"Here we go!" I wanted to hyper link the fuck out of that quote, but because I am lazy and only a level 12 internets user, I was unable to. Sorry...
One of the many things I love about this city is how small it is, or maybe how small it seems to me now. It's part of the charm of Seattle. When I first moved here a little over 5 years ago this place seemed really huge and foreboding. I felt disconnected from everything , especially since I came from a small town in eastern Washington, where everyone knew how his or her dog was doing. This went on for about a year, but slowly the city started to unfold and then shrink. Until, one day I realized that I knew the names of more streets here, than I ever did in my home town. So began my quest for understanding of it's various areas and neighborhoods which brings me to last Friday night.
It was my co-workers last day, before he begins his new life with a far better organization, had invited me to go see his buddies band at a rather cool venue in the Fremont district. The band "Seaweedjack", the venue , High Dive. By the time I arrived Seaweedjack had already played their set which is too bad because they aren't that bad. I paid the 7 dollar cover charge anyway because my friend was still in there, and there were three other bands playing that night. One of which was "The Trucks", who I absolutely hate. They make that kind of chick rock that is supposed to be empowering in a funny/ironic way, but to me it just sounds like 4 women in their early 30's who don't know how to play their instruments and all secretly wish they were dudes. The worst part about the Trucks is that they are some sort of scenester band here, because they were able to win over a very elitist group of other scenesters in a very elitist bar on Capitol Hill, or so I've heard. Anyway, I recognize their sound the minute I start politely fighting my way through the crowd. I find my friend quickly because the High Dive is very quaint for a place that hosts bands and by quaint I mean smaller than the chance of us 'regular' people seeing a shot of Britney Spears pantie-less waist. Oh, wait...OK so it was an obvious joke, but would it have been funnier if I had written "smaller than Bob Dole's genitalia before Viagra"? No, because that joke would have been dated and way out of context, not to mention homo erotic in a very weird way.
So to get back to the story. There I am sitting in a bar, a very loud (but good) band by the name of "Shim" is rocking out. Due to the music, I was unable to hear anyone around me including my colleague. Which is where I get to the point. Fremont, is an extremely ideal neighborhood. It has great access to 2 of the major arteries of this city, which include I-5 and 99. Not to mention that it has excellent bay views of downtown including such as picturesque spots involving the renowned Space Needle. Fremont's bane however, is it's nightlife.
Fremont is where Frat doods and Sorority gurlz go when they are tired of getting hit in the head with skateboards (trucked) or want to feel more sophisticated. They do this by drinking 40 ouncers from a brown bag in a bar. That's what I call 'classy'! I realize that there are no 40's there, but you get the idea.
As I sat, I watched 4 girls get knocked over violently without excuse, 4 drinks get knocked over on tables around me and on me with zero apologies. This could all be chalked up to drunkeness and tight spaces. But when 4 or 5 people "throw bows" in less than an hour you might begin to wonder, not only about the human race, but why you are there in the first place.
I remained during the whole Shim set, because they continued to be quite excellent. Still, people were absolutely retarded in their behavior, which is a testament to the type of respect the people who frequent the Fremont area. Not to say that they are all a bunch of entitled fucks. Though they are.
The point is that I found 10 bucks the other day.
PS: My DVR just recorded "Prison Break" and "24". I haven't watched Prison Break in 8 months but from the previews that I saw tonight, with their shaved heads and what-not, I am sure not much time could have progressed.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
we call it a "redux version" in the biz
OK, so I am late in posting again, I apologize. Also, I am not going to do that "Top Secret" post that I promised you a couple of days ago, because I don't want to give you some half-baked piece of shit I was into posting on MySpace. Instead, I am going to leave you with something I wrote many months ago but am still very proud of. I will return next Monday with that bi-weekly thing next week. Wordles.
Originally posted on MySpace Friday, March 17, 2006
| Title: The Token Gay Guy: Lance I've said it before and I'll say it again, being a rapper is really hard. But I've found at least one shortcut in my daily rap life (or 'game' as we rappers like to call it). The shortcut? Hydration. Yes, at the behest of my good friend Danny and his lovely girlfriend I was instructed to try a flavor of "vitamanwater" by GLACEAU. Not just any flavor though, this one is edgy and hip, it's called "Formula 50" and it gets it's name from the best 50 in the world. Who else could I be talking about other than the Mr. Half-dollar himself, Fifty Cent. |
Monday, March 26, 2007
common is a sell-out
Let's talk about commercials. I hate'em, you hate'em, we all hate'em. However, lately there has been a rash of commercials that I have been really enjoying. Let's start with my muse for this post. It's a Gap commercial, entitled "Boyfriend Trousers".
Did you like it? It's actually pretty hard to resist, I know this because I have spoken to many others about this advert and they agree with me. This ad is mega-twee. Yes, that is none other than Claire Daines prancing (floating on air powered only by her uber-cuteness) around in those rather hot little silken boxers and an over sized shirt, while Peter "Did anyone see the Phantom of the Opera the movie? No? Well, maybe I'll land a role that you will give a shit about soon." Wilson hams it up as her "boyfriend". Yes his middle name is that long, here's the acronym: D.A.S.P.O.M.N.W.M.L.R.T.Y.W.G.S.A.S.? If that isn't enough they are rocking out to none other than "Anything You Can Do" from the Broadway show, "Annie, Get Your Gun." I am kind of gay for knowing that, but now you can share in my gayness. The only thing that bothers me about this commercial is the fact that no girl, no matter how hot she is, looks good in her boyfriend's pants, even to their boyfriends. Though to be honest, most girls would look a lot better in my pants than I do, mainly because I have a rather girlish figure, minus the breasts, hips and booty. Oh, and the ample endowment of my generous package. I know those last two sentences were awkward, but if you think about them for a minute they make sense.
Another commercial that I like? Why it's the new one from Right Guard, featuring one of the most alluring women I have ever seen. Not since those 'Why wait' commercials from Snickers have I wanted to purchase a product more. I see this campaign and think; "Holy christ! All I have to do is switch to RGX body spray instead of AXE, and I will avoid the avalanche of girls I am so stealthfully dodging, and will somehow end up with a moderate skirt wearing brunette with almond shaped eyes, a coyly unbuttoned shirt, and perfect skin?! Where can I buy a case of this amazing shit?"
Some of the other spots I really like are the Geico ones with the cavemen, and the HP ads with the people dancing, mainly because they are so technically brilliant. So where am I going with this? Well, I think advertisers and the people who create ads have really begun to figure out what works. With the exception of those abhorrent Chevy ads, in which we are forced to listen to that mega-cheesy, ear bleedingly awful country song, while being subjected to "manly" imagery. Those commercials have the exact opposite effect on me than the two I mentioned above. They make me feel hate for people who buy trucks, enjoy country music, and own farms. Normally, I wouldn't hate these people, I grew up around people that love trucks, Hank Williams, and the American Way. But Christ, if I don't want to weep for this nation every time I hear those hackneyed lyrics sung. You want to know who sings that? John Mellancamp! Have you listened to the whole song? He uses every cliche in the book and then writes a few of his own. But that's an entry all it's own.
Thats about all I have to say about that stuff. I wanted to be more poignant here but I am already late with this post. I do want to tell you about a couple of interesting things I'm pretty into right now.
1: The new Andrew Bird album is out and it is fucking rad.
2: Wayne Coyne of The Flaming Lips recently stated in a interview that they are turning the album "Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots" into a Broadway musical. It just so happens that I will be in New York when it is said to be in production so I am pretty stoked for that. You should be too.
3: Tune in tomorrow when I will be posting my Top Secret bi-weekly feature. You will hopefully not be disappointed.
Thanks for always being there for me interwebs!
Did you like it? It's actually pretty hard to resist, I know this because I have spoken to many others about this advert and they agree with me. This ad is mega-twee. Yes, that is none other than Claire Daines prancing (floating on air powered only by her uber-cuteness) around in those rather hot little silken boxers and an over sized shirt, while Peter "Did anyone see the Phantom of the Opera the movie? No? Well, maybe I'll land a role that you will give a shit about soon." Wilson hams it up as her "boyfriend". Yes his middle name is that long, here's the acronym: D.A.S.P.O.M.N.W.M.L.R.T.Y.W.G.S.A.S.? If that isn't enough they are rocking out to none other than "Anything You Can Do" from the Broadway show, "Annie, Get Your Gun." I am kind of gay for knowing that, but now you can share in my gayness. The only thing that bothers me about this commercial is the fact that no girl, no matter how hot she is, looks good in her boyfriend's pants, even to their boyfriends. Though to be honest, most girls would look a lot better in my pants than I do, mainly because I have a rather girlish figure, minus the breasts, hips and booty. Oh, and the ample endowment of my generous package. I know those last two sentences were awkward, but if you think about them for a minute they make sense.
Another commercial that I like? Why it's the new one from Right Guard, featuring one of the most alluring women I have ever seen. Not since those 'Why wait' commercials from Snickers have I wanted to purchase a product more. I see this campaign and think; "Holy christ! All I have to do is switch to RGX body spray instead of AXE, and I will avoid the avalanche of girls I am so stealthfully dodging, and will somehow end up with a moderate skirt wearing brunette with almond shaped eyes, a coyly unbuttoned shirt, and perfect skin?! Where can I buy a case of this amazing shit?"
Some of the other spots I really like are the Geico ones with the cavemen, and the HP ads with the people dancing, mainly because they are so technically brilliant. So where am I going with this? Well, I think advertisers and the people who create ads have really begun to figure out what works. With the exception of those abhorrent Chevy ads, in which we are forced to listen to that mega-cheesy, ear bleedingly awful country song, while being subjected to "manly" imagery. Those commercials have the exact opposite effect on me than the two I mentioned above. They make me feel hate for people who buy trucks, enjoy country music, and own farms. Normally, I wouldn't hate these people, I grew up around people that love trucks, Hank Williams, and the American Way. But Christ, if I don't want to weep for this nation every time I hear those hackneyed lyrics sung. You want to know who sings that? John Mellancamp! Have you listened to the whole song? He uses every cliche in the book and then writes a few of his own. But that's an entry all it's own.
Thats about all I have to say about that stuff. I wanted to be more poignant here but I am already late with this post. I do want to tell you about a couple of interesting things I'm pretty into right now.
1: The new Andrew Bird album is out and it is fucking rad.
2: Wayne Coyne of The Flaming Lips recently stated in a interview that they are turning the album "Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots" into a Broadway musical. It just so happens that I will be in New York when it is said to be in production so I am pretty stoked for that. You should be too.
3: Tune in tomorrow when I will be posting my Top Secret bi-weekly feature. You will hopefully not be disappointed.
Thanks for always being there for me interwebs!
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
also: backwards baseball caps
Being the self-proclaimed sole arbiter of all that is cool is not all milk and honey. It means I have to make tough decisions, like our president, I'm a decider. So, the other day I decided once and for all that I would be the one to rid this world of a fashion scourge that doesn't seem to want to die. Sure, it will disappear for a few decades but it always seems to come back and I for one am sick of it. What is this cancer-like fad I am talking about you ask? Why it's none other than the polo with a "popped" collar, like the one seen on this douche.
That's right internets, the buck stops here. But before I get into how I am going to eradicate this plague on society, how about a little history lesson?
The year was 1953, America was still high on the fact that we won a war, and got the chance to drop huge bombs on some innocent Japanese people. Still, America was very uptight, you might even call it starchy. That was until Eric T. Wickenspat arrived on the scene. At the time Mr. Wickenspat was but a young lad of the ripe age of 19. He was not a very popular guy, infact one might even go as far as to say he was the very antithesis of popular. That was until one fateful day. The day was like any other, Eric got up at the very uncool hour of 6am, he proceeded to go into his morning routine. Shave, shower, possibly masturbate, and then he would get dressed. It was in that final stage of his routine that he would change the world as we know it.
The story goes that his antics (*wink* *wink*) in the shower had made him late for school so he had to get dressed fast. He threw on some jeans and a nice polo shirt, making sure that the collar was straight as he ran out of the door, nearly forgetting the lunch his mother had made for him. He climbed aboard his Schwinn and was off like a rocket, it was a windy day and Eric was riding fast, but the his collar held firm in it's natural position. Looking at his watch he noticed that he only had 8 minutes before the first bell rang and he couldn't be tardy again! So he took the shortcut through Ol'Mr. Johnston's yard, which was full of trees that had really spindly branches that shot out in every direction, those branches had the annoying albeit uncanny ability to pop collars. Yet somehow Eric managed to dodge them all, laughing maniacally and saying "Not today you silly trees! My collar will remain unpopped till the day I die!"
Emerging from Ol'Mr. Johnston's forest like yard, Eric was still chuckling to himself, but the laughter would be cut short, as a series of tragic events involving a narrow miss by a Studebaker, poodle, run-away lawn mower, and a girl from Eric's school in a poodle skirt would end his life, think "Final Destination" only with better acting. Curiously during all of this Eric's collar became popped. Word spread like wild fire of the young mans death and his mysterious uncouth collar. So out of an act of solidarity and remembrance for this hapless loser his classmates popped their collars as well.
So now you know. It's kind of sad when you think about it because it started off as something very noble, then the 80's got a hold of it and just drove it into the ground, like the 80's tend to do. Damn you 80's!
Back to the point of this meandorous blahg. The only way we are going to end this fad is to tell these people that they are in fact tool boxes. I am not saying you should walk up to them and say "Listen here tool box. That pink polo is bad enough without the whole popped collar thing. Would you just do us all a favor and throw yourself in to a wood chipper?" While that would be incredibly effective, it would likely invite a free ass whoopin'. I suggest a more subtle approach, for instance make fun of him in a more round about fashion. That's more my style, some biting snark usually gets your point across, without the oh so painful broken nose. Also ladies, this all really lies with you, you see I have made many a fashion faux-pas in my day but when a girl laughs in my face over it I tend to not make the same mistake twice! Easy.
If that fails, my other plan involves detention centers, a veritable bevy of highly illegal torture methods (a la the American government), and ultimately the sale of these doods into white slavery. No one said it was going to be easy.
That's right internets, the buck stops here. But before I get into how I am going to eradicate this plague on society, how about a little history lesson?
The year was 1953, America was still high on the fact that we won a war, and got the chance to drop huge bombs on some innocent Japanese people. Still, America was very uptight, you might even call it starchy. That was until Eric T. Wickenspat arrived on the scene. At the time Mr. Wickenspat was but a young lad of the ripe age of 19. He was not a very popular guy, infact one might even go as far as to say he was the very antithesis of popular. That was until one fateful day. The day was like any other, Eric got up at the very uncool hour of 6am, he proceeded to go into his morning routine. Shave, shower, possibly masturbate, and then he would get dressed. It was in that final stage of his routine that he would change the world as we know it.
The story goes that his antics (*wink* *wink*) in the shower had made him late for school so he had to get dressed fast. He threw on some jeans and a nice polo shirt, making sure that the collar was straight as he ran out of the door, nearly forgetting the lunch his mother had made for him. He climbed aboard his Schwinn and was off like a rocket, it was a windy day and Eric was riding fast, but the his collar held firm in it's natural position. Looking at his watch he noticed that he only had 8 minutes before the first bell rang and he couldn't be tardy again! So he took the shortcut through Ol'Mr. Johnston's yard, which was full of trees that had really spindly branches that shot out in every direction, those branches had the annoying albeit uncanny ability to pop collars. Yet somehow Eric managed to dodge them all, laughing maniacally and saying "Not today you silly trees! My collar will remain unpopped till the day I die!"
Emerging from Ol'Mr. Johnston's forest like yard, Eric was still chuckling to himself, but the laughter would be cut short, as a series of tragic events involving a narrow miss by a Studebaker, poodle, run-away lawn mower, and a girl from Eric's school in a poodle skirt would end his life, think "Final Destination" only with better acting. Curiously during all of this Eric's collar became popped. Word spread like wild fire of the young mans death and his mysterious uncouth collar. So out of an act of solidarity and remembrance for this hapless loser his classmates popped their collars as well.
So now you know. It's kind of sad when you think about it because it started off as something very noble, then the 80's got a hold of it and just drove it into the ground, like the 80's tend to do. Damn you 80's!
Back to the point of this meandorous blahg. The only way we are going to end this fad is to tell these people that they are in fact tool boxes. I am not saying you should walk up to them and say "Listen here tool box. That pink polo is bad enough without the whole popped collar thing. Would you just do us all a favor and throw yourself in to a wood chipper?" While that would be incredibly effective, it would likely invite a free ass whoopin'. I suggest a more subtle approach, for instance make fun of him in a more round about fashion. That's more my style, some biting snark usually gets your point across, without the oh so painful broken nose. Also ladies, this all really lies with you, you see I have made many a fashion faux-pas in my day but when a girl laughs in my face over it I tend to not make the same mistake twice! Easy.
If that fails, my other plan involves detention centers, a veritable bevy of highly illegal torture methods (a la the American government), and ultimately the sale of these doods into white slavery. No one said it was going to be easy.
Friday, March 16, 2007
"Ice cream and cake."
In my line of work you never know what exotic location you'll find yourself filming high school sports in next. Sometimes it's the arid wasteland of Yakima or it's the dark reaches of Aberdeen WA, who's oh so catchy slogan is "Come as you are." That phrase was coined by some whiny dude who wore flannel and shot himself in the face. I think his name was Kurt Koban or something. Anyway a few weeks ago I had the great pleasure of filming at the Everett Event Center, home to some of the best monster truck rallies this side of the Mississip! What was I there to film?
The second biggest high school cheerleading event in the state, that's what.
To be more precise this was cheerleading/drill/dance. Meaning that there were two stages. One was for the traditional cheerleading stuff you see at football games, girls getting tossed in the air, and lots of "spirit fingers". The other stage was for something my high school didn't have (and probably wouldn't have tolerated) a dance/drill "team". These teams had creative names like "Tacoma Hip-Hop", "Poulsbo Hip-Hop", and the ever popular "Hip-Hop-Hip-Hop". They would do their routines to only the highest quality of dance music. You know what I'm talking about, the stuff that degrades women on the constant, while somehow being just catchy enough that people over the age of 40 won't notice how disgusting the lyrics their retarded children are dancing to are. I think I was really the only one there who saw the irony or maybe not, irony is such a hard thing to make out these days. Besides if those stupid kids like dancing to crappy music who am I to call them retarded, even if they are just a little bit.
After about 6 hours and 100 plus routines, a woman walked out into the middle of the dance routine stage. The other camera guys and I breathed a deep sigh of relief knowing that this was where they would start to hand out awards and we would soon be heading home. But this was exactly when things got weird. Quite inexplicably, cheerleaders started forming what I can only describe as ranks in front of the woman, who will hence forth be referred to as the General. After about five minutes, 300 girls had formed 15 neat little rows in front of the General. What happened next was hilarious, bazaar, and has left me with many unanswered questions to this day.
The General spoke, "Aten' hut!" and I shit you not all of the cheerleader snapped to attention just like soldiers, feet together, chins up, eyes forward, hands and arms pressed firmly to their sides. I was aghast, so were my colleagues, I think we simultaneously said "What-the-fuck." It didn't stop there however, the General barked a few more orders and the girls, turned, twirled, and saluted, in sync.
What freaked me out, was the fact that they all new what to do after each command. Keep in mind that all of them were from different schools aw well as from different parts of the state. So how the hell did they all know the commands? They certainly didn't have enough time to learn them at the event and all be in perfect sync. It was as if they were specially trained at some sort of boot camp. Trained to shoot wooden emotionless smiles, instead of shooting guns, throw back flips instead of grenades. It was an army of teenaged cheerleaders, it was clear these were not your average cheerleaders. These girls were probably all under the age of 18 but they had truly seen some shit. Like the battle of Auburn vs Auburn Riverside, I was there, it rained the whole time but those cheerleaders never gave up, they just kept on doing hand stands and chiding their rivals by chanting "We've got spirit/yes we do/we've got spirit/how'bout you!" To which their rivals would reply in kind, only louder. I barely survived that game, in fact I now suffer from PTS because of it. On top of all that, we lost two really good interns, the doctors said something about bad hot chocolate.
I digress, we eventually figured out that it was just a really huge game of Simon Says. Still, I entertained the thought that they might actually be training to go fight in Iraq. How freakin' cool would that be! Those darn insurgents would be so terrified, they would quit with the IED's and go back to China, or wherever!
The second biggest high school cheerleading event in the state, that's what.
To be more precise this was cheerleading/drill/dance. Meaning that there were two stages. One was for the traditional cheerleading stuff you see at football games, girls getting tossed in the air, and lots of "spirit fingers". The other stage was for something my high school didn't have (and probably wouldn't have tolerated) a dance/drill "team". These teams had creative names like "Tacoma Hip-Hop", "Poulsbo Hip-Hop", and the ever popular "Hip-Hop-Hip-Hop". They would do their routines to only the highest quality of dance music. You know what I'm talking about, the stuff that degrades women on the constant, while somehow being just catchy enough that people over the age of 40 won't notice how disgusting the lyrics their retarded children are dancing to are. I think I was really the only one there who saw the irony or maybe not, irony is such a hard thing to make out these days. Besides if those stupid kids like dancing to crappy music who am I to call them retarded, even if they are just a little bit.
After about 6 hours and 100 plus routines, a woman walked out into the middle of the dance routine stage. The other camera guys and I breathed a deep sigh of relief knowing that this was where they would start to hand out awards and we would soon be heading home. But this was exactly when things got weird. Quite inexplicably, cheerleaders started forming what I can only describe as ranks in front of the woman, who will hence forth be referred to as the General. After about five minutes, 300 girls had formed 15 neat little rows in front of the General. What happened next was hilarious, bazaar, and has left me with many unanswered questions to this day.
The General spoke, "Aten' hut!" and I shit you not all of the cheerleader snapped to attention just like soldiers, feet together, chins up, eyes forward, hands and arms pressed firmly to their sides. I was aghast, so were my colleagues, I think we simultaneously said "What-the-fuck." It didn't stop there however, the General barked a few more orders and the girls, turned, twirled, and saluted, in sync.
What freaked me out, was the fact that they all new what to do after each command. Keep in mind that all of them were from different schools aw well as from different parts of the state. So how the hell did they all know the commands? They certainly didn't have enough time to learn them at the event and all be in perfect sync. It was as if they were specially trained at some sort of boot camp. Trained to shoot wooden emotionless smiles, instead of shooting guns, throw back flips instead of grenades. It was an army of teenaged cheerleaders, it was clear these were not your average cheerleaders. These girls were probably all under the age of 18 but they had truly seen some shit. Like the battle of Auburn vs Auburn Riverside, I was there, it rained the whole time but those cheerleaders never gave up, they just kept on doing hand stands and chiding their rivals by chanting "We've got spirit/yes we do/we've got spirit/how'bout you!" To which their rivals would reply in kind, only louder. I barely survived that game, in fact I now suffer from PTS because of it. On top of all that, we lost two really good interns, the doctors said something about bad hot chocolate.
I digress, we eventually figured out that it was just a really huge game of Simon Says. Still, I entertained the thought that they might actually be training to go fight in Iraq. How freakin' cool would that be! Those darn insurgents would be so terrified, they would quit with the IED's and go back to China, or wherever!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
How's it going internets?!
Well, holy crap, it certainly has been awhile since I did one of these here "blog" things. Why start again now/here? It's because I'm a talentless internet hack who can't figure out how to get his shitty website up, and Enron asked me to start writing again so I'm doing it.
Before I really begin here are a couple of things about this new blog.
1: Those of you who read or followed my MySpace blog are going to have to get used to something new. After reviewing a lot of entries I realized something; I am way too personal. I wear my heart on my sleeve in real life I don't need to wear it here on the interweb.
2: I promise to not do crazy rants about shit I don't understand, that doesn't mean I am not going to rant, it just means I am going to be a little more careful.
At any rate, I will post a new entry every Monday and Wednesday, and with any luck a bi-weekly special post involving something I was trying to incorporate into my site. I'm happy to have my little internet soap box back and I hope you are as well.
Also check out Enron's blog http://savagejourneys.blogspot.com/ , she's in Borneo or Snabhanistan or something, trying to save the world. Hippie.
Before I really begin here are a couple of things about this new blog.
1: Those of you who read or followed my MySpace blog are going to have to get used to something new. After reviewing a lot of entries I realized something; I am way too personal. I wear my heart on my sleeve in real life I don't need to wear it here on the interweb.
2: I promise to not do crazy rants about shit I don't understand, that doesn't mean I am not going to rant, it just means I am going to be a little more careful.
At any rate, I will post a new entry every Monday and Wednesday, and with any luck a bi-weekly special post involving something I was trying to incorporate into my site. I'm happy to have my little internet soap box back and I hope you are as well.
Also check out Enron's blog http://savagejourneys.blogspot
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