What The Hell? 6.23.05
At Eben Cripplefinger's, watching the NY Mets hold on by their fingernails to a 4-3 lead over the Philadelphia Sillies.
Just read:
The Supreme Court today backed the right of local governments to snatch lands/ property on the behalf of private developers, if the development promotes economic development.
The dissenter's view, from Justice Sandra Day O'Connor and taken from the NY Times:
"The specter of condemnation hangs over all property. Nothing is to prevent the state from replacing any Motel 6 with a Ritz-Carlton, any home with a shopping mall, or any farm with a factory."
"Any property may now be taken for the benefit of another private property, but the fallout from this decision will not be random. The beneficiaries are likely to be those citizens with disproportionate influence and power in the political process, including large corporations and development firms.
"As for the victims," Justice O'Connor went on, "the government now has license to transfer property from those with fewer resources to those with more. The Founders cannot have intended this perverse result."
Supporting the dissnter's view: Scalia, Thomas, and Rehnquist.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
kebop 6.22.05
yesterday was the longest day of the year. so, drinking ensued. funny how a lot of people have tuesday evening plans. but i had some company- gully/ nicky brooklyn, her friend cat, and friend douglas, mjunior, haylz, starla, marea, pixel and jamie, eben cripplefinger and his nurse nascar anna, rini, and victor who left early. all chillin in the back of DBA until we had to fill our stomachs.
today i was eben cripplefinger's hands for a VERY long trip to a doctor's office, where no one knew what mr cripplefinger had to do. good times.
cobble hill is much the same, but more park-slope-yuppie than before.
the mermaid parade is this saturday. it's holiday's last mermaid parde. who wants to come with me?
yesterday was the longest day of the year. so, drinking ensued. funny how a lot of people have tuesday evening plans. but i had some company- gully/ nicky brooklyn, her friend cat, and friend douglas, mjunior, haylz, starla, marea, pixel and jamie, eben cripplefinger and his nurse nascar anna, rini, and victor who left early. all chillin in the back of DBA until we had to fill our stomachs.
today i was eben cripplefinger's hands for a VERY long trip to a doctor's office, where no one knew what mr cripplefinger had to do. good times.
cobble hill is much the same, but more park-slope-yuppie than before.
the mermaid parade is this saturday. it's holiday's last mermaid parde. who wants to come with me?
Monday, June 20, 2005
Southpaw Plus 6.20.05
Saturday was a camp meeting and finally a meeting of 3/4 of the secret helicopter society - myself, Niffer, and Rini. Niffer's building has a backyard and we sat on deck hairs, drinking wine and enjoying one of the last cool nights we would have, catching up.
We also went dancing at Southpaw and those two left me with Ali Pack, Rizzle, and friends. Cesar came, and Gully didn't go inside. Cesar agrees, Gully, you is a punk. Here are some pictures of Ali Pack and her people. Despite Ali Pack's assertion, I was not hard on the mack.
p.s. it's almost the first day of summer. we're all going out. on the 21st. the longest day of the year. the opening of summer. give me suggestions, there will be an email later.
Saturday was a camp meeting and finally a meeting of 3/4 of the secret helicopter society - myself, Niffer, and Rini. Niffer's building has a backyard and we sat on deck hairs, drinking wine and enjoying one of the last cool nights we would have, catching up.
We also went dancing at Southpaw and those two left me with Ali Pack, Rizzle, and friends. Cesar came, and Gully didn't go inside. Cesar agrees, Gully, you is a punk. Here are some pictures of Ali Pack and her people. Despite Ali Pack's assertion, I was not hard on the mack.
p.s. it's almost the first day of summer. we're all going out. on the 21st. the longest day of the year. the opening of summer. give me suggestions, there will be an email later.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Airborne/ Fracture 6.17.05
A couple of days ago, Eben took a header on the Williamsburg Bridge, avoiding some dumbass who didn't understand "don't swerve" and "don't collide." As such, one hand is fractured and the other has a badly broken middle finger.
I would tell you all to call him with sympathies, thinking he'll not be able to use his middle finger. Eben would say "for design work" but I know his middle finger is used to express his "feelings." He informed me that he will have a large splint, and as such, he can express those feelings louder than before.
Echh, wish him well. But I am not offering to go over and wash his back.
A couple of days ago, Eben took a header on the Williamsburg Bridge, avoiding some dumbass who didn't understand "don't swerve" and "don't collide." As such, one hand is fractured and the other has a badly broken middle finger.
I would tell you all to call him with sympathies, thinking he'll not be able to use his middle finger. Eben would say "for design work" but I know his middle finger is used to express his "feelings." He informed me that he will have a large splint, and as such, he can express those feelings louder than before.
Echh, wish him well. But I am not offering to go over and wash his back.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
New Blog!
Thanks to the efforts of neverecho and mjr we have a sports blog, at sixstarcamp.blogspot.com. check it out. add it to your links. make suggestions.
Thanks to the efforts of neverecho and mjr we have a sports blog, at sixstarcamp.blogspot.com. check it out. add it to your links. make suggestions.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
MSN Advice Minute
Neverecho likes to poke at MSN's advice section. Here's one about a fella dating a woman who doesn't like to kiss. She considers it a violation of her personal space. I dated a woman who didn't like to kiss. After a while, I just assumed she was a hooker and moved on.
Neverecho likes to poke at MSN's advice section. Here's one about a fella dating a woman who doesn't like to kiss. She considers it a violation of her personal space. I dated a woman who didn't like to kiss. After a while, I just assumed she was a hooker and moved on.
Returns 6.15.05
finally some weather that doesn't burn to the touch; and just in time for the return of my dear friend rini from the left coast (driving with sister gabi). i'm excited not only to have my friend back but to also get back the person who is my positive inspiration, the person for whom "can't" is mostly a joke.
expect events. like going to this saturday's Rub @ Southpaw.
last night i watched nbc's baby hit me one more time. the concept: washed up bands from the 80's and early 90's return to play half of their one hit and then play some of modern hits by ryan cabrera and los lonely boys and other acts i have not actually heard. and with the exception of arrested development, who still sounded as good as ever, the show was an embarrassing cavalcade of beer guts and thinning hair and tiffany's exposed rack. vote for me! i have boobies! i think you're alone now, tiff.
finally some weather that doesn't burn to the touch; and just in time for the return of my dear friend rini from the left coast (driving with sister gabi). i'm excited not only to have my friend back but to also get back the person who is my positive inspiration, the person for whom "can't" is mostly a joke.
expect events. like going to this saturday's Rub @ Southpaw.
last night i watched nbc's baby hit me one more time. the concept: washed up bands from the 80's and early 90's return to play half of their one hit and then play some of modern hits by ryan cabrera and los lonely boys and other acts i have not actually heard. and with the exception of arrested development, who still sounded as good as ever, the show was an embarrassing cavalcade of beer guts and thinning hair and tiffany's exposed rack. vote for me! i have boobies! i think you're alone now, tiff.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Place 6.14.05
after last wednesday i spent a few days trying to clean up my cough, get my voice back. friday was an important day, after all-- diana was holding a fundraiser for our camp kids, and i figured it's always good to have a person on hand who has been with the camp for a few years, in case people ask about it.
there was gargling and throat drops and sleep-inducing pills and hot nights wondering if i would ever be the same. but in this time, i thought back to the diplo show and something the rice-a-homie said which always rings true for the two of us. we're often in places where we feel uncomfortable, places where we can't get into the flow. spots that are too indie rock or too serious or too tooly. and this was a week of slipping in between the fences, re-finding where the pico fits. here's the tale.
friday comes around and i still rasp my words, clear my throat-- but i can be understood. in fact, i sounded kind of badass, a little method man- sounding. if gully wasn't right about the voice being "so over" then i could have given some ladies a late evening aural thrill.
i made it to the fundraiser early - it was held at a bar in upper midtown, and i was the first person on hand. good thing too, because a couple of people came before diana. one of them was a dumpy young lady who will be studying in a former soviet republic on a fulbright scholarship, and she is the crux of this post.
the whole evening i found myself surrounded by women and while that sounds great, it is hard to "pierce the veil" (more philopimpical wisdom from gully) when you are one of three guys. that is fine; i am not in a big "meet the trim" phase right now. more concerned with earning money and the camp and the future and becoming more positive.
the show and tell was good, the event raised money, and i got into many conversations about what people did. they all were high minded, public servants and non-profiteers, busy following their policy hearts into education and into going overseas and helping out poor countries--
and after a while i was like "enough already."
they talked almost like they're showing off. and in a sense they are; proving to me and everyone else that while they are not making money they are doing even better things, exclusive things. it's a conversational velvet rope. and like lana-p's friend-- and even some of our friends on a bad day-- the tendency to talk about the ills of the world serves not only to illuminate their audience but to prove how much they know, how far they have delved into their program area, how serious they are.
differences of style happens all the time. it's okay, it's interesting, it's illuminating. but ever so often, you realize you are not in your place, with people of a similar mindset. i'd rather do public service and not talk about it; i'd rather have more conversations about entertainment or about the person i am talking to, what makes them tick, what makes them happy. then again, their policy area is sometimes what makes a person tick.
perhaps i should be patient with people. but i'd rather be around folks who understand your sense of humor, who tell you about their work not as a flag but as a point of conversation/ interest.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
post-script.
after the fundraiser - i left after talking to margaret from the high school - i saw victor downtown, two sheets to the wind and having a piss of a time with his marvel comics friends. i was easily in step there, people i knew, and music i liked.
saturday i went to the north meadow to lana-p and her birthdaying friend jules. after dropping more coin than i remember on picnic supplies gully and i ended up in central and everyone was hella good people. the only problem was that after playing ultimate frisbee for the first time, i sweat right through a shirt--
and the rains came.
gully and i ran errands downtown- i picked up my camera i had left at the fundraiser thanks to diana. gully got his hair cut and looked for dijah's shoe store.
then to niffer's backyard; her roommate's brother was having a going-away party that was filled with fraternity boys and good eats.
then to some party on prospect with jill c/ ern/ holiday/ lisa/ garth n' elise. good to talk to ern, in town for one night only and then back to alabama.
after last wednesday i spent a few days trying to clean up my cough, get my voice back. friday was an important day, after all-- diana was holding a fundraiser for our camp kids, and i figured it's always good to have a person on hand who has been with the camp for a few years, in case people ask about it.
there was gargling and throat drops and sleep-inducing pills and hot nights wondering if i would ever be the same. but in this time, i thought back to the diplo show and something the rice-a-homie said which always rings true for the two of us. we're often in places where we feel uncomfortable, places where we can't get into the flow. spots that are too indie rock or too serious or too tooly. and this was a week of slipping in between the fences, re-finding where the pico fits. here's the tale.
friday comes around and i still rasp my words, clear my throat-- but i can be understood. in fact, i sounded kind of badass, a little method man- sounding. if gully wasn't right about the voice being "so over" then i could have given some ladies a late evening aural thrill.
i made it to the fundraiser early - it was held at a bar in upper midtown, and i was the first person on hand. good thing too, because a couple of people came before diana. one of them was a dumpy young lady who will be studying in a former soviet republic on a fulbright scholarship, and she is the crux of this post.
the whole evening i found myself surrounded by women and while that sounds great, it is hard to "pierce the veil" (more philopimpical wisdom from gully) when you are one of three guys. that is fine; i am not in a big "meet the trim" phase right now. more concerned with earning money and the camp and the future and becoming more positive.
the show and tell was good, the event raised money, and i got into many conversations about what people did. they all were high minded, public servants and non-profiteers, busy following their policy hearts into education and into going overseas and helping out poor countries--
and after a while i was like "enough already."
they talked almost like they're showing off. and in a sense they are; proving to me and everyone else that while they are not making money they are doing even better things, exclusive things. it's a conversational velvet rope. and like lana-p's friend-- and even some of our friends on a bad day-- the tendency to talk about the ills of the world serves not only to illuminate their audience but to prove how much they know, how far they have delved into their program area, how serious they are.
differences of style happens all the time. it's okay, it's interesting, it's illuminating. but ever so often, you realize you are not in your place, with people of a similar mindset. i'd rather do public service and not talk about it; i'd rather have more conversations about entertainment or about the person i am talking to, what makes them tick, what makes them happy. then again, their policy area is sometimes what makes a person tick.
perhaps i should be patient with people. but i'd rather be around folks who understand your sense of humor, who tell you about their work not as a flag but as a point of conversation/ interest.
post-script.
after the fundraiser - i left after talking to margaret from the high school - i saw victor downtown, two sheets to the wind and having a piss of a time with his marvel comics friends. i was easily in step there, people i knew, and music i liked.
saturday i went to the north meadow to lana-p and her birthdaying friend jules. after dropping more coin than i remember on picnic supplies gully and i ended up in central and everyone was hella good people. the only problem was that after playing ultimate frisbee for the first time, i sweat right through a shirt--
and the rains came.
gully and i ran errands downtown- i picked up my camera i had left at the fundraiser thanks to diana. gully got his hair cut and looked for dijah's shoe store.
then to niffer's backyard; her roommate's brother was having a going-away party that was filled with fraternity boys and good eats.
then to some party on prospect with jill c/ ern/ holiday/ lisa/ garth n' elise. good to talk to ern, in town for one night only and then back to alabama.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
they came back from brazil... changed 6.8.05
- and last night i went to a dj night lana-p's friend linda put together at cuba libre below cafe del mar. it was cute. you should go. and bring your own fan to the basement. it's the new move. all the kids are doing it. you know you want to.
then joined arroz and samantha at rothko for an afterparty for the M.I.A. show-- she i have no love for-- where Diplo was playing. lana-p, sorry to say this...
but it was poppin', the absolute hotness. small place, a bunch of nerds dancing to music that started off questionable. but with the aid of magstar's sister ryanstar and her friend james, we faked it until the party was started.
we think the party was started by the cat in the white polo and the black symbol yankee hat who was clapping his hands in the air. after enthusiasm like that, how could the whole crowd NOT be houserockin', yeah? yeah. the best part of a show/ dance floor is when there are some tight honeys and i am more concerned with throwing down.
i was introduced to the baile funk/ favela booty bass arroz earlier in the evening. samantha and arroz and d sharma went to brazil to bring the basement bhangra funk to sao paolo, and they returned with brazilian booty bass that won't let you stop - the baile funk. arroz played tracks while we were waiting for panini sandwiches in soho after ba baracus aka concrete x had skipped out on us to rest. how a guy with such a pair of names is a psychiatry resident at NYU, i will never know. "i pity the foo' who with schizophrenia" just don't seem to work.
the downside of the baile funk- i didn't yell very much, but my throat was raw from the get go. i had throat drops and was in the process of getting over my cold. by the middle of the night i was having trouble swallowing and since then i have not been able to speak very much. which, by the way, sucks. it hurtss to swallow and it aches to cough. but it's getting better. i think i might have to go and see someone about this little problem if it continues. let's hope i get better. khadijah has the good advice for the raw of throat.
- and last night i went to a dj night lana-p's friend linda put together at cuba libre below cafe del mar. it was cute. you should go. and bring your own fan to the basement. it's the new move. all the kids are doing it. you know you want to.
then joined arroz and samantha at rothko for an afterparty for the M.I.A. show-- she i have no love for-- where Diplo was playing. lana-p, sorry to say this...
but it was poppin', the absolute hotness. small place, a bunch of nerds dancing to music that started off questionable. but with the aid of magstar's sister ryanstar and her friend james, we faked it until the party was started.
we think the party was started by the cat in the white polo and the black symbol yankee hat who was clapping his hands in the air. after enthusiasm like that, how could the whole crowd NOT be houserockin', yeah? yeah. the best part of a show/ dance floor is when there are some tight honeys and i am more concerned with throwing down.
i was introduced to the baile funk/ favela booty bass arroz earlier in the evening. samantha and arroz and d sharma went to brazil to bring the basement bhangra funk to sao paolo, and they returned with brazilian booty bass that won't let you stop - the baile funk. arroz played tracks while we were waiting for panini sandwiches in soho after ba baracus aka concrete x had skipped out on us to rest. how a guy with such a pair of names is a psychiatry resident at NYU, i will never know. "i pity the foo' who with schizophrenia" just don't seem to work.
the downside of the baile funk- i didn't yell very much, but my throat was raw from the get go. i had throat drops and was in the process of getting over my cold. by the middle of the night i was having trouble swallowing and since then i have not been able to speak very much. which, by the way, sucks. it hurtss to swallow and it aches to cough. but it's getting better. i think i might have to go and see someone about this little problem if it continues. let's hope i get better. khadijah has the good advice for the raw of throat.
the updates. 6.8.05
the past few weeks in one post
- still gainfully unemployed. still looking.
- excited because the friends are returning.
- partied with party monster dave s, wrote with mjr before his hawaiian five-o adventure, celebrated haylz' job move into the profit world plus met her friend hope who inspired me to do the Nike sponsored Run Hit Wonder, saw gully and descha, saw silver get lornley on his birthday, actually saw lana-p who seems to have a boy entourage.
- got some new slang. "trim" for the female genitalia, thanks to peter; and "patio" as an aftermath of the term "deck" from pixel. there is an entry for patio... but not as cool as ours, where patio means cool. so, just like when the word of the day is "legs," spread the word.
- have had long discussions with molly about buffy the vampire slayerand angel.
- watched posha get married. it was hot, it was outdoors, the food was great but i over did the spice. that's what my tummy said the next day. damn, my stomach was pumpin' out material like tupac. i caught up with leah and dia and tulip and abe and ian and arif and hina, plus the bride and the groom. and somehow i ended up at a table with cami, who i met at sweatband kurt's kentucky derby party. cami works with a southern yankee named martha. and cami's brother and i laughed about dave brown's giants.
the past few weeks in one post
- still gainfully unemployed. still looking.
- excited because the friends are returning.
- partied with party monster dave s, wrote with mjr before his hawaiian five-o adventure, celebrated haylz' job move into the profit world plus met her friend hope who inspired me to do the Nike sponsored Run Hit Wonder, saw gully and descha, saw silver get lornley on his birthday, actually saw lana-p who seems to have a boy entourage.
- got some new slang. "trim" for the female genitalia, thanks to peter; and "patio" as an aftermath of the term "deck" from pixel. there is an entry for patio... but not as cool as ours, where patio means cool. so, just like when the word of the day is "legs," spread the word.
- have had long discussions with molly about buffy the vampire slayerand angel.
- watched posha get married. it was hot, it was outdoors, the food was great but i over did the spice. that's what my tummy said the next day. damn, my stomach was pumpin' out material like tupac. i caught up with leah and dia and tulip and abe and ian and arif and hina, plus the bride and the groom. and somehow i ended up at a table with cami, who i met at sweatband kurt's kentucky derby party. cami works with a southern yankee named martha. and cami's brother and i laughed about dave brown's giants.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
To Answer Nicky Brooklyn's Question:
*from urbandictionary.com*
a holla back girl:
A girl that is willing to be treated like a doormat or booty call. She is a girl that will allow guys to do whatever they want with her and will just wait for them to 'holla back' at them.
just an FYI.
*from urbandictionary.com*
a holla back girl:
A girl that is willing to be treated like a doormat or booty call. She is a girl that will allow guys to do whatever they want with her and will just wait for them to 'holla back' at them.
just an FYI.
Friday, May 20, 2005
The Music Baton:
passed on from Greg
Total Volume of Music Files on my Computer:
14939 files; 66.21 GB of music
The Last CD I Bought was:
It might have been The Thrills' Let's Bottle Bohemia, which might be one of the 5 worst albums I have ever purchased.
Song playing right now:
Russian Futurists, it's not really cold when it snows
5 Songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me:
Minus the Bear, hey! is that a ninja up there?
Ghostface Killah, tooken back
Queen, don't stop me now
De La Soul, i am i be
Dismemberment Plan, face of the earth
(With nods to 5 others:
Hum, suicide machine
Merle Haggard, if we make it through december
Twilight Singers, railroad lullaby
Marvin Gaye, inner city blues (makes me wanna holler)
Sufjan Stevens, detroit, lift your weary head)
I'm passing this along to:
Neverecho,
MJunior,
Pixel,
Silver,
Tobias.
unless gully, hetha, erica, marge, deb, fieser, or fuzzy would like to take up the questions.
passed on from Greg
Total Volume of Music Files on my Computer:
14939 files; 66.21 GB of music
The Last CD I Bought was:
It might have been The Thrills' Let's Bottle Bohemia, which might be one of the 5 worst albums I have ever purchased.
Song playing right now:
Russian Futurists, it's not really cold when it snows
5 Songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me:
Minus the Bear, hey! is that a ninja up there?
Ghostface Killah, tooken back
Queen, don't stop me now
De La Soul, i am i be
Dismemberment Plan, face of the earth
(With nods to 5 others:
Hum, suicide machine
Merle Haggard, if we make it through december
Twilight Singers, railroad lullaby
Marvin Gaye, inner city blues (makes me wanna holler)
Sufjan Stevens, detroit, lift your weary head)
I'm passing this along to:
Neverecho,
MJunior,
Pixel,
Silver,
Tobias.
unless gully, hetha, erica, marge, deb, fieser, or fuzzy would like to take up the questions.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
where's summer? is she smoking the salmon herself? 5.19.05
i love how a funeral brings a family together. and brings tate donovan back, looking svelte and sharp. i like him better in non-black suits but... what's with that shit eating grin? and sister haley is back. i like the way she takes off her overshirt. nice stretch. ladies, learn that method. so far, this is crappy. seth and summer all holding hands. talking sensitive. where is the effing drama? on 90210, they wrote off that blonde kid with a gunshot and a scenes from the next episode. i'm a heartless bastard. sandy cohen, though, gets in a dig or two: a terrible father in law; and if you can't rest in peace, i am sure heaven could use a few more mcmansions.
the kirsten drink count! we have a new drinking game! we're on 2 already... full bottle, a wobble, and argument, and a smash!
we begin with a treatment center, before the funeral; sandy is sensitive and wants to "keep it brief." i bet an intervention is coming. they were great on HBO's lifestories. and seth discovers the brochure for the treatment center! you know, kiki don't look like no drunk. knowing she's a raw-food-ist, i wonder what they make her drink instead of liquor. does a raw foods diet preclude liquor? isn't vodka processed potato? ahh, it can be made from processed grain, or grapes.
and now... the intervention. kiki strikes back. is it me or does seth just not seem like kiki's son at all? they're not very mother/ daughter- i mean son.
it's 8.45 and kiki's going to rehab? waaaaaaay too early. she's gonna run away. and next season say "seth can do it, why can't i?" but for now, she's contrite.
++++++++
gamma rays of hate shooting out of your eyeballs? 1 girl, 2 brothers, it's all a little legends of the fall. -summer
and yet another revenge of the sith video game product shot! and another bravery song, honest mistake. i hear this song... uh, too much. the kids go to the bait shop in search of relief from the tensions of life; little do they know they are about top face the harsh reality of asian gangsters and gunfire. that place is So going to have metal detectors next season.
oh... drama. trey and bimbo are... snxxxxx.... gun.... snxxx.... cocaine.... snxxxx.
seth - we just came from my grandfather's funeral.
trampy blonde - well. he's probably pretty old.
"who's the bitch now, huh?" trampy blonde says. isn't that the catch phrase from "the new guy" starring dj qualls and jermaine dupri? but- yo, trampy newport girl done buss off a shot! or would y'all prefer "lick off a shot?" maybe "squeeze some reounds?" or "buck one?"
the trampy girl is jess. ryan's heard it all before from his brother. but did y'all know trey's really british? like mischa? and ryan lays down the "you gotta go" law. don't we all want to see ryan go off the stanford or berkeley and become a sensitive poet, rehashing james dean and writing furiously under the influence of coffee, a couple of skinny suburban girls working on their theater lines and talking about moving to new york? maybe he just needs to go to NYU. but then he'll become a criminal. or this criminal. or this criminal. or maybe trey should go to nyu with trashy. and while there he can adopt a british accent-- which the actor, Logan Marshall Green, actually has in real life. okay, NYU kids, respond away.
oh, no! rissa has a boo-boo! she was near gunfire! and summer is the good times, take care of people kid we all love. she's a care bear with care bear countdown powers! she's good mood bear! therapy bear? exposition of character emotion bear?
++++++++
tate/ jimmy cooper wants to stay in newport? with julie coop? marisa comes home to find her parents... together! but isn't it creepy to take over caleb's house? is marisa happy or... conflicted? and the mystery other child is coming home?
++++++++
the way things have been going i bet that's oliver. -seth
hey, how come ryan's so effing pale? ryan resolves to settle it with trey once and for all... trampy wants to go to vegas with trey? steal her stepdad's beamer? what a naughty naughty girl!
ryan - what are you gonna do, shoot me? is that how this ends?
trey - how this ends is up to you, says trey.
ryan walks away, seemingly afraid of the gun in trey's hand. trey puts down the piece and ryan tackles him low. excellent technique. ryan has a future in football. there is a beating, the table breaks- and marisa shoots him? in the back? don't worry, trey is alive. she hit the other side of the chest, away from the heart. man, the oc is hard. dudes get shot in the back by cosmogirl. whatever that song was, the one playing in the heartfelt moments, it has to go.
was that repetitive and annoying tune a ryan adams song?
and we have to get "what are you gonna do, shoot me?" out of the american phrase book.
i love how a funeral brings a family together. and brings tate donovan back, looking svelte and sharp. i like him better in non-black suits but... what's with that shit eating grin? and sister haley is back. i like the way she takes off her overshirt. nice stretch. ladies, learn that method. so far, this is crappy. seth and summer all holding hands. talking sensitive. where is the effing drama? on 90210, they wrote off that blonde kid with a gunshot and a scenes from the next episode. i'm a heartless bastard. sandy cohen, though, gets in a dig or two: a terrible father in law; and if you can't rest in peace, i am sure heaven could use a few more mcmansions.
the kirsten drink count! we have a new drinking game! we're on 2 already... full bottle, a wobble, and argument, and a smash!
we begin with a treatment center, before the funeral; sandy is sensitive and wants to "keep it brief." i bet an intervention is coming. they were great on HBO's lifestories. and seth discovers the brochure for the treatment center! you know, kiki don't look like no drunk. knowing she's a raw-food-ist, i wonder what they make her drink instead of liquor. does a raw foods diet preclude liquor? isn't vodka processed potato? ahh, it can be made from processed grain, or grapes.
and now... the intervention. kiki strikes back. is it me or does seth just not seem like kiki's son at all? they're not very mother/ daughter- i mean son.
it's 8.45 and kiki's going to rehab? waaaaaaay too early. she's gonna run away. and next season say "seth can do it, why can't i?" but for now, she's contrite.
gamma rays of hate shooting out of your eyeballs? 1 girl, 2 brothers, it's all a little legends of the fall. -summer
and yet another revenge of the sith video game product shot! and another bravery song, honest mistake. i hear this song... uh, too much. the kids go to the bait shop in search of relief from the tensions of life; little do they know they are about top face the harsh reality of asian gangsters and gunfire. that place is So going to have metal detectors next season.
oh... drama. trey and bimbo are... snxxxxx.... gun.... snxxx.... cocaine.... snxxxx.
seth - we just came from my grandfather's funeral.
trampy blonde - well. he's probably pretty old.
"who's the bitch now, huh?" trampy blonde says. isn't that the catch phrase from "the new guy" starring dj qualls and jermaine dupri? but- yo, trampy newport girl done buss off a shot! or would y'all prefer "lick off a shot?" maybe "squeeze some reounds?" or "buck one?"
the trampy girl is jess. ryan's heard it all before from his brother. but did y'all know trey's really british? like mischa? and ryan lays down the "you gotta go" law. don't we all want to see ryan go off the stanford or berkeley and become a sensitive poet, rehashing james dean and writing furiously under the influence of coffee, a couple of skinny suburban girls working on their theater lines and talking about moving to new york? maybe he just needs to go to NYU. but then he'll become a criminal. or this criminal. or this criminal. or maybe trey should go to nyu with trashy. and while there he can adopt a british accent-- which the actor, Logan Marshall Green, actually has in real life. okay, NYU kids, respond away.
oh, no! rissa has a boo-boo! she was near gunfire! and summer is the good times, take care of people kid we all love. she's a care bear with care bear countdown powers! she's good mood bear! therapy bear? exposition of character emotion bear?
tate/ jimmy cooper wants to stay in newport? with julie coop? marisa comes home to find her parents... together! but isn't it creepy to take over caleb's house? is marisa happy or... conflicted? and the mystery other child is coming home?
the way things have been going i bet that's oliver. -seth
hey, how come ryan's so effing pale? ryan resolves to settle it with trey once and for all... trampy wants to go to vegas with trey? steal her stepdad's beamer? what a naughty naughty girl!
ryan - what are you gonna do, shoot me? is that how this ends?
trey - how this ends is up to you, says trey.
ryan walks away, seemingly afraid of the gun in trey's hand. trey puts down the piece and ryan tackles him low. excellent technique. ryan has a future in football. there is a beating, the table breaks- and marisa shoots him? in the back? don't worry, trey is alive. she hit the other side of the chest, away from the heart. man, the oc is hard. dudes get shot in the back by cosmogirl. whatever that song was, the one playing in the heartfelt moments, it has to go.
was that repetitive and annoying tune a ryan adams song?
and we have to get "what are you gonna do, shoot me?" out of the american phrase book.
Interim. 5.19.05
Yesterday I learned that picnics in parks with art history PhD's will inevitable turn into commentary about different sub-breeds of dogs, and marveling at babies. I suppose that's better than staring blankly at conversations about portaiture or pre-Columbian pottery. While interesting, it leaves me without much to say. As we all know, I like to talk.
Today, it's caffeine with Arroz's sister Kiri and her Sunny Disposition. And tonight? The OC's season finale. This viewer is hoping that it will be chock-full of Josh Schwartz' best writing, pop references, and one-liners to blog about.
Yesterday I learned that picnics in parks with art history PhD's will inevitable turn into commentary about different sub-breeds of dogs, and marveling at babies. I suppose that's better than staring blankly at conversations about portaiture or pre-Columbian pottery. While interesting, it leaves me without much to say. As we all know, I like to talk.
Today, it's caffeine with Arroz's sister Kiri and her Sunny Disposition. And tonight? The OC's season finale. This viewer is hoping that it will be chock-full of Josh Schwartz' best writing, pop references, and one-liners to blog about.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Limiter 5.17.05
Today—before I addressed the strange odor by showering—I was watching the Larry Elder show to get myself all incensed. He was lamer than usual but Dr. Phil gave some advice during a commercial break—kind of a One to Grow On, if you remember those.
The good not-quite-doctor tells us that parents should not talk about their money issues/ woes, for the children will then take on some of the emotional responsibility, some of the stress, and then worry about asking about the $10 they need for a class trip.
That’s crap advice. Shouldn’t children of a certain age—let’s say by 10 or so—have a sense of what their financial limits are? Instead of asking why they can’t get some toy? Shouldn’t they learn how to be more efficient? I didn’t need the Trapper Keeper with the Hulk on the cover when a sturdier folder with a metal binder would do; it helped to have a sense of where my dad’s money was going; and to better understand that I couldn’t have every GI Joe. Granted, there was the GI Joe theft incident… but I was a juvenile so you didn’t hear it from me.
The good not-quite-doctor did not specify ages, but the children displayed in the commercial were in the 10-15 range and on some no-curb Florida street. And by that age, kids should know a little bit about their parents’ limits, instead of becoming bitter that they can’t have so and so from MTV and this and that from the mall. We all have limits that define our personal responsibility. It’s better to understand that the parents can’t afford it versus the parents are mean hoarding miserly bastards.
Today—before I addressed the strange odor by showering—I was watching the Larry Elder show to get myself all incensed. He was lamer than usual but Dr. Phil gave some advice during a commercial break—kind of a One to Grow On, if you remember those.
The good not-quite-doctor tells us that parents should not talk about their money issues/ woes, for the children will then take on some of the emotional responsibility, some of the stress, and then worry about asking about the $10 they need for a class trip.
That’s crap advice. Shouldn’t children of a certain age—let’s say by 10 or so—have a sense of what their financial limits are? Instead of asking why they can’t get some toy? Shouldn’t they learn how to be more efficient? I didn’t need the Trapper Keeper with the Hulk on the cover when a sturdier folder with a metal binder would do; it helped to have a sense of where my dad’s money was going; and to better understand that I couldn’t have every GI Joe. Granted, there was the GI Joe theft incident… but I was a juvenile so you didn’t hear it from me.
The good not-quite-doctor did not specify ages, but the children displayed in the commercial were in the 10-15 range and on some no-curb Florida street. And by that age, kids should know a little bit about their parents’ limits, instead of becoming bitter that they can’t have so and so from MTV and this and that from the mall. We all have limits that define our personal responsibility. It’s better to understand that the parents can’t afford it versus the parents are mean hoarding miserly bastards.
Monday, May 16, 2005
I'd Gladly Pay You Tuesday 5.16.05
I'm rounding into shape, a little slowly but a little surely. But Gothamist's posts on hamburgers and hamburger blogs is making me hungry... and I still have to do some garden-style chopping, hacking, and pruning.
Beyond that, Eben/ Kandle's gathering was good times. I came late and my cookies went over well, but there were lots of people I wish I had talked more to. And an episode of Buffy with Niffer. That is all for now.
I'm rounding into shape, a little slowly but a little surely. But Gothamist's posts on hamburgers and hamburger blogs is making me hungry... and I still have to do some garden-style chopping, hacking, and pruning.
Beyond that, Eben/ Kandle's gathering was good times. I came late and my cookies went over well, but there were lots of people I wish I had talked more to. And an episode of Buffy with Niffer. That is all for now.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Comets With Big Ass Tails 5.14.05
Where You Been, Pico?
Avoiding this week's graduation activities. In fact, I think I owe the school an undergrad transcript or something. Been home, watching a bit of TV and sending out some resumes. Trying to get back into sync with the rest of the world, rejoin the human race. Trying to remember who the rest of these elusive friends of mine are. Avoiding showers and apparently, lotion. I can write my name on my skin. Thinking about the sports blog but not sure what my first post will be. Making new penpals and plotting trips I cannot afford.
An aside: good to hear from you, youthlarge , but Glavine remembered how to pitch yesterday against the St.L. Cardinals b-squad. And as for the OC, I fell asleep 15 minutes before the beginning… missed the whole thing. Thanks to neverecho for the recap. Even though you didn't tell me Theresa came back.
Pumpkin Park
The multi-week celebration of Eben and Kandle turning a combined 60-palooza ends tomorrow in Prospect Park like an epic, cross-cultural/ four-dimensional battle for the ultimate chalice, one that will bestow—...no. That is not the way to go in this post. I may be rusty but the hint at pomp is unnecessary here; it will be explained a little farther down—no peeking.
It’s supposed to rain today. I hope not. Not for the birthday kids’ sake; instead, because I do not want to waste the time I have spent plotting out pumpkin cookies. Either pumpkin oat or pumpkin chocolate chip or maybe even pumpkin raisin—I consulted neverecho and she thinks the third is “nuh-uh” and the first is “good” and the second warranted an “idea” email introducing the idea of cream cheese frosting. In the Am I must get the actual chips. If I thought they would work I would add white chocolate chips. But they will not…
The Sound of Suckage
VH1 showed their 50 most awesomely bad metal songs last night. Those who know me well know that this is the kind of show I am likely to get incensed about; only my opinions are correct, after all, and I hate watching smarmy kids who never listened to the music or who were barely old enough to be into it making the funnies about the bands. Don’t get me wrong; the reason I love many of the featured songs and have them on my IPod is because they’re pretty silly. But to have the channel that played Amy Grant on repeat when I was growing up now tell me that a “metal” song can only be about biting off the heads of bats and Satan is curious. No matter how the channel has changed their brand into something cool and retro.
“Metal” is in fact a misnomer in VH1's hater hands, spanning the bat-biting Ozzy and Black Sabbath to the Los Angeles post-punk glam/ hair bands such as Mötley Crüe to the Danzig to apparently Marilyn Manson and Limp Bizkit. Within this clump is a wide range of styles. The Kiss/ Black Sabbath/ Alice Cooper days were about shock value and arena rock. AC/DC and early Van Halen just rocked. The Crüe and Poison wanted to avoid herpes, find warm places to sleep, and get chicks to buy them whiskey and blow. And then there are the derivative bands, the rats on every musical ship. Considering the Insane Clown Posse and Fred Durst’s repeated musical mistakes adds a completely different fanbase/ culture/ musical style to the proceedings.
The bands on VH1’s list shouldn’t be judged on the same criteria. It’s easy to pick a crappy song that Britny Fox of Jackyl did. They couldn’t play their instruments. By the late 80’s the bands were mailing in their performances, had high pyrotechnics budgets from Atlantic or Geffen Records, got advice on their bad love ballads from Bob Rock, and got their hairspray and Ibanez guitars for free.
Quiet Riot’s song about partying was bad—as is almost every song that is written for the express purpose of “blowing out speakers” or staying “up all night.” It’s unoriginal, reminiscent of Lionel Richie telling us to dance on the ceiling, and that is the criteria to call a song lame. When the song is obviously boring, even by the standards of the time, like top pick “the Final Countdown” by Europe, that is too good criteria. Also: when a song is pompous, like the aforementioned Europe song. When a song is creepy like Winger’s “Seventeen.” When the singer has a dumb ass affectation like Mike Tramp of White Lion. When the singer reaches that unbelievable, nuts on a counter being smashed by mallets sound.
Whitesnake’s Here I Go Again was hilarious, and was obviously written to get girls in the arenas and panties off after the high school dance. You could look at who was way into the song and be like “target.”
My top two would have been the same, I admit, but the order switched: Europe’s retardculous pomp followed by Warrant’s “Cherry Pie.” I wish I had a copy of that song, but it always offended me. And I LIKED Warrant.
The song, first, and foremost, has lead guitars guest played. Like a guest star in a sitcom? And played by CC DeVille of Poison. Who could play his instrument but mostly cared about the solos because they got the chicks with teeth. The obvious merits of “without teeth” will not be brought up, but I know you were thinking it. Now, having a guest guitarist is fine but if you know the music, it’s not complex. What were Warrant’s 2 guitarists doing in the interim? Giggling about cherry triangles in women’s laps? Yelling at singer Jani Lane the immortal lines "I stirred the batter and she licked the beater?" The innuendos in the song were limp and I didn’t get half of them then. Cherry Pie model Bobbi Brown’s next claim to fame was 12 years later on Blind Date. Even for a party song, this song was coke-addled stupid, even topping Ratt for boring lyrics and Trixter for cheesy clichés.
I am going to make a metal mix for Liz. If you want one… let me know. Maybe I will make one when I can afford the peroxide blonde, playground teased hair wigs and makeup kits I’d like to send with the music.
Avoiding this week's graduation activities. In fact, I think I owe the school an undergrad transcript or something. Been home, watching a bit of TV and sending out some resumes. Trying to get back into sync with the rest of the world, rejoin the human race. Trying to remember who the rest of these elusive friends of mine are. Avoiding showers and apparently, lotion. I can write my name on my skin. Thinking about the sports blog but not sure what my first post will be. Making new penpals and plotting trips I cannot afford.
An aside: good to hear from you, youthlarge , but Glavine remembered how to pitch yesterday against the St.L. Cardinals b-squad. And as for the OC, I fell asleep 15 minutes before the beginning… missed the whole thing. Thanks to neverecho for the recap. Even though you didn't tell me Theresa came back.
The multi-week celebration of Eben and Kandle turning a combined 60-palooza ends tomorrow in Prospect Park like an epic, cross-cultural/ four-dimensional battle for the ultimate chalice, one that will bestow—...no. That is not the way to go in this post. I may be rusty but the hint at pomp is unnecessary here; it will be explained a little farther down—no peeking.
It’s supposed to rain today. I hope not. Not for the birthday kids’ sake; instead, because I do not want to waste the time I have spent plotting out pumpkin cookies. Either pumpkin oat or pumpkin chocolate chip or maybe even pumpkin raisin—I consulted neverecho and she thinks the third is “nuh-uh” and the first is “good” and the second warranted an “idea” email introducing the idea of cream cheese frosting. In the Am I must get the actual chips. If I thought they would work I would add white chocolate chips. But they will not…
VH1 showed their 50 most awesomely bad metal songs last night. Those who know me well know that this is the kind of show I am likely to get incensed about; only my opinions are correct, after all, and I hate watching smarmy kids who never listened to the music or who were barely old enough to be into it making the funnies about the bands. Don’t get me wrong; the reason I love many of the featured songs and have them on my IPod is because they’re pretty silly. But to have the channel that played Amy Grant on repeat when I was growing up now tell me that a “metal” song can only be about biting off the heads of bats and Satan is curious. No matter how the channel has changed their brand into something cool and retro.
“Metal” is in fact a misnomer in VH1's hater hands, spanning the bat-biting Ozzy and Black Sabbath to the Los Angeles post-punk glam/ hair bands such as Mötley Crüe to the Danzig to apparently Marilyn Manson and Limp Bizkit. Within this clump is a wide range of styles. The Kiss/ Black Sabbath/ Alice Cooper days were about shock value and arena rock. AC/DC and early Van Halen just rocked. The Crüe and Poison wanted to avoid herpes, find warm places to sleep, and get chicks to buy them whiskey and blow. And then there are the derivative bands, the rats on every musical ship. Considering the Insane Clown Posse and Fred Durst’s repeated musical mistakes adds a completely different fanbase/ culture/ musical style to the proceedings.
The bands on VH1’s list shouldn’t be judged on the same criteria. It’s easy to pick a crappy song that Britny Fox of Jackyl did. They couldn’t play their instruments. By the late 80’s the bands were mailing in their performances, had high pyrotechnics budgets from Atlantic or Geffen Records, got advice on their bad love ballads from Bob Rock, and got their hairspray and Ibanez guitars for free.
Quiet Riot’s song about partying was bad—as is almost every song that is written for the express purpose of “blowing out speakers” or staying “up all night.” It’s unoriginal, reminiscent of Lionel Richie telling us to dance on the ceiling, and that is the criteria to call a song lame. When the song is obviously boring, even by the standards of the time, like top pick “the Final Countdown” by Europe, that is too good criteria. Also: when a song is pompous, like the aforementioned Europe song. When a song is creepy like Winger’s “Seventeen.” When the singer has a dumb ass affectation like Mike Tramp of White Lion. When the singer reaches that unbelievable, nuts on a counter being smashed by mallets sound.
Whitesnake’s Here I Go Again was hilarious, and was obviously written to get girls in the arenas and panties off after the high school dance. You could look at who was way into the song and be like “target.”
My top two would have been the same, I admit, but the order switched: Europe’s retardculous pomp followed by Warrant’s “Cherry Pie.” I wish I had a copy of that song, but it always offended me. And I LIKED Warrant.
The song, first, and foremost, has lead guitars guest played. Like a guest star in a sitcom? And played by CC DeVille of Poison. Who could play his instrument but mostly cared about the solos because they got the chicks with teeth. The obvious merits of “without teeth” will not be brought up, but I know you were thinking it. Now, having a guest guitarist is fine but if you know the music, it’s not complex. What were Warrant’s 2 guitarists doing in the interim? Giggling about cherry triangles in women’s laps? Yelling at singer Jani Lane the immortal lines "I stirred the batter and she licked the beater?" The innuendos in the song were limp and I didn’t get half of them then. Cherry Pie model Bobbi Brown’s next claim to fame was 12 years later on Blind Date. Even for a party song, this song was coke-addled stupid, even topping Ratt for boring lyrics and Trixter for cheesy clichés.
I am going to make a metal mix for Liz. If you want one… let me know. Maybe I will make one when I can afford the peroxide blonde, playground teased hair wigs and makeup kits I’d like to send with the music.
Friday, May 06, 2005
it's oh bananas oh bananas oh bananas 05.05.05
summer is no ho.
and her spitting the mouthpiece out was kinda hot. the bob jones university reference- judgment day? oh, this show was written by an east coaster. effing liberals. pissing on the moral values of the anti-miscegenation u. if not for that little fact... but i like my doughnuts in the "assortment" variety.
but after this episode i am never leaving my wife/ girlfriend in the company of a hot guy, especially not one with stubble. lucky for me, i can't get a woman within spitting distance. that's the wrong reference.
ok, it's wrong of me to say but that was the best car accident scene i have seen in a while.
mostly, two hours of OC that didn't thrill; i am off to make presentation like the afghan whigs make party. well... tanner will get that one. if he reads the blog.
summer is no ho.
and her spitting the mouthpiece out was kinda hot. the bob jones university reference- judgment day? oh, this show was written by an east coaster. effing liberals. pissing on the moral values of the anti-miscegenation u. if not for that little fact... but i like my doughnuts in the "assortment" variety.
but after this episode i am never leaving my wife/ girlfriend in the company of a hot guy, especially not one with stubble. lucky for me, i can't get a woman within spitting distance. that's the wrong reference.
ok, it's wrong of me to say but that was the best car accident scene i have seen in a while.
mostly, two hours of OC that didn't thrill; i am off to make presentation like the afghan whigs make party. well... tanner will get that one. if he reads the blog.
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