Dork Week rages on! Today's foray in to nerdom is about music, because on Wednesdays I like to update the "Recommended Listening" section with a band that I am kind of into right now. So I'm going to hit you with a little story.
It's 1994, I am 12 years old, and obsessed with videogames. Music is far from my realm of understanding. What I do understand though is that the soundtrack to Final Fantasy III is one of best things I have ever heard. I was so in love with it's 16bit goodness that you could often find me humming some of the more memorable tunes even when I wasn't playing. Back then the internet was just a toddler but you could still download crap off of it. I scoured it high and low looking for .wav files that conta....
...sorry everyone my internets are down again I am posting from a cell phone, right now. I'll fix it tommorow.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
of nerds
Welcome back to Dork Week! I return with yet another personal tale of my dalliances with the nerd kind. Though this is an old post I wrote on MySpace, I think it works well here given the theme and tone. I never said that all of the entries this week were going to be gems. I would love to post everyday with original content but I have a job that takes up a good majority of my life. A job that gives me money, the only thing this blahg gives me is "ego dollars", which they don't except at the liquor store despite my pleading.
Originally posted on MySpace Friday, February 3rd, 2006
Title: "Are you guys going to be using Seahawks glasses today?"
So today I was commissioned to do a little "freelance" bartending for a catering event in Redmond, specifically for Microsoft. To be more specific, it was for the people working on the new Windows OS, 1500 of them to be precise. To be even more precise, 1500 nerds. I'm not joking, this was a real eye-opener. I have never seen so many socially inept people in one place at one time. Jon and I were serving two kinds of beer, Mac & Jacks and Moose Drool, which were clearly visible behind, and still we were asked what kind of beer we had. Here is a memorable example.
Nerd: Are you guys serving beer?
The Help: Yes, we are. Plus, we have wine!
N: What do you guys have?
TH: (TH looks at N with the "Are you serious look?" or AYSL) Well, we have M & J, Moose Drool, Merlot and Chardonay.
N: So can I get a beer?
TH: Yes you can. Which one would you like?
N: I'll take a Budweiser.
TH: (AYSL) We don't have that. We only have M & J and M. D.
N: Ok, I'll take a Miller Lite then.
TH: (Grabs an M & J and hands it to N) There you go sir, enjoy.
N: Nanu, nanu.
TH: Word.
This happened at least four to five hundred more times today, sans the whole "Nanu, nanu." thing, that happened only once.
It gets better. I had the privildge of listening to some of the convo's these people were having, but none were better than the one I am about to describe to you. I'll spare you the actual dialogue this time. So, there was this woman talking to three nerds. I'm calling her a woman only because she was one of the 5 among the 1495 men that work in this particular department. There could have been more, I did mistake many pony-tail-rockin' dudes for chicks and vice-versa...still. Digression. Anyway, so this rather 'damaged' woman was drunkenly telling these nerds how to score, and they were hanging on her every word. Now, I have never claimed to be good with women, I'm no Casanova, but compared to these guys, I'm a regular Brad Pitt, or Eugene Levy, it's up to the eye of the beholder. So she was telling these guys "Oh, but you're cool!" and "You have a good personality!". Which even to me translates to "Pray to god that in your next life, your name is Leif. Because if it is, you have at the very least, 30% more of a chance of scoring with a female without paying." These guys were "Lovin'it" though, and I am sure it helped.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
wrong about costco
Over the weekend, between rock shows, reunions, and booze, I had some great conversations about lots and lots of retarded shit! Some of them were with my friend Stacia and at her behest I am going to write a post involving one of those convos. But why stop there? I've decided to make this week here at BAABP "Dork Week". Not only will you be treated to 5 (count'em!) posts this week and all of them will be so filled with dorkery that by the end you might find yourself saying things like "Spiderman didn't have organic web-shooters!" or "Band of Horses are just a rip-off of My Morning Jacket." So I am starting this glorious week off with something that happened to me all the way back in the fall of 2006. It's a story about where being an oblivious dork really can be pretty funny, and it's not about me.
I was sent to Costco this day due to the fact that a tire had asploded on the company truck while I was driving it to Spokanistan. It was just before Christmas so of course there was going to be a long wait, as there would be other people preparing to take the pass over the holidays. In other words; I was in it for the long haul. So, after dropping off the keys at the tire center I decided on a little jaunt around the massive warehouse. I always head straight to the "tech" section, where today I spent most of my time trying to crash the cheap ass computers and changing the desktop backgrounds to the Walmart logo. After about an hour of that (literally) I went back to the food hutch area, not because I was hungry, I had actually filled up on microwaved crab-cakes and triscuits with jalepeno artichoke cheese spread at some of the sample tables in between my computer hacking.
The weirdest thing for me about Costco is the aforementioned food hutch area. It's located at the end of your shopping journey and basically the only way you can get to it is after you've already paid for your 10 gallon jar of mayonnaise. When you go to Costco you don't just go there to spend fifty bucks, you go there to spend more like 200. My question is; why after spending a couple hundred dollars or more on various goods and sundry would you want to spend another 5 dollars on some crappy pizza or for that matter anymore time there? But the single weirdest thing for me is the seating. You are basically made to perch on what can only be described as poorly constructed indoor picnic tables, which for some reason have umbrellas over them. I don't claim to be any expert on indoor seating but I am pretty sure that you are well protected from the elements when you are inside. Digression.
I find a seat at one of the empty tables, whip out my cell phone and settle in for a good round of Uno. It doesn't take long for my table to become unempty as 4 of the remaining 6 seats are filled by a very young very Japanese family. I really didn't give them much thought other than to remark to myself at how cute their two kids were and that the father was writing a letter or something in Japanese. We sat quietly respecting each others space, until some dude in his early twenties came and sat across from me next to the Japanese wife, who was across from her Japanese husband. A minute or two passed as our new young guest noshed on a giant hot-dog. I could see him stealing quick glances at the Japanese husbands writings, until the dood said something I couldn't decipher, but could only guess was Japanese. The husband looked up smiled, and said something back to the dood, who also smiled and said "Sorry, I only know a little Japanese, I just recognized that Kanji character." To my utter horror and embarrassment the dood went on to start spitting extremely bad and simple Japanese to not only the husband but the wife, and children as well. These people new less English than that dood knew Japanese yet he kept trying to communicate with them, by acting like a big dumb American and pointing at various objects and saying their Japanese equivalent. This shit went on for 5 more unbearable minutes until the Japanese family spared the doods life by getting up and leaving but not before exchanging many bows and other pleasantries. I say "they" spared his life because I believe they could sense how humiliated I felt for him and the rest of American society, so much so that I was willing to take this man's life right in front of them just to preserve my honor.
I guess the worst part of this was how oblivious this dork was. I know a little, French, Spanish, and Chinese, but that doesn't mean I will walk up to anyone hailing from a nation that speaks one of those languages and just start spouting out phrasal verbs like some kind of retarded parrot. This guy couldn't have picked a better target though, for as we all know, the Japanese as a whole are eternally polite, so really he was just taking advantage of this fact, though again he was probably not aware of it.
So how does this all tie in to dork week? You mean aside from this doods obvious social faux-pas and why he is what gives nerds, geeks, and dorks a bad name everywhere? Here it is: It's every dorks dream to go and live in Japan, and I am not excluded. It's just that some of us know that Japan isn't only about anime, video games and ninjas.
It's also about Hentai. (Can you believe some nerd spent this much time writing that shit out?!)
P.S. My good friend Cal pointed me to an excellent site that he has been writing for, and I must say that his album review of Malajube's latest is not only one of the best reviews I've read in a long time, but also one of the most well written. Record reviews are not easy to write people, and Cal seems to have a knack for it.
I was sent to Costco this day due to the fact that a tire had asploded on the company truck while I was driving it to Spokanistan. It was just before Christmas so of course there was going to be a long wait, as there would be other people preparing to take the pass over the holidays. In other words; I was in it for the long haul. So, after dropping off the keys at the tire center I decided on a little jaunt around the massive warehouse. I always head straight to the "tech" section, where today I spent most of my time trying to crash the cheap ass computers and changing the desktop backgrounds to the Walmart logo. After about an hour of that (literally) I went back to the food hutch area, not because I was hungry, I had actually filled up on microwaved crab-cakes and triscuits with jalepeno artichoke cheese spread at some of the sample tables in between my computer hacking.
The weirdest thing for me about Costco is the aforementioned food hutch area. It's located at the end of your shopping journey and basically the only way you can get to it is after you've already paid for your 10 gallon jar of mayonnaise. When you go to Costco you don't just go there to spend fifty bucks, you go there to spend more like 200. My question is; why after spending a couple hundred dollars or more on various goods and sundry would you want to spend another 5 dollars on some crappy pizza or for that matter anymore time there? But the single weirdest thing for me is the seating. You are basically made to perch on what can only be described as poorly constructed indoor picnic tables, which for some reason have umbrellas over them. I don't claim to be any expert on indoor seating but I am pretty sure that you are well protected from the elements when you are inside. Digression.
I find a seat at one of the empty tables, whip out my cell phone and settle in for a good round of Uno. It doesn't take long for my table to become unempty as 4 of the remaining 6 seats are filled by a very young very Japanese family. I really didn't give them much thought other than to remark to myself at how cute their two kids were and that the father was writing a letter or something in Japanese. We sat quietly respecting each others space, until some dude in his early twenties came and sat across from me next to the Japanese wife, who was across from her Japanese husband. A minute or two passed as our new young guest noshed on a giant hot-dog. I could see him stealing quick glances at the Japanese husbands writings, until the dood said something I couldn't decipher, but could only guess was Japanese. The husband looked up smiled, and said something back to the dood, who also smiled and said "Sorry, I only know a little Japanese, I just recognized that Kanji character." To my utter horror and embarrassment the dood went on to start spitting extremely bad and simple Japanese to not only the husband but the wife, and children as well. These people new less English than that dood knew Japanese yet he kept trying to communicate with them, by acting like a big dumb American and pointing at various objects and saying their Japanese equivalent. This shit went on for 5 more unbearable minutes until the Japanese family spared the doods life by getting up and leaving but not before exchanging many bows and other pleasantries. I say "they" spared his life because I believe they could sense how humiliated I felt for him and the rest of American society, so much so that I was willing to take this man's life right in front of them just to preserve my honor.
I guess the worst part of this was how oblivious this dork was. I know a little, French, Spanish, and Chinese, but that doesn't mean I will walk up to anyone hailing from a nation that speaks one of those languages and just start spouting out phrasal verbs like some kind of retarded parrot. This guy couldn't have picked a better target though, for as we all know, the Japanese as a whole are eternally polite, so really he was just taking advantage of this fact, though again he was probably not aware of it.
So how does this all tie in to dork week? You mean aside from this doods obvious social faux-pas and why he is what gives nerds, geeks, and dorks a bad name everywhere? Here it is: It's every dorks dream to go and live in Japan, and I am not excluded. It's just that some of us know that Japan isn't only about anime, video games and ninjas.
It's also about Hentai. (Can you believe some nerd spent this much time writing that shit out?!)
P.S. My good friend Cal pointed me to an excellent site that he has been writing for, and I must say that his album review of Malajube's latest is not only one of the best reviews I've read in a long time, but also one of the most well written. Record reviews are not easy to write people, and Cal seems to have a knack for it.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
do the heizman
So to end that last blog; I smile at girls now.
I've been working non stop for the last 30 hours with no end in sight so you will forgive me if I keep this one brief, and also about nothing.
I've noticed no one has commented on my "Recommended Listening" links that I have been updating every Wednesday. Is that because the music choices suck? I realize I have picked a couple of bands that haven't released a full length in like two years, but it's because I re-discovered these bands when emptying my iPod and forgot how much I love them. So I am going to hit you with yet another 2005 joint this one coming from the likes of "The Boy Least Likely To". It's some mega twee shit, but you know how I loves me some indie pop!
Lately I've been really delving into my past I am reading the excellent Drop City for the third time by one of my favorite authors, T.C. Boyle. I also went to Twice Sold Tales the other day and got just about every one of Kurt Vonnegut's books about half of which I haven't read before.
Also, fuck Comcast on every conceivable level, my stupid DVR didn't record LOST and my internets are still asploding all over the place, that and they are fucking the company I work for over which in turn is fucking me over. I don't know how much longer I will be there, which is why I took on my current heinous assignment, and switched back to being paid hourly instead of salary.
Oh and about that blog title, if you don't know now you know....ho.
Sorry Barack!
I've been working non stop for the last 30 hours with no end in sight so you will forgive me if I keep this one brief, and also about nothing.
I've noticed no one has commented on my "Recommended Listening" links that I have been updating every Wednesday. Is that because the music choices suck? I realize I have picked a couple of bands that haven't released a full length in like two years, but it's because I re-discovered these bands when emptying my iPod and forgot how much I love them. So I am going to hit you with yet another 2005 joint this one coming from the likes of "The Boy Least Likely To". It's some mega twee shit, but you know how I loves me some indie pop!
Lately I've been really delving into my past I am reading the excellent Drop City for the third time by one of my favorite authors, T.C. Boyle. I also went to Twice Sold Tales the other day and got just about every one of Kurt Vonnegut's books about half of which I haven't read before.
Also, fuck Comcast on every conceivable level, my stupid DVR didn't record LOST and my internets are still asploding all over the place, that and they are fucking the company I work for over which in turn is fucking me over. I don't know how much longer I will be there, which is why I took on my current heinous assignment, and switched back to being paid hourly instead of salary.
Oh and about that blog title, if you don't know now you know....ho.
Sorry Barack!
Monday, April 16, 2007
technical difficulties
It's hard to avoid the 800lbs. gorilla in the room so I am to just say this about the tragedy that transpired today, in the form of an open letter to future psychos.
Dear Psychos,
If you are going to go on a murder/suicide rampage, please do the suicide part first. Thanks!
Sincerely, Elliot
On with blag.
On the MySpace I spoke often of my "Grr Face". It's an expression I often wore to ward off anyone trying to f with me as I walked down the street. I enjoyed marginal success with this look, I say marginal because even though the face looked bad ass my body structure couldn't exactly back it up. So the Grr Face had to evolve, and I went back to the drawing board. On the bus in order to avoid eye contact with the pretty girl who just got on, I would stare out the window at an attempt to look deep. I called this one "The Listless Gaze". This worked really well because to my knowledge no attractive females ever looked over at me. Nor did any come and sit by me and say "Wow, your morose demeanor is so hot, let's do it right here on this gross seat!" Yet, when I combined the gaze with the Grr Face, I hit some true innovative gold.
I call it "The Thousand Yard Eyes". It mixes the right amount of crazy stare, that the common crack head does so effortlessly, with that "fuck the world, I'm pretty special over here" attitude that you need when you are assailing these cold Seattle streets. This look was great! I was able to keep my rather quick walking pace and not have to worry about being stopped by people asking for directions, or how to become a better tennis player. This one was working well, that was until this morning.
....I am interrupting this post because my Comcast licks my balls. I wanted to finish this post hours ago but due to circumstances beyond my control, I cannot. My internets are spotty at best so I am going to post what I have now, for the sake of posterity. I will finish this entry after the Comcast tech. fixes our intertubes. In the mean time please peep my future roommates blog, and look forward to next week's postings because I am sure to have some stories from over the weekend due to the fact that a couple of friends from the eastern edge of these United States are visiting.
I am seriously stoked to see you guys! Sorry for the cliff hanger.
Dear Psychos,
If you are going to go on a murder/suicide rampage, please do the suicide part first. Thanks!
Sincerely, Elliot
On with blag.
On the MySpace I spoke often of my "Grr Face". It's an expression I often wore to ward off anyone trying to f with me as I walked down the street. I enjoyed marginal success with this look, I say marginal because even though the face looked bad ass my body structure couldn't exactly back it up. So the Grr Face had to evolve, and I went back to the drawing board. On the bus in order to avoid eye contact with the pretty girl who just got on, I would stare out the window at an attempt to look deep. I called this one "The Listless Gaze". This worked really well because to my knowledge no attractive females ever looked over at me. Nor did any come and sit by me and say "Wow, your morose demeanor is so hot, let's do it right here on this gross seat!" Yet, when I combined the gaze with the Grr Face, I hit some true innovative gold.
I call it "The Thousand Yard Eyes". It mixes the right amount of crazy stare, that the common crack head does so effortlessly, with that "fuck the world, I'm pretty special over here" attitude that you need when you are assailing these cold Seattle streets. This look was great! I was able to keep my rather quick walking pace and not have to worry about being stopped by people asking for directions, or how to become a better tennis player. This one was working well, that was until this morning.
....I am interrupting this post because my Comcast licks my balls. I wanted to finish this post hours ago but due to circumstances beyond my control, I cannot. My internets are spotty at best so I am going to post what I have now, for the sake of posterity. I will finish this entry after the Comcast tech. fixes our intertubes. In the mean time please peep my future roommates blog, and look forward to next week's postings because I am sure to have some stories from over the weekend due to the fact that a couple of friends from the eastern edge of these United States are visiting.
I am seriously stoked to see you guys! Sorry for the cliff hanger.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
66
I am going to say some things in this entry that might make some you say "Wow! This guy is a real asshole." To which I will respond with furrowed brow, "Yeah, no shit." Though you probably won't be able to see just how furrowed my eyebrows are since you are all the way on the other side of internet. You'll just have to trust that they are indeed amply furrowed, especially when I say those words.
I fucking hate the homeless, there I said it, and it feels really good. I didn't always hate them, in fact up until yesterday, transients and I co-existed in this city in a rather peaceful manner. If I had change in my pocket, or leftovers to give away they would always get them, even though I probably could use those leftovers myself I knew they would probably benefit from them more. When they would stop me on the street to spin some crazy yarn about how they got attacked by a dog who stole their bus ticket or whatever, I would listen knowing that eventually their fantastic tale would come to a close with the obligatory "I just need a little help to get back to Burien." More often than not my response was "Sorry man." because as a rule, I don't carry cash. The thing is, these stories are often so entertaining that I actually feel bad that they wasted their time telling them to me. I've even been given things by the homeless, and I wrote a post about it on my old MySpace blahg which I might put up here in the next couple of days.
So what could have happened to raise my ire so much, that I would go on to a public forum announce my hate for a certain demographic? Well it started last week at my bus stop where I was verbally berated by an extremely drunk bum. He came up to me and asked me if I was married, I told him no and then asked him if he was married, he said no but then went on to tell me that his brother had been married "shix tymsh". Keep in mind that I had my earphones in, my extremely sweet aviators on, and my bus was due to arrive any second. So after that brief exchange I told him to have a nice day, and he kind of got the hint or so I thought. He stumbled about 6 feet from me whipped around and started screaming. "You faggot! Yer a got-damn homo! Look a'chu wit'cher dark'glashes, you faggot!" By this point I had removed my earphones and began to get very self-concious, not because I don't want anyone to know that I am a homosexual (sorry Mom, it doesn't look like you are getting any curly haired grandchildren), but because all the people on the street started wondering what I must have said to this guy to piss him off so much. That and I kind of worried that my pink-lined hoodie made me look gay to them.
That wasn't the straw that broke the camels back though. As I mentioned earlier, that straw landed squarely on the camels back yesterday. I was having lunch with my friend Scribbles, it was a nice day so we decided to eat outside. This was our first mistake. Scribbles is a food appreciator, and I had chosen one of my favorite sandwich shops, Tat's. Unfortunately for Tat's, it's located just across from the newly re-done Occidental Park, where a lot of the homeless go to sit and be drunk or high or whatever. Anyway, Scribbles and I had just finished our sandwiches when one of the many transients walked up to us. "Excuse me," he said surprisingly not drunk at all a 1pm "do you guys have a moment?" Scribbles was quick with an answer "Sorry man, I don't have any cash on me." Following suit I said the same thing. The dude flew into a rage and this is what he actually said "A guy can get his eye cut out in Kuwait, but he can't even ask a question in America?!" He walked away in a huff while saying this, to which Scribbles and I could only exchange confused looks.
First of all, the guy wasn't missing an eye. Secondly, he looked and smelled like he was homeless, so our Pavlovian responses were not completely off the mark. My guess is that he was just pissed that we hadn't let him hit us with a story. I suppose that it's possible that he was just going to ask for the time, or how the sandwiches were, but chances are he was more pissed about being called out by some locals and wanted to get his 2 cents in. That or he knew I was the writer of an extremely popular blag and wanted to see if I would post this story. Well, here it is, I hope some dudes eye was a small enough price to pay to see these words, jerk.
In closing the guy made an excellent point, even if he wasn't truly intending it. The city has made me quick to judge, which sucks. At the same time I don't need to be harangued by some guy in the middle of the afternoon, just because I don't want to talk to his drunk ass. What I am trying to say is that there are plenty of tourists. They are the people wearing t-shirts with the Che Guevera like depiction of Kurt Cobain (a classic tourist move, to blend in with the "locals") and are extremely to spot. Those are the people who they should be trying to hit up.
I realize that I was born in to the kind of life that many of the people I have referenced in this blog could only dream about. I also know that human-kindness is a a crap shoot, when you are just trying to get some money to eat. I've been there, when I first moved here I was living on 200 bucks a month, at my father's suggestion I was stealing off the back of bread trucks. Again, I had a place to live, but I knew of the resources.
Damn!
Okay, so I don't hate them so much. Maybe I will go and volunteer with Erica at the clinic as soon as she gets back.
This is what I truly love about my own writing. It really does help me figure out my own thoughts.
I fucking hate the homeless, there I said it, and it feels really good. I didn't always hate them, in fact up until yesterday, transients and I co-existed in this city in a rather peaceful manner. If I had change in my pocket, or leftovers to give away they would always get them, even though I probably could use those leftovers myself I knew they would probably benefit from them more. When they would stop me on the street to spin some crazy yarn about how they got attacked by a dog who stole their bus ticket or whatever, I would listen knowing that eventually their fantastic tale would come to a close with the obligatory "I just need a little help to get back to Burien." More often than not my response was "Sorry man." because as a rule, I don't carry cash. The thing is, these stories are often so entertaining that I actually feel bad that they wasted their time telling them to me. I've even been given things by the homeless, and I wrote a post about it on my old MySpace blahg which I might put up here in the next couple of days.
So what could have happened to raise my ire so much, that I would go on to a public forum announce my hate for a certain demographic? Well it started last week at my bus stop where I was verbally berated by an extremely drunk bum. He came up to me and asked me if I was married, I told him no and then asked him if he was married, he said no but then went on to tell me that his brother had been married "shix tymsh". Keep in mind that I had my earphones in, my extremely sweet aviators on, and my bus was due to arrive any second. So after that brief exchange I told him to have a nice day, and he kind of got the hint or so I thought. He stumbled about 6 feet from me whipped around and started screaming. "You faggot! Yer a got-damn homo! Look a'chu wit'cher dark'glashes, you faggot!" By this point I had removed my earphones and began to get very self-concious, not because I don't want anyone to know that I am a homosexual (sorry Mom, it doesn't look like you are getting any curly haired grandchildren), but because all the people on the street started wondering what I must have said to this guy to piss him off so much. That and I kind of worried that my pink-lined hoodie made me look gay to them.
That wasn't the straw that broke the camels back though. As I mentioned earlier, that straw landed squarely on the camels back yesterday. I was having lunch with my friend Scribbles, it was a nice day so we decided to eat outside. This was our first mistake. Scribbles is a food appreciator, and I had chosen one of my favorite sandwich shops, Tat's. Unfortunately for Tat's, it's located just across from the newly re-done Occidental Park, where a lot of the homeless go to sit and be drunk or high or whatever. Anyway, Scribbles and I had just finished our sandwiches when one of the many transients walked up to us. "Excuse me," he said surprisingly not drunk at all a 1pm "do you guys have a moment?" Scribbles was quick with an answer "Sorry man, I don't have any cash on me." Following suit I said the same thing. The dude flew into a rage and this is what he actually said "A guy can get his eye cut out in Kuwait, but he can't even ask a question in America?!" He walked away in a huff while saying this, to which Scribbles and I could only exchange confused looks.
First of all, the guy wasn't missing an eye. Secondly, he looked and smelled like he was homeless, so our Pavlovian responses were not completely off the mark. My guess is that he was just pissed that we hadn't let him hit us with a story. I suppose that it's possible that he was just going to ask for the time, or how the sandwiches were, but chances are he was more pissed about being called out by some locals and wanted to get his 2 cents in. That or he knew I was the writer of an extremely popular blag and wanted to see if I would post this story. Well, here it is, I hope some dudes eye was a small enough price to pay to see these words, jerk.
In closing the guy made an excellent point, even if he wasn't truly intending it. The city has made me quick to judge, which sucks. At the same time I don't need to be harangued by some guy in the middle of the afternoon, just because I don't want to talk to his drunk ass. What I am trying to say is that there are plenty of tourists. They are the people wearing t-shirts with the Che Guevera like depiction of Kurt Cobain (a classic tourist move, to blend in with the "locals") and are extremely to spot. Those are the people who they should be trying to hit up.
I realize that I was born in to the kind of life that many of the people I have referenced in this blog could only dream about. I also know that human-kindness is a a crap shoot, when you are just trying to get some money to eat. I've been there, when I first moved here I was living on 200 bucks a month, at my father's suggestion I was stealing off the back of bread trucks. Again, I had a place to live, but I knew of the resources.
Damn!
Okay, so I don't hate them so much. Maybe I will go and volunteer with Erica at the clinic as soon as she gets back.
This is what I truly love about my own writing. It really does help me figure out my own thoughts.
Monday, April 9, 2007
wrong about japan
You know how last week I nonchalantly mentioned how I would be attending Sakura Con during the weekend? Well that statement was the perfect example of how unprepared I was for what I saw on Saturday. In retrospect, I can't believe I thought that I could just walk into a comic convention off the street without any prior mental preparation. Oh, the hubris! What follows is a brief account of my unfortunate, amusing, and inspiring Saturday.
I probably wouldn't have gone to this thing if my other male heterosexual life partner, Guido, had not come to visit. Like me Guido is a nerd, mostly he's a Trekkie but he's into the anime and videogames too. After this weekend though, I don't think we can count ourselves amongst the truly nerdy. Well, maybe not Guido. For you to fully understand what happened I am going to have to unleash the full power of my geekiness, and you are going to have to forget all of the mis/preconceptions you might have had about me. (Guido I am so sorry I am outing you right now, you're Dad was bound to find out sooner or later, my suggestion? Cambodia.)
After a night of heavy, "Haven't done this in awhile have we buddy?" drinking, Guido came a knocking on my door. We had agreed to get breakfast and then hit the convention center afterwards. In true BAABP fashion, I treated him to a bus ride on the 49 through the always colorful Broadway area. I was surprised that there weren't more nerds on the bus, because the day before on my way to work, I had seen at least 5 dudes with pony tails and scraggly facial hair. This wouldn't have been weird if it hadn't been 8am, because most of their type are still asleep in their Mother's basements because they spent the previous night playing W.o.W. until 6 trying to get "Shmagmars" +2 Enchanted dark-fire sword. My surprise would soon fade when we exited the bus a block away from Pacific Place.
We hadn't even made it halfway down the block before I had seen at least 15 people doing cos-play. Here is my explanation of what cos-play is. To me it's a lot like Halloween, only the people take themselves way more seriously (often they will not break from the character they are trying to portray), the costumes are way more ornate, and people really want to get their picture taken with them.
As we entered the center, we were confronted with all sorts of dorks, geeks, nerds, doofises(?), otaku, and "chesters" (as in: Chester the Molester). Guido and I stealthily maneuvered through the surprisingly large crowd, barely exchanging a word, aside from me making the odd observation of a cos-play character and how him/her did/didn't look anything like their intended character.
After riding several escalators, and seeing several ill conceived costumes, we arrived at what we thought would take us to the show floor. I hadn't actually come here just to "nerd out". I had actually came to meet one of my favorite artists...ok so I had come here to nerd out. Fuck you. Anyway, we joined a line of people who were going to the show floor via another escalator and were just about to get on when we were stopped by a really nice security lady who asked us for our passes. Of course we didn't have any, but if we had been any kind of men, we would have tried to finagle our way in there. Instead, we turned around and decided to go get cash and a drink before we attempted to re-enter the fray.
G. (yeah we're close like that) and I sat quietly mulling over our respective drinks, mine a Bloody Mary, his, an Appletini. We were trying to figure out what we had just seen, and at the same time, trying to imagine what it would be like on the main show floor. We finished our courage juice, and set out once again for the convention.
This time we knew where we were going. We had seen a moderately short line leading to some booths that would sell us the passes that were required to get us in to the main exhibition. As we walked in we couldn't help but notice how there were way more people there. Many, many more cos-players with even more outrageous costumes. There was the someone dressed as Sonic the Hedgehog, who could have easily jumped right out the television straight in to the real world, he looked that real. There were like 27 Inyashas, which in my opinion is the lamest anime/anime character ever. At least 5 Snakes from the videogame series "Metal Gear" who couldn't have looked less like him if they tried. As a side note I probably could have made a better Snake than any of those losers could have ever been in their wildest dreams. Shit, Guido is like the Italian Snake!
Anyway, we made our way towards where we had originally thought where the line began. As we got closer we realized that it went through a set of doors, that led in to an airplane hanger like hall. The minute we walked into that hall we knew we were fucked. Imagine a basketball coliseum without the seats, then imagine a line of people 4 wide, lining the walls. At this point our jaws dropped along with our hopes of actually getting in to this thing. We retreated to the foyer and hung around for another few moments just soaking it in. With the taste of defeat fresh in our mouths, we went for plan B, which happened to be GameWorks. Guido managed to beat me in every game we took each other on in, including a game I consider myself rather good at, Virtua Tennis. I should've been Roddick.
Ultimately what ended up being the most amusing and inspiring part for me was the mix of people who were down there. It was nerds who knew what was going on versus the tourists and Everett. I loved seeing the looks on the tourists faces as they walked and drove past the cos-players, nerds and dorks. Every time I saw the interaction between the knows and the know-nots, I snickered a little to myself, but at the same time I felt a little shitty for not really being a part of it either.
It was like a huge in-joke. Except it was for nerds. The thing is, all of these nerds, were so comfortable, dressing up like complete idiots! Again though, these people were getting their pictures taken with complete strangers. How often do you see some stupid hipsters, or frat doods getting their picture taken by sober strangers? Well, other than people like me trying to find some sort of weird irony in it.
The point is, I often try to hide this side of me from people who don't fully know my personality. Maybe it's time to stop being so guarded on that front. Though, I still don't think that chicks dig dudes who dress like this, cos-play or not.
BTW: A big thanks goes to Guido for being there for this one, and also a thanks should go to Steve who inspired yet another joke. Thanks guys, I love both of your perfectly formed asses equally in a completely straight way. Seriously, ladies take note.
I probably wouldn't have gone to this thing if my other male heterosexual life partner, Guido, had not come to visit. Like me Guido is a nerd, mostly he's a Trekkie but he's into the anime and videogames too. After this weekend though, I don't think we can count ourselves amongst the truly nerdy. Well, maybe not Guido. For you to fully understand what happened I am going to have to unleash the full power of my geekiness, and you are going to have to forget all of the mis/preconceptions you might have had about me. (Guido I am so sorry I am outing you right now, you're Dad was bound to find out sooner or later, my suggestion? Cambodia.)
After a night of heavy, "Haven't done this in awhile have we buddy?" drinking, Guido came a knocking on my door. We had agreed to get breakfast and then hit the convention center afterwards. In true BAABP fashion, I treated him to a bus ride on the 49 through the always colorful Broadway area. I was surprised that there weren't more nerds on the bus, because the day before on my way to work, I had seen at least 5 dudes with pony tails and scraggly facial hair. This wouldn't have been weird if it hadn't been 8am, because most of their type are still asleep in their Mother's basements because they spent the previous night playing W.o.W. until 6 trying to get "Shmagmars" +2 Enchanted dark-fire sword. My surprise would soon fade when we exited the bus a block away from Pacific Place.
We hadn't even made it halfway down the block before I had seen at least 15 people doing cos-play. Here is my explanation of what cos-play is. To me it's a lot like Halloween, only the people take themselves way more seriously (often they will not break from the character they are trying to portray), the costumes are way more ornate, and people really want to get their picture taken with them.
As we entered the center, we were confronted with all sorts of dorks, geeks, nerds, doofises(?), otaku, and "chesters" (as in: Chester the Molester). Guido and I stealthily maneuvered through the surprisingly large crowd, barely exchanging a word, aside from me making the odd observation of a cos-play character and how him/her did/didn't look anything like their intended character.
After riding several escalators, and seeing several ill conceived costumes, we arrived at what we thought would take us to the show floor. I hadn't actually come here just to "nerd out". I had actually came to meet one of my favorite artists...ok so I had come here to nerd out. Fuck you. Anyway, we joined a line of people who were going to the show floor via another escalator and were just about to get on when we were stopped by a really nice security lady who asked us for our passes. Of course we didn't have any, but if we had been any kind of men, we would have tried to finagle our way in there. Instead, we turned around and decided to go get cash and a drink before we attempted to re-enter the fray.
G. (yeah we're close like that) and I sat quietly mulling over our respective drinks, mine a Bloody Mary, his, an Appletini. We were trying to figure out what we had just seen, and at the same time, trying to imagine what it would be like on the main show floor. We finished our courage juice, and set out once again for the convention.
This time we knew where we were going. We had seen a moderately short line leading to some booths that would sell us the passes that were required to get us in to the main exhibition. As we walked in we couldn't help but notice how there were way more people there. Many, many more cos-players with even more outrageous costumes. There was the someone dressed as Sonic the Hedgehog, who could have easily jumped right out the television straight in to the real world, he looked that real. There were like 27 Inyashas, which in my opinion is the lamest anime/anime character ever. At least 5 Snakes from the videogame series "Metal Gear" who couldn't have looked less like him if they tried. As a side note I probably could have made a better Snake than any of those losers could have ever been in their wildest dreams. Shit, Guido is like the Italian Snake!
Anyway, we made our way towards where we had originally thought where the line began. As we got closer we realized that it went through a set of doors, that led in to an airplane hanger like hall. The minute we walked into that hall we knew we were fucked. Imagine a basketball coliseum without the seats, then imagine a line of people 4 wide, lining the walls. At this point our jaws dropped along with our hopes of actually getting in to this thing. We retreated to the foyer and hung around for another few moments just soaking it in. With the taste of defeat fresh in our mouths, we went for plan B, which happened to be GameWorks. Guido managed to beat me in every game we took each other on in, including a game I consider myself rather good at, Virtua Tennis. I should've been Roddick.
Ultimately what ended up being the most amusing and inspiring part for me was the mix of people who were down there. It was nerds who knew what was going on versus the tourists and Everett. I loved seeing the looks on the tourists faces as they walked and drove past the cos-players, nerds and dorks. Every time I saw the interaction between the knows and the know-nots, I snickered a little to myself, but at the same time I felt a little shitty for not really being a part of it either.
It was like a huge in-joke. Except it was for nerds. The thing is, all of these nerds, were so comfortable, dressing up like complete idiots! Again though, these people were getting their pictures taken with complete strangers. How often do you see some stupid hipsters, or frat doods getting their picture taken by sober strangers? Well, other than people like me trying to find some sort of weird irony in it.
The point is, I often try to hide this side of me from people who don't fully know my personality. Maybe it's time to stop being so guarded on that front. Though, I still don't think that chicks dig dudes who dress like this, cos-play or not.
BTW: A big thanks goes to Guido for being there for this one, and also a thanks should go to Steve who inspired yet another joke. Thanks guys, I love both of your perfectly formed asses equally in a completely straight way. Seriously, ladies take note.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
char-monkey
I'll admit it, I was a little inebriated when I finished and published Monday nights entry. I'm surprised more of the peanut gallery didn't call me out on this little gem plucked straight from that entry:
"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."
Even I don't know what I was trying to say there. I guess "drunk Elliot" wanted to finish that blag off with some style and ended up using some really wordy words. Not to mention the title, which is the title of a Loney,Dear song, which had absolutely nothing to do with the entry itself. I considered taking it down Tuesday morning, but decided not to because it actually does have it moments. Holy shit, I just realized realized I'm blahging about a blog.
Meta.
There are many things that I hate about my line of work, but the thing I hate the most is the way that people working in it use what I like to call "Industry Speak". It is the most self-indulgent bullshit in the world, and people working in TV, film, video, and pornos will go completely out of there way to use it in front people who when hearing industry speak, go "Huh?" To which industry folk respond "MOVE!".
Case in point, take your standard spring loaded clothes pin, which you normies call a...clothes pin. You'd be wrong if you called it that on a set however, and you would probably be hung, because in the biz that clothes pin is actually known as a C47. I shit you not. That's not an extension cord you are running from that socket , it's actually called a "stinger". Get it right intern! Oh, and while you're at it could you grab me a barrel? Wait? You don't know what that is? It's the thing that allows me to connect two BNC cables together, you normies know it as an "adaptor".
Not that I am above this stuff. When people use the lingo around people who understand it, it can be kind of fun, but don't take that shit home with you. I try my damndest, not to start dropping this type of shit around my friends or family, because it just makes people sound pretentious. "Yo dogg, did you even try and whitebalance that camera? You mean it's not even a 3 Chip? Shit dude, when you capture that make sure you set it to NDF mode, because you are going to have to drop some color correction on that biotch!" That's how I talk when I'm with my colleagues only I sound way more street, and if I'm wearing a hat you better believe that it's sideways.
There is fun to be had, especially when breaking in new interns. Most of the guys we get at work are high school to pre-grads, who have little to no experience with the type of equipment that is commonly used in television production. So after a couple of weeks of getting used to terms like XLR, Beta, and pigtails I like to start throwing in words for things that I've made up. They are so susceptible and trusting that when you refer to a tv monitor as a "flashy" or "movie box", they will often pick this up as a legit term and start using it until someone sets them right. I love pranking interns, but that again is another post.
I guess in the end it is all pretty harmless. With any luck maybe a word I made up will become an industry standard. It wouldn't be the first time a word that I made up came to be commonly used among the public. It is kind of funny that I hate this so much, mainly because I am a huge lover of words and saying things. You can often catch me singing little nonsensicle (not a word)
songs complete with a string of unrelated words. Maybe I'll upload a little audio one day for you to taste. See you next week, where I will be treating you all to levels of nerdery (not a word) the likes of which you have never seen. Sakuracon here I come, I'll be sure to get lots of photos.
"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."
Even I don't know what I was trying to say there. I guess "drunk Elliot" wanted to finish that blag off with some style and ended up using some really wordy words. Not to mention the title, which is the title of a Loney,Dear song, which had absolutely nothing to do with the entry itself. I considered taking it down Tuesday morning, but decided not to because it actually does have it moments. Holy shit, I just realized realized I'm blahging about a blog.
Meta.
There are many things that I hate about my line of work, but the thing I hate the most is the way that people working in it use what I like to call "Industry Speak". It is the most self-indulgent bullshit in the world, and people working in TV, film, video, and pornos will go completely out of there way to use it in front people who when hearing industry speak, go "Huh?" To which industry folk respond "MOVE!".
Case in point, take your standard spring loaded clothes pin, which you normies call a...clothes pin. You'd be wrong if you called it that on a set however, and you would probably be hung, because in the biz that clothes pin is actually known as a C47. I shit you not. That's not an extension cord you are running from that socket , it's actually called a "stinger". Get it right intern! Oh, and while you're at it could you grab me a barrel? Wait? You don't know what that is? It's the thing that allows me to connect two BNC cables together, you normies know it as an "adaptor".
Not that I am above this stuff. When people use the lingo around people who understand it, it can be kind of fun, but don't take that shit home with you. I try my damndest, not to start dropping this type of shit around my friends or family, because it just makes people sound pretentious. "Yo dogg, did you even try and whitebalance that camera? You mean it's not even a 3 Chip? Shit dude, when you capture that make sure you set it to NDF mode, because you are going to have to drop some color correction on that biotch!" That's how I talk when I'm with my colleagues only I sound way more street, and if I'm wearing a hat you better believe that it's sideways.
There is fun to be had, especially when breaking in new interns. Most of the guys we get at work are high school to pre-grads, who have little to no experience with the type of equipment that is commonly used in television production. So after a couple of weeks of getting used to terms like XLR, Beta, and pigtails I like to start throwing in words for things that I've made up. They are so susceptible and trusting that when you refer to a tv monitor as a "flashy" or "movie box", they will often pick this up as a legit term and start using it until someone sets them right. I love pranking interns, but that again is another post.
I guess in the end it is all pretty harmless. With any luck maybe a word I made up will become an industry standard. It wouldn't be the first time a word that I made up came to be commonly used among the public. It is kind of funny that I hate this so much, mainly because I am a huge lover of words and saying things. You can often catch me singing little nonsensicle (not a word)
songs complete with a string of unrelated words. Maybe I'll upload a little audio one day for you to taste. See you next week, where I will be treating you all to levels of nerdery (not a word) the likes of which you have never seen. Sakuracon here I come, I'll be sure to get lots of photos.
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