Rrrrrrooooowwwrrrr!

I forgot one of the topics that came up when hanging out with CO last Saturday: Jada Pinkett-Smith on Ozzfest. Yeah, you read that correctly. See, she's got this band called Wicked Wisdom, and they are part of the lineup. You think parents just don't understand, wait until the guy in the corpsepaint and Burzum t-shirt accidentally stumbles upon their set. Strap in for funny!

Though, for comedy's sake, perhaps this will catch on. Perhaps next year's lineup could include:

Vicious Cycle: an all female power-metal group led by Glenn Close. All songs are about menstruation.

Demon of the Sea: Jessica Simpson rips it up Motorhead style. Sister Ashlee is designated stage-diver.

Satanic Malfunction: Janet Jackson and Ronnie James Dio join forces in this doom metal free-for-all. Dio wears less clothes than Janet. Justin Timberlake will be "sacrificed" at the end of each set.

Irrelevant Spectre: Roseanne doing Cookie Monster-style vocals? You bet your sweet ass! Last ditch attempt for signficance sees the former "domestic goddess" growl her way through At The Gates-inspired death metal.

Ahhh, to dream.

"Blitzkrieg, The Hassidic Professional Wrestling Musical" Reopens at The Cutting Room

Road trip!

Humor test stolen from CO. I think that fact alone negates any results of this test.

The Idiot Savant, bitches. (42% dark, 46% spontaneous, 52% vulgar)

your humor style: VULGAR | SPONTANEOUS | LIGHT You like things silly, immediate, and, above all, outrageous. Ixne on the subtle word play, more testicles on fire, please. People like you are the most likely to RECEIVE internet forwards--and also the most likely to save them in a special folder entitled 'HOLY SHIT'. Nonsense. I don't even keep the soul saving forwards from my own mother. Why would I save some bullshit forward about someone else's dimwitted co-workers? Because it's so easily appreciated, and often wacky and physical, your sense of humor never ceases to amuse your friends. Most realize that there's a sly intelligence and a knowing wink to your tastes. Your sense of humor could be called 'anti-pretentious'--but paradoxically enough, that indicates you're smarter than most. PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Johnny Knoxville - Jimmy Kimmel I believe I was just insulted. Fuck this test!

I like pictures.

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 27% on dark You scored higher than 45% on spontaneous You scored higher than 72% on vulgar

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid

Beck laments already recording an album called Sea Change.

No More Ponies Or Cock-fights

Instead, we'll be talking about something truly revolting: ATM. Now, for those of you not familiar, ATM stands for...

Nah, I'm kidding.

Not much going on 'round these parts, which is why the blog has been a bit quiet. It's been mostly reading and music and arty little things. I did manage (as if it were that difficult) to get out with CO this past Saturday night for a few beers and conversation at Champps in Pentagon Row, topics including his recent trip to Philly, theories about JAG's (aka The Drizzle) hate on that fair city, music, pornography (as it relates to my recent reading of The Other Hollywood: The Uncensored Oral History of the Porn Film Industry), and other topics suitable for bon vivants such as ourselves. He also gifted me with this, which I will probably read as soon as the books on heavy metal get read. And before people go off and think we're both late to the game, I should inform you that his giving me that book is an inside joke.

Is anybody interested in going to see Sigur Ros in September?

This coming weekend, I believe I will be seeing my father, niece and nephew. That's always a good time, because being around people that short makes me feel like a giant. Plus, you know, they're good fun.

Let me just say this about that: Nat King Cole's "L-O-V-E" might be one of my favorite songs of all time. And to think, the first time I heard it was over the opening credits of Quick Change, a vastly underrated movie, with great appearances by a then unknown Tony Shalhoub, Bob Elliott, and Kurtwood "Red Forman" Smith. The crescendo at the end of the song really nails me just right.

Football season is here. Finally. Unfortunately, the Dolphins have picked up where they left off. But it's preseason, so I will not think much of this game. I'm being cautiously optimistic about this season, meaning I will not seriously use the phrase "72 Dolphins from here on out!" at all. While we're on sports, I' must confess that I was more offended than I probably should have been reading a recent article re: the Joe Johnson to Atlanta Hawks deal (which hasn't been completed yet), basically clowning Johnson for choosing Atlanta because they're so terrible. As true as that is, I still took exception to the article. I'm telling you, if Atlanta gets some sort of inside presence, they can be good. Van Johnson good. And soon, too.

Speaking of teams who are Van Johnson good: go A's! They've gone from worst to first in just a couple of months, like they always do. I really hope this is their year.

Four dead in cockfight grenade attack.

What? You think I can top that?

Cuddles the seeing-eye pony! (Thank you, JC, for this wonderful revelation.)

Nerdily, He Spoke

So, I've been having a blast with the "new" computer. I got this back in the spring, but only set it up a few weeks ago because I didn't have a desk or enough space in my apartment until then. It was a barebones machine, with only the OS (Microsoft XP) loaded on it. This means no Office. I could have gone the bootleg route, but have instead tried the alternatives. So I'm surfing with Firefox, which I'm liking, and email is being done through Eudora. For productivity, I downloaded OpenOffice.org. I have not done too much with OOo, but I like it so far. I have also, here and there, started working on my portfolio, as I mentioned previously. It's fun just getting re-acquainted with the software (3DS Max, FYI), and I will be providing samples for criticism/mockery within the next few months. There are a few books being ordered in order to help with the process. Also, I am starting to futz around with Flash and the thoughts of doing an internet cartoon (perhaps bringing to life the Damian Vegas character designed by ML) have bubbled to the surface. Of course, the more immediate goal is just to get a firm grasp on the entire Macromedia Studio, skills that are bound to help me get a job doing something I find a bit more suitable to my personality/interests. In the end, I just hope that this all pays off like I believe it will.

Taking on Take Two

Well, it appears that Take Two knew all along about the "hidden" sexual scenes in Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. For those of you unaware of the situation, some mods began circulating some weeks back that revealed "explicit" sex scenes between the game's central character, CJ, and one of his girlfriends. When this news initially broke, Take Two said that the content was inserted into the game by hackers and is not in the original code. Today, they have backtracked, saying that the content was there, but unused. Consequently, the game has been given the consumer kiss-of-death: the "AO" (Adults Only) rating. Their failure to own up to this initially, while possibly having little impact in terms of consumer interest, is a small setback for an industry that continues to suffer under the mainstream notion that video games are child's play. Or, at least, the realm of adults with the emotional development of a child.

Take Two is correct in that the content is not part of the normal gameplay, and that only a third party modification can unlock it. So, concerned parents should be able to rest easy, unless their child has the technical capacity to find and install the mod. Of course, if it is indeed a child playing--and, in my opinion, they should not be, no matter how harmless you think games are, or how "mature" you assume your child is--responsible parents might want to consider monitoring their child while the game is on.

Where Take Two is wrong, beyond their attempt at covering their asses, is thinking this should have been part of the gameplay, period. The dating element that was added to this iteration of the GTA series works like this: you meet women (a total of six or seven, I believe) along the way and are given an option to date them. With the exception of one of the women, dating them is not a factor as far as moving the storyline along. The only "benefit" of the dating side-game is that you get bonus outfits unlocked (if you fill up the relationship status bar to 100%) and you get other bonuses, such as being able to keep all of your weapons after you die or are busted by the cops. Anyway, if you choose to start a relationship with a woman, you take them out on dates (involving either driving around, dancing, or going to dinner). After the date is over, you drop them off at home. If she had fun, you'll make plans to see each other again. If not, you'll get the blow off, though future dating is still an option. Eventually, if you string together enough fun "dates", you get invited in for "coffee". The camera then cuts to the outside of the girl's house, leaving the gamer nothing but the sounds of gettin' it on. The "hot coffee" mod actually takes you inside the bedroom.

As you can see, the completely optional dating element is lame and mostly worthless. I'm guessing it was added to appeal to sad Otakon rejects (okay, that was unnecessary, but fun to type!) and gamers who like a bit more Sims-style gameplay. Therefore, I see no reason to consider adding an explicit "visual" element to it. And I don't buy for a minute that they did not have enough time to go back and clean out this code. If they were serious about putting it into the game, they would have found out early on in the process what kind of rating they would have been hit with because of it. And that content, my friends, is a guaranteed "AO". Thus, what I think happened is that the scenes were "hidden" with the hopes of being found to generate press like this, or some Horny Net Geek (HNG) programmer decided to sneak it in for a laugh. Either way, Take Two looks bad for letting it happen and trying to cover it up. And the game industry gets (more) significant negative publicity, since this involves one of its most popular titles. While I am generally a fan of Take Two, I think they really dropped the ball on this one. Maybe they felt they didn't get enough media attention after they released Manhunt. (Of course, since graphic violence is far more acceptable in our society than graphic sex, Manhunt was never bound to be as controversial as anybody expected it to be. But that's another rant entirely.)

Pulp Fiction in 30 Seconds.

And re-enacted by bunnies.

Enjoy.

Hang the DJ

So, last night I attended my first dance thing at The Black Cat. (My following the kidney thieves upstairs that one time does not count.) I went to Right Round with ES and friends, as we were celebrating E's entry into XXX-dom. (In non-inside joke speak, that means she turned 30.) It was a good time. I actually danced more than I drank, if you can b'lee dat. The music was hit or miss, but the evening ended with "Rock Lobster", so it can't be that bad. (Actually, that was supposed to be the last song, but then the DJ played another Violent Femmes song, so it wasn't the very end.) Fortunately, there was more danceworthy music than that played, with selections from Dee-lite, Blur, Pulp, the Go-Go's and others. Still, it's tough to go from something that is, you know, rhythmic, to something a bit more herky-jerky and new wave. But the big plus was that ES had a good time. The night was her's, after all.

Beyond that, very little to report. Have been working through The Other Hollywood when I have time and am almost finished with it. After that, I have three heavy metal books in the queue. I will probably write about those over at Musica Generica.

Must continue to re-aquaint myself with animating and get this portfolio built. Also, anybody have good book recommendations for Photoshop 7? Something aimed at the novice without it being too overly simplified is what I'm looking for. Suggestions (on the book) are appreciated.

As a huge fan, and because I haven't seen it mentioned elsewhere (I know I'm probably late, though): The Boondocks are coming to Adult Swim in the fall! What will be weird is hearing voices other than the ones I already use for the characters. For instance, I know Riley won't be as funny. But, good with the bad. Plus, it will have Uncle Ruckus! That will make it worthwhile alone.

Fucking, Austria!

Yeah, I got nothing. You can go about your business. Move along.

Fuck Irving Berlin

That is a quote from JG, said on the 4th of July. It was said in response to Mrs. O's criticism leveled at the people who couldn't remember the words to "God Bless America." But now I'm getting ahead of myself.

First, last week was ass, not to put too fine a point on it. Normal end of the month nonsense was made excruciating because of new additions to staff who are not quite up to speed yet. I anticipated this, though not to the extent of pain at which it actualized. Fortunately, that anticipation allowed me to put in for a couple of days off to be tacked onto this long weekend. It is helping.

Friday night, I made the trip down to Alexandria to hang out with Mr. O and JG. We hit one our usual spots, Bugsy's, and settled in for an evening of boozing and storytelling, the latter mostly done by Mr. O, recounting his recent trip to Las Vegas. It sounded like a blast and I look forward to going there myself some day.

Saturday was spent in the company of my mother and youngest sister out in Maryland (pronounced "Murrriland"). We did a lot of shopping and walking about in Annapolis, before going back to my mom's spot to watch a movie and relax. The movie, for those interested (and lord knows, why wouldn't you be?), the movie was Coach Carter. Or, as I like to call it, Lean On The Titans. I was just waiting for Sam-Jack to bust out a "if you're going to kill yourself, do it expeditiously!" That movie was a baseball bat away from outright theft.

Sunday was not much of anything. I spent much of that day transferring files from my old laptop to my "new" PC. I also got some new software installed on it, so everything is square as far as my starting to work on my portfolio. This, people, is a good thing.

Monday was the 4th. I woke up late (nice), did a little bit of nothing (also nice), got some food from the ghetto chinese place near me. Then I called JG and made arrangements to get down to his spot for the Independence Day celebration. You know, I love this town, I really do. But tourists are fucking it up. They'd be a lot more tolerable if they just observed one or two rules of etiquette. But that is never the case. Fortunately, I've already done the downtown 4th celebration a few times, so I have no further inclination to endure it in person. I did, however, endure it over the airwaves, getting a much better look at Barry Bostwick's mullet. Nice try, Barry, but bigger hair won't disguise the fact that you're starting to pack it on. Making the suffering even worse was a group that had the audacity to call itself The Beach Boys despite the fact that all of the talented ones are dead or insane. Mike Love needs to give it up. His voice was flat and just too worn down to return to its former glory. So, we wound up playing cards while merely listening to the performances, which was much better. We did make it a point to watch "The Singing Egg" Ronan Tynan. After the performance, The O's left, while I stayed behind a bit so I wouldn't have to endure the clogged arteries of the Metro system. We wound up watching a show on airline disasters that he had recorded on the DVR. After that, I made my way home without incident. We timed it very well.

Today has been free of activity with two exceptions: this morning, I got up "early" and went down to the Hirshhorn Museum to take in the Visual Music exhibit with Jamy, and after, I went to a bookstore and picked up The Other Hollywood: The Uncensored Oral History Of The Porn Film Industry. I haven't cracked it just yet, but it seems like it could be a decent read.

Back to the Visual Music exhibit, I really enjoyed it, particularly the works of the Whitney Brothers. I did have a problem isolating the works from their popular context, and I'm thinking a lot of people might have that same problem. For instance, something like John Whitney's Permutations is probably more recognizable as a screen saver on your computer, or a visualization on your media player. The light shows suffer from the same problem, as they immediately conjure similar associations, as well as the more popular psychedelic connection that we make with the images. These associations are distracting, but does not render the exhibit a failure. I would recommend it.

(As stated in the comments, this post was originally published in less than complete form. Now it is complete. It doesn't make much of a difference, but my lizard brain feels better having done it.)

Art!

It occurred to me today that it has been a while since I've done the museum/gallery thing (with the exception of Gadsby's Tavern last week). Worse yet, I have not been to my favorite local institution, The Hirshhorn in an eternity. So I made my way to their virtual presence to see what's currently being shown and saw this. Fortunately, this just opened last week, so there is no need for me to do something insane like trying to endure the 4th of July tourist traffic in order to see it. I'm taking a couple of days off from work next week, so I think I might go then.

Also: The Music Center at Strathmore opened this past February and they have several intriguing shows coming. I'm tempted to buy a three show package from the "Mix It Up" series, but will wait until they officially announce the Sigur Ros gig, which is slated for September 11th. Other performances of note feature The David Grisman Quartet, The Derek Trucks Band, and Joshua Redman and the SF Jazz Collective. In addition, I might try to take my nephew and niece to the Backyard Theater for Children.

And in other news...

So, JC has discovered the joys of instant messenger. We wound up chatting for far too long on Thursday night. It was good to catch up, and I think we actually managed to work in more topics of conversation than we do on the phone. That girl can be downright wise, sometimes.

Well, I got gum comeuppance, as I wound up biting the inside of my mouth while chewing the stolen goods. It bled something fierce. Embarrasingly enough, this happened in close proximity to one of my attractive co-workers. Explaining why I yelled "Dammit!" was not exactly my smoothest moment. That was probably the highlight of my workday on Friday.

Later that evening, I had dinner with ES, in what has become our monthly play date of sorts. She came over and we played the shit out of God of War and Ratchet & Clank: Up Your Arsenal. (She played the former, I the latter.) A good time, as always.

Saturday was spent in the company of JG and his buddy RS. On the agenda was checking out the music festival that was taking place on King Street and hitting Hard Times for chili. Mission accomplished, at least on the latter. The music festival was bogus, and somehow, was even more offensive than I was expecting. It was one of those crowds where you know the only album they have by a black artist in their music collection is Bob Marley's Legend. Setting aside the sub-moronic crowd, which was filled with way too many dudes in sandals and fruity little seashell necklaces, the bands--at least the ones we had the misfortune of hearing--were playing uber-bland, semi-jammy music. It was just awful. Worst of all, though, was the fact that there as a band there called "The Funk Band" that looked about as funky as Dabney Coleman. And one of the bands broke the cardinal rule of having a white bongo player. (Maybe it was The Funk Band; my previous statement on their appearance was based upon the flyers that were hung up around King Street.) Buncha savages in that town.

Fortunately, the sea of idiocy was restricted to only a few blocks, which gave us plenty of King Street to explore, which we did. We even took a tour of Gadsby's Tavern, which was brief but interesting. We also made it down to the water, where we witnessed a horde of catfish frenzy over the bread that was being dropped into the water, much to the chagrin of the ducks circling nearby. It wasn't just regular bread, either. It was pita bread. As I said to JG later, of course Alexandria catfish eat pita bread. We finished up the festivities back at JG's spot, watching a movie (Anchorman again) before I decided to call it an evening shortly after 10 or so. I metroed back in, getting off a couple of stops early so I could hit Tower Records. I picked up Pelican's March Into The Sea EP and Boris' Akuma No Uta. Both rock most hard and are highly recommended, especially the Boris, which was different than what I'm used to hearing from them. This album is more of a hard psych platter, as opposed to their post-Melvins sludgefest with which I am mostly familiar. Definitely fierce.

Sunday has been, as usual, the day for laziness. Woke up late, watched Spider-Man 2 for the first time (I liked it a lot) and have done very little since. More tv and more food make Vega$ something something. Or, rather, makes Dr. Damian Pearle something something. Yes, for a brief moment on the Metro from Pentagon City to King Street, the Dr. Pearle myth started to take on a life of its own. Hilarious.

Petty Theft

So, the loud gum chewing came to a head yesterday, and my solution was to simply remove the source of the annoyance. I stole his gum. Not my finest moment, though I am taking perverse pleasure in chewing it right now. What makes it worse is that I actually switched areas last night, so now I'm far enough away that I wouldn't be able to hear it, even if he stuffed the whole pack in his mouth.

Maybe I'll sneak it back to his desk this afternoon.

Violence and a Big Gulp

So, I'm in line at the 7-11 a few minutes ago. There's one guy in front of me, paying for his goods, and a nice little line behind me. Some guy, who looked like he could be homeless, walks up to the guy in front of me and starts talking to him. At least, it looked like he was talking to him. I'm not exactly sure what he was doing. Then, one of the employees of the store came up to the guy and gestured toward his pocket. My guess is that he stole something. She grabs him and starts to push him toward the door, an act to which he took exception. He pushed her back, telling her not to touch him. She grabbed him again and kept pushing. This led to a brief heated exchange, followed by him throwing a punch. Now, at this point, I should have grabbed the guy. But I didn't, even as they both fell into a nearby display. I was stunned by inaction. Worse still, nobody else intervened. I cannot speak for them, but I have no idea why I did not step up. It wasn't fear. It was just...well, like I said, I don't know what it was. The whole thing happened so fast and it seemed completely unreal. Not an excuse obviously, and of course, my brain ran with the "what ifs". Like, what if this guy wasn't on the scrawny side and managed to throw the woman through the nearby window? What if the guy had just gone nuts and started turning on every one? Fortunately, the other employee, the one who was working the register, hopped over the counter and helped get the guy out of the store, pulling his shirt off (I guess recovering the stolen goods) while beating him with an empty crate. That part was comical. Still, I feel like a tool, and am curious as to how the other people who just stood there feel.

Big Lou Delivers

This weekend was about two things: disposal of some bulk items from my apartment and seeing the family.

Item the first: Woke up shortly after 6am (on a Saturday! Ye gods!) for to be ready when Big Lou showed up. The mission: to pick up a van in order to haul away some leftover bulk goods from the great apartment clearinghouse. We were to haul said goods to the Fort Totten Waste Transfer Station. Well, we get the van and load it up, taking all of 20-25 minutes, including drive time, doing so. We then snake our way through the city, using the ever-so-reliable Mapquest driving directions, to get out to the disposal facility. Surprisingly, at least to an urban dweller with no sense of waste management, there was a bit of a line to get into the facility. Well, we get up there and Big Lou hops out to go up to the office window and present his driver's license and the van's registration. When asked what kind of dwelling it comes from, he answers honestly. He is then told that they do not accept trash from apartment buildings. So he waves me over and I ask what's going on. She tells me the same thing. I tell her, no, according to the information I was given, you just don't pick up from apartment buildings. But, I am allowed to drop it off myself. She tells me I'm wrong. I tell her she is. She shows me some cheap, xeroxed copy of the "rules", but doesn't give me enough time to read through them, because I know that it only applies to pick ups. She also offers no alternatives. I then proceed to fly into a rage, using much colorful language. Had there been anything roughly the size of a garbage can or television within reaching distance, I would have gladly thrown it at her through the window, laws be damned. Instead, I stalk back to the van, still spitting obscenities, and we drive off.

Well now what? I can't take it back and put it in the garage of my building, or else I'll be fined. I can't just throw it in a dumpster. So we pull over to the side of the road so I can call my mother and have her jump on the internet and find a private disposal facility and/or hauler. My sister answers the phone and informs me that my mother is in the shower. I leave a message to call me back. Meanwhile, Big Lou, who is quite the agua consumer these days because of some stones he had, has to go to the bathroom. We pull over to the side of the road and he surreptitiously finds a spot to do his bidness. I am still in the van, boiling. After he finishes, he sees a truck behind us. He goes up to the truck and in minutes, we have two very helpful citizens (willie and Clyde), also on their way to the dump, willing to take all of our junk in for us. Sure, Big Lou greased their palms a little bit, but I was very grateful. Immediately, the rage left my system and I was able to enjoy the rest of my day. Even as the father of a thirty year old "adult", Big Lou has no problem coming through in the clutch. Now that's fatherhood.

Item the second: later that day, I had dinner with my entire family, except for one sister, who was working. It was ma, pa, my other sister, my brother-in-law, and my niece and nephew. Big Lou prepared a delicious feast of roast pork, stuffed shrimp in lumpia wrappers, lumpia, pansit, and one other dish that escapes me. It was a great family gathering, with no drama and lots of fun, especially with the kids. I had not seen my family in ages, it seemed, and I was so glad that I got this chance. Even though I spent nearly every weekend with them for a good two months in the spring, I found I missed them more than I anticipated. I got home late that night, too late to make it out with CO and company. I wound up killing the rest of the evening by finishing God of War (thanks, CO). That is a fantastic game and worthy of the praise it has received this year. Top notch in all categories, from art to music to gameplay. And now that I have the hookup, I should have both the new Splinter Cell as well as Jade Empire in my hands sometime this week. Though, if it's not too late, I might try to switch out Splinter Cell for Psychonauts, since I am still making my way through the early stages of the previous Splinter Cell installment.

So, all told, an excellent weekend, with one minor flare-up of undiluted rage. Considering the infrequency of such occurrences, I can live with that.

Time Snap

3:50pm - It seems that even on days without a boss, I manage not to be as slothful as I want to be. I was anticipating being able to keep a running commentary on the day, but as it turns out, I worked instead. And while this will assuage my guilt in terms of not making this job a complete sinecure, I'd still rather have done that.

In other news, we have an intern. "And now we make party!"

And yes, I still wish blinding violence upon the cud-chewing interloper. But, in lieu of criminal acts, I've just taken to mocking him. Ha ha ha...passive-aggressive.

Sincerely,
Peter Potamus

Delicious

11:03am - Bossless day, so that means extra roaming time. Today, we hit the buffet. Breakfast, fool! What?!

Mornin' Bloggin'

9:34am - I'm afraid I may have to kill the guy sitting next to me. He's trying to annoy me on purpose. How do I know this? Because no adult chews gum with their mouth open. Loudly. I swear he's gone python, unhinging his jaws for maximum annoyance. Between his recent trend of bouncing in his chair and making it squeak like bedsprings to chewing like a mastiff on a postman's bloated carcass, it may be funeral pyre time for him. Bloody savage.

Last night, I made my first appearance at a meeting of the Super Friends D.C. Bloggers Meetup group. Unfortunately, I was dead tired from even more lack of sleep than usual (only a fraction of it related to GoW), and was not my usual self. This is probably a good thing. In this case, I was quietly polite, laughed when appropriate, and did not make a huge spectacle of myself. Those who know me know that this is no small feat. Of course, the decision to have the next meeting at a place that sells alcohol will likely undo all of that, should I be able to make it. Eh, I had a good run.

It was a small but friendly group of people, with the expected demographic make-up (and J, who was also attending for the first time). After the gathering broke up, I headed to Olsson's to use my "20% off purchase" certificate that was due to expire at the end of the month. In retrospect, I should have waited so I could spend more. The few discs I did pick up: Stereolab's Oscillons from the Anti-Sun, Orthrelm's Ov, and Nano-Nucleonic Cyborg Summoning by Behold...the Arctopus. So far, I've listened to the Orthrelm disc (1st listen verdict: different, difficult, but not bad) and part of disc one of the Stereolab collection, which, for the money, should be picked up with all due speed. It is three CDs and one DVD for the nifty price of $27 (at Olsson's; I saw it at Melody for $22). Unfortunately, these listening experiences kept me up much later than expected, and for the second day in a row, I'm operating on too little sleep. Boy howdy, I am going to crash tonight.

Randomness

-Way #312 to Amuse Yourself At Work: When waving your hand in front of a sensor-automated paper towel dispenser, pretend you are performing the Jedi Mind Trick and say "you will give me a paper towel." For added fun, refer to the machine as a "weak-minded fool" while drying your hands. (Note: This trick can be used with any other sensor-automated device.)

-God Of War is one heck of a game, if a bit easy. What I like about it, and what more seasoned gamers--especially those with extensive time playing fighting games--might actually consider a negative, is the ease of combat. There are no complicated button combinations, making gameplay very smooth. From a graphics standpoint, the game art is some of the best you'll find on the PS2, with incredible character detail, particularly during the (ultra-violent) cut scenes. The scene where see Kronos crossing the Desert of Lost Souls is one of my favorites, particularly the close-up on the titan's face as Kratos climbs to Pandora's Temple. The music in the game is also first-rate, providing a perfectly cinematic score that enhances, but never overwhelms, the game.

-The ECW One Night Stand PPV was one of the best PPVs I've seen in some time, and a prime example of what fan-friendliness, in any entertainment setting, can do for your product. It wasn't that great from an in-ring standpoint, the highlights being the insane Awesome-Tanaka match (how anybody takes unprotected chair-shots these days is beyond me, and the ones Tanaka took were even scarier looking) and, of course, the bloody clusterfuck that was the main event. What it lacked in mat skills, the night made up for with rabid enthusiasm by all involved, fueled both by passion and nostalgia. Visual of the night: a crimson-masked Tommy Dreamer giving real-life wife Beulah a hug in the ring. He had the biggest grin on his face, knowing this was the end of the road for something that meant so much to so many. Priceless.

-A's took two of three from the Braves. Huzzah! Only a game and a half to get out of the cellar.

-I have missed both games of the NBA Finals, and it seems I've missed nothing at all. I don't care what Wilbon says, Phoenix-Miami would have been just as good at showcasing what is right with the NBA as this series, and they would have been a lot more entertaining while doing so. This series is dullsville, daddio.

Notes On Tonight

-Watched the Nationals take apart the Mariners (with a Mariners fan as company!). It was all jake until Hasegawa was put in. So, so small. But hey, now I have a favorite Nats player: Ryan "Crazy Train" Church.

-I did not join a few of my co-workers to "support" another co-worker who, we recently discovered, has a side gig doing le striptease. Another time, perhaps. Dolla dolla bills, y'all.

-Ran into The Clintons as they left Tunnicliff's Tavern in Eastern Market. J and I happened upon a crowd of gawkers on the sidewalk, stopping a little too close to a limo parked at the curb. A gentlemen asked us to step back from the vehicle. Next thing I know, here's Hillary and Chelsea just feet away from us, with Big Poppa Bill pulling up the rear. I was in D.C. during his entire presidency and tonight was the closest I've ever been to the man. It was such a random occurrence that it had nearly been forgotten later.

-Had beers and great conversation with J at The Lil Pub and the Capitol Lounge. She's good people.

-After the slowest winter and spring, the women of the night were out in full force. I was like a boxing ref during a KO on the walk home, because I counted ten. That is, until I stepped into my local 7-11, where another was at the counter making a transaction (tee hee) as I entered.

I know, I could have crafted this into something more substantial, instead of giving you the PowerPoint slide version. Maybe later I'll punch it up with a few more details and crude language. But now, it is late.

Do the rockaway...lean back...

This evening was spent in the company of Mrs. O and JG. We did the dinner thang at Luigi's downtown (too hot and lazy to link at the moment), where we had some excellent Italian food and conversation. Mrs. O wanted my take on the bachelor party, and instead of being obnoxious and saying "Don't you read my blog?!" I happily retold the story. Some details were left out, some were added in, and no names were changed to protect the innocent.

After dinner, we headed up to Dupont and took a leisurely stroll inside of Second Story Books. The find of the night, at least until we opened up to look at the content, was a book called Women: Pro or Con. I was hoping for an intellectual dissection of the pros and cons of women, but instead was treated to a bunch of quotes about women. Booooring! Also found: The Non-Chew Cookbook, for you people (like me) who think that food that requires you to work your teeth is for suckers. We eventually left when I started getting punchy in the form of dancing to the music that was playing in the store. What can I say? I'm just une machine de danse.

And now, a couple of hours and some ice cream later (so, so hot), I'm groovin' to one of my Xbox playlists and bringing the evening to a close.

Tomorrow: beisbol (Go Nats!). The rest of the weekend is undecided, though I plan on filling any down time mit God of War, which Mrs. O brought for me tonight. Mr. O finished the game before he went fightin' 'round the world.

One Advantage Of My Job

I now have a connection (and a pretty high connection at that) to this hotel. Depending on how the numbers shake out by mid August, I might could make this my birthday destination, instead of Los Angeles. (Sorry JC!)

"Look, I don't know why basesball means so much to everyone. There's important work to be done, to make things more decent."

"More decent than baseball? Dun-dun-dunnnn!"

Speaking of "basesball", the in-first-place-by-the-end-of-August Oakland A's are in town this week to do some hot, interleague action with the Nats. I am very tempted to go Wednesday night.

That is all.

DV$ 1, Baltimore 1

Yesterday was a trip to Charm City for the unofficial Bachelor Party for RF, who will be getting married in August. This was just a small gathering of friends looking to have a good time in the city that Peter Angelos ruined.

The Fantastic Four on this trip was me, JG, G/T/D (which stands for Greg/Todd/Doug), and RF. JG and RF picked me up at the King Street Metro and we returned to JG's place so that he and RF could finish their recently purchased lunches. While they ate, I played the DVD that was in the player, Playmate something or other.

JG: "You may want to jiggle the cords to get the sound to play."
ME: "Why do I care about the sound? Am I watching this to hear them talk?"

So they ate and I watched and, eventually, G/T/D showed up and we were ready to leave. With bags loaded and everyone strapped in (for funny!), we made our way to Baltimore. Not much in the way of highlights on the road, as it was the usual chit-chat und comedy. Eventually, I nodded off a bit and before I knew it, we're at the motel, a cozy little spot in the travel plaza called the Rodeway Inn. I shan't remark too much about the motel, because for our needs, it was good enough. So there is no need for me to really rip on it. There was a bit of mix up with the room assignment, as the room in which JG and RF would be crashing had no card reader. Once that got situated, we dropped off our thangs, took a few minutes to just stretch and unwind, and then it was back out the door. We snagged a cab in front of the Best Western across the street and took it to Camden Yards, where RF had to pick up some tickets for an O's game. After the purchase, we walked over to see what was happening on the field, as the announcer was doing his thing. As it turns out, there was a Fantasy Baseball Camp going on. I immediately called for the pitcher to throw something high and tight (I think my exact words were "Bean him! He's crowding the plate!"). After a few minutes of mockery, we headed for the inner harbor and our first stop, Pier 4 Kitchen + Bar. We got ourselves a table by one of the open windows, a nice breeze making our time there very comfortable. We had a few appetizers, a few drinks (I had a Honeydew martini and a beer or two) and some pleasant conversation, delving into such important topics as "What are the three things you always look for when you first meet a woman?" and its natural follow-up, "How many women have you dated that had all three things?" (Had in the sense that they were up to your "standards." My answer to that question was zero.) This conversation starter was offered by JG, and I assume was brought about by our particular circumstances, given that the reason for the season was RF's impending nuptials. Or else, he swiped it from his most recent issue of Redbook.

After we settled up, we began walk toward Fells Point. This is where the first bit of deja vu stirred in my head, as memories of the last trip to Baltimore bubbled up to the surface...

Aside: I still cannot believe I didn't blog about that trip. It is relevant to this post only in terms of the subject, as my record versus Baltimore after that night was 0-1. I'll probably jump in the time machine to blog about that special evening soon. If anything, it will be a fun companion piece to this entry.

We walked through Little Italy and got to Fells Point in pretty quick time. Our first stop was inside the bar and grill which was the centerpiece of our last trip, to see if Rose (the delightfully cute bartender) was there. Alas, she was not. Probably a good thing, as anything remotely resembling a duplication of that previous night would have caused me to dry heave. We popped in and out then went to an Irish bar down the street. Here, we played a couple of beers and played a few games of pool. I also played some music on the jukebox, which was surprisingly good considering the location. We left there and walked around a bit, trying to decide where to go next, finally deciding upon a Caribbean themed restaurant on the roof of an Irish Bar. (Names, as you can see, are escaping me. Not really important.) Once again, more drinks, more food, though I only opted for a scoop of ice cream this time, and more people watching. We settle up and make our way back to the street to find the next spot for what is sure to be madcap hijinx. We select Max's on Broadway, which, for those who made the previous trip, is the bar we were leaving when JG randomly smacked me on the back of the neck. This is where the evening started to pick up. In between all of the drinking, this stuff happened:

We encountered the first bachelorette party of the night. By the end of the evening, I counted 11 different bachelorette parties taking place. I'm convinced this was a scam.

One bride-to-be came in wearing a shirt that said "Suck For A Buck" and, of course, was covered with lollipops. First, RF was adamant that I get one. I begged off, but as soon as he was distracted, I got her attention and waved her over and bought RF (he's the man of the hour, after all) a suck.

JG roped in a girl who came to bum a cigarette from him. Very cute girl, very drunk girl. Her first words to me, as introductions were made: "I love your glasses! They're hot." I mention this only because it will come into play later. Also, when she was going around the table guessing the age (I brought this on, after asking hers), she guessed I was 24. See? Drunk! Anyway, most of the conversation was between Very Cute Girl and JG, but occasionally it involved the entire table. For instance, she picked up JG's sunglasses and put them on.

VCG: How do these look on me?
JG: Great.
RF: It looks good.
DV$: I don't like it.
G/T/D: Looks good.
VCG: So that's three who like it and one who doesn't? Why don't you like? The frames are too big, right?
DV$: Yes, the frames are too big. Plus, they hide your beautiful eyes.
VCG: That's such a line!
DV$: I know it sounds like that, but seriously, you have beautiful eyes, and I should know. I'm an optometrist.

So from that point forward, I was an optometrist. Fortunately, it was never really challenged, though she did try to get me to diagnose a problem she was having. I resisted, saying I had too much to drink to be of much help. She persisted a little, I asked her a couple of questions re: eye makeup and we both decided it was probably just allergies. Despite that less-than-glowing assessment, I really am a tremendous liar.

Anyway, once VCG got up to talk to her people, RF, who had left for who knows where, comes back with a girl and sits her down. Hilarious. Her boyfriend also came over with her. Some drunk and forgettable conversation took place. At this point, there was a noticeable lull, so drunk girlfriend and drunk boyfriend dragged RF and me over to the bar and set us up with a couple of Jaegerbombs. Damn it all, that's now a second drink with Jaeger that I enjoyed. My taste in alcohol is getting very odd. But I digress...

It was about this time that we broke out of there after some valiant efforts by both JG and RF to convince VCG and her friends to tag along with us. They declined. So we left, walked about the square a bit, and decided our next stop would be the Greene Turtle. Got a round of drinks, grabbed a spot in the middle of the room, and just took the scene in. RF found another bachelorette party and before I knew it, we were doing shots with them. This particular bride-to-be was doing the bachelorette party scavenger hunt. One of the items on the list was to have her picture taken with five guys at once. So RF grabbed some random dude and we helped her check it off the list. Another item on the list was "have a guy give you a pair of his boxers." RF demanded that one of us give it up for the cause. Nobody stepped up and RF himself claimed to be going commando (one of the super drunk girls in the bachelorette party attempted to verify this). So there was nothing more we could do for them and we parted ways.

An aside: I should state that at this point, I was feeling nice and toasted. When I reach this state, one of the first inhibitions to go is the one involving public dancing. Not that I'm a bad dancer (quite the contrary, IMO, as I've been blessed with an inordinate amount of rhythm for a white guy), but I'm usually not quick to hit a dance floor until I've had a few in me. Anyway, the DJ started playing music to which one could actually dance and before you know it, I'm doing my thing. I offer this only as evidence of my state of drunkenness.

Moments later: After unsuccessfully convincing The Sisters, two blondes that RF found at the end of the bar, to come dance with us (though one of them did finally get up and dance with RF), the evening takes a turn for the worse. JG lines up some shooters for our group and we dutifully down them. Soon after, RF makes a beeline for the bathroom. Uh oh. I give JG a look and he goes in after him. A few minutes later, they both emerge and JG informs us that the evening was over. Honestly, I don't feel like leaving, because once I'm dancing, I get very energized and do not really want to stop. But, we all go outside to find a cab. JG is steadying RF while G/T/D goes out to find a cab and within minutes has one. We steer RF through the streets to get to our cab, load him in the back, and as G/T/D and I are about to climb in, I ask him, "you wanna stay?" So at that point, G/T/D and I decide we're going to stay and try to find some trouble to get into. Our next destination is the Admiral's Cup, where the bachelorette party from the Greene Turtle said they were going. We go inside just as they are leaving. There was one girl in the party--the same one I think who was going to verify RF's commando status--who was just blitzed and a bit too agreeable. Dangerously agreeable. "My husband is way down in Georgia" agreeable. Ahem. She grabs my arm and tells us that we should go with them. So, we're talking and, as it turns out, they have finished everything on the scavenger hunt except for getting the boxer shorts. So I ask, what's in it for me?

The upshot: I got a kiss from one of the twin sisters in the group and was commando for the rest of the night.

G/T/D overheard that the party was going to the Have A Nice Day Cafe, which was going to be our own final destination (if we decided to forgo the strip clubs, which was likely, since it was established that 'tis far more of an accomplishment to see the naked breasts of women who are NOT strippers) until RF took a turn for the worst. So we start to hoof it in that direction, stopping for the most delicious steak burrito I ever did taste in my state of drunken hungriness, when I get a call on the Batphone from JG. He has lost the email address of the girl from Max's. I communicate this with G/T/D, who says he thinks she gave it to RF as well. We walk another block and we decide to go back to Max's, as JG had requested, just in case she was still there. No luck. So we reverse direction and head back toward Have A Nice Day. This was a long, foolish walk and we really should have grabbed a cab. But you know, if we had done that, we only would have arrived earlier and drank more, which would have been very bad. As it was, we got there later, wound up going to Tiki Bob's instead, grabbed a beer and a chair and just took it all in. I could not even finish that beer, as it would have put me over the edge. It was good to just be up on an open air deck and chillin', especially after the long walk. Couldn't argue with the eye candy, even though the super-charged courage from earlier in the evening had abandoned me, leaving me an admirer and nothing more. We finally decide that, since last call had just been announced, we should just grab a cab. One semi-confusing (we had no idea what the address of the motel was, and the phrase "travel plaza" had completely escaped my vocabulary) and overpriced cab ride later, we were back at the hotel, crashing. I had forgotten to pack sleep clothes, so I slept in the clothes I was wearing. I also slept without properly rehydrating myself, since I didn't trust the sketchy sink water in our room and was too lazy to go downstairs and purchase any. So, I just passed out, eventually reaching a deeper sleep than I imagined. While it was only around seven hours of sleep, it felt like so much more. JG, bless him, came by the room and asked if we needed any water or other hydrating beverages, then went downstairs and bought it for us. Like the steak burrito the night before, that was the most refreshing water my previously drunken self had ever tasted. After that, I felt completely replenished. Within an hour, we were all cleaned and ready to roll, though RF still looked beat. We stopped by a Bob Evans in Columbia and crammed food into our pieholes. From there, it was a sleepy ride to the King Street Metro to drop me off. I got home, took another shower. I tells ya, I wish I had packed shorts for today, because that Metro ride and walk back was sweatier than I would have liked. The rest of the day has been mostly relaxing, doing a load of laundry, writing this post, and getting my game on. Now I must mentally prepare myself for the creativity-deadening eight hours that I call "work" tomorrow. Oh well, the weekend was great while it lasted.

I cannot wait to play the rubber match against B'more. I'm pretty confident I'll come out on top. You hear me, Charm City? Your fate is sealed...

I Think I Blew My Brains Out

I have this theory, supported only by personal experience, that when your body reaches the breaking point in terms of sleep deprivation, you will start sneezing like a pepper factory has opened up in your sinuses. I first suspected this a few years back, had the idea reinforced last year on the day I flew to Chicago, and have had a few more experiences this year to add a bit of credibility. Today, however, was the worst its been since Chicago. The trip to Chicago was a nightmare, because I sneezed from the time I woke up at ungodly o'clock in the morning until about 4pm Central. Yet, as soon as I took a nap, the sneezing disappeared. This was doubly amazing, considering that the apartment at which I was crashing had two cats. (I'm allergic, don'tcha know.) Today's bout of nasal explosiveness nearly rivaled the Chicago trip in both quantity and power.

Anyway, yes. As you can see, the sneezing has caused me to sink to even lower depths of inanity on this blog. But hey, I never promised you A-material. You take what I give you. Take it!

Actually, I have been working on some more serious (read: focused) writing, possibly to be pitched (thanks to the encouragement of EMT), but I won't get into the details here. We don't need another "CO running a marathon" public relations fiasco. Ha! Punching out the man while he's not even in the country to defend himself. Yes! Yes! Stick with the kid, baby!

Holiday weekend
Gone by without enough sleep
I should have done more.

There, in haiku, is the summation of this past weekend. Friday, I did a little shopping, picking up two DVD sets (Chappelle's Show Season 2, Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law Vol. 1), a CD (Pitbull M.I.A.M.I.) and more fuel for the Xbox (the second Splinter Cell game). The damage was nearly a lot worse, but I showed some restraint.

Saturday was a whole lotta nothing, really. I woke up late (for the record, sleep for this past weekend started at 3am, 5am, and 5am), did some much needed grocery shopping, and putzed around the house, splitting time between napping, finishing up the second Ratchet & Clank (an excellent 3-D platformer for you PS2 owners out there), reading (some articles I printed from the internet that will, with any motivation, help flesh out some writing I have planned), some writing (my web presence grows ever larger), and little in terms of much needed housework.

Sunday, I did not participate in a family barbecue, partly because I wanted to keep the day open just in case anything popped up and partly because I need a break. I love my family and I always have fun with them, but I've seen them so much in the last two months due to the parade of birthdays that I did not feel like making the trip. A social gathering, as it turns out, did happen, but it would not have precluded my attendance at the family barbecue. Oh well, at least I got to sleep in, relative to when I would have had to be up to make it to the barbecue. That night, I had dinner and drinks with Los O's and JG, the first time we had all been together at once in what seemed like forever. After, Mr. O, JG and I watched a movie, Anchorman, at JG's spot. A fun, relaxed evening. Even though I got home a bit before 3, I wound up being up even longer because I made the mistake of throwing on Project Gotham Racing 2, which brings out the OCD-gamer in me.

Monday was chore (note the singular) day, as I did a load of laundry and dedicated what little I had left of my holiday weekend to sloth. Oh, I did do a bit more writing, so I guess that is something. And now, I bring the banality to you, bloggie-style!

On the horizon:

The "unofficial" bachelor party for Fletch is this weekend.
Having the last of my clutter being carted off on Thursday.
Should have new furniture to fill the spaces within the next couple of weeks, including a drafting/art table, if I can find a cheap one. (Helloooo, Craigslist)
More writing!
Minor league baseball: I'd like to throw this out there to my peeps. The Potomac Nationals (I had no idea they had changed!) have a home series against the Frederick Keys in a few weeks. We can marvel at new mascot, Uncle Slam, and take in some hot, single-A action. If I didn't have this bachelor party, I'd suggest it for this weekend.

Thursday: had dinner with NV after she failed the Furr'n Service Exam. Fortunately, she was pretty even-tempered about the whole thing and wasn't really depressed that she did not pass. Her sister had taken and failed the exam before, so I think she was really mentally prepared for that outcome. Dinner was good, then we walked around downtown for a while. Was good to see her. I had not seen her since she transferred from AU.

Friday: was supposed to be birthday dinner with Big Lou, but it didn't pan out, as he had fallen ill. He sounded terrible when I called to confirm our plans. We've made plans to reschedule for this week sometime, should he feel better and have the time. I did not really do anything with my new free time, which was nice. Good to be able to wind down the week that way.

Saturday: early to rise so that I could meet with MT to have a bit to eat before going to see Revenge of the Sith. I had higher expectations going into this movie than either of the previous episodes and I am happy to say that they were met and exceeded. The only other thing I will say is that I was a bit disappointed with the way that Mace Windu went out. It wasn't nearly as embarassing as the way Boba Fett went out, but I still expected more. At least he will always have the coolest lightsaber of all time.

That night was the Virginia Wine Party with Los O's. I was unable to score a Virginia wine from my neighborhood liquor stores, so I chose a random chardonnay (Fat Bastard, from France, I believe) as my contribution to the party. It was another fun gathering, despite my normally indifferent attitude toward wine. The people there were all very nice and friendly and provided a lot of entertainment, especially when the evening just boiled down to a few people. With a few of the remaining partygoers sufficiently lubricated, some quality music on the Hi-Fi, including Star Wars and Other Galactic Funk, a 1977 release on Casablanca Records (scroll down nearly halfway to check out a description of the album, the artist, and the cover art), the hilarity was pretty consistent until the end, including a ridiculous cab ride home with Mojo.

Sunday: Nada. Slept late yet again, but not as late as I should have. Had some Chinese food for lunch, and now I'm here, watching G4-Tech TV and blogging. I know I'm your hero.

SOS: Students for an Orwellian Society: Won't someone please think of the children?

Well, when it rains, it pours. On my plate:

-Big Lou's Birthday dinner (mmmm...steak)
-Revenge of the Sith with MT (who, I discovered this morning, got accepted into SMU's Perkins School of Theology to get his D.Min. He is the Obi-Wan to my Luke. Or at least the Bunsen Honeydew to my Beaker.)
-Dinner(s) with NV, who is in town to do the Furr'n Service Exam thing.
-Suburban Wine Tasting avec Les Obergois (Sacrebleu!)
-Laundry (I'm a dirty, dirty boy.)

Plus, I need to get more furniture in and out of my apartment.

And, if I have time, I must hunt down and torture Bono.

Not enough hours in the day, I tells ya.

For three strange days, I had no obligations...

Friday: Cubs vs. Nats at RFK. I joined CO and his gang (wife, a few in-laws, co-workers), as well as JG and his co-worker, for some hot, non-DH baseball action. Unfortunately, I was enraged when I first got there. Between navigating through Dockers nation to even get to the Metro, to having to endure the inane banter of my fellow passengers, to pushing through and ocean of idiocy making my way into the stadium, by the time I reached my seat (which took two attempts, as I misread my ticket--the idiocy is contagious!), I could no longer mask my contempt for humanity. Fortunately, I was able to decompress much faster than expected and enjoyed myself. Post-game, JG, his co-worker and I traipsed through the neighborhood around RFK to find a cab, as enduring the Metro was not exactly a "must-do" event. After about ten or fifteen minutes of walking, we manage to snag one and get ourselves downtown for the night's drinking destination: The Saloon (on U Street, a few doors down from Ben's Chili Bowl). I really enjoyed that place. They had great beer, the surroundings were intimate and conducive to conversation, and they had games to play! I wound up beating a Russian (JG's co-worker) at chess. Three in a row, no less. U-S-A! U-S-A!

Saturday: This day was dedicated to shopping and a bit of cleaning. What did not go to those two endeavors was spent napping or eating. Shopping was for household products, as I'm trying to get the tasteless hovel that I call "home" into shape. So there was a trip to the hardware store and a trip to Staples (nice walks in absolutely gorgoues weather) and finally a trip up to Adams Morgan to hit the CD/Game Exchange, where I purchased nothing. Still, it was worth it for the walk alone. I got back just in time to avoid getting soaked, as the skies opened up probably thirty minutes after I got home. The evening was a quiet one on the couch, basking in the glow of TV, video games, and a long overdue phone conversation with EMT.

Sunday: Wasted day, just about. I woke up at 2:45 (!) and pretty much just putzed around the apartment. Got my first food at 6. The only other thing I did was hit the Black Cat to see the Peter Brotzmann Chicago Tentet play on The Backstage. (My thoughts on the performance can be found here.

All American Weekend!

Actually, before I begin that: Happy Birthday, Carl O! Welcome to XXX. Try not to wreck the place.

Anyway, tomorrow is an evening game of America's Pastime at RFK, watching the displaced Canadian team take on the hapless Chicago Cubs. It's unfortunate that Nomar is busted. It would be nice to have someone to boo.

Saturday will be some sort of spring cleaning. I've already started the disassembly of my apartment. Now I need to wrap it up over the weekend. Beyond that, I think I'll be hanging with Big Lou during the day, with a possible trip to Bethesda squeezed in.

Sunday will be a jazz performance at The Black Cat, featuring German jazz legend Peter Brotzmann. I'm expecting a blowout of terrific proportions. Hopefully, I'll have something interesting to say about it over in mein music blog.

Tonight was my monthly night out with ES. As is our custom when we hang out on Friday nights, it means dinner and games. Tonight's game of choice was the incredibly addicting Lego Star Wars. The game is almost laughably easy, but superb fun all the same. It's probably more fun if you're a Star Wars nerd, but even if you're not, the art (who knew it was possible to make Darth Maul adorable?), storyline gameplay, and free play modes should be sufficient to suck in even the casual gamer. It's amazing how the Star Wars series of video games have turned around; it used to be that the success rate was extremely low. But with the Knights of the Old Republic Series, Bounty Hunter, Battlefront, and now Lego Star Wars, they are on quite a hot streak. Hopefully, Episode III (both the movie and the game) will be just as good.

"Chappelle's Show" Shut Down

This sucks. First guess: it's the cheeba. The stickiest of the icky. Second guess: Dave is a really sensitive perfectionist who is crumbling under the pressure to produce a season that will live up to the hype and millions of dollars invested in him. Occam's Razor says...

Oh well. I hope he can pull it together and get the new season done.

(Thanks to EMT for the heads up.)

Spotlighting sports in the Sportlight Spotlight

Heckuva game tonight between the Wizards and the Bulls. I tells ya, if the Wizards knew anything about second half defense, they could actually make a real impact in the playoffs. As it is, while it's impressive that they seem to be on their way to winning a first round series in ages, beating a depleted Bulls team in less than convincing fashion isn't the way to gain confidence with Shaq and the Heat on the horizon. Honestly, as much as I'm pulling for the Wizards to make some noise (especially since my sorry, no-account Hawks are once again the laughingstock of the league and won't get better any time soon, since the #1 pick will "miraculously" wind up going to the lottery-bound Lakers), if Curry and Deng had made it to the post-season, I think this series would have already ended, especially the way the Wiz have lapsed in the second half of the last two games. Here's hoping that these two collapses will toughen them up for game six, because they seem to be the kind of team that could very well be thinking about round two already. Playoff inexperience and youth, don'tcha know.

I have to admit it: I'm actually enjoying the NBA playoffs. It's been a while since I've been able to honestly say that, but the games I've been able to catch have been fun. I'd love for there to be a Phoenix vs. Washington final, but that's not going to happen. We'll likely get Miami or Detroit vs. San Antonio, which should be ultra-competitive, but rarely high-octane. Nothing wrong with that; I'm just a sucker for a fastbreak.

Hey! Kentucky Derby this weekend. I have no idea what's what. My junior high self (the one that was addicted to horse racing, thanks to "Swing For the Fences" Big Lou) is weeping.

Football: I haven't much to say, except that the current state of the Miami Dolphins quarterbacks is the most pitiful I've seen it in my lifetime. Not even the laughable days of just a few seasons ago when Damon Huard (Huardball running wild!) was "managing" the offense and clowns like Cade McNown and Jim Druckenmiller were on the sidelines was this bad. A.J. "We Traded A Second Round Pick To The Eagles And All We Got Was This Lousy Quarterback" Feely sucks, and I'm not interested to see what he can do. I think we know what he can do, and adding Ronnie Brown and Ricky Williams to the backfield won't make him better. Hell, adding Randy Moss would not have made him better. He's a serviceable backup, slightly less talented than Gus Frerotte, the current #2 and, I'm guessing, eventual #1. To add insult to injury, Brock Berlin--the only quarterback from "The U" that I've never really cared for--has been brought into camp. (I haven't been reading the wires, so if he's already cut, well, good.) Meanwhile, The Ultimate Sage Rosenfels Experience continues to get ignored. And even though he hasn't done anything to prove he should be given a shot, I still have this hunch that the kid is good and is just being wasted. It's sad. How they went from Marino to this motley crew of turd polishers (and Sage) is beyond me.

Baseball: Fuck baseball. I keed. I will say this: I don't have Nats fever, I hate that Baltimore is doing well, and I have not kept up with the A's at all, except for the morning box scores. I have no idea who is doing what for that team. I think one of the reasons why I cannot keep up with baseball is because the people who do the baseball shows on TV are all terrible. I can't watch a show like Baseball Tonight because I cannot stand anybody on there. I think my days of being a "true" baseball fan (whatever that means) are well behind me.

Plus: I am really, really tempted to pick up God of War and Jade Empire, but will not do so for several reasons. However, for any readers who have a PS2 or Xbox (respectively), go do yourself a favor and pick those games up if you haven't already.

And away I go!

iPod One

Yeah, I'm sure this has been blogged to death. But I must make my own joke! Ahem...

I'm surprised there's no Geto Boys on the disc. I mean, besides being the second most hardcore act to come out of Texas (behind G-Dub himelf), who doesn't think of our esteemed leader when hearing the line, 'Back up in your ass with the Resurrection'?

Thank you. And if that joke has already been made...well...it was obvious. I plead innocent to plagiarism.

The legislature of the State of Idaho is sweet.

WHEREAS, any members of the House of Representatives or the Senate of the Legislature of the State of Idaho who choose to vote "Nay" on this concurrent resolution are "FREAKIN' IDIOTS!" and run the risk of having the "Worst Day of Their Lives!"

I really must see this movie. Hey, CO, wanna send me another one of them thar Netflix coupons?

PSA

For you D.C. locals, please, go to your local Spring Mill Bread and taste the deliciousness. I recommend the asiago pesto. And if you're in the mood for one, get yourself an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie.

For you Netflix users, queue up this classic: Emperor of the North. I have not seen it, but this description has sold me on its merits. How can you not like a hobo-killing Ernest Borgnine, or Lee Marvin as "King of the Hobos"? Showdown!

And for even more funny, go pick up Home Movies: Season One. Worth owning just for "Director's Cut", featuring a "rock opera based on Franz Kafka". Don't worry, the rest is gold, too. And if you do it after Tuesday, go ahead and get yourself Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law Vol. 1.

Nashville: The Big Roundup

Well, the NCAA tournament is over, yet my recollection of our trip to see OPENING ROUND games is not. It seems my old nemesis Mr. Laziness has won this battle. But the war ain't over, bitch! I'll best you yet!

Ahem.

Anyway, not to drag this out, I shall put the remainder of this travelogue into haiku form.

Ronald McDonald
Big Aussie from Georgia Tech
Why do you suck so?

Okay, sorry, that was a giddy little hiccup. But I will make the rest brief because, well, it's old news. As a matter of fact, let's just jump to the big finish...

I leaned in and looked him straight in the eye and said, "I told you no bitchass Aussie can outdrink me." Then I pie-faced him off the stool. JG and I left about twenty minutes later. When we were, Schenscher was blowing chunks all over the freshly scooted boots that had come from the dance floor to watch us drink.

Sorry again. It's just that Luke Schenscher was kind of a running joke during our stay. Much like he is on the basketball court.

Day three: basketball free, so we got to sleep in a bit. First stop: The Ryman Auditorium, former (now only seasonal) home of the Grand Ole Opry. I was blown away by that place. It's very hard to articulate. The sense of musical history, knowing how many legends have crossed that stage, the intimacy of its design...it gives it a realness that larger historically significant icons don't have. Rather than being overwhelmed by the myth, you feel like you're existing inside of it. Anyway, I really loved that place, especially all of the concert posters, courtesy of Batch Show Designs.

After the self-guided tour through the Ryman, we did a little shopping, as JG wanted to do the souvenir thing. We went into many a shop, picking through countrified trinkets and baubles. One quality find was a deck of Hank Williams Jr. playing cards. I also dug the Bocephus collector's plate. Sadly, I did not buy either. (JG picked up some cards.) The best stop for shopping was the Lawrence Record Shop, which is a heavenly gift for vinyl fetishists and record cover art collectors (CO, I'm looking at you). This is where I saw the Isaac Hayes cover where he's wearing the most ghastly Cosby sweater. Other comedy included some quality Tiny Tim covers and, of course, Kenny Roger's The Gambler. Tremendous.

After that, we got ourselves a little lunch. Naturally, since there was no live basketball happening in the city, all the people there (C-A-R-D-S-CARDS! Dammit!) for the games were in any bar that had a TV tuned to CBS. We thought we had ourselves a perfect place because one of the waitresses (walking in our direction) about to start her shift was sinfully hot and criminally underdressed...and she was in uniform. Caliente! But, once we got inside, that place was so jammed with the tragically ludicrous that we just walked right back out. Eventually, we settled into the bar right across the street from the Gaylord Center (name escapes me at the moment). This place really cemented my impression that the female bartenders and waitresses in Nashville are all smokin'. Had myself a pulled-pork pizza and watched Gonzaga shit the bed against Texas Tech. If they had managed to pull that out, that would have given me enough points to win my NCAA tourney pool and I would be a couple of Benjamins richer. Adam Morrison: go fuck yourself!

From there, we did some more store hopping, including a stop inside Ernest Tubb's Record. Not as cool as the Lawrence Record Shop, but good all the same. If I recall correctly, this was the last stop before we headed back to the hotel to drop off the various purchases from our excursion. We chilled a bit, then went back out to find a record store I found advertised on a sidewalk bench. We started making the trek, but realized it was really too far away. We turned back and went in search of a bar of some sort to catch the games and a beer or many. Packed. Packed. Packed. We went into a seafood restaurant/martini bar that had a television...not showing beer. So, that was one beer and check please! We went into an Irish pub next door that was just dead, except for clowns upstairs playing darts. While up there, I gave JG the heads up. Across the street, many young women, all wearing the same athletic apparel, were getting off of a bus and going into the place across the street. A decision!

The destination was the Wild Horse Saloon. Now, right away, we realize this is a HUGE tourist trap. It's basically a countrified Hard Rock Cafe...just down the street from the actual Hard Rock Cafe. Anyway, we go inside and take it up to the second floor. We grab a spot at the bar and let the night happen. I can sum the experience up as such: beers, basketball (including the double-OT shoot out between West Virginia and Wake Forest), line dancing (we only observed), another hot bartender, plenty of fly ladies, too many kids, me being a coward, unintentional insults, text-messaging, buffalo wings, belt buckles, and shirt-piping. The girls in red, by the way, were not the Louisville cheerleaders as we had hoped, but the Dayton softball team. Some actual lookers in their ranks. Good for them! Several hours later, we go back and crash, but not before a brief detour at Crossroads (the bar from the first night for those playing along) to scope out the adorable bartender that JG willed into existence. This time, he really outdid himself, as she was dancing on the bar when we walked in. Breathtaking. We did not stay long, as the place was really packed and it was getting late. All in all, a fine Saturday. Not as exploratory as it should have been, but hey, a good time is a good time.

Day 4 (Sunday): more live basketball. The games were both extremely entertaining, as Florida and douchey Matt Walsh had their asses handed to them by Villanova and Louisville sent the Big Aussie Clown and his posse on their merry way. Our pre-game meal was at Demos, where the food was, once again, "the bomb." That's in quotes, because our recently hired waitress (the exception that proves our previous hotness rule) used that phrase three times to describe menu items. After the games finished, we went back to Wild Horse for a couple of beers before the taps went dry for the evening. We shot a few games of pool before packing it in. Since we had to be up super early the next day, we just went back to the hotel. And that's it for Sunday.

The Drive Home (Monday): We hit the road at exactly 6am. I slept for much more of this drive than I did the drive down, I think. Not much to really report, as the drive was mostly uneventful. The only thing to note is that JG has an uncanny ability to find Pizza Hut lunch buffets, as he did in SW Virginia. The town name is escaping me now...Marion, I think. A most impressive skill. And delicious, too! Our timing was perfect, as it did not start to fill with the lunch rush until we got there. Some hours later, I was sitting on a Metro train taking me back into the city. All in all, it was a great trip. Not as particularly bawdy as I/we might have hoped, but nothing bad can be said about the experience. I really like the city and look forward to going back, which will be this summer with any luck.

And that, my friends, is all I have to say about that.

Nashville: Day 2

(You know, next time I'm on a trip and I have plans to document, I should probably take notes, because my laziness and generally bad memory are not making two week later recall any easier.)

A brief addendum to day one: when we left the bar Thursday night, or perhaps even while we were there, I turned to JG and said, "I think you willed that girl [the hot bartender] into existence." I swear, tailor-made for him she was. Now then...

The second day in Nashville was about basketball. After a pretty decent night of sleep, during which I guess I did a little bit of talking (and I remember the dreams from that night; consequently, I did not press the issue in terms of what I was saying when JG told me of my antics), we woke up, scrubbed ourselves clean, and made the trip to the arena. On the way, we stopped at Walgreen's so I could pick up some nail clippers. On the way out, I dropped the receipt. Given the tidiness of the area, and my own personal litter-free philosophy, I went to pick it up. Just as soon as it hit the ground, a huge gust of wind grabbed it and took off. For some reason (again, I think I felt obligated to keep the area clean), I gave chase. This did not last long, as the wind-swept paper kicked it into another gear and blew well ahead of me. Still, I chased it long enough to look ridiculous, but (thankfully) not long enough for JG to capture it on film.

So, we get down to Gaylord and slowly make our way inside. The complex is a nice one, though, I'm too architecturally stupid to do it justice. It was thoroughly modern, as is to be expected, but was small enough that, as sports/entertainment complexes go, had a very intimate feel to it. As a matter of fact, I would say there was not a bad seat in the arena. We certainly had an excellent view of the action. The games slated for that day:

Ohio vs. Florida
New Mexico vs. Villanova
Louisiana-Lafayette vs. Louisville
George Washington vs. Georgia Tech

Since the games are now two weeks old, I won't go into much of the action. I will say that, of the four, Ohio vs. Florida was my favorite. Ohio's comeback from 20 down in the second half was a lot of fun, especially since I was sitting next to a douchebag Florida fan and his son. This guy was hilarious, chanting "Gator Bait!" in his thick Flemish accent, then becoming outraged when his team nearly choked itself out of the first round. What's better is that he tried to blame the officiating, implying they weren't calling anything on Ohio, even though they had whistled the Bobcats 10 times in the first 10 minutes of the second half, while only calling 7 or 8 on his beloved Gators. It was quite a joy to be chanting "O-H-I-O" with the Bobcats fans. Even though I had Florida winning in my brackets, as JG said, it's hard not to pull for the underdog in that atmosphere. And hey, I'm an Ohio boy. Go Bobcats!

The other games were also fun and closely matched, though, by the end of the GW/Georgia Tech game, I think most of the crowd was just wiped out. That's a lot of basketball in one day. Other notes:

The "C-A-R-D-S Cards!" chant got stuck in my head, big time.

Georgia Tech had the best pep band, by far. I mean, not even close. Case in point: they had the decency to do "Oye Como Va" while the GW band (I think it was them) played that shitty Santana song from about six years ago. You know the one. I can't remember the assbag who did the vocals, except he was in the band that ripped off The Zombies around the same time. Can somebody help me out here? (Though, I think I'd prefer my ignorance on this matter.)

The pep bands really need to expand their repertoire. There were at least four songs that got repeated throughout the day.

The chili cheese dog was a mistake.

After the games, we went off in search of a means to sate JG's hunger for Italian. We passed a couple of places, but they were a bit pricey (more of a concern for me, admittedly). We eventually found Demos' Steak and Spaghetti House. No wait, no screaming decor, and some quality food. It was a perfectly relaxing end to an exhausting and emotionally charged day.

From there, it was back to the hotel and quickly conking out.

Next up: Day Three. Teaser: Isaac Hayes + Cosby sweater = tragicomedy!

The Road to the Final Four
(or, JG and Vega$ do Nashville)

If anybody has noticed the lack of activity in this spot, well, it's because I'm pretty lazy about updating this thing anymore. However, the last week it has been due to a road trip to the great city of Nashville in order to view some quality college basketball as part of the opening rounds of the NCAA tournament. We (that would be JG and I) departed stupid early on St. Patrick's Day, returning this past Monday (errr, two Mondays ago at the time of publication). The following is an account (how detailed it turns out to be has not been determined; see my previous remarks re: laziness) of this trip. No embellishments were made and everything is guaranteed 100% true. And if you don't believe me, just ask JG or myself. I'm sure you will find that our stories corroborate.

Day 1

This starts with a 4:30am wakeup in order to get on the road at 6. JG and I are completely loaded into the car and ready to go at 6:16. The morning drive is mostly uneventful, with little traffic to speak of. Then, an hour or so into the trip, the weather takes a turn for the comical, as it starts to snow. That's right: snow in Southwestern Virginia, at a time when many kids around the country are about to start their spring break. Good times. We make a stop for gas, where I also buy myself a nastyass bear claw, some chili cheese Fritos (for snacking later), and a tasty beverage. After a smoke and a smash, we head back out on the road. We pick up the ESPN affiliate and are disgusted that they are already doing a poll to talk about what should be the lead story on Sportscenter: the opening of the steroid hearings (but remember, Kucinich says it's "not a witch hunt") or the opening day of the NCAA tournament. So we flip through the stations and happen upon the Flemish morning zoo type show. (Note: Flemish was our code word for "Southern" for this trip. I forget how that came up.) This was hilarious, as the morning crew was doing some bit where they were all Irish (it's St. Patrick's Day, dont'cha know) and were telling some story, but for the life of me, between the comedy of Les Cracquers doing an Irish accent and the fact that they were cracking themselves up while doing so, I could not tell you what the story was about. But the punchline was "Prostitutes? I thought you said Protestants!"

Our next stop, some six hours into the trip, was at a Wal-Mart in Bristol, VA, where we picked up snacks intended for the duration of the trip, and some disposable cameras. In the check-out line, we were behind a mother and her daughter, who looked to be three years old. The girl was cute and kept babbling, as children do. Given her age, I would have assumed that some actual words would be in the child's vocabulary. But I swear, what she was saying was not of this world. She said something in my direction, and I turned to JG and said, "I'm sorry, I don't speak Flemish." Chuckles!

We then went over to Damon's to get lunch and watch some tournament games, which had already started. Nothing much to report from here, except that it started my run of meals that included some sort of pork product. Check that: it continued it, as JG and I had dinner at Southside 815 the night before and I had some sort of fried pork sammich. From there, we got back on the road. Most of the next part of the drive was uneventful, as far as I can tell, as I slept through a decent part of it. Though, I will say that the near head-on collision with a big ass truck (which I caught on camera!) was hilarious, if nearly pantwetting.

Our next stop was...Knoxville? Shoot. I can't remember where it was, I think it was just before Knoxville proper. I just know it was at a Dairy Queen, where we stretched our legs, got some beverage, and returned the calls of one Mr. O. (I got voicemail.) After some more photo ops, including a shot of Dairy Queen's brutally honest depiction of their breakfast combo, we hit the road again. A few hours later, we're in Nashville. By the by, if these times I'm posting are inaccurate, well, it was nearly two weeks ago and I slept a lot while we were on the road, so deal with it.

The traffic getting into the city is pretty terrible, as we hit town right at rush hour. Not good for JG's nerves. Combined with his sleep deprivation from the last week and the loooong drive, it had a very zombifying effect on him. As we're turning right onto Charlotte (or was it Church?), I point to JG's left, "Hey! There's Anothy's Showplace!" Well, this startled him, as he briefly took his hands off the wheel and was completely befuddled for a second, later telling me that he thought he had missed a turn. We get to the hotel, doing a circuit around it trying to find the non-valet parking (turns out there isn't any). I jump out and check us in while JG handles the parking. The lobby is decorated with Georgia Tech banners. Turns out, the Yellow Jackets were staying in the same hotel. Unfortunately, there were no Ronald McDonald-looking seven foot Aussie's lumbering around when we checked in. Room keys and cookies in hand (I *heart* the Doubletree), I meet JG downstairs, where he's finishing up the valet paperwork. We grab a bellman's cart, unload the car, and Nathan--the valet/bellman--helps us bring up our stuff. After some friendly chit-chat and tipping, JG and I begin to decompress. After some sufficient relaxation, we decide to walk to the Gaylord Center to see how long it will take to get there from the hotel. After reaching our destination some five minutes later, we go in search of beer and vittles. We walk by a bar and JG stops and says, let's go check this out. I walk back. "It's dead." We continue walking again. "No, let's go check this out." We go back, hesitate in the doorway, before one of the bartenders says c'mon in! So we do. We take a seat right at the bar. The place truly is dead, save ourselves, the two bartenders, and the three performers onstage. But, as it turns out, JG made the right call.

Exhibit A: the cutest damn bartender ever. EVER. She was totally a JG girl. (I won't elaborate; those who know JG will know exactly what I'm talking about.) She was flat out adorable. And she had the cutest Flemish accent, with just a trace of that helium-influenced young girl sound. Awesome.

Exhibit B: she and the other bartender (an older lass) were experimenting with new drinks. Since nobody else was around, and they couldn't really drink them, we got to sample them. By my estimate, we got three or four free shots. A Covered Wagon, a Six Shooter, Cowboy Candy, and Spitfire. Those are the ones I remember.

Exhibit C: being St. Patrick's Day, they had some drink specials. No green beer, but green shots were just $2 a piece. Apple Pucker is a green shot. I asked how much it would take to fill up the drink cup (that previously contained my Six Shooter, which is like a Flemish version of a Long Island Iced Tea) with some delicious pucker. She said she couldn't fill up that cup, but she would gladly pour shots from a small shot glass into a very large one. Worked for me. Four shots got it filled, and boy they were delicious. So much so that I got four more soon after.

Exhibit D: good music, provided by Julie Raye, Chicken and Kenzie. Mostly covers, and mostly just guitar and voice (provided by Chicken and Julie, respectively), with hot fiddler Kenzie occassionally joining in on fiddle, or taking lead vocals. It was pretty nice.

JG and I were there for about four hours before we decided to head back to the hotel and get a good night's sleep before day one of hot basketball action.

And that wraps up day one of the trip. I think I will be posting these by day, instead of putting it all into one gigantic post. This is done because of my laziness and attention span.

Well, let's see. I've got a belly full of beer (Super Mug!) and bar food, a cold, and a bit of the old sleep deprivation. Now, obviously, is not the time to recount the Nashville trip.

However, as teasers, I give you some choice lines:

"Prostitutes? I thought you said Protestants!"

"I'm sorry. I don't speak Flemish."

"I'm pretty sure you willed that girl into existence."

"Go back to Philadelphia!" (And JG's too late but still funnier than "jerkstore!" comeback: "If by Philadelphia you mean Syracuse...")

"Dokun Akingbade in for Pops Mensah-Bonsu." (It helps if you know how to pronounce the former.)

"I posted up Luke Schenscher!"

"You know the secret handshake. Just fix this!"

And etc.

After the torrid tales of Nashville, I believe I will be taking a break from this blog in order to get focus on some other things going on 'round these parts. Fortunately, I've been conditioning you, the loyal reader, for this for some time now. And you thought the slow trickle of posts was a sign of laziness and indifference. Ha! If I come across something that I absolutely need to talk about, I'll post it here. Otherwise, I'll likely only be posting over at MG, as I have a few albums/issues I want to discuss. I'm also aiming for a new site design here, though that is certainly not a priority.

Is that 20-sided die standard issue, maggot?! It's okay, Poindexter. There's still plenty of room in the Gygax Army.

Taipei 101 Tower is now the world's tallest. I like the bamboo-styled sectioning of the tower's design. I bet getting carryout from there is a bitch, though.

Still, despite its impressive appearance, I question the sanity of building it only 650 feet from a fault line, no matter the feats of engineering involved.

Click for image.

Some backlash against the previous Pope article to which I previously linked.

Both of these links, FYI, I found here. I didn't even catch this link the first time I read that post.

I don't pretend to know what's going on with the modern Catholic, but I'm just a little disturbed by the vitriol and persecution complexes on display in those comments. Can someone please explain to me the "hatred that...Catholics encounter"? Is it part of the pedophile priest backlash, or is there something more that I am missing? Or has this just been going on forever and I've never picked up on it before? I'm honestly curious.

Oh boy...

Pope!

Over-the-top, but occasionally funny. Good enough, eh?

Plus: We'll never get to hear his hilarious post-tracheotomy rendition of "Come On Eileen."