The Last Straw

That's it. That's the last straw. --Milton

I'm blowin' town, folks. Va mousse. Adios. Gone daddy gone, the love is most certainly gone. The desire to close up shop in LA and head north for P-town has been building over time, but today I received the little kick in the ass that I needed to really be sure. And it happened in the oddest of ways in the most unlikeliest of places.

So I'm at the Trader Joe's. Just walked in with my two bright red Trader Joe's reusable shopping bags. I select the perfect bunch of bananas, place them in my cart on top of the bags and proceed to the cucumbers. Now I had made the mistake a day earlier of buying zucchini instead of cucumber so I was going to be very careful to make sure I didn't confuse the two again. I marveled at the size of the thing and knew I could never be fooled again. Both are phallic vegetables I should find emasculating for their sheer size, but the cucumber is still in a league of its own. But I digress. Now I'm over by the carrots, and after a brief inner debate, I decided to go with them. I turn around to toss the little orange buggers in with their fellow produce pals, but am startled to find that my cart has vanished! But I don't panic. I frequently misplace my shopping cart the Joe's as it's always necessary to find a spot for it off to the side, on the banks of the rapid river of people. I look all around the produce section, but it's nowhere to be found. No cart, no bags, no organic fruits and vegetables. So I wait. Surely, no one would steal a person's cart for the sake of a couple reusable grocery bags, right? An innocent mistake must gave been made and the responsible-but-not-guilty party will return soon, blushing but with no permanent damage done. You would fuckin' think so, wouldn't you. After a minute or so of standing there with nothing to show for myself but a bag of baby carrots (a much more fitting phallus as it turned out), I decide it's time for some street justice. No justice, no peace! I take a hard-looking lap around the store but find no viable suspects. Clearly, I'm dealing with a professional sack burglar. But I still don't really believe it. This could not be happening. Who does this? Who steals a person's shopping cart in the time it takes them to walk to a shelf and ponder the pairing of shrimp and carrots(probably not a natural fit, but I'm into carrots lately)? Seriously? I walk outside, looking to get some air if not some perspective. I mentally retrace my steps and actions to make sure I'm not going to be laughing at myself in a few minutes. It's such a cheap, despicable, petty crime against humanity that I can't fathom that it's actually happening. I walk back in, having done the emotional equivalent of rubbing my eyes after seeing a ghost. No relief to come, my friends. Nothing but the plain, shitty truth.

Someone stole my motherfucking environmentally-conscious shopping bags right out from under my nose (Cue a joke about liberals from Adam or a hippy joke from Conrad).

I've had it with this dump! (We got no food, we got no jobs, our pets' heads are fallin' off!!) I am so sick and tired of this congested, petty, soul-sickened city. I gotta get out before I go postal. Of course, it begs the question, What, you don't think this could have happened to you in Portland? The answer is no, I really don't.

I quit.

P.S. Personal neuroses about these reusable grocery bags. I always feel awkward about cross-branding with them. My bags are (excuse me, were) from Trader Joe's, but sometimes I need something from Whole Foods or Ralph's. I know it's ridiculous to feel awkward about taking bags from one store for use in another. It's all for the same good cause, right? It's not like the checkers own stock in the company (do they?) or are entrenched in a bitter rivalry with the other stores. I know all this, but yet it still feels weird to me, like grocery bag bigamy. Oh well, I guess the good news is I don't have to deal with that turmoil at the moment.

Gimme a break, I never do this...

Lookatem!

Out to Lunch

I'm a brown-bagger by nature. It saves money, sure, but really I think I prefer bringing my lunch from home because it saves me from having to make the agonizing decision about where to go out for lunch and the nutritional value of what I might order when I get there. To most, this is not a difficult decision, if it's a decision at all. Some amble out to their car and see where it takes them, Taco Bell, Whole Foods, what have you. I have never been blessed with the gift of such frivolity. Also, I don't like to lose too much time on the commute to and from a lunch spot. I find that time better spent reading crap on the internet I haven't been able to really look at yet that day (fantasy baseball). Good God, I am a fucking dork if there ever was one. For these reasons, my lunch hour, most of the time, is spent right here at my desk.

However, as the bitter Southern California winter turns to the blooming of spring(a net change of 7 degrees), I've found it less tolerable to sit under fluorescent lights for 8 or more hours of a beautiful, warm day without feeling the sun on my skin for even a brief spell. If I walk out at six as the sun is on its way out, I feel I've lost the day almost as much as if I had slept through it. Another negative is that as things get busier here at work, the chances of actually getting to enjoy my lunch with any degree of leisure or peace declines by the day. Into the wild, I say!

Today marks Day Four of my new lunch routine. The building adjacent to mine has a two metal picnic tables with umbrellas out front and, oddly enough, no one ever seems to use them so I have been taking my lunch down the stairs, out the front door, and across the narrowest path of our parking lot to sit in front of the Raytheon building. I angle myself in such a way as to absorb as much of the sunshine as possible and I eat and read. Call it my own personal Finer Things Club. I can't imagine a better book for such an occasion than the inaugural selection. A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle. It's quite the escapist pleasure. However, if you catch me bringing a lavender sac he to lunch, feel free to slap the shit out of me. I'll be asking for it.

The funny thing is how much of an escape my little trip is even before I've opened the book. These two picnic tables are no more than 100 feet from the front door of our building, which sees considerable traffic, especially at lunch. There is a wall separating the two parking lots of my building and Raytheon, but it's a mere three feet short. Yet, despite being barely at the limit of lip-reading distance from my building, no one ever seems to notice me as they come and go. That little bush-lined wall may as well be ten feet high for the amount of separation and anonymity it grants me. Another parking lot, another world. And thank God for that.

A Bettin' Man

--In an effort to make this blog interesting, I have decided to "make it interesting." I have issued a bet, a challenge if you will, to Joe to take me on, blog-for-blog. Don't Mind Me vs. The Year of Joe in a retirement match! Loser deletes his blog and does not create a new one. How will the winner of this bet be determined you ask? Why fantasy baseball, of course! You see, Joe was making some bold statements about how incredible his pitching staff was and how he would bet on his staff against any other in our league. So really he's the one who initiated the bet, I'm just stepping up to the plate with the stakes. He hasn't replied yet but I've never known Two-and-O Joe to run from a fight. A topless woman, yes, but never a fight.

--On that note, I know this is a little late (though not too late), but here it is, my 2nd annual major league baseball picks:

AL West: Angels
AL Central: Tigers
AL East: Blue Jays (CRAZY!)
AL Wild Card: Indians

NL West: Diamondbacks
NL Central: Brewers
NL East: Mets
NL Wild Card: Rockies

ALDS: Angels over Indians, Tigers over Blue Jays
NLDS: Rockies over Brewers, Mets over Diamondbacks

ALCS: Tigers over Angels
NLCS: Mets over Rockies

World Series: Mets over Tigers

2008 World Champion New York Mets! Write it down.

--Couple other bets going on as well....On a daily level, a coworker has bet me that I can't go the entire day without speaking in some sort of voice or accent that is not my own. This will be tough because once I get working and I'm focused on something because it's an unconscious thing for me. The Russian accent just comes out on its own. Personally, I think it makes for a boring day just talking and acting normal, but, hey, I love a challenge.

--The other bet is on a larger scale. Last night my dad was telling me how once I got married, I would inevitably gain weight. I told him I will do no such thing and that we should put it to a bet. So on my 1.5 year anniversary, we will compare my weight and body fat percentage against the same measurements taken on or around my wedding day. This could be the easiest bet I've ever entered into. In order to keep it interesting, I might issue a side challenge to myself to lower the b.f. percentage by a few points. The only thing we need to figure out are the stakes. Any suggestions?

--Ya know what I feel like doing today? Watching great sitcoms like Cheers, Seinfeld, and Spin City. All day long. There would be pizza involved too. Then, at night, I'd take in a baseball game.

But, alas, pushing paper under fluorescent lights will have to do.

--Someday I will fly First Class. Not as some status symbol of wealth or sophistication, just as an escape from that person that I always seem to get seated behind. I'm talking about the person who fully reclines their seat from the first to last allowable instant of the flight, and, as if it weren't enough to lay themselves in my lap, rams their body against the seat as if it were malfunctioning and was actually supposed to fully recline so that they can sleep as if they were in a bed. Who cares if it means I have to become an involuntary contortionist to carry out such luxurious leisures as reading a book or sipping water. One of these days, I'm going to hit back, slamming my weight into the back of that fucking seat like a football player pushing a tackling sled. Okay, I probably won't.

--Is there anything more rude or disrespectful than piling a man's missed work not in his inbox, but on his damn chair? I think not. I can't wait for M. to go out of town for a couple of days. Her chair and desk are going to look like a fucking landfill when she gets back. There should be a rule against this, but there's not. At least an unwritten rule anyway.

--Isn't it interesting how elections always seem to inject certain buzzwords into our common dialogue, often for no clear reason? I don't think I heard the word "surrogate" more than twice in my life until this election began. Now I hear it more than "vote."

"...you belong somewhere you feel free."

The Song of the Day is "Wildflowers" by Tom Petty.

I'm going with this one because, like many TP songs, it feels like a travelin' song and that's what's on my mind today. I love that feeling I get all week leading up to a trip, regardless of the destination (this time South Dakota). It's not just the anticipation itself, it's the way it permeates into all the little things that you need to do before going out of town. Who's gonna cat sit? How am I going to get to the airport? Packing--I love to pack. All these things that resemble ordinary everyday chores are injected with a sense of urgency and excitement. I'm going places, baby! Litrally. Cap it all off with my great love for airports. The newsstands with their floor-to-ceiling magazines, the generic, diluted versions of Starbucks and Mickey D's, and the "Home Turf" sports bars that are home only to transitory souls in search of a cold beer and a ballgame. The peoplemovers that make you feel like gliding at double speed. Someday when it's late or early enough that there's no people in my way, I'm gonna try running on one of these things at a full sprint. I love it all, I tell ya. I can't wait.

RAAAAAAAAAAAARRR!

The song of the day is "The Way I Am" by Eminem.

Reason being...I've got a real short fuse today. I went ape shit once already over someone's annoying ringtone. I'm not trying to be a tough guy or anything. I'm just so fuckin' tired I have no patience or tolerance. I tried medicating with a triple grande latte (skinny hazelnut to be exact) and it didn't do a damn thing. It affected me about as much as a pistol shot hurt King Kong. I am in that stage of exhaustion where you need sleep so badly that you'd swear you were sleeping and that what you know is reality feels more like a dream. I need a cold shower or a slap in the face.

Happy Thursday!

For Everyman

I've been becoming disenchanted with Los Angeles recently. I've had plenty of bouts like this over the years, but it would always pass. Lately, it's been stickin'. Nobody enjoys traffic but it's more than an inconvenience to me. I can feel it eating away at my soul. It sucks the lifeforce right out of me like E.T. being stuck on earth too long. As I sit there wasting away for 10 hours a week, sucking fumes, listening to my brakes moan, feeling my car shudder in protest at the perpetual idle, I swear everyday that I've hit the breaking point. I think I might actually be right. Finally. The bitch of it is, it's not just the LA traffic that's so horrible, it's that it's pretty much unavoidable. We've been talking about moving down to the Westside which would be great. I would zip to and from work, door-to-door in 20 minutes tops. But what if my next job is back in the valley? I already moved to be closer to work once and it was great for a while, but then things happened and I found myself stuck in one of the worst commutes of my life again. What about softball? If I move to the Westside, I'm not going to wade through the 405 and the 101 at rush hour to get to a game in Burbank so I have to give that up. What about seeing my friends on a weeknight? Forget it. What about if there's a movie screening in Hollywood or a concert in Universal City? You cannot have anything resembling a life in this fucking city without dealing with traffic. And it's only getting worse.

Not only is the traffic getting worse, but it's costing even more. Four fuckin' dollars a gallon. And climbing. Of course, it won't stay up that high, but on the average it certainly won't go down from year to year either. I am sick and tired of watching more and more of my money go to gasoline, which, without getting too much into politics, isn't helping anyone else any more than it's not helping me. And yet, in this city, what choice does a person have?

I've gotten a little off track here, sorry. My point is that I've been thinking more and more about pulling up anchor and moving out of this town. Of course, this decision is not mine to make alone, but I am beginning to campaign and I think Nicole has to sympathize with my frustration. I've been thinking about a smaller city. Not a town, per se, and not quite "the country," but something smaller than this vast expanse. A walking city. A city with a mass transit system useful enough that we could sell off our cars and not have to deal with freeways at all. It has to be someplace quieter though. Someplace more affordable where a guy can afford to stash more than a couple bucks away and actually have realistic plans for the future. It's still gotta have culture though. I need theatres that show independant films, quirky bookstores and coffeehouses. I need a good music scene, someplace where I can be confident that most tours will make a stop. I need someplace with like-minded people. Even the diluted right wing nuts of California are beginning to give me ulcers. I'm thinking I need to live among my fellow "latte-sipping, Prius-driving, Birkenstock-wearing" hippy, liberal, environmentally-aware brothers. It's time I just give into it and go full circle, just like Rambo finally did this year. I'm talking about a place where the (microbrewed) beer flows like wine. In short, I'm talking about a little place called.....PORTLAND. Would I miss my family and friends? Of course. That's maybe the only thing keeping me here, I think. Well, that and the Angels and Trojans. But you know what, the Angels play at Seattle a few times a year (which is doable) and SC will be in either Eugene or Corvallis every year too. Up until last weekend, you know how many times I had seen my family since Christmas? Zero-point-zero-zero. Would it really be much different taking a short flight versus a long drive? Maybe not. And when it comes to friends, who doesn't love a friend that gives you an excuse to go on a weekender?

Moment of Realistic Practicality: no way this happens before the wedding, which is still over a year away, if it happens at all (the move, not the wedding). Denver could ultimately win out too. My point is just the feeling like it's time to go. Which brings me to the Song of the Day! I think it speaks for itself.


For Everyman
By Jackson Browne

Everybody I talk to is ready to leave
With the light of the morning
They've seen the end coming down long enough to believe
That they've heard their last warning
Standing alone
Each has his own ticket in his hand
And as the evening descends
I sit thinking 'bout Everyman

Seems like I've always been looking for some other place
To get it together
Where with a few of my friends I could give up the race
And maybe find something better
But all my fine dreams
Well though out schemes to gain the motherland
Have all eventually come down to waiting for Everyman

Waiting here for Everyman--
Make it on your own if you think you can
If you see somewhere to go I understand
Waiting here for Everyman--
Don't ask me if he'll show -- baby I don't know

Make it on your own if you think you can
Somewhere later on you'll have to take a stand
Then you're going to need a hand

Everybody's just waiting to hear from the one
Who can give them the answers
And lead them back to that place in the warmth of the sun
Where sweet childhood still dances
Who'll come along
And hold out that strong and gentle father's hand?
Long ago I heard someone say something 'bout Everyman

Waiting here for Everyman--
Make it on your own if you think you can
If you see somewhere to go I understand

I'm not trying to tell you that I've seen the plan
Turn and walk away if you think I am--But don't think too badly of one who's left holding sand
He's just another dreamer, dreaming 'bout Everyman

Click here for Youtube video

All over the map

--Went to see a screening of "Field of Dreams" tonight at the Arclight. I'm normally not a stay-for-the-credits guy. I know they tried to ingrain the practice into us in film school, but it didn't really take. Sometimes I'll need a minute to absorb and gather, but more often than not, I am ready to stand. Conrad is an unequivocal credits guy so tonight we sat until the lights came on and I'm glad we did because on this 900th viewing of the movie, I discovered something new. After all the credits and thanks and Panavision logos, etc., there was a dedication that I had never stayed around long enough to catch. It said "For our parents." I think that's a dedication that was absolutely fulfilled. Among other things, it's a story about parents and kids, specifically one man's quest to make amends with his deceased father. To see the filmmakers make such a point resonated with me because a couple years ago I gave my dad a dvd copy of the movie along with a baseball mitt and ball, my way of saying, "Hey dad...wanna have a catch?"

--Caught the end of the Laker game when I got home. Man, I wish they would just go back to the old uniforms permanently. They are so damn sharp. They don't look outdated either so let's get Jerry (or Jim) Buss on the line and make this happen.

--Anybody wanna go see James Taylor all by their lonesome? Who needs ticket (singular)? I got one. Face plus miscellaneous ticketmasterape fees.

--Last night, I watched "Away From Her." Wow. I was deeply affected by this movie. I didn't just cry, I laid awake when I couldn't have been more tired. I've heard a lot of people describe the premise of the movie as depressing, and I sort of expected it to be. After actually seeing it though, I think it's a good example of a distinction between depressing and heart-wrenching. I haven't seen it in years, but I might say "Schindler's List" was depressing where as "Life if Beautiful" is heart-wrenching despite both movies being about the holocaust and neither (I don't think) having a happy ending. To me, "Away From Her" was achingly beautiful. It was like a more realistic, more focused, quieter "The Notebook." And I friggin' loved "The Notebook."

--On that note, consider this post to be an open invitation (and request) to anyone I would call a friend to please slap me right in the mouth if it ever seems like I'm taking my fucking blog a bit too seriously.

--Listening to Counting Crows' new album, fresh off the download (only downloaded because it was ripe with exclusive extras). At first listen, it's a welcome throwback to their early stuff. Which is not to say I didn't like "Hard Candy" because I did. I just felt like they were headed towards a more pop-oriented place with that album and they took it right up to the edge of going too far. I was worried the next album would go over the edge. I don't really know what that would sound like, but my point is just that this, to me, is a much less pop single-type album and they were due for something like that. I think it's kind of got the best elements of August and Everything After and Recovering the Satellites combined. But that's just one fan's opinion.

--I'd like to post something here a little more often, but sometimes I just don't have anything to say or nothing I haven't said to five people already that day. So at the risk of being completely cheesy (not the first time, won't be the last), I think I'll start doing a Song Of The Day thing just to give me something I can always talk about aside from "Today I ate cornflakes. Used too much milk."

The Song Of The Day for Tuesday, March 25th:

"Your Love" by The Outfield.

I just got this one tonight too. If you don't recognize the title or artist, just punch yourself in the balls and sing in your newfound pitch:

Josie's on a vacation far away
Come around and talk it over
So many things that I wanna say
You know I like my girls a little bit older
I just wanna use your love tonight
I don't wanna lose your love toniiiiiiiiight

Or I suppose you could just sample it on Youtube and save your balls.

So I'm making that the song of the day, for me at least. Kind of a weird, unnecessarily tension-filled day on Monday so I'm pulling out the big guns with this upbeat, infectious 80's number to kick start a better Tuesday. I think that's reason enough.

As if I needed another reason....

From MSNBC.com's "First Read":

If there's one thing outside of politics that can steal a candidate's attention -- especially the hoops enthusiast Obama -- it's March Madness, which begins in the next hour or two.

His top bracket picks include: UNC in the East, Kansas in the Midwest, Pittsburgh in the South, and UCLA in the West. Obama has his money on the University of North Carolina to win the NCAA tournament this year beating out UCLA in the final.

KUMPART AND OBAMA GONNA BARACK THE TOURNAMENT!

SPRING TRAINING 2008!

Some would say this is a poorly composed photograph. I say the photographer could tell we were missing two guys and chose to use the vast expanse of concrete here to represent their cowardice and inadequacy

It speaks for itself, I think.

Conrad got so excited he pissed himself, but at least he got some new shorts out of it.

Sonic the Angels Fan?

Guinness. It does a body good.

Test of strength! Greco-Roman knuckle-lock!

Do NOT fuck with the Mad Dog!

That sky is real.

BURROUGHS '08!

A (Hook) Shot In The Dark

Click on image to enlarge

Mixed Messages But What Else is New

From CNN.com:

(CNN) — Even as Hillary Clinton's campaign attacked her rival, Barack Obama, for failing to "deliver on his promises," her husband, former President Bill Clinton said Saturday that a joint ticket pairing the two would be "almost unstoppable."

The former president referred to his wife's own comments that indicated a willingness to consider the prospect. "She said yesterday and she said the day after her big wins in Texas and Ohio and Rhode Island that she was very open to that and I think she answered explicitly 'Yes' yesterday," said Clinton during a Mississippi campaign appearance.

"I know that she has always been open to it, because she believes that if you can unite the energy and the new people that he's brought in and the people in these vast swaths of small town and rural America that she's carried overwhelmingly, if you had those two things together she thinks it'd be hard to beat."

He added that, in his view, Obama would win the "urban areas and the upscale voters" while Clinton claims "the traditional rural areas that we lost when President Reagan was president. If you put those two things together, you'd have an almost unstoppable force."

Hillary Clinton told a CBS interviewer earlier this week, shortly after she ended a string of 11 losses with wins in Texas, Ohio and Rhode Island, that a joint ticket "may be where this is headed. But of course we have to decide who is on the top of ticket. I think the people of Ohio very clearly said that it should be me."

The New York senator has made the suggestion in other interviews, as have her campaign surrogates. On Friday, Pennsylvania Gov. Ed Rendell told the National Journal that it was important for the winner of the Democratic nomination to make the offer to the runner-up this year.

The Obama team has largely avoided making similar statements.

UPDATE: In an interview with CNN affiliate KTVQ in Billings, Montana, Obama called the notion "premature," saying he has won twice as many states as Clinton and a greater share of the popular vote, and he believes he can maintain a delegate lead.

"You won't see me as a vice presidential candidate, you know, I'm running for president," said Obama.

So let me get this straight. In the past week or so, starting with the berating "Shame on you" rant, Shrillary has compared Obama to Ken Starr and George W. Bush, reduced his entire political life to "one speech," openly favored John McCain over Obama, implicitly perpetuated the ridiculous Muslim rumor her campaign originally created, and essentially called Obama a liar. Now you want to join forces? Huh? My head is literally spinning. The Clintons are unquestionably smart people, but this makes no damn sense. Does she really think she can set out to destroy Obama, then jump on board and all will be forgotten? I guess in her shrewd, calculating, political robot mind, that's a typical machination. Since every single word that comes out of her mouth is designed solely for political gain with honesty only occasionally on board by sheer coincidence, such a deduction would be commonplace. But is she arrogant enough to think the American people are going to buy it? Since her core constituency is the uneducated demographic, I guess I can see how she might think so. However, the latest polls show that the Dems' lead over McCain in a general election preview has shrunken to a virtual tie. The party is being dragged down exactly as I was just saying the other day. Thanks a lot, Hill. Good show, old girl. What really baffles me is that in this combined ticket scenario, I'll bet she has the gall to believe she would be at the top of the ticket. Could she realize it's mathematically a near impossibility for her to win and be pandering now to ride Obama's coattails in the general election? No, that would be too logical. And I know what by man Barack The Vote would say to that: Negative. No Deal.

Political quote of the week that literally made me laugh out loud when I heard it:

When asked by a reporter if one of Obama's advisors referring to her as a "monster" was comparable to her campaign equating Obama to Ken Starr, Shrillary answered that it was not. Her reasoning? Wait for it...

"Because one is an ad homonym attack and one is a historical reference."

I shit you not, she actually said that.

The Beard Falls Tonight!

It had a good run, albeit much shorter than the first one. It's just that we enter Daylight Savings Time on Sunday which marks the beginning of BBQ season....We got spring training next weekend. Not to mention Steve fuckin' Nash is growing a beard now. It's just time to start fresh (and clean clean).

So That Happened...

Shrillary wins Texas and Ohio. The silver lining is that, assuming Obama wins the Texas caucus, he may only lose around 3 actual delegates as a result of todays elections. The bad news is that Shrillary's wins today effectively doom the Democratic Party, ensuring that the race will go on like a runaway train, unstoppable now on its track to oblivion. If these two candidates continue their competition all the way to the convention, it won't matter who eventually wins the nomination because they will have destroyed their message and themselves in the process and John McCain will cruise to victory in the general election. And let's be clear, there has probably never been a presidential election more vital to the Democratic Party than this one in 2008. They lost in 2000, albeit in a very controversial, still questionable way. Then they lost again in 2004 when they failed to respond to baseless character attacks and failed to establish any sort of religious identity or foundation with the American people. Along comes 2008 and the Presidency would have appeared to be theirs for the taking, coming off of 8 years of a Republican President with the lowest approval rating in history. If the Democratic Party loses this election, I honestly don't see how the party continues to be a viable entity in American politics. Unfortunately, as things stand today, it would appear that even given these extraordinary circumstances, the party is still not going to be able to effectively un-fuck itself. They are not going to be able to get out of their own damn way once again. It's truly sad. What's also sad is the way that the ideas are getting lost in all this. I feel like the party is already beginning to split right down the middle, with each new faction entrenching itself with its candidate, firmly in opposition to its opponent, regardless of a common interest and shared policy views. Hillary Clinton intimated this week that she might be more likely to endorse her drinking buddy John McCain in a general election rather than Barrack Obama. I haven't read anything similar from the Obama campaign, but, screw it, I'll say it myself; if Hillary wins the Democratic nomination I will dance across the aisle and vote for John McCain, then take my Republican friends out and buy them all milkshakes. I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE, YOU GODDAMN CLINTON MACHINE! It's true, I have grown to hate the Clinton political machine that much in the short span of these past few months. I fully realize how horrible that is in terms of what politics is supposed to stand for in this country, that I would vote against a candidate who so closely shares my candidates views because I flatly don't like her. No, that's not exactly right. At the very core of all this, it's the politics itself that I find so repugnant. It's not just that Shrillary voted for the war, it's that she refuses to admit that it was a mistake, choosing instead to dance around it and split hairs with her choice of words. Not to mention the now infamous yet clearly strategic and insincere tears she shed in that New Hampshire diner. It's saying how proud she is to be on a stage with Obama and then shouting "Shame on you, Barack Obama!!" less than 48 hours later over something that she knew about for weeks and has been engaging in herself from the start. How about attacking Obama for merely uttering the name Reagan despite listing ol' Ron as one of her favorite Presidents in a book that was, at the time, on the current bestsellers list? I could go on and on with examples of Shrillary's zealously political despicary (see strategery--If there's one thing Bush has taught me it's that it's okay to make up my own words) that even I, an admitted political novice, have been able to observe in this election. Ultimately, it all amounts to gross insincerity. John McCain has impressed me with his apparent campaign integrity on a number of occasions both in this election and the prior election in 2004. I recall an occasion in 2004 where he defended John Kerry from the heinous Swiftboat attacks. I remember during one of the debates this year when a question was posed about whether they owned a gun and what kind, his opponents gleefully bragged about their iron like it was the Wild West all over again while McCain disdainfully answered the question and still dismissed it as the idiotic nonsense it was. My point is just that I, for one, am more inclined to vote for someone who's being honest than someone who will tell me anything I want to hear to get my vote.

I got off on a tangent there for a while. Let's not forget that Obama is still in the lead, that his elected delegate lead still projects to be totally insurmountable. And yet, I was left wondering tonight what would it take for the Democratic party to stop the madness of this campaign and award him the nomination before we get all the way to Denver and watch the party unravel at the seams along the way? What if John Edwards were to finally speak up and he publicly endorsed Obama? I think the time for that has passed. It would surely help either candidate to have him on board, but it's not a king-maker anymore, not in this predicament we're in now. I was talking to Bill Brasky about it and for a while we were left scratching our heads. It seemed there was no conceivable action that end this debate once and for all while there was still time to have it mean anything. It was all for naught, we thought. And then it came to us. There is but one single hope left for the fate of the Democratic Party....

Al. Fucking. Gore.

I'm not talking about an endorsement. Screw endorsements at this point. I am talking about Obama and Gore making a joint announcement of a shared ticket, with Big Al taking the co-pilot's seat once again. Can you imagine it? OBAMA-GORE '08!! There's your dream ticket, folks. The remaining states would be had in a walk (not that delegates matter, according to Clinton). The superdelegates would have the basis to do what the majority of them are itching to do anyway, which is to jump on board the Obama rocket. Momentum? Fuhgetaboutit. Not to mention that that one-two punch would have the steam of defeat piping out of John McCain's ears by Labor Day. Game Over.

The chances of this union actually happening? Approximately 67, 942, 334 to 1. But this is what we're left with. Dream Team fantasies and the now very real threat of Bill Brasky and I having to personally march into Denver and bitchslap some sense into this Party. It will still be too late, but at least we'll feel a little better about the whole thing.

"There, I've said my peace. How's your mom?"

--Bob Sugar

Just Rambling

--As the early returns begin rolling in in today's primaries (and one primary/caucuss), I don't understand how they report on these things. In Ohio, there is 0% of precincts reporting yet Clinton somehow has a 56-42% lead. What is 56% of zero? In Vermont, the polls were closed all of 15 minutes before the state was declared a victory for Obama. How is this possible? I know, exit polls, right? So how is it that in every local, state, or national election I've ever cast a vote in, I've not once been exit-polled? What I also don't understand is how accurate this early reporting seems to be. Not once in this primary race has either candidate won a state where the news outlets had them trailing initially. Not even when it was 0% of precincts reporting. I just don't get it. That being said, come on Ohio. 56-42? Really? Was the do-it-for-the-children ad really that compelling?

--I just started reading "Independence Day," by Richard Ford, the sequel to Ford's "The Sportswriter," my second favorite book of all-time. I'm only two chapters in and very little has actually happened plotwise (see nothing), but I am loving every single sentence of it. I am no literary critic, not by a longshot, but I can say that Ford's writing "voice" is one that completely captivates me. I think it only accentuates it that both books are written in the first person as told by the main character, Frank Bascombe. It's like a Morgan Freeman voiceover in a movie; he could read the ingredients to a box of instant mashed potatoes and it would seem like the most interesting thing in the world. Ford's confident, insiteful, strolling narration of Frank Bascombe taking stock of his life has that same comfortable, broken-in feel. And I'm only on chapter 2 with hundreds more pages (and a whole third book) to go. Lucky for me. I've deliberately waited a while after finishing "The Sportswriter" before starting "Independence Day" because I know there's only three books in total. I gotta ration 'em, ya see.

I'M BACK BABY!

WOOOOOOOOOOO! Now that was a rough flu. Not stomach, luckily, but my ass was sufficiently kicked for 6 solid days just the same. And now I'm back...with not much to say.

In my opinion, of all the things one can be short on, to be without ideas is nearly the worst. And I'm not talking about blogging.

--I sincerely hope Obama is able to win Texas or Oh-Hi-Ho tomorrow as it will effectively knock Shrillary out once and for all. I'm honestly not sure how much more of this Democratic Primary season I can take. The attacks, the split personalities, the distortion of truth, the tone-deaf foghorn shouting "On Day One" or "Shame on you!", the widened, bulging eyes of a woman willing to literally mame and consume anyone that stands in her path to the Presidency, the now pointless debates, the fear-mongering, the laughable TV advertisements....It's dragging us down, man. I understand that the McCain campaign is vowing to not "go negative" against Obama, which I find very hard to believe, but after these last few grueling months of the Clinton Machine steaming at full speed, I'm not sure I can take much more nonsense and intelligence-sucking bullshit.

--Ya know, I'm not sure I could ever be in a relationship with a vegetarian. Strike that, I am certain I couldn't do it. Seeing as how much I love meat, how could I ever cook for two? No meat in the spaghetti sauce? No ham on the sandwich? No hot dog in the bun? No thank you. Luckily, my bride is a card-carrying carnivore so it's not something I'll have to worry about. Which is good because I've got enough on my plate.

--For all Joe's shit-talking about Cruiser not eating real sushi, I was disappointed with Joe's ordering on Saturday night. A lot of crab in those rolls, folks. Didn't see anything like eel or yellowtail. I'm pretty sure everything he ordered was cooked too. Sure, a lot of it had fancy names, but when you checked the ingredients, there wasn't anything crazier than a California in there. I smell a rat, Broseph!

Today

It's not a day for work
today is a day for relaxing at home
listening to the jazz
of raindrops
syncopated slapping
the cymbals of city streets
the polyrhythm of drainpipes
carrying from rooftops
a rushing blue note stream
thumping onto the soil below
the plucking of the bass

It's a day for soup
sipping,
soft slippers slipping
just off and onto your heels
as you lay in the window
reading
watching the wind
blow the day by
inviting a nap
with a cat
so fat!

It is most definitely not a day for work

But alas

I (HEART) LB

I don't want to sound like an American Express commercial here, but I gotta tell ya, I love the city of Long Beach. I made an impromptu visit on Sunday and it was like coming home and not realizing how long you've really been away. I got off the 710 at Shoreline Drive, opened the sunroof and I was loving life. As usual, there were about a half a dozen new assmart stores that had popped up (Famimma!), but it wasn't the things that had changed that stood out to me. It was the things that will always be the same. Everybody's from some place, but not everyone can say they truly have a hometown.

It's Parker's Lighthouse and Joe Jost's. It's the Naples Christmas Boat Parade and the Long Beach Grand Prix. It's Dirtbag Baseball at Blair Field and the home of the 1992 and 1993 Little League World Champions. It's both Snoop D-O-Double-G and still Cameron Diaz, for better or for worse. It's standing in line (WHY?!) at Shannon's Baywhore and the back alley anonymity of Alex's Bar. It's El Dorado Park and The Aquarium of the Pacific. It's 4th of July Fireworks at Vet's Stadium and the running of the grunion! It's the quiet, rustling charm of 2nd Street Belmont Shore and it's never knowing how beautiful an oil island could be. I know Joe will be upset if I don't mention Gaytonia. Long Beach is sophisticated enough to be interesting, but not enough to be full of itself. It has the familiar regularity of small town America and yet it's still a vibrant menagerie of personalities and lifestyles. It's still big enough to get lost in for a while. If cities were rock n' roll stars, Long Beach would be the Bruce Springsteen to L.A.'s David Bowie. It's a fun place to be young and a great place to grow old. It's where my best friends in the world are from and where their parents still live. It's the...ah fuck it.

I was going to do more with this post, but it's late and I just realized that if you're reading this, chances are I'm not telling you anything you don't already know and this might have been a waste of time.

Perception is Reality

Everyday, I get on the freeway at approximately 6:10 p.m. The entrance point goes through an exit-only lane so I have to get over almost immediately. Everyday there is a tow truck interfering with my lane change. It's either pulling off to the shoulder right in front of me or it's already on the shoulder but protruding out a little bit so as to divert my focus to avoiding it. Everyday a tow truck at the same time at the same exact spot on the side of the 405. And not once has there been a car on the shoulder in need of towing.

So I ask you, what the fuck is the tow truck doing?

For weeks, this question has vexed me. Finally, I asked Nicole. She, with very little deliberation, suggested that perhaps the tow truck goes there at rush hour to so it can be the first on the scene when a tow truck is dispatched to an accident. Makes sense, right? Yeah, I had spent a decent amount of time pondering this situation and my best theory was that the truck was involved in drug smuggling and this location on the side of the road must be an exchange point or a drop spot. She's probably right. But I am not giving up on the Drug Smuggler Theory just yet. And if I'm right, I intend to take that mother DOWN.

February 14, 2008

Hearts swoon. Pitchers and catchers report, baby.

Of course, it is also Valentine's Day. I think a love poem is in order...

365

By Jack Buck

When someone asks you your favorite sport

And you answer Baseball in a blink

There are certain qualities you must possess

And you're more attached than you think.

In the frozen grip of winter

I'm sure you'll agree with me

Not a day goes by without someone

Talking baseball to some degree.

The calendar flips on New Year's Day

The Super Bowl comes and it goes

Get the other sports out of the way

The green grass and the fever grows.

It's time to pack a bag and take a trip

To Arizona or the Sunshine State

Perhaps you can't go, but there's the radio

So you listen-you root-you wait.

They start the campaign, pomp and pageantry reign

You claim the pennant on Opening Day
From April till fall

You follow the bouncing white ball

Your team is set to go all the way.

They fall short of the series

You have a case of the "wearies"

And need as break from the game

But when Christmas bells jingle

You feel that old tingle

And you're ready for more of the same.

It will be hot dogs for dinner

Six months of heaven, a winner

Yes, Baseball has always been it.

You would amaze all your friends

If they knew to what ends

You'd go for a little old hit.

The best times you're had

Have been with your Mom and your Dad

And a bat and a ball and a glove.
From the first time you played

Till the last time you prayed

It's been a simple matter of love.

You Make The Call

So here is my dilemna.

I was out a couple days having the surgery. When I returned, I found that my coffee mug had become a petrie dish of mold and petrified coffee. I took it to our kitchen here at work and left it to soak in hot water and dish soap. I have done this many times before at various jobs without incident. I went on about my day and didn't think about it again until I needed coffee the next morning. Come to find out, some nice person had taken the liberty of washing it and putting it away in the cupboard, which is very nice. However, it quickly became evident that some other nice person has taken the liberty of taking it out of the cupboard for their personal use. We have some mugs that don't belong to anyone and are just there to share among those who prefer ceramics to styrofoam and since mine was amongst them, I can't blame someone for using it. But here's the thing...

I want it back. It wasn't there at the end of the day Friday and it's not there this morning. I painted this mug myself as it clearly states on the mug. I was at Color Me Mine, had no idea what I wanted to paint and was running out of time so I ended up painting the words "I painted this mug." I've had this mug for years. It's my bread and butter. It has sentimental value, damn it!

So what do I do? Do I just wait and hope that the borrowe hasn't been charmed by it to the extent that they have no plans of returning it to the cupboard? Do I look like a psycho and go around asking about it?

Argh!

UPDATE: The mug has been recovered! Some nice person had not washed it and put it away, but, rather, put it in the dishwasher. Go figure!

We can make him stronger...

Typing is still uncomfortable so I will be brief. I hath survived. I'm here to tell ya folks, there is nothing like seeing your tendons on TV. Didn't get to see the actual cyst though which was a disappointment. Maybe next time.

Rehab starts NOW!

17-14.

Three slices of pizza, sloppy joes, chips, queso, empanadas, pigs in a blanket, 1.5 cupcakes, and probably seven beers: a morning of feeling like a miserably fat slob with a nagging headache.

Watching the Patriots lose the Superbowl: Priceless.

Pau Pau Zow!

Lakers get Pau Gasol for 60 cents on the dollar! Pau Fucking Gasol, y'all! Do you know what this means?! It means The Dark Days are behind us! We made it! It was just a couple months ago that I was posting about the certain trade of Kobe Bryant and the subsequent downward spiral of the franchise and now....we're an elite team again! NBA FINALS OR BUST!

If the Will Hoge show hadn't already inspired me to grow my beard back, this trade sure as shit would have! Luckily, I got a one-week headstart.

Sweet move by Mitch Kupchak. To paraphrase Lou Brown, I think Mitch just gave his critics a giant shitburger to eat.

Meaningless Blog Endorses Obama!

To infinity and beyond!

I support and will be voting for Barack Obama.

There I said it. I will admit that I have been sitting in front of my monitor for no less than five minutes gathering the nerve to type those words and begin this post. The reason for that is that I have not always been comfortable discussing politics. To me, it's a very complicated, confusing, challenging thing and it's difficult to ever feel like you are standing on solid ground. Just when you feel like you know who you are and what you believe, you're presented with a different perspective and your equilibrium begins to sway as if you were drunk and the room started spinning. It doesn't make it any easier to brave a political discussion when you know there is a good chance you will be belittled by someone with an opposing view. Just today, one of my oldest and best friends asked me if I was ready to "grow up" and support Romney and the Republicans. I'm very immature, ya see. I have no doubt that he's been anxiously awaiting this post so that he can attack any point I make with his signature brand of superiority and smugness.

It's the age we're living in. Of course, throughout history there has always been great passion in both political parties and fierce, vehement disagreements, but the difference these days, I feel, is that there is a fundamental lack of respect between people on a level much bigger than politics. We live in the age of sarcasm and spite. It's a media-saturated world with countless talk shows irresponsibly sensationalizing and slanting everything in the name of ratings until there's not much left but a cesspool of misinformation and propaganda. Couple this environment with the speed of information and communication and, I believe, people often rush to judgment. They form rigid opinions about things they actually know nothing about and don't take the time to seek more information or, God forbid, wait for it. What's worse is that they come to a place where anyone who doesn't agree with them must be an idiot and most certainly an enemy. We live in a time when people kill each other over disagreements on sports. The climate for political discussion isn't quite that dangerous, but it's every bit as volatile with a scathing hiss taking the place of a gun or a fist.

Then I realized something while playing softball. I'm not a great player, I have less experience than most of my friends, but I love and am fascinated by the game as much as any of them. Sometimes I play okay, sometimes I play like shit. Sometimes I play scared. I noticed that there are games where my demeanor is held captive by a fear that I am not good enough to be playing with the other guys on my team. I get nervous and I miss the whole point of the game. God, I am really dragging this out. All I'm trying to say is that I realized that even the best player on our team pops out, makes errors, and has a bad game. No matter what cleats their wearing or how confident they portray themselves, nobody out there is infallible. Not even close. Why not just be loose, do my best, and take the good with the bad? I feel the same way about politics.

As long as I try to be informed about what I am saying, stay reasonable and humble, and always show respect for contrasting views, the cynics can pretty much go fuck themselves because if our discussion disintegrates into a personal level or one devoid of any value, it will be a problem of them being an asshole more than me being an idiot. When the climate is respectful and open, politics is a fascinating animal to discuss.

So here's how I feel and what I believe (as of now), folks. Take it or leave it, but just don't be hatin'...

I believe that the bitter partisan divide of recent times is destructive to American politics and to the country as a whole. It's beyond the point of differences in philosophy; it's a personal battle that only delays any real progress for our country and, due to the circumstances I described above, bitterly divides us as Americans. I believe that Barack Obama is the candidate most likely to begin to bring the country together again. This is a pillar of his campaign and his image as a politician. I know I sound like I am reciting from his campaign literature and might start to sound like Tom Cruise at a Scientology dinner. What can I tell you? I'm drinking the Obama Unity Kool-Aid and I think it's a crucial flavor.

This is where Adam says, "Yeah, right. Who better to bridge the partisan divide than the National Journal's Most Liberal Senator of 2007?" This is where I answer, simply, Yes. Who better?

I believe that it's time for universal health care and I like Obama's plan better than Hillary's. I disagree with her idea of mandating it for every single citizen. That's going too far in my opinion. Making a national plan available to all citizens is a better option. No, Adam, I am not a Socialist. I understand the Republican/Conservative opposition to universal healthcare and I respectfully disagree.

I believe it is time to end the war in Iraq and realign our efforts in the fight against Islamic terrorism. Barack and Hillary have virtually the same plan for this, but I give the nod to the guy who spoke out against it before it ever began. I think sound judgment, while a vague idea, is the single most important quality a President must have. What I perceive to be his wisdom on this vital issue of the Iraq War convinces me that he is the better choice to lead us in terms of these situations. More than any other issue at stake in this election, I respect the Republicans' view on the issue of the Iraq War. There was an episode of "Meet the Press" a few months back where John Kerry and John McCain debated the issue and it was an intriguing, arresting debate. I've watched it three times and I'm still not convinced that my opinion is the right one. It will definitely give me pause when the general election rolls around, but when it comes down to it, I will have to make a choice and as of now, I side with the Democrats.

That being said, I believe that Barack Obama is not only the best candidate to engage John McCain in this crucial aspect of the debate, but is the only Democratic candidate with a chance to win against McCain overall. I've heard it at least a dozen times from a wide array of political experts and pundits, there is one candidate who would unite the currently fractious Republican Party, it's Hillary Clinton. I don't mean to contribute to the Us vs. Them mentality that I hate so much, but I think it is fair to say that if you want a Democrat in the Oval Office, to end the war let's say, Barack Obama is the better choice to oppose McCain or Romney. Hillary touts her experience, and rightfully so, but it's that same experience that would have the Republican party licking its collective chops at the chance to oppose her in an election for the presidency. Fair or not, I believe it's the reality of the situation.

Even if I am wrong, even if Hillary were to win the Presidency, what state would the political landscape be in? I don't think it would be much different than it is now, with both parties entrenched in their own bunkers, lobbing grenades of petty bickering at each other while the grass of American prosperity browns and dies in the middle. I believe we need a leader who does not relish in the political warfare the way, I feel, Hill and Bill do.

If my first few paragraphs were not evidence enough, let me say that I have had a cynical attitude about politics in general for years. Part of my reluctance to talk about it was for the reasons I already described, but another aspect of it was my lack of belief in it in general. I felt like it really didn't mean anything. No one was trustworthy. They spoke in soundbytes and told you exactly what they're many comprehensive polls told them you wanted to hear. I felt like they ran for all the wrong reasons and often got elected for all the wrong reasons. Barack Obama is a candidate who cracks that veneer of distrust in politics and government and allows a little bit of hope (yeah, I said it) to shine through. I don't know if he'll be able to change anything about the lobbyists and the swiftboating and, frankly, all the bullshit. I don't know, maybe it's a job too big for one man, even if that man is the President. I don't know that Obama's message about change, unity, and hope isn't a tweaked version of the same politics that made me so sick. It could very well be the political equivalent of the the guy who picks up girls by saying "I don't know any good pickup lines so I just decided to come over, say hi, and be myself." Obama's not having a line could very well be his line. I'm in no way naive to that possibility. My feeling is that I'm ultimately taking the same risk with any candidate so why not go with the guy who at least appears to have the vision and the integrity I am looking for?

I was going to dig into my negative perception of Hillary/Billary, but I've rambled so long already and really, there's not much value in it.

I realize that my reasons for supporting Obama have been what Aaron Sorkin might refer to as "smoke-filled, coffehouse crap" which is to say it has not been a detailed account of why I support Obama on the economy, immigration, the environment, etc. Which is not to say I am not familiar with his stances or in agreement with them for the most part. I certainly vote issues first. I just feel like that's not what I wanted to say tonight. There are issues at stake in this election that just don't fit in charts and blurbs and are not easily supported by links and quoted statistics or studies. Really, I just wanted to say what I feel about politics and why I am supporting Barack Obama. I'm not trying to sway anybody, I am just compelled, for the first time, to share. And now I have. Thanks for listening.

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Sheesh, did I ramble on or what? In the interest of lightening things up a bit, allow me to share what else will be happening on Super Tuesday besides the whole primary/caucus thing.

My friends, on Super Tuesday, I go under the knife. I have a ganglion cyst on my left wrist and they are going to cut the sucker out. For the record, I am a righty so we can skip the masturbation jokes, folks. I think "ganglion cyst" has to be the nastiest-sounding name for something so innocuous.

The Bad News:

--No softball or weightlifting for four weeks. I suppose it's good to go back to square one sometimes.

--The potential for pain and discomfort during recovery.

The Good News:

--I have a prescription for Vicodin.

--I will also have a tape of the whole procedure. It's orthroscopic surgery so we will all get to see the inside of my hand and wrist joint! Woo hoo!

--I'll get to watch the results of Super Tuesday come in from the comfort of my own couch. Assuming I am able to stay conscious.

Rock N Roll Friday Night!

No overall point to this post other than, man, I just had a great Friday night.

We were supposed to go to this show with some friends of Nicole's (mine too now, but through her). After being out late at karaoke the night before, not really being all that familiar with the band we were seeing, and it being way over in Silverlake, I wasn't excited about going.

So we're going out to dinner prior to the show with some friends of theirs. Just my luck, they're Vegan (ever notice how Vegans are eerily similar to Vulcans?). I toiled between the faux-cheese quasedilla and the organic pancakes (would you be considered Vegan-by-association if you just liked to eat pancakes for every meal?) and ended up with the Rock N Roll Noodles which were at least fun to order. Let's go with the Rock N Roll!

After dinner, we're in the car on the way to the show at Spaceland when the phone rings like a hippy Paul Revere announcing The Vegans are bailing, The Vegans are bailing! And sure enough...So our sacrifice to not eat meat, milk, or anything normal was, as it turned out, quite in vain. It was, however, cheap which is nice.

Now all night up until this point, Nicole's friend Jason, the big fan of the guy we were going to see play, had been saying how there was the headliner Jason Isbell, some other guy named Will Hoge none of us had heard of, and an opening act that was probably some local kid that we would not be at a loss to miss. Seemed about how these things usually go. So we walk in and the first guy is up there setting up. I say to Jason, "It's not him, but that guy looks a lot like this guy I have been listening to non-stop lately, Jeremy Fisher." I then went on to describe his music a little bit when the singer on stage opened by saying, "Hi, I'm Jeremy Fisher." It was a cool kind of weird. He played. He was great. I was immediately glad I had come along to the show and would only become more glad as the night went on.

Sidebar on Jeremy Fisher: If you like catchy, mostly upbeat, infectious acoustic rock, you have to listen to this guy. His album is one of those you won't be taking out of your CD player for a couple weeks after you get it (it's sad how that experience has no translation to ipod technology). Kind of a Ben Kweller meets Paul Simon if you will. My favorites include "Sula," "Cigarette," and "Left Behind."

Next up was this Will Hoge guy who looked like a bearded Ryan Gosling with a cool hat on. Important to note that he was the only singer I have ever witnessed who chewed gum whilst singing. Normally, I would have been put off by this to the extent that I would not have been able to get into the music, but his music and his performance was so unstoppably fucking incredible that I quickly wrote it off. This son of a bitch had soul, my friends. Southern-fried, classic rock/country-influenced blues-rock that makes you want to dance, drink whiskey, and sing/scream along. It was one of those rare times when you hear something for the first time where you know you have to have it and you feel like a fool for not finding it sooner. I got two of his several CDs the following day and will be getting the others soon enough. Kind of a mix of Counting Crows, Wilco, The Black Crowes, Ottis Redding, and Hank Williams.

I won't go on to gush about the headliner, Jason Isbell, because I need to go to bed, but he and his band also kicked my ass.

By the time we walked out of there at 2 a.m., I was dead tired, more than 60% deaf, and walking like Phil Jackson after a road trip in a Mini Cooper. I wouldn't have had it any other way. It was a great night.


P.S. Is everybody loving this rain as much as I am? Keep it comin!!! (Sorry, Joe)

Tune in tomorrow for my impassioned endorsement of a Presidential candidate because I'm sure you've been waiting.

Seth and The Assface Predator

Remember our good buddy Seth (scroll down to 7/6)? You know, the guy from karaoke that sings the same song every week and is very, very impressed with himself. Him.

So we're there last night and Todd is talking to these two young women down in front, as Todd often does. They offered him one of their chicken wings to which he gladly accepted as any moral person would. They also asked Seth if he would care for a wing. Ya know what Seth said?

"No thanks, it'll screw up my vocals."

And he was serious. I shit you not. I guess I should really be thanking Seth for his sacrifice. I mean, people didn't come out to the show--er, bar--to hear Seth turn in a less-than-stellar performance now did they? Wait, that's right, they didn't come to hear Seth, period. I think it had something to do with the beverages they serve and the prospect of a good sing-a-long, but, hey, I've been wrong before. I'll bet the guy pre-partys the karaoke by sipping hot tea with honey. I can just see him schmoozing anyone of female or even questionable gender that they should really come out to one of his "gigs." Oh and did I mention that Seth is now sporting frosted tips that would make Ryan Seacrest envious? It's true. It was truly a sight to behold.

And then there was The Assface Predator. He's Seth's loyal, even more hateable sidekick. He suffers from the same dementia as Seth in that he has a repertoire of two songs that he feels are his own personal slice of fame if not true greatness. He likes people to call him Blue Jeans, probably because he is proud to wear those hideous uber-trendy jeans that have the gay little triangle flaps on the back pockets and fit as well as if they came from GapKids. I call him The Assface Predator. Why you ask? Because his face looks like an ass and everything that comes out of it sounds and smells like shit. On top of that, he's one of these guys that is very self-conscious when he speaks, like an actor overdoing it in front of a mirror. By that I mean he is ridiculously expressive and animated in even the most casual of conversation. This dry heave of expression only makes his assfacedness even more unsightly, much like the creature from the movie "Predator" when it takes screams with it's crab-leg mouth fully opened. Thus the name, Assface Predator.

So The Assface Predator swooped in and c-blocked Todd in a fashion unseen since teenage summer camp. Todd did not back down, of course, but when Seth floated over to talk more about the degenerative fowl effects felt by his vocal cords, poor Todd was simply outnumbered and out-douched. He returned to our table and I told him he should respect himself too much to try again with the broads. He agreed and that was that.

Zach made an interesting observation...We've been going to this place for well over a year. We're definitely considered regulars. Yet among the other regulars, we are outcasts. The rest of them all intermingle, chatting and hugging and what not. They don't even acknowledge us as having been there before much less be friendly to us. What did we ever to do them? All we do is cheer for their songs (even when it's the 1,500th time we've heard it) and write scathing blog entries about them later. I mean, where's the love?

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

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to eat soup with a plastic spoon? They're just impossibly small. It could be used as a field sobriety test.

Actual Conversation With Doctor's Office

Her: I have an 8 a.m. appointment available and an 8:50, which would work better for you?

Me: Let's go with the 8:50.

Her: Okay. Now they do want me to inform you that there might as much as a two hour wait.

Me: I don't understand.

Her: They've asked me to inform patients that there might be as much as a two hour wait to see the doctor.

Me: Um, okay...I think I'd better take the 8 a.m. appointment then.

Her: Okay, no problem. We do ask that you arrive fifteen minutes early to fill out your paperwork.

Me: (totally speechless)

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

And now I quick thought on this year's Oscar nominations:

TOTAL RUBBISH!

Michael Clayton?????! Seriously? That movie was a ridiculously over-wordy, drama-less, agonizingly over-stylized waste of time. Best Director? Best Actor and Supporting Actor nominations? Give me a break.

Atonement? Ug. Boring. Pointless. Uninteresting.

Juno? I mean, it was good, but not that good. Feels like hype is at work here.

I didn't see Enchanted, but the fact that it got 3 Best Song nominations to Eddie Vedder's zero discredits the entire category.

1/13

"A Sunday" By Jimmy Eat World

On a Sunday I'll think it through.
On the drive back I'll think it through.
What you wish for won't come true.
Live with that.
On a Sunday she thought it through.
Now as I drive back, there's thirty-six less hours I have to change
the course I send myself.
Live with that.
On a Sunday go once around.
Because when the rides done, the hopes that you have carried,
they fall out from your hands back to the ground.
Live with that.
Learn as the drugs leave.
Learn as you lose it.
You will.
The haze clears from your eyes on a Sunday.


Is there anything more lonely than a Sunday night? If you were set for execution and they brought you an array of the best food you'd ever had in your entire life, prepared exactly as you remembered it, could you really enjoy it knowing what was going to happen when you were finished eating? Same thing with Sunday nights. I try to pack in as much leisure and enjoyment as I possible can, yet the squawking Monday morning alarm clock looms inevitably like the executioner on his smoke break.

I just finished watching "Unbreakable." I still say that movie got a bad rap. It was the victim of a misleading marketing campaign. Much like "Dan in Real Life," another fantastic though misrepresented movie. The latter wasn't nearly as badly handled as "Unbreakable," but I did think they chose the least appealing clips of the movie to include in the trailer. They seemed to miss the whole heart of the movie.

Going back to Sunday night and "Unbreakable," there was a line in the movie that struck a chord with me. Samuel L. Jackson's Mr. Glass character says to the Bruce Willis's character...

"...That little bit of sadness in the mornings you spoke of, I think I know what that is. Perhaps you're not doing what you're supposed to be doing."

If you substitute morning for Sunday night, I can most definitely relate. Which is not to say I hate my job because I don't. This show seems like it will be much different than those I worked on before and the people around me seem genuinely nice, interesting, and of a refreshingly balanced perspective when it comes to the job we do, i.e. doing it without losing your mind and becoming a corporate drone. But it's still a job. Where is my work?

Another line from the movie:

"Do you know what the scariest thing is? To not know your place in this world."

Does anyone really know their place though? Okay, surely some do, but do most people really feel like they know? I'm guessing not at 29 anyway. And if they think they do, I would bet they're proven wrong a couple times. But there is definitely something scary about it, I think. Not scary in the sense of swimming in the ocean and looking down to see the open jaws of a 25-foot Great White looking up at you, but still pretty frightening. I'll go one further and say even scarier than not knowing your place in the world is glimpsing your place and being severely disappointed.

Also saw "Knocked Up." Wow. This was an exceptionally good movie. As a wannabe writer, this was one of the movies that makes me say "Well fuck me, because I could never write something like that." It's one of those that makes me want to pack it in and open a beef jerky stand. Not that I know the first thing about the dried meat business.

By the way, "Atonement" was decidedly NOT a jerky-stand movie. I think the book was entirely fiction (right?), but it felt like a movie handicapped by being based on a true story and having to stick close to that true story when it really could have done so much more. Same goes for "American Gangster." "Knocked Up," in my opinion, was more insightful, original, and endearing than either one of the other two movies which will probably rake in ten Oscars between them.

On that note, I think I will do a post giving out my own version of the Academy Awards. Yeah, that's the ticket.

By the way, do we finally have enough movies called "American (something)" or featuring the word "chronicles?" Seriously, off the top of my head:

American Pie
American Wedding
American Gangster
American Psycho
American Me
American Beauty
American History X
American Movie
American Graffiti
American Dreamz
American Gigolo

ENOUGH!

Ano Nuevo

Metaphor for my life as I see it on the first completely sober day of 2008:

My dining room table. Stacked with wonderful gifts but lacking any kind of organization or order at the moment. A wonderful mess as it were.

I guess it's not ideal to make a metaphor out of something not instantly accessible to anyone that doesn't spend a lot of time in my dining room, but, fuck it, the choice of metaphor is also part of the meaning of the metaphor.

Holy schnikes, it feels weird to be back at work today. I had only been at the new job for four days before having ten days off. Now I am back and it feels like deja vu; I feel like I have been here before but I'm not really sure. Luckily, my Windows was not password protected because if it were I would be patiently sitting on my hands right now. This is just too odd.

Coffee and blog, that's how I'll get through this.

I know it's not possible to gain thirty pounds in three weeks, but it sure feels like it to me. Blah. Or blob.