of silence -- but if you don't speak up, this could be the only sound we'll hear from online radio.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. We could be looking at a long day ahead. The bitch of it is, I was JUST considering a couple of CDs at Starbucks but opted to wait until I could sample them, especially since I had Yahoo to get me through the day. Little did I know I was about to get screwed.

The jury is still out on the new jobby job. It's tough to make a reasonable judgement based on the first day alone, of course. I will say that in one day I have already appreciated the difference between working out of the actual production office versus a seperate accounting building like at the old place. I walked in today and met our main makeup guy and some actors that were getting ready to audition. This was very exciting to me, to feel more exposed to the various aspects of the show rather than tucked away in a remote location where the only people I interact with are other accountants. So at least there's that.

Hahahahaha.....no sooner had I finished typing that than one of the actors in full Geico Caveman makeup walked by my door. I hope I don't get used to that. It reminds me of the ESPN commercials where Big Papi or LeBron are casually walking around in their office environment...except it's cavemen.

Well alright, that'll do for now.

And I'm Sorry, Mr. Jones, it's time.

Well, my work is done. Signed off on my last round of reports last night around nine. It was a furious race to the finish and now I sit with nothing to do but pack up my shit. A couple of colleagues took me to Morton's for lunch which was delicious. Played my last game of wiffleball this afternoon. My last hangover Friday will be tomorrow morning. Then the "exit interview" at high noon. I have always wondered what goes on in an exit interview. What are you interviewing for? Unemployment? "Well, Mr. Kumpart, thank you for coming in today. We still have a few candidates to meet, but I think this looks like a good fit. I think you are the perfect man to not have this job. Congratulations." Well, I guess I will find out tomorrow. I just noticed I say "well" a lot to begin thoughts. Right now I am experiencing a brief moment of reflective sadness over the end of this era so I will paste in the lyrics to a slightly applicable song, "Fred Jones, Pt. 2" by Ben Folds, a personal favorite.

Fred Jones Pt 2

Fred sits alone
at his desk in the dark
there's an awkward
young shadow that waits in the hall

he has cleared all his things
and he's put them in boxes
things that remind him
that life has been good

twenty-five years
he's worked at the paper
a man's here
to take him downstairs
and "I'm sorry,
Mr. Jones, it's time"

there was no party
and there were no songs
'cause today's just a day
like the day that he started

and no one is left here
that knows his first name
yeah, and life barrels on
like a runaway train

where the passengers change
they don't change anything
you get off
someone else can get on
and "I'm sorry,
Mr. Jones, it's time"

the streetlight
it shines through the shades
casting lines on the floor
and lines on his face
he reflects on the day

Fred gets his paints out
and goes to the basement
projecting some slides
onto a plain white canvas

and traces it,
fills in the spaces
he turns off the slides
and it doesn't look right

yeah, and all of these bastards
have taken his place
he's forgotten, but not yet gone
and "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones"
and "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones"
and "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones, it's time"

Now I realize that it's a bit melodramatic to relate Mr. Jones to me, but what the hey. Fuck it....back to our regularly scheduled programming: CANNONBAAAAAAALL!!!!!!!

CANNONBAAAAAAALL!

I am working like a dog this week. A dog with one "g," not two. In these final few days at Warner Bros., let this picture be the desktop wallpaper on the computer monitor of my career here. My friends, let my final word be........CANNONBAAAAAAAALL!!!!!!!!

It's back, damn it!

The eye twitch has been back for a few weeks and is still going strong. I feel like it's the type of seemingly harmless symptom that House would observe and off-handedly use to explain how I had two days live.

(whistling)

--So I was tent shopping the other day for the big camping trip this weekend. Ya know what I love? I love the little tiny miniature tents they have up to serve as the floor model. Same goes for the little mini-sleeping bags.

--I finally got a job. Apparently, my date with destitution has been postponed for a couple months at least. The children will be happy to learn that I'll still be able to put food in their bowl.

--I don't feel like working today. I feel like shopping. Luckily, I have no money to throw around or I might be wandering the mall with a large pretzel in hand.

--I can confirm that the absence of urinal dividers at Angel Stadium is not a class issue. I was sitting on the carrot cake level recently and was shocked to find that their restrooms also were without dividers. Now I really just don't get it. By the way, the Angels have lost a mere 7 games at home this season (I think) and I have been present for 4 of them. I have not witnessed a win since Opening Day. What the fuck.

These Days

I am one lucky man.

After a week of increasing pressure and fear with my job/jobless situation, Nicole took me to Largo on Friday night for some much needed mental and emotional therapy. As if that weren't enough, I found myself sitting literally four feet from one of my favorite musicians and general creative heros, Jackson Browne. Just to give some point of reference to convey my love for Jackson Browne, I would put him just barely below James Taylor. And my love for JT is well known. Anyway, I knew that Jackson had played there before with Sara and Sean Watkins, the duo I was there to see on Friday. I saw him at their Christmas show, but he was just there to watch that night. So it wasn't a total shock, but it was an incredible surprise. We were lucky enough to get our old table right in front (feet next to monitors, microphone stands within arms reach). Prior to the start of the show we were casually watching some guy set up the various tuners and other misc. equipment when he put a little box thingy down that had a piece of masking tape on it with "Jackson" written on it. I didn't want to get my hopes up, but before I could even fully form a doubtful thought, there he was. Jackson Frickin' Browne was standing right in front of me! He was just doing a little soundcheck then but later in the evening he, of course, got up and played with the group. Wow. I can't think of words to aptly describe the feeling of being that close to someone whose work has meant so much to me, making direct eye contact with him as he's performing in what may as well have been my living room. I know I am being pretty mushy as it is so I will go for a practical application...If my heart and soul were a couch cushion, deflated and pressed flat by life, this moment and this night picked it up and fluffed the hell out of it. After the show, I had an opportunity to go up and meet him, but I chose not to. I couldn't think of what to say without saying too much. I couldn't just say "Hey, I'm a big fan," but I sure as shit wasn't going to be a psycho and relay my couch cushion metaphor. And so, I decided to walk away with the show itself and my experience being so close as my lasting impression. I am good with that. But if I see him there again, I might have to say something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Went to the beach on Saturday afternoon which was really nice. I love the beach yet I've probably been two or three times in the last five years. I don't get it either.

And on Sunday, I got my back waxed. Yeah, I said it. Wooooooooo! I really should have done before and after pictures but it was too late by the time it occurred to me. Rest assured though, my friends, I am as smooth as silk! It hurt a little, but I just did my best Jack Bauer. I turned off the pain, just flipped the switch. If he can endure the Chinese, I can take a waxing. I see myself going with a wife-beater or nothing at all a lot more often this summer...just because I can. Look out, world! Heh heh heh...

I HAVE BEEN TO THE PROMISED LAND!

Cruiser and I accidentally walked into the womens' bathroom at Angel Stadium.

I could have sworn the sign said "Men" when I glanced up to check. Now that I think about it, the entrance was around a slight curve so what I saw probably did say "Men," with the "W" and "O" most likely obstructed from view by the wall. So it was an innocent mistake.

We strolled right in. The first thing I noticed was that this bathroom had no urinals. I saw this as a positive since the urinals on the View level have no dividers between them anyway. Poor people are not thought to care about the lack of decorum in watching each other pee, I guess. Then I looked to the sink and saw women, no fewer than four. There was a solid split second where no one said a thing. Then I thought aloud, "Are we in the womens' room?"

"Yes, we are," confirmed The Cruiser.

We quickly turned and took a hastened few steps back the way we had come. As daylight pulled us back into the normal world, it registered that one of them answered, "Yeah. Nice job."

We couldn't help but laugh at ourselves, giddy from embarrassment, as we navigated ourselves twelve feet further to the bathroom where we belonged. It looked virtually the same as the womens' but in our minds it was quite different.

I used a stall to pee.

One year ago today...

...I was on en route to The City of Light as part of a two-week, four-city, European tour. Today, I am in Burbank. (Sigh) I shall pay tribute to the trip today with a pic from each city and this weekend I shall commemorate it with a Czech beer that's been in my fridge for a year and a Cuban cigar (just kidding, ATF)!

Spitting in the Face of a Stereotype

So I am at the post office purchasing the requisite 2-cent stamps to bring my 39-centers up to snuff. On my way out, I spy a massive SUV cruising down the street with (I'm guessing) 20" fancy rims, a stereo system bumpin' at full blast and its African-American driver rockin' out with great energy to the song. Normally, based on experience, you would expect the song to be something from the realm of hip-hop or rap, right? Something like your Chingys, your Young Jeezys, maybe a 50-Cent, but in this case you would be dead wrong (sucka!).

This guy was bumpin' John Mellencamp's "Jack & Diane" and he was loving every second of it.

How 'bout that?

The Bob Sugars of the World

Sometimes you find something or someplace that is really fun and/or special but has been able to fly under the radar of popularity. Maybe it's not totally off the grid, but it's still small enough to still be manageable. And then it blows up. Some celebrity is "seen" there or they set a popular movie there or the damn LA Times devotes 4 pages and the cover of the fuckin' Weekend section to it and the next thing you know it's overrun with crowds and is virtually ruined for those who had been quietly enjoying it for years. I fear this is about to happen to me and I am not happy about it. The good news is that it's always temporary. The novelty wears off and things eventually go back to normal. Is this only a problem in big cities, I wonder?

On that same note, does it bother anyone else when celebrities start showing up at certain sports teams' games just because they're the hot topic of the moment and going to their games is suddenly "cool?" I remember back in '02 I had never seen a single celebrity at an Angels game. Ever. Oh but suddenly they're in the World Series and Pierce Brosnan and John Travolta show up and are suddenly Angels fans. It was ridiculous. A more recent example is Owen Wilson, Kate Hudson, Snoop Dogg, and others showing up out of the blue at Golden State Warriors' games. I shouldn't say out of the blue because anybody could have seen it coming. As soon as the Warriors started going on a run of success and people started talking about them, the spotlight-chasing celebs were bound to show up, no doubt smiling wide under their crisp new Warriors hats. And not only did they show up, but thousands of other bandwagon fans jumped on board too and killed the energy the arena was thumping with before the rest of the country thought the Warriors had a chance. Simmons explained this too (I can't find it or I would link). Snoop Dogg might be the worst of the lot because while Wilson and Hudson have surely been spotted at Lakers and Knicks games, they are not known as legitimate fans like Snoop Dogg who loves to be proud of "his" Lakers when they are on top and any other team when they are flying high, even a team from the Lakers' division apparently. If we looked in his closet right now, how many different teams' jerseys do you think we'd find? 15? 20? I guess all we would need to do is look at which teams have won anything the past 10 years. Pretty sure he was wearing a Cardinals jersey in October last year. I wonder where that is today. And I am not forgetting that he is supposedly a big SC fan either. He's not off the hook. In fact, I am hereby banning him from all contact with the team. Take a walk, Dogg.

The whole thing to me is really a lot like the movie "Jerry Maguire," as are most things in life. Two scenes: 1) when Bob Sugar tries to talk to Rod Tidwell before his big Monday Night Football watershed game and 2) when Sugar is standing with a client and the client sees Jerry and Rod and asks "why don't we have that kind of relationship?" Of course, Sugar tries to hug his client. The reaction being It's too late, Bob! Jerry laid this all out on paper and you fired him, ya prick! Don't try to jump on the Maguire bandwagon now!

Pathetic, heartless, soul-less. Up yours, celebs! Sports teams mean something to people! They are not to be made trendy!

"Has the whole world gone crazy?! Am I the only one who gives a shit about the rules?!"

From the story Bonds' Brother Bothered By Baseball Snub:

Bobby Bonds Jr. does not know for certain if his famous older brother took steroids, but he believes Barry deserves better treatment from Major League Baseball as he approaches Henry Aaron's career home run record.

In an interview with the Newark Star-Ledger, Bobby Bonds Jr. says he's bothered that commissioner Bud Selig has not committed to being present when Barry hits home run Nos. 755 and 756 -- and that Aaron has said he'll be elsewhere playing golf when the moment comes.

"Especially Hank Aaron," Bonds Jr., whose late father played in the same era as Aaron, told the newspaper. "Hank Aaron does not even want to support Barry. Being a black man going through what he went through in the past and not supporting my brother, it kind of makes me look at him like, 'Are you serious, brother? Are you serious?' "

Oh I get it now...Hank Aaron is supposed to show up to Barry's games because they're both Black. Of course! Riiiight.....because Aaron dealt with outward racism and death threats in his breaking of a White man's record so, of course, he should support Barry's quest to break that very record whilst enduring the oppression of his private Lay-Z-Boy and flatscreen TV in the locker room and, oh yeah, the Commissioner's inattention! Are YOU serious, brother? Are YOU serious? P.S. Your brother is a giant asshole, which just might have something to do with it.

"Cut the steroids out, just look at my brother as a human being. He stole bases, he ran, he caught the ball," Bonds Jr. told the Star-Ledger. "It's so hard to justify what's going on with baseball and how they're treating him."

Okay, let's cut the steroids out. Consider it done. Unfortunately, we're also gonna have to cut out a large number of those homeruns. They appear to be somehow attached to one another. Sorry.

From the story whose headline should have read Suns continue to cry about being punished for breaking the rules or The Only Time I Have Liked David Stern:

In an interview with Dan Patrick on ESPN Radio, David Stern defended the suspensions, saying that Stoudemire and Diaw brought the punishment upon themselves. He also scoffed at Patrick's insistence that Horry will decide the outcome of the series with his foul on Nash.

"It's being decided because two Phoenix Suns who knew about the rule, forgot about, couldn't control themselves or had coaches who couldn't control them," Stern said.

A-FREAKIN' MEN, PAPA STERN!!

Stern said if the owners would like to change the rule in the offseason, he'd be happy to do it. But he also predicted there wouldn't be a repeat of this in the playoffs because of the punishment Stoudemire and Diaw received.

I agree, if you want to change the rule IN THE OFFSEASON, that's fine and dandy. You can't expect them to change it on the fly just to serve your team's interests.

Suns coach Mike D'Antoni ripped the NBA's decision on Wednesday.

"You know we do have the most powerful microscopes and telescopes in the world in Arizona," Phoenix coach Mike D'Antoni said after the Suns' morning shootaround. "You could use those instruments and not find a shred of fairness or common sense in that decision."

Mike, the rule says if you leave the bench you get suspended for 1 game. They left the bench and got suspended for 1 game. That's the textbook definition of "fairness" and "common sense." Put your microscope away and go find a dictionary.

The rule, strictly enforced in the past, is aimed at preventing a fight from escalating into a full-scale brawl.

"I know for a fact that Boris Diaw would never, ever be in a fight," D'Antoni said.

Diaw IS French so he might actually have a point here.

"I know that. To suspend him for going to Steve Nash, for looking and curiosity, that's a little harsh."

Again, Mike, the rule doesn't say "if you join in the fight," the rule is in regards to LEAVING THE BENCH. The rule is set up the way it is precisely for this reason, so that the league is not left to judge who left the bench to fight and who went out of "curiosity." Nor should psychological profiles ascertained by the player's coach be needed.

The Frenchman Diaw said he could not remember being in a fight, even as a kid.

Very relevant information.

"I've been in the NBA for four years and I haven't got even one technical foul," Diaw said. "I was just looking to see that Steve was all right."

Monsieur Diaw, see above about what the rule does and does not say.

But he agreed he should have known better than to walk toward Nash.

"You fight against your instincts, but you've got to overcome that," Diaw said. "That was my mistake to walk a few feet toward Steve."

SO YOU ADMIT THAT YOU BROKE THE FUCKING RULE THEN! Why are we still talking then?!

Stoudemire abandoned his excuse that he was trying to check in to the game.

"I know you can't step on the court and at that time it was a natural reaction," he said.

SO YOU TOO ADMIT YOU BROKE THE RULE! Tell your damn coach!

"I was more concerned about Steve's health, and I got penalized for it."

Translation: "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa." The rules don't give a shit about your intentions, Amare. They only care about your actions.

Ya know what really chaps my ass? The way I have been hearing for a couple years now that "if you're not a fan of the Phoenix Suns, then you're not a fan of basketball." Talk about a load of bullshit. I happen to love basketball and you can mark this post down as reason number 257 why I hate the Suns. Bravo, NBA! Spurs, in the words of Sensei John Creese, "Finish Him!" I hope you have better luck than the Cobra Kai did.

P.S. I realize how angry this post reads, but I'm in a great mood today. No, really. :-)

This is not 'Nam

--I could not have been more wrong about "The Bourne Ultimatum." Sure, some of it takes place in New York, but, judging by the trailer, it is still very much an international spy thriller and very much AWESOME. I am Pumped (not the capitalization).

--Speaking of movies, now that "Spiderman 3" is out of the way (best of the series!), I am very excited to see "Once," "Paris Je T'Aime," and (still) "Avenue Montaigne."

--Boris Diaw and Amare Stoudemire HAVE TO BE suspended for Game 5 and anyone who thinks they should not be is an anarchist and a hypocrite. "This is not 'Nam. There are rules."

--It's officially Wedding Season and I could not be more pleased. I do love weddings.

--No real job leads as of yet. I remain vigilant and hopeful. On one hand, I would love to find something before I leave here so I could pocket my vacation and "severance" payout and get a TV. On the other hand, it would be nice to have a little time off between jobs. I don't think I could enjoy it much though if I didn't know where the next month's rent was coming from. I'm cursed that way.

--I wish it would rain for 12 straight days. To me, most things are more fun in the rain.

--One thing I love about Netflix is the stark contrast of the two movies it will ship me from my queue. Coming my way today is "28 Days Later" and "The Shop Around the Corner." I get a chuckle out of that.

"Finally, somebody said it!"

Counting Crows singer and Cal Commi Adam Duritz has recently created a "webzine" called Down The Rabbit Hole where he writes (passionately, I'd say) about music, books, TV, and movies that he loves. In his first two issues alone, he's devoted space to The Sportswriter, which I had just finished when I found his site, and Jackson Browne, a deeply cherished personal favorite of mine (see text of blog address). Of course, while it's cool to read how other people have been affected by the same works as I have, the best part of the 'zine, I think, is that it leads me to catch on to things I otherwise probably wouldn't have. For example, last night I watched AD's "Romance of the Week," a movie made in 2000 called "Two Family House" and I thought it was fantastic. A really sincere, heartfelt movie. I think this webzine of AD's is a really great thing and I wish I could do something similar more often without getting overruled by the little voices inside that whisper, "No one cares." How ridiculous is it to censor myself on my own friggin' blog as if it were an actual conversation with someone? No longer, I say! From this day forth, if I wanna do 300 words on "Diner," then damn it, I'm gonna. And obviously, if it's not interesting to you, you will navigate away to something that more aptly blows your dress up. I'm fine with that. In the meantime, AD waxes about Jackson Browne's first four albums better than I ever could.

Thanks, Adam Duritz. Cal still sucks ass.

"And then depression set in."

Every day this week, I have been more tired than the last. I just wanna be on my couch watching the Star Wars Trilogy and drifting in and out of consciousness randomly. Fuck it, Conrad and I are hitting the cages and Best Buy at lunch. I'll swing my way out of this slump, dammit! And then I'll buy some CDs and DVDs that I probably can't afford! Yeah, that's the ticket!

Seattle and Other Shite

Rent-A-Cruiser!

You caught the bouquet! Greeeeeat...(I keed)

Riding Rachel

Where Starbucks was born

Like the wall says

Chewing the fat with VW-eating Fremont Troll

Pioneer Square area

This is after the cop said via megaphone, "Show me your dance moves." After dancing, the man would resume his usual cop-cursing, talking to himself, raving lunatic behavior.

--It's a weird feeling applying for jobs...a rare vulnerability. Quite humbling.

--Saw some old friends at the wedding, of course, and it occurred to me...Why have people stopped calling me The King, dammit? Cruiser gets to be Cruiser. Brasky gets to be Brasky. Conrad gets to be Conrad. I've been The King since 8th grade! What happened? Let's get back to that, I say.

--I am finally willing to admit it...this is the absolute worst season of "24" yet. Last night's episode made no damn sense. When they shot Milo, I was like "Thank God" because it meant one less character to hinge all the lame-ass CTU social circle subplots on. I'm guessing that's not the reaction they were going for. This is not the kind of momentum I wanted them to carry into the "24" movie that goes into production after this season.

--Meanwhile, "The Shield" is the best show on television that, it would seem, no one is watching. I know no one that watches it so I have no one to talk to about it. Not that there's much to say other than, "Awesome!!!!!"

--I'm almost finished with "The History of Love" and, while I really like it, I'm not ashamed to say that I am also utterly confused by it. BZ, I will need you to explain it to me once I'm done.

--I don't care if Jesus himself wanted to pitch for my team, I would NOT stand for this b.s. Roger Clemens is pulling again about only traveling with the team when he will be starting a game on the trip. First the Astros sold out be letting him be bigger than the team, but the New York Yankees are stooping to this level now too? The times they are a changin'. The Angels might not have the 26 titles, the legend, or the tradition, but I am proud to say they would never let this shit fly.

--I'm on Week 4 of the Broken Car CD Player Era. I can't tell you how difficult it is. I can feel my lifeforce slowly seeping out of me. I'm knockin' on the door of madness, my friends.

"...The Fish Are Coming With Me!"

More on getting my walking papers...

So I have until June 15th. 23 vacation days paid out. Severance package pending.

Truthfully, I'm really not massively upset about the whole thing. It's kind of like the It's-Not-You-It's-Me breakup of professional relationships though. One day they tell you that it's been a rough year for the company and they are being forced to cut back and it's not performance-based, etc. etc. And then the next morning you get your normal e-mail from the head of the corporation boasting about the company's great First Quarter:

We achieved strong results in the first quarter – exceeding our own expectations, as well as Wall Street’s, for profitability. Our revenues rose 9% to $11.2 billion and our adjusted OIBDA (the metric we use to measure profits) increased 19% to $3.1 billion, as compared to the first quarter of 2006.

Funny, no? I'm not bitter. Really, I'm not. This is the name of the game in the corporate world so while it is shocking, it's also not surprising at all. As of now, I am looking at it as a positive thing. While I was perfectly satisfied with this job at the time, it was not my dream job and not someplace I wanted to be for the rest of my professional life. So this could be the kick in the ass I have needed to break away for the better. I hope.

It's true, I have gotten used to the lifestyle this particular job has afforded me. I'm not referring to money in any way. I'm talking about my daily routine, going to the company gym in the morning, working with friends, playing on the department softball team, working great hours, etc. The disruption of those things is what will hurt more than anything else.

But I do believe that everything happens for a reason. Hopefully, this change will lead to something better directly, but even if it doesn't, I have faith that in the long run it will.

Who has time for mourning or bitterness? I'm out there again, baby! Let the bidding begin!

P.S. Don't get me wrong, I'm also scared shitless.

LAID OFF!

Wow, this is a new feeling. Mmmkay.

"This place is dead anyway."
--That guy in "Swingers"

Je T'Aimais, Je T'Aime, Je T'Aimerai

Amanda did this on her blog and it looked like fun so I thought I'd give it a go too. Big ups to AJ for the idear.

1.Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question.

Without further ado, I lend my answers to fate and Itunes. Hope this makes some semblance of sense...

What does next year have in store for me?
Carnival Town - Norah Jones...MMmmmokay, worth pondering, I guess.

What does your love life look like?
Just a Dream - Griffin House....That's not exactly reassuring. Maybe I should quit now. I feel a pandora's box of fortune telling opening here.

What do I say when life gets hard?
Something - Musiq (Paul McCartney cover)....Hahahahaha, hard to argue with that one.

What do I think of when I get up in the morning?
My Stupid Mouth - John Mayer.....(faint chuckle)

What song will I dance to at my wedding?
Forever - Ben Harper.....Awwwww., diggin' that (A single tear trickles down the cheek).

What do you want as a career?
Save The Best for Last - Me First and the Gimme Gimmes (obviously a cover of the Vanessa Williams song)......I don't know what this one means.

Your favorite saying?
I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Deathcab For Cutie.....Eh, sure why not.

Favorite place?
I'm a Mountain - Sarah Harmer....Mountains are cool, sure.

What do you think of your parents?
Twilight - David Gray.....Searching for any interpretation other than the unsettling, morose one.

Where would you go on a first date?
Lose You - Pete Yorn.....Hahahahaha, exactly. Tou-frickin'-che.

Describe yourself.
I Am the Highway - Audioslave.....Fuckin'-A right I am.

What is the thing I like doing most?
It Don't Matter to the Sun - Rosie Thomas (Garth Brooks cover)....It don't matta to De Jesus, either!

The song that best describes the president?
For a Dancer - Jackson Browne......Bit of a stretch.

What is my state of mind like at the moment?
Rain - Ben Taylor Band......Deep, man. Very deep. I'm the last person that could answer this question, but wouldn't this be much more fun stoned?

How will I die?
Winter - Joshua Radin.....Uhhhhh, can ya give me a specific year or decade with that? Maybe it's just saying I will be cold, which, as I understand it, we all will be when we die.

The song that will be played at your funeral?
Faded From the Winter - Iron and Wine.......I have been known to wallow at times, but this seems like a choice anchored in melodrama.

The song you'll put as the subject?
Je T'Aimais, Je T'Aime, Je T'Aimerai - Francis Cabrel (Frenchie)......."You asked for it, you got it, Toyota."

Okay, not too bad. Somewhat entertaining, I think. Probably more fun for me than for you, but try it yourself.

Everybody Wins

So I know you've been waiting with baited breath to learn of my decision in the critical Lunch-or-Darfur Dilemma. I shall keep you on edge no longer...

After hours of careful deliberation and soul searching, I chose to go to the Cheadle/Darfur thing-a-ma-jiggy. At the end of the day, I couldn't justify choosing the lunch as the garlic bread will be there tomorrow and for a long time after that.

BUT! As it turns out, fate would reward me. When I told the boss I wasn't going to be able to make it and why, she simply asked what I would like them to bring back for me.

A WIN-WIN! Yaaaaaaay!

A-FREAKIN-MEN, SISTER!

The following column ran in the LA Times Calendar Weekend section today and I agree with it so much that I am posting it here as well. I think you probably already know where I stand on this, but here's a sista backin' my up.

H8 cyber mssgs; they R 4 losers

By Cindy Bertram, Special to The Times
April 26, 2007

WHEN was the last time someone sent you a letter? I'm talking about a real, handwritten letter in an envelope, with a stamp, delivered by someone in a blue uniform. Or the last time a friend called you on your home phone?

Go anywhere these days and chances are that you will see a person head down with a cellphone or a BlackBerry in his or her hands, fingers flying. Walking down the street, driving in our cars, sitting in restaurants, shopping at the grocery store — we're all staying connected without actually connecting. At some point during this ever-expanding Electronic Age, actual human interaction has been short-circuited.

I realized long ago that e-mail is definitely not my friend. Often without thought, you can dash off a message before even realizing what had just been written. E-mails are great for business. Send a colleague a note, schedule a meeting, plan a lunch — all are fine and very safe. But e-mail spells disaster in relationships. I never seem to send the right kind of message. I write differently than I speak, and my tone is misinterpreted almost every time. I am constantly pulling my cyber-foot out of my cyber-mouth.

And text-messaging is even worse. Now every two seconds my cellphone buzzes with a one-word gem that a friend has sent. Don't they realize that I am being charged 10 cents every time they send "Whassup?" And it's not just limited to people my age — my 67-year-old father actually sent me a text message to wish me happy birthday. He even figured out how to send it from his cellphone to my e-mail. I couldn't decide if I was impressed with his tech savvy or sad that I wouldn't hear him sing "Happy Birthday" off-key this year.

In relationships, text-messaging is the new phone call. I recently dated a guy — for almost two months — with whom I never actually had a real phone conversation. Our entire communication was through e-mails and texts. While proving to be fun and exciting at first, it just ended up really making my fingers hurt. When I decided to stop seeing him, I let him know with an e-mail (of course). His response: "I deserve a phone call. Message sent from my BlackBerry wireless handheld."

Gone are the days of knowing if a friend was upset just by her "hello," or sensing if your date really liked you by the tone of his voice. These days, instead of real emotion, you are subjected to "emoticons."

One of my friends used the term "phone-a-phobic" today. Is it possible that we are scared of having "live" conversation? Have we gotten so used to the written word that we don't need to hear real voices anymore?



AND about that written word: I've had enough with the "C U L8R!" Written communication has become one big vanity license plate. I wonder if my old college English professors have also fallen victim to writing their e-mails in lowercase letters, with no punctuation.

Using e-mail to impart the news of life-changing events seems to cheapen both the news and the friendship. One of my girlfriends recently sent a photo of her hand to tell me she'd gotten engaged. Please give me back the days of waving your big, shiny rock in the faces of your jealous single friends!

I don't think I'm being selfish, or nostalgic, in my longing for the tactile. Opening my (U.S. mail) box to find a (printed) invitation to a party, or a (real) postcard from a friend's vacation, or a (scribbled) thank-you note from my nephew would certainly be attention-getting.

And, if next year Dad decides to call and sing, I'll be all ears.

You Make The Call

My friends, I am faced with a great moral dilemma. I have conflicting commitments/opportunities for lunchtime tomorrow.

1) Free lunch at the Smokehouse (home of the world's greatest guilty-pleasure garlic bread) with some friends from the show and their boss, her treat.

2) "A live discussion with Academy Award-nominated actor Don Cheadle and renowned human rights activist John Prendergast as they discuss their work in Africa at an Employees FIRST! event, Advocacy in Action: A Conversation on the Crisis in Darfur. Learn what you can do to help stop this human tragedy."

Are you feeling my quandary? I guess the obvious choice is the Darfur thing, right? How can I sell out human suffering for a free lunch? Then again, if you've ever had this garlic bread, you can sympathize with my pause. Rumor has it their secret is to sprinkle it with the cheese powder you get from mac & cheese.

I may end up sleeping on it, but I am fairly confident I won't be able to live with myself if I go with the lunch. Damn it.

Smells Like Teen Spirit (And Other Things)

I love it when a certain smell will get in my nose that reminds me of some place or some one. It's usually not a specific scent that I can pinpoint like "hey, it smells like hot dogs in here," but, rather, a combination of odors that triggers the sense's memory. For example, the craft service room on the stage of the show I work on smells exactly like my college dorm room--the normal smell that is, not the smell after a night of drinking. So every time I step into this room, it's a unique reminder of all the great times I had in college, sort of like a little time machine...with a well-stocked cereal selection and a kickass coffee maker.

There's a woman at work who wears the same perfume as an ex-girlfriend of mine used to wear, which was weird at first because I think we associate peoples' perfumes as being The Scent of Them. If you knew what the coworker looked like, you would think it was pretty funny because, suffice to say, she looks nothing like the former flame. Now it barely occurs to me anymore.

Another woman walked by me at the gym and I don't know whether it was simply perfume or perfume combined with soap, shampoo, and/or deodorant, but she smelled just like my late grandmother.

One of my favorites is when I get a whiff of that special bouquet of fresh roasted nuts, car exhaust, trash, and cigarette smoke and I think to myself, "Ahhhhhhh. New York."

Another one that's really strange is the smell of Christmas. Surely, there's lots of scents that we associate with The Season, (cinnamon, pumpkin, pine, etc.) but I'm talking about a scent that's not as easily pegged. I have no idea what it's comprised of; I just know it adds up to Christmas.

I was watching my favorite travel show last night as they journeyed to the French Riviera. One of the stops was at a perfume factory where you could design your own custom fragrance. They had these guys there that make the perfumes called Le Nez (Nay), French for "the nose," who can differentiate and identify approximately 6,000 different smells just by taking a quick sniff. I think I shall keep one of these guys on my staff so that whenever I happen upon one of these mystery memory scents, they can bottle it for me.

Actually, strike that. Half the fun is the surprise of the whole thing...kind of like in "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" when they were in the wormhole of time and had no idea where/when they would find themselves next.

So.....

--We went up to Solvang/Los Olivos last weekend for an open house at our favorite winery. Damn it if it wasn't the perfect day for it. Just gorgeous (said with an Australian accent). These hills had always been brown on previous trips.

--I bought my first suit on Friday. It's in the tailor's hands as we speak. What is it about a suit that makes me feel more like a man?

--Finished off A Long Way Down on Friday as well. Thoroughly enjoyed it. An entertaining, breezy read. Now I feel like going on a book binge. I'm thinking about either The History of Love or Revolutionary Road as the main focus but there's all these short story and non-fiction options that are calling to me as side-reads. I must exercise discipline.

--There really is something to be said for spending time alone. We often focus on spending "quality time" with parents or friends, but I feel like time by ourselves is not often given that same attention. I had a couple day/nights last week where I was out and about all by my lonesome and, no offense to friends or lovah, but I couldn't have been happier. I had typed out a big, long paragraph about this but then I realized the value of personal alone time becomes somewhat ironic and maybe even cheapened if you have to blab about it to everybody.

--I don't like being around guys that are much taller/bigger-framed than me. I've been more aware of it lately, that walking behind some 6'5" guy who's not only tall but just a huge-framed guy makes me feel small and frail. Is this what it's like for short people every day of their lives? Man, that's suffering.

As if I needed another reason...

Great news, everybody (Click me)!

CHRISTMAS IN APRIL!

It's that most specialist of days that comes but once a year, friends...It's Free Cone Day! Yaaaaaay! A free ice cream cone for all comers between the hours of noon and 8 pm at your local Ben and Jerry's Scoop Shop! Not a bad deal, I'd say.

Upon checking their website for my nearest Scoop Shop, I also stumbled upon the Ben and Jerry's Flavor Generator. You can create your own flavor! They won't make it for you, of course, but you can still have the fun of dreaming it up. I guess it's kind of like a screenplay in that way. My flavor has a cream base of sweet cream and cake batter, chunks of chocolate chip cookie dough, toffee, and peanut butter cups, and a swirl of maple cream. It's a little cluttered, I know, but, hey, I'm a complicated man. I have dubbed my new flavor "Urge to Splurge."

Lord, I was boooorn a ramblin' maaaaan

--I can feel it coming...My entire nose is becoming a zit.

--Nothing says Friday to me like a good, spicy discussion of racial relations. How about you? If you haven't already heard, a lot of MLB players will be wearing number 42 on Sunday to honor Jackie Robinson. Except for those included in a team-wide switch to the number, only one white player has decided to wear Jackie's number as part of this tribute, the Diamondbacks' Eric Byrnes. I give him a lot of credit for doing this. Why aren't more white players paying tribute to such a brave American man? Do they not realize how Jackie's breaking of the color barrier has affected their lives in a positive way even though they are not of the race he helped to liberate? That's pretty naive, isn't it? Or does the reluctance to wear his number come from the same nervous place that makes a lot of white people literally afraid to discuss anything remotely related to race for risk of being called a racist? Regardless, I think it's great that Byrnes is doing this and I hope next time that more players of various races will join in.

Still on the subject of race, here are two columns that I thought made fresh and valueable contributions to this whole Imus-Rutgers fiasco (they're the same ones from the Sports Guy's blog if you're already current with your Simmons):

Jason Whitlock in The Kansas City Star

Michael Wilbon in The Washington Post

--There's a ton of movies out that I want to see...okay, maybe more like four, but four can feel overwhelming when you don't actually go that often. Anyway, one of them is "Shooter." I'm not really sure why. It looks pretty average if not completely lame and yet I'm in for some reason. At least I come out feeling good either way, right? If it sucks I'll be saying, "See, I was right. I knew it looked weak." If by some chance it turns out to be good popcorn-munching escapist entertainment, I'm also covered..."See, I just knew there was something about it that was luring me in." Whether or not I actually go to see it, I am instituting a new personal policy in regards to movies:

I shall not see any movie that features a shot of someone walking in slow motion as something explodes behind them.

Because, really, isn't that just a dead giveaway of the logical leap the filmmakers are asking you to take in the movie? If there's an explosion and they fall to the ground in instinctual fear, that's fine. But if it's the whole thing where their expression remains stone cold business-like because they are expecting the explosion, I'm sorry, I gotta be out on that.

--"The Bourne Ultimatum" comes out this summer...I saw the poster last weekend and learned that it's set in New York. This is disappointing to me. I love NY as much as the next person, but a big part of the appeal of this international thriller series was the international part.

Speaking of this movie...I am sick and tired of other movies blatantly, openly ripping off one of "Bourne's" signature lines, "...bring this fight to your doorstep." I think I have seen it used at least twice in the action genre in recent years after the first "Bourne" movie. How do you do that? That's like plagiarizing the "I Have a Dream" speech...I think people are gonna notice.

--I don't think I could ever walk by an open tub of Red Vines and not have one (or five). If someone said they would kill me if I took one and I knew they meant it, I'm fairly certain I'd go down in a Red Vine blaze of glory right then and there. I am powerless against them. Maybe I shouldn't be publishing this fact.

--I am on a post-karaoke high this morning. Last night I rocked the following songs:

"Love on the Rocks" by Neil Diamond
"She's Every Woman" by Garth Brooks
"Blister in the Sun" by the Violent Femmes
"All for You" (with Todd) by Sister Hazel
"Two Princes" (also with Todd) by the Spin Doctors
"Sweet Baby James" by James Taylor

--What the hell do I want for lunch today? This question has plagued me for two hours and I have gained zero ground. I need help and not just with lunch.

--Wait, Wango Tango is this weekend?!?!?! How did I miss this?!!

--I really think I could ramble on like this for a couple more hours but, on my honor, I feel I should try and do something resembling work before lunch. Ciao!

MISSING!

Have you seen this man?

His name is Joe and he is one of my bestest buddies. I have not seen him for three weeks. He doesn't answer his phone, doesn't return voicemails or e-mails. Nuttin'. I fear for his well being. If you know his whereabouts or have any information that may lead to him being returned to us, please call The Find Joe Hotline immediately.

1-800-JOE-HOME

It's Peanut Butta Jelly Time!

I really, truly never thought I would say this...but I had forgotten for a little while how good a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is. I used to have one for lunch every single day. Hell, my softball team was named after this simple yet delectable sammich! I never imagined I could forget. That is, until today when, for the first time in a few months, I sunk my teeth into this All-American classic. I realized then what I had been subconsciously missing in my life for far too long. God bless the PB&J.

Oxygen, anyone?

--I gave up wine for Lent this year. Talk about sacrifice. Last night I was reunited with my long lost love and I perhaps had one glass too many as today I am severely sluggish. As in Ug.

--Big ups to Rachel Ray. Not only is she hot, but her recipe for Spring Stuffed Chicken turned out to be quite a delight.

--At Aroma on Friday, I noticed a young man wearing a pair of chic black, thick-framed glasses...with no lenses in them. I don't mean they had non-prescription glass in them (that would be bad, but not completely unheard of), no no, they had nothing. Just air. Just when I think I have seen it all, a tool like this guy comes along.

--Occasionally, I have what I like to call LA Moments. An LA Moment to me is a moment when I find myself doing something that perfectly fits the stereotypicaly weird LA image, something that I would normally make fun of someone else for doing...like wearing glasses with no glass in them. Well, I had an LA Moment on Saturday night at the wrap party for my show when I found myself sitting and partaking of....an oxygen bar. That's right, I was sitting there with a tube up my nose suckin' in some high quality, eucalyptus "flavored" O2. I did it for the gimmicky fun of it, okay?! Back off! There was a little sheet there, listing the bevy of supposed benefits of the oxygen bar, with hangover prevention a major highlight. I'm not sure it did a damn thing, but it was fun I guess. Kind of like having a party from a hospital bed, only with booze and mood lighting.

--Man, last night's was a season-saving episode of "24." The greatness of it was really pronounced when watched in conjunction with the suckiness of last week's episode. Really just brilliant stuff. The whole nuclear-launch-as-a-bluff-calling-tactic thing, faaaaantastic. I was outraged when it appeared the writers were having President Palmer inexplicably reverse his stance on the launch for no better reason than to make viewers gasp, despite it making no sense at all. It reminded me of something the "Heroes" hacks would pull. But oooooh no, the "24" crew was just toying with us, finally using our 5 seasons of viewership to their manipulative advantage! They rope-a-doped us and it was awesome! Not to mention they finally gave Jack Bauer his balls back!! It was getting quite disturbing how little he was involved in recent episodes and then finally last night we get the old Jack Bauer back, personally taking out Fayed's team and then killing Fayed with his bare hands, thus securing the remaining suitcase nukes!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!! And now the fuckin' Chinese want a piece? Bring. It. On. Biatch!

--Dammit, I have rarely needed a nap as badly as I do today. I'm not sure I can actually be here today. Although sleep has not been exactly pleasant of late. I have been having some seriously fucked up dreams, from full scale nuclear attacks to my being diagnosed with stomach cancer (by a dentist no less) to watching people brutally beat each other whilst stealing my car, it has been an upsetting series of slumber. I still think I'd like to take my chances though.

--Saw "The Lookout" over the weekend. It was good.

--Got a new CD that I am digging, "Safe Away" by Denison Witmer. Some whiny moments, sure, but still intimate goodness more often than not.

MMmmmmmokay then. Happy Tuesday.

Stop The Insanity!

Every morning when I walk into the kitchen here at Dunder-Mifflin Burbank, there is at least 4 minutes left suspended on the microwave timer. First of all, leaving time on the timer is a pet peeve of mine so, of course, I clear it whenever I see it. But also, it vexes me...In the world of microwave cooking, how can you routinely overestimate your needed time by 4-5 minutes? With a conventional oven, sure, I could see it, but a microwave? Are we defrosting a cro-magnon man here? Four minutes is inexplicable. Let's see, how long should it take to heat this bowl of Quaker Instant Oatmeal? Hmmm....Eight minutes oughtta do the trick....(2 minutes later)....Wow, look at that, it's already done! Of course, the best part about the whole thing is the name of the department in which all of this madness occurs......"Estimating."

"I'm in a glass case of emotion!"

--Baseball is back(!), the Angels are undefeated, and I could not be happier. Well, that's probably overstating it, but I am very very pleased.

--I love Ikea. Love it. What I don't love is being charged 5 cents each for the plastic bags used to carry my affordable solutions for better living to my car. That's right, they are charging people for the fucking BAGS! I think Congress needs to step in here and restore sanity at this retail giant.

--Speaking of ridiculous charges/prices...went to Dodger Stadium for the first time this season on Friday night. Do you know how much parking is now? $15! Up 50% from last year. Do you know how much a large beer is now? $11!! E-lev-en!! Compare that to $6.25 at Angel Stadium. I mean really, Frank, that is just ridiculous.

--What's the rule on consecutive days wearing the same pair of jeans? 3? 4? Whatever it is, I might soon be pushing the limit. I just love this pair. Second all-time only to one other pair which have a gargantuan hole in the crotch (currently patched but wearing thin again).

--I do enjoy those Starbucks CDs. The Chet Baker one is outstanding.

--Summer concert season is rapidly approaching and I am wondering how much do I really need groceries and electricity. A shift in priorities might be imminent.

--Tonight marks the return of "The Shield!" Between that, "24," "House," and Angels games, my TV-watching is entering a glorious couple of months.

--So much to do, so little energy to do it.