words...words...words...

Road Trip Day 6 or: 300 MPH Torrential Outpour Blues

2011-07-10T01:42:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, April 19:

I wasn't finished with Nashville quite yet. You see, Nashville is the home to Third Man Records. And Third Man Records is owned by WWW's favorite musician in the entire history of the universe. If there were musicians before the Big Bang, I'm sure that even they could not live up to the lofty standards set by this man. He is the leader of The White Stripes, The Raconteurs, and The Dead Weather. He is, of course, Jack White.

Not pictured: My music boner

Third Man Records records, mixes and manufactures records on site and even hosts performances sometimes. I was not that lucky. But they do have a kickass gift shop, and even have some of the Lego figures from the Fell In Love With A Girl video.

My pilgrimage to Third Man was the last destination before I reached the Words family homestead in New Jersey. However, I did stop for the night in Harrisonburg, Virginia. I imagine that will eventually be the most notable thing to happen in Harrisonburg.

I expect my plaque directly.

Miles today: 540
Total miles: 2865

Road Trip Day 5 or: Play Some Skynyrd, Man!

2011-07-08T14:37:00.000-07:00

Monday, 4/18:

Sadly, it was time to depart St. Louis and make the five hour drive to my next destination - Nashville, Tennessee! I was hoping to get a bit more of an authentic country experience here than I did in Branson, and I was not disappointed.

I didn't arrive in Nashville until 8pm, so my tourist options were limited. I headed directly for Broadway, the downtown street littered with honky-tonks, open containers, and crushed dreams.

Broadway is compact, and I was able to barhop with impunity. At Tootsie's Orchid Lounge (which I swear is the most popular bar on Broadway and not a place for seersuckered dandies to sip mint juleps) the bandstand was so small that the singer walked up and down the bar instead, tip bucket and microphone in hand. I noticed all the bands had tip buckets, and it was made quite clear that it would take a tip the size of a car payment for a patron to hear hisself some "Freebird". Apparently, bands in Nashville feel about playing "Freebird" the same way Radiohead feels about playing any song that might be considered a hit.

Of course, there is always the exception that proves the rule¹, and after a while I happened upon a guy who absolutely shredded on "Freebird"...and he was the only guitar player in the band. Lynyrd Skynyrd had three guitar players, and here this one guy killed it. This is why I'll recommend hitting the bars in Nashville even if, like me, you don't like country music - in Nashville, even to play in a dive bar you have to be REALLY good.

Miles today: 320
Miles total: 2325

1. I've always hated this expression. How does an exception prove the rule? It makes me as mad as "I could care less".

Road Trip Day 4 or: I've Never Been This High, Like, Ever

2011-05-09T14:13:00.000-07:00

Sunday, 4/17:

After Branson, I wasn't sure if my next destination would be able to deliver the same fix of adrenaline thrills I'd become accustomed to. But I forged on still, mindful that I had a blog to write and people less than 65 years old to see. This was one of the shorter drives of the trip at 4.5 hours, and the most uneventful. The only thing of value I learned on this drive was that I could get free wi-fi by parking next to a Starbucks. If I went inside the Starbucks, I could even get coffee! What a country!¹

Lo and behold, a giant arch in the skyline heralded today's destination. No, not McDonald's. It's none other than the proud home of Chuck Berry (and Fred Berry), shitloads of beer, and noted foul-mouthed blogger Gwen - St. Louis! Like everyone else, my first thought upon getting to St. Louis was "I want to go in the Arch!I want to go in the Arch!I want to go in the Arch!" (Pretend that went on for five minutes without a breath.) Oddly enough, despite the Gateway Arch's iconic status, it's only been open since 1967. It's only been around a few years longer than I have, and despite my best efforts I am not anything close to an icon.

Even though you can't see me at all due to the overcast day, I've now officially posted a picture of myself. Technicality!

According to a peer-reviewed academic refrigerator magnet I saw in the gift shop, the Gateway Arch is the tallest man-made monument in the United States. It's taller than the Statue of Liberty, the Space Needle, the Washington Monument, and especially the "tall" size coffee I was too cheap to buy so that I could check my email at a table like a human person instead of in the front seat of my car.

Yep, that's pretty damn tall. Check out the people having a picnic on that teeny-tiny pink blanket. My attempts to spit on them were probably unsuccessful, because after a cursory introduction to Newtonian physics, I concluded that I was probably in Illinois before the spit landed.²

I finished up in St. Louis with a trip to the legendary Ted Drewes frozen custard stand to sample their specialty, the concrete. Frozen custard with mix-ins (brownie and banana for me), the concrete is a cross between a milkshake and a sundae. It's so thick that your server turns it upside down before handing it over. Rumor has it that a Dairy Queen executive had one and stole the idea to create the Blizzard, but if that's true then DQ bungled the job with their inferior version. This custard was extremely smooth and delicious, and I'm sad to report that it's much better than the frozen custard of my youth on the Jersey shore boardwalks.

After St. Louis, I headed somewhere that I hoped would prove to the the antithesis of Branson. Where is that? Well, you'll just have to find out tomorrow, won't you?

Miles today: 250

Miles total: 2005

1. I would like to think this is the first multi-day Yakov Smirnoff callback in the history of blogdom.

2. Also because the top of the Arch is enclosed in Plexiglass.

Road Trip Day 3 or: I Lived The Dukes of Hazzard

2011-05-06T14:12:00.000-07:00

Saturday, 4/16:

Saturday morning I pulled out of Amarillo and headed towards that night’s comedy-rich destination (wait for it!) The theme of the day (aside from how freaking big and flat Texas and Oklahoma are) was the po-po!

I was chugging along on cruise control at 75, 5 mph above the posted speed limit of 70. A car in front of me had been traveling at the same speed I was for quite a while when all of a sudden a Texas state trooper pulled out behind me and flicked on his lights. Now, not too long ago I heard an anecdote where a man pulled over for speeding asked the officer why his car had been singled out when two other cars in the vicinity were traveling at the same speed. “Well,” the officer replied. “I just turned my lights on. You were the one that pulled over.” Keeping that in mind, I kept a steady speed and watched the police car pass me on the left and pull over the car in front of me. I really do believe we were traveling at the same speed. Maybe there was another reason that car was pulled over, or maybe he was chosen because he was the car in front and therefore setting the pace. Either way, I breathed a sigh of relief. But that would not be the end of my dealings with the police on this day.

As the highway carried me through Oklahoma City, the traffic got a little more clogged. I needed to make an exit on the left, and as I was trying to wedge my way into the exit lane, I weaved a bit. A few hundred yards after successfully making the exit, I saw those red and blue lights flashing behind me again. At first I wasn’t even sure it was a police car – Oklahoma Highway Patrol cars apparently have very thin strips of lights across the top of their windshield and grille instead of the traditional roof-mounted lights. Frankly, in my rear view mirror it looked as much like a pimpmobile with a bouncing suspension as a police cruiser. In any event, I pulled over and the officer approached my window. After I handed over my license and registration, he told me that he pulled me over because of my erratic driving while trying to get into the exit lane. He then tried to draw me into a conversation the way cops do when they suspect you might be drunk. “Where are you going?” “Oh really, a road trip? How far are you driving?” “What do you do?” Then, finally, he asked the most important question of the day. “Oh, film production? Where did you go to school to learn that?” I cleared my throat and said, “Syracuse, sir.” The man’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Me too! That’s where I met my wife! And here I am a state trooper in Oklahoma. Funny how things work out.” As it turns out, the officer was even in the same program I was. We talked college basketball for a minute or two and then he urged me to be more careful and sent me on my way. Now, I didn’t actually do anything illegal that I can reckon, and I don’t think he was going to ticket me anyway. But this little bit of serendipity sure couldn’t have hurt.

Blessedly, that was the sum total of my interaction with the authorities today. Which was good - I was able to turn my attention to that night’s destination…Branson, Missouri! Now, for those of you who don’t know, Branson occupies a unique niche in American culture. A small city of little renown until the 1970s, Branson has over the last 40 years grown into a major tourist attraction based largely around country music. Or, as Homer Simpson once described it, “Branson is like Vegas if it were run by Ned Flanders.” Highway 76, known as “the Strip”, is the home to scores of theaters, many named after performers who have moved to Branson and perform there year round. Some of the more prominent performers include the Osmonds, the Mandrells, Tony Orlando, Mickey Gilley, Andy Williams, Boxcar Willie, the Oak Ridge Boys, and curiously, comedian Yakov Smirnoff. In Branson, cheesy entertainment watches you!

I arrived in Branson about 9:30 on Saturday night, dreading the traffic on a weekend night. And when I turned onto the Strip toward my hotel, I found…nothing. The sidewalks were rolled up. At 9:30. On a Saturday. This is when I learned that Branson tourists were largely made up from a group that eats dinner at 4pm and makes Metamucil a permanently backordered item at the Walgreens. Despite the lack of action out on the street, I did cruise along taking in the sights.

In time-warp Branson, Dallas is still the #1 show. Don't ruin it for them by announcing who shot J.R.

This giant chicken seemed to echo "Hotel California". I could check out of Branson anytime I liked, but I could never leave. Which reminds me, The Eagles are due here in 2016.

Baldknobbers seems a bit of a risque name for the Bible belt, but it's one of the oldest theaters in Branson.

And if that's not enough Baldknobbers for you, you can eat or sleep here too. I wonder if spotted dick or kielbasa are on the menu.

Miles today: 585

Miles total: 1755

Road Trip Day 2 or: Two Kinds Of Holes

2011-05-01T11:28:00.000-07:00

Friday, 4/15:

Meteor Crater met all my expectations. The scale is simply massive. I couldn’t even fit the entire thing in a picture. It’s one mile across and 550 feet deep. I just sort of stared dumbfounded, imagining what it must have been like when the meteor hit and threw up enough rocks and dirt to make this giant hole in the ground. A cutout of a person had been placed at the center of the crater to judge size, and you couldn’t even see it without binoculars or the zoom lens of a camera. I stayed a little longer than I wanted, but then it was back on the road. I had my first unscheduled Cool Thing™.

I’d planned to stop tonight in Elk City, OK, but I knew that cutting short yesterday’s drive was going to mean that I wouldn’t make it. My new destination is Amarillo, TX. It was to be an 8 hour drive – I’d scheduled longer drives earlier in the trip while I was still fresh. What I didn’t count on at all, however, was that I would cross time zones in today’s drive. TWICE. I was going from the Pacific time zone to the Central time zone, adding two hours to my drive. It’s still just 8 hours of course, but I’d arrive later and thus have to start earlier the next day, so it’s relevant to getting enough rest.

I passed through Albuquerque, NM and soon after saw one of the most stunning sunsets I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately I couldn’t stop and take a picture of it because a rest stop didn’t come up during the sunset and it’s too dangerous to pull over to the shoulder of the interstate when the speed limit is 75…I’d be afraid someone would hit me. I regret not getting that picture, though.

I pulled into Amarillo about 10:30pm local time. I was wiped out and didn’t have time to see anything, so I’m rather relieved that Amarillo seemed unremarkable in every way. I was a bit bummed after I checked into the motel, though. It seems that the Big Texan Steak Ranch was only a couple of miles away and had closed at 10pm. The Big Texan is the home of the 72-ounce steak dinner that’s free if you can manage to finish it in one hour. If you order the steak, they put you on an elevated stage in front of the rest of the dining room and start a big clock on the wall. Countless comedians, nutritionists and even a Simpsons episode have used the Big Texan as inspiration. I’m not sure I would have tried the challenge (especially since the dinner costs $72 if your steakhole is not up to the task), but I’d sure like to have watched!

Miles today: 610
Miles today: 1170

Road Trip Day 1 or: Pizza And Beer-like Substance

2011-05-01T11:01:00.000-07:00

Thursday, 4/14:

Today I hit the road! I left about 8:30am and by 3 I was in Phoenix, AZ for the first Cool Thing™ I wanted to do…Pizzeria Bianco. Widely hailed as one of the best, if not the best pizzeria in the USA, I’d wanted to go when I was last in Phoenix but didn’t get a chance. The place doesn’t open til 5, but I planned to arrive by 3 to join the daily throngs that hang on the lawn out front in hopes of getting in. Imagine my surprise when I found it open! The bartender told me that the restricted hours were to ensure quality, but that after a while they didn’t see the point in making people wait outside for hours, so they started opening for lunch.

I had the Wiseguy pizza, which has mozzarella, caramelized onions, and fennel sausage. The best part of the pizza was the thin crust…charred and crispy but chewy inside. It was one of the two best pizzas I’ve ever had, the other being Pizzeria Mozza in Los Angeles. Neither are exactly like the traditional pie from the corner pizzeria, which makes some people contend that they are not actually pizza. I know pizza. I love pizza. This is pizza. If you are in the neighborhood of either, I can’t recommend them highly enough.

I was back on the road after that, hoping to make it a few more hours to Holbrook, AZ to stop for the night. About 50 miles short of Holbrook, I saw signs for Meteor Crater. I immediately changed my plans and stopped at the nearest motel, because I was going to see that crater in the morning. When I was four years old, the first book I remember reading over and over was a world atlas. In the front there was a section on the Solar System, and that was the reason I developed the interest in astronomy and space travel that had me on this trip in the first place. In that atlas, there was a picture of Meteor Crater, and the scale of it blew my little mind. I had always wanted to see it, and I hadn’t the faintest idea that my route was going to pass right near it.

Miles today: 560
Miles total: 560

Ed. Note: It didn’t fit anywhere in that post, but I must follow up the assertion in my last post that I’d imbibed a substance ruled illegal in 20 states. At a gas stop in Arizona, I noticed the much-maligned Four Loko for sale. For those who don’t know, Four Loko is a malt drink that has twice the alcohol of beer, four times the caffeine of coffee, and is sold in 23oz cans. If you’re like me, you’re thinking “how is this possibly legal in 30 states?” as well as “I must try this immediately”. I did, and I can report that it both made me feel weird and tasted so incomprehensibly bad that I would have rinsed my mouth out with Clamato.

Back In The Saddle

2011-04-13T23:03:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm back. Sort of.¹

And there was rejoicing throughout the land! Or at least quizzical looks, from the reactions to my picture posts leading up to blog reactivation. I'll explain. Those are stills from a bit Sesame Street used to do where Bob and Luis erected a tunnel and a train came rushing through. It used to SCARE THE SHIT out of me when I was a wee tyke. Something about seeing it far away and then seeing it slowly come to get me was horrifying. And the sound was pretty frightening too. If you're interested, you can see the clip here. Then the connection to bringing back the blog might make a little more sense. Or you might conclude I'm still nuts. Which I would not begrudge you, frankly.

I won't be posting as often as I did before, but I like having this place and I like reading all of you. The reason I've chosen now to come back is that I'll be leaving tomorrow morning on a road trip. I'll be leaving from LA, driving to NJ to see the family, then down to Kennedy Space Center to see a Space Shuttle launch, then back to LA. 7,000 miles, hombres. I'd like to blog the trip for my own enjoyment, and I will therefore be forcing you people to read it.

It should be interesting right off the bat, as I discovered last night that I inadvertently threw out my VIP ticket to the launch. I did my spring cleaning last week, and went through a bunch of paperwork, putting it into "throw out" and "keep" piles. My Shuttle ticket apparently found its way to the "throw out" pile. I'm normally super organized. I can't believe I was that careless. During my drive I'll be attempting to pry one loose from eBay, Facebook, or anywhere else. I'm sure I'll either not find one or pay a super duper premium and then return home and find the original ticket in about six months. I can't wait to write that blog post.

1. I do have a gift for grand entrances, don't I?

2011-03-20T10:11:00.001-07:00

2011-03-14T16:09:00.001-07:00

2011-03-11T12:17:00.001-08:00

2011-03-08T14:44:00.001-08:00

2011-03-06T22:09:00.000-08:00

2011-03-05T21:45:00.000-08:00

Let's Just Call It Smell You Later

2010-06-28T11:51:00.000-07:00

Dear readers (and the rest of you too),

This blog used to be good. It's kind of lost its way over the last few months and it's now just an infrequent repository of (kickass) songs and lame half-posts. I'm struggling to find the time to write in it, and I shouldn't have to struggle only to post crap.

I think for this blog to be good again, it needs direction. I need to take some time and rethink what I want it to be. I'm sure some of what I usually do will survive to WWW 2.0, but not all of it. Hopefully I'll be back before too long.

Thank you all for following my blog. I love knowing that someone out there is reading what I write, and occasionally enjoying it. I hope that I can come back and better reward your effort. I'll continue to read all of you, so I'll be around.

Thanks :)

WWW

Rocking For The Weekend: Jellyfish

2010-06-25T03:30:00.000-07:00

This week I bring you Jellyfish, a great 90s pop band that isn't half as well known as they should be. They made two albums and were gone as quickly as they came, but left behind this gem called "Baby's Coming Back". It was a minor hit in 1991, and it's a great introduction to Jellyfish's hooky, vaguely orchestral pop. I haven't made a list, but I'm pretty sure this would be in my top ten favorite songs. Enjoy the weekend! I might even get Sunday off and join you!

Baby's Coming Back @ Yahoo! Video

That's Why He's The Master Of Horror

2010-06-22T03:30:00.000-07:00

I was playing around with Photo Booth last night, and I had no idea how many effects it had or how specialized they were. Can you guys believe they have a "Stephen King" effect?

Rocking For The Weekend: Butch Walker

2010-06-18T03:30:00.000-07:00

I first heard Butch Walker in the late 90s as the singer/songwriter/guitarist of kickass pop/punk band Marvelous 3. That band put out three fantastic albums and broke up in 2001, leading Walker to a new career as a songwriter/producer/svengali type. He's written and produced hits for such varied artists as Pete Yorn, Fall Out Boy, Avril Lavigne, All-American Rejects, Weezer, The Donnas, Hot Hot Heat, American Hi-Fi, and Dashboard Confessional, among others.

In addition to a career as a punkier Adam Schlesinger, Walker also continues to record his own albums. His solo music features the same catchy hook-laden pop rock as the Marvelous 3. Today's selection, "Bethamphetamine", comes from 2006's The Rise And Fall Of Butch Walker And The Let's-Go-Out-Tonites. Enjoy some fun rock and roll and enjoy your weekend!¹

1. Even though I have to work. AGAIN.

"Mahogany" Cards. Robert Horry.

2010-06-16T08:54:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or is the man in this Hallmark™ Mahogany card a dead ringer for NBA All-Star Robert Horry?

Do you think it's possible that Horry commissioned this lovely watercolor so that he might have a personalized card to send to family and friends? It would be most excellent for him to be able to go to the store and buy a card that was already pre-printed with his sentiments.

"Hello, dear friend or relative.

This is Robert Horry, and I am taking a moment from the time I set aside for looking pensive to wish you a happy birthday/graduation/wedding/baby/new job/bar mitzvah.

Best regards, seven time NBA champion Robert Horry.

P.S., thank you for your concerned inquiries, but no, I do not have vitiligo on my forearms."

I would like to think so. It amuses me.

Rocking For The Weekend: The Rolling Stones

2010-06-10T20:01:00.000-07:00

In May, The Rolling Stones released a remastered version of Exile On Main Street, my #2 favorite album of all time. For some reason, I don't have my grubby little hands on it yet, but the news made me revisit this spectacular example of blues, juke joint boogie-woogie, and preening cocksurety.

Exile was recorded in the basement of Keith Richards' French hideaway during what approximated an extended house party. Guests came and went and took time out from frolicking to lay down a track or two. It all came together as a shambling, off the cuff masterpiece.

"Happy" is one of the few Stones songs that Richards sings lead vocals on. It lives up to its name, exuding joy at every turn. Consequently, it's long been a live staple for the Stones, and I hope you enjoy it today. Happy Weekend!¹

1. Even though I don't get a weekend this week. Or next week. Grr.

Football, Chalupas, and Curly Joe

2010-06-10T03:30:00.000-07:00

Seattle Seahawks rookie wide receiver Golden Tate was apprehended last weekend breaking into a local doughnut shop at 3am. Tate was drawn by the smell of freshly baked maple bars, which he ate several of before police arrived. According to the Associated Press, Tate called the incident a "foolish mistake", but also declared that "if you ever want maple bars, that's the place to go." Seahawks coach Pete Carroll told reporters that he had spoken to Tate about the issue. "That's definitely wrong. We've talked about it, addressed it. He's remorseful and all that." However, even Carroll seems to be under the spell of the delicious pastry, adding "I do understand the lure of the maple bars." WWW finds it hilarious that the shop victimized by Tate's 3am munchie run is called "Top Pot Doughnuts".

Tate's tale brought to mind other incidents involving football players who got in trouble with the law in pursuit of tasty treats. Yes, there are enough incidents to warrant a a blog post.¹

Chad Kelsay, who played for the University of Nebraska and the Pittsburgh Steelers, was arrested in 2003 for eating off of other customers' plates at a Lincoln, Nebraska restaurant. By the time police arrived, Kelsay had moved on from pulling an Elaine Benes and was eating directly from the salsa bar. I am not making this up.

Both of these incidents are entertaining. But they simply cannot compare to the story of University of Kansas defensive end Dion Rayford. He was visiting a Taco Bell restaurant at 2am one night in 1999 when employees made the mistake of leaving a chalupa out of his order. The 270-pound Rayford became enraged and got stuck in the drive-thru window when he lunged at employees in an effort to retrieve the missing chalupa. The 14x46 inch window couldn't support his weight and collapsed, leaving Rayford hanging halfway inside. Employees retreated to the office and called police, who shockingly cited Rayford for disorderly conduct and having an open container of alcohol.²

This is the summary paragraph, where I'm supposed to tie all these stories together. But screw it. I just liked telling three awesome stories about drunk football players with the munchies. And it's my blog.

1. Three is enough. Three is the classic comedy number that makes everything funny. That's why there are Three Stooges.^A

2. I would like to think that they read him his rights while he was still stuck in the window. It amuses me.

A. Well, that and Shemp sucked.^AA

AA. Curly Joe, too.

The Truth Makes Baby Jesus Giggle And Then Spit Up A Little

2010-06-07T03:30:00.000-07:00

On Thursday, I participated in a meme where I had to list seven facts about me - six truths and one lie. Eight of you hazarded a guess as to which was the lie. ONE stands alone as the winner! Let's go down the list, shall we?

1. A flag has been flown over the U.S. Capitol Building in my honor.
Tammy, S&C, and Girl Interrupted all guessed #1. All were wrong! I am an Eagle Scout, and back in the day one of the perks was receiving a flag flown over the Big Nip to mark the occasion. Sadly, it's not such a special thing anymore. These days, any citizen can order one from your Senator or Representative. (But you'll have to pay for it!)

2. I have performed karaoke exactly once, and I won that evening's contest.
Zibbs, Gwen, 180/360 and Blogless Rebecca all guessed #2. All were wrong! One year for Halloween, I dressed as a member of Devo, complete with red flowerpot hat and whip. The bar we went to happened to have karaoke, and the host pleaded with me to sing "Whip It". After five or six beers and two hours of relentless needling, I succumbed. I rocked it out, whipped everything in sight, and won Eagles tickets. Sweet.

3. I have been proposed to. (Yes, by a girl. Jerks.)
Trinity wins! He was the only person to guess correctly. I remain un-proposed to, even by Gwen. I think she thought I said "propositioned".

4. My only D in school was in Algebra I.
True. My parents were so shocked I didn't even get in trouble. I think it might be partly because they laughed when I called the algebra teacher a goober.

5. I have played catch with Kevin Costner on more than one occasion.
True. I worked on one of the good movies he made.

6. My mother once told me I got laid off from my job because I skipped church.
True. First thing out of her mouth after I told her I was laid off. It's still the worst thing she's ever said to me.

7. I've seen a doctor three times in the last 12 years.
True. It's hard to go to the doctor when you don't have insurance. Not because it's too expensive, but because if they find anything it will never be covered.

Thanks for playing, and congrats to Trinity!

Rocking For The Weekend: Def Leppard

2010-06-04T11:42:00.000-07:00

I was inspired to post this song by a blogger who shall remain nameless. Said blogger had a bit of fun at my expense for being an unabashed, unironic fan of Def Leppard. I have no choice but to retort by posting "Pour Some Sugar On Me". It is not only a definitive Friday song, but also the best stripping song ever recorded (take that, Motley Crue!) and proof that lyrics mean absolutely nothing. This song is completely unintelligible (a Def Leppard trademark). I defy any group of distinguished linguists, cultural anthropologists, or even ecclesiastical scholars to divine any meaning whatsoever in the song. It's just ear candy, and it does not suffer in the least for it.

I've always thought that Def Leppard was unfairly ghettoized by the term "hair metal". Their songwriting, chops and vocal harmonies always put them well ahead of contemporaries like the aformentioned Crue, Poison, Bon Jovi, Skid Row, Warrant and the like. I see Def Leppard more as the descendants of glam rock bands like Mott The Hoople, T. Rex and especially Queen. If you listen to their music with 2010 ears, you might be surprised at the level of pop songcraft present.

Rumor has it (I refuse to consider anything broadcast by VH-1 more reliable than rumor) that the album Hysteria was completed but that the record company wanted one more song. Uberproducer Mutt Lange heard lead singer Joe Elliott noodling on an acoustic guitar and his ears pricked up. Elliott said that it was just a little unfinished riff he was playing with, and Lange insisted that the band flesh it out. Shortly afterward, "Pour Some Sugar On Me" was added to the album just before it shipped. Hysteria was initially a disappointing failure, leaving the band nearly bankrupt. Then "Pour Some Sugar On Me" was released as a single, and it ignited sales of the album, which went on to dominate the summer and fall of 1988 in a way that rock records simply can't do anymore.

But enough babbling. Enjoy the song and enjoy the weekend :)

Lies Make Baby Jesus Cry (But He's Not Here)

2010-06-03T04:00:00.000-07:00

I have been bestowed with an award by the delightful-and-soon-to-be-wed Cora of Love Letters By Cora! And just in time for my blog, which teeters on life support. This award includes a meme in which I am asked to become a filthy liar. This is not a stretch, as anyone who reads my blog can attest. Behold the Creative Writer Blogger Award!

This is not just a ceremonial position. I must do the following:

•Express gratitude to the blogger who bestowed the award unto you.
(see above)

•Display the picture on your blog proudly.
(see to the right)

•Be nice and provide a link to the person who gave it to you.
Love Letters By Cora

•Tell up to 6 outrageous lies about yourself, and at least 1 outrageous truth, or switch it around and tell 6 outrageous truths and 1 outrageous lie.
I'm going to go with the 6 truths and 1 lie:

1. A flag has been flown over the U.S. Capitol Building in my honor.
2. I have performed karaoke exactly once, and I won that evening's contest.
3. I have been proposed to. (Yes, by a girl. Jerks.)
4. My only D in school was in Algebra I.
5. I have played catch with Kevin Costner on more than one occasion.
6. My mother once told me I got laid off from my job because I skipped church.
7. I've seen a doctor three times in the last 12 years.

•Nominate 7 creative writers who might be into doing this.
•Post links to the seven blogs you nominate and let the owners of those blogs know.

Honestly, I'm not big on sending other blogs memes. But since there are a few blogs I enjoy that have been slacking even more than I have, I will tag them in a show of tough love. I hereby tag:

Falwless at Lots Better Then Your Blog
Girl Interrupted at A World So Small
The Imaginary Reviewer at The Imaginary Review

Get cracking, you three! And the rest of you...guess my lie!

Fun With Camera Phones: Amish Edition

2010-06-02T11:04:00.000-07:00

I would love to have been a fly on the wall when Joey and Sassie debated what they wanted to do for their Rumspringa and came up with...Shakey's. Not Disneyland? Not the beach? Not Hollywood? Not smoking cigarettes behind Jumbo's Clown Room? Not even...a bar? SHAKEY'S?

FRIENDS: "So tell us about the outside world!"

JOEY: "It's filled with balloons and pepperoni pizza and the wings of chickens covered in a sauce more fiery than Satan's lair itself!"

SASSIE: "And unlimited refills of Coke!"

I am certain Joey and Sassie will remain in the Amish community.

The fact that Shakey's misspelled "Rumspringa" just adds the perfect touch of pathos.

Rocking For The Weekend: The Muppets

2010-05-28T10:21:00.000-07:00

Okay, so this isn't technically "rocking". But it's Memorial Day Weekend! And who better to help us observe this holiday than my favorite Muppet, that glowering patriot, Sam the Eagle. Please join Sam and the rest of the Muppets in a rousing rendition of "Stars And Stripes Forever", and enjoy your holiday weekend!

Fun With Camera Phones: Loss Prevention

2010-05-26T03:00:00.000-07:00

I wonder if they had this problem when they were making Charlie And The Chocolate Factory.

Rocking For The Weekend: Boston

2010-05-21T03:30:00.000-07:00

Thank God for Rocking For The Weekend. If it weren't for this feature, WWW might conceivably go a month without a post. (Pause for hopeful sighs.) For better or for worse, today you get a post. And what performer is good enough to break a two-week dry spell you ask? Boston!

Boston was one of my favorite bands in high school, and they remain a fond favorite today. I was digging through some old CDs this week and came upon Boston's skimpy discography. If you like good-time rock and roll with thundering guitar, hand claps, soaring harmonies, and the occasional massive pipe organ, you like Boston. And I defy you not to like "Feelin' Satisfied", an exuberant ode to live concerts. There's so much joy in this song that it's perfect for Friday. Enjoy!

Some interesting Boston trivia:

* Founder and guitarist Tom Scholz holds an MS in mechanical engineering from MIT and worked at Polaroid on the team that developed the Polaroid Instant Camera. Then he decided to rock.

* Scholz also invented and marketed the Rockman, a popular analog guitar effects unit designed to produce the Boston guitar sound. It was embraced by Steve Stevens (Billy Idol), Neal Schon (Journey), Billy Gibbons (ZZ Top), and Steve Clark and Phil Collen (Def Leppard).

* Boston's self-titled debut album, released in 1976, sold 17 million copies and was the biggest selling debut album in history until it was surpassed by Guns N' Roses' Appetite For Destruction in 1988.

Rocking For The Weekend: Soul Asylum

2010-05-07T12:31:00.000-07:00

It's Friday again already. Yet at the same time, this week has constantly reminded me of W.C. Fields' famous (if unstubstantiated) quote regarding my hometown. "Philadelphia, wonderful town. I spent a week there one night." This week cannot end soon enough.

To help us all get there just a little quicker, here is Soul Asylum's "Somebody To Shove". I heard lead singer Dave Pirner guesting on another song this week and immediately had the urge to listen to this song again. For the youngsters out there, Soul Asylum was one of the endless parade of 90s bands that were vaguely influenced by grunge but mostly just made forgettable guitar rock. You may (or more likely may not) remember such examples as the Gin Blossoms, Better Than Ezra, Collective Soul and Counting Crows.¹

Anyway, much like a thousand monkeys banging away at a thousand typewriters will eventually write "Hamlet", I firmly believe every band that achieves a modicum of success has at least one truly great song.² And this is Soul Asylum's truly great song. I think it's about inertia and sometimes needing a kick in the ass to jolt you out of apathy. But I have been known to get song meanings completely wrong. Mostly I just like it because it rocks. Enjoy!

1. I know that Counting Crows don't exactly fit this category. But I can't resist any opportunity to take a shot at them for sucking so hard.

2. Yes, even Counting Crows. See "Mr. Jones".

Yes, We Have No Hot Water

2010-05-05T03:00:00.000-07:00

Gather 'round, my readers, and I will tell you a tale! A tale of incompetence, broken promises, chicanery and unpleasant odors!

Several times during the month of April, my apartment building was without hot water. At least three times I had to go to work with an unsatisfying cold shower. When this happened, I simply washed my hair, face, pits and undercarriage to avoid freezing my nuts off. Apparently (and much to my dismay) the resistance to extreme temperatures forged by years of 8am outdoor swim practices had forsaken me. After several complaints (including one by me) the management finally responded in the form of this letter given to all tenants:

I suppose $200 is a nice gesture. But honestly...how long does it take to purchase and install a water heater? And what kind of new hot water heater would require a permit that takes more than a week to secure? We're not installing a hot tub time machine here. (Although that would rule.) About a week and a half after the previous letter, the following was posted in the building elevator:

TWO FULL DAYS to install a hot water heater? This means I'm assured of at least one more arctic shower on Wednesday morning. At this point, I'm becoming curious to see this monstrosity. Upon further reflection, I decided that if the management hired people with the skill level of the usual "handyman" or "plumber" sent to make repairs to my apartment, then it would take the same number of men to install this water heater as it took to erect the Great Pyramids. Honestly. I have a metal transition over the line where my kitchen tile meets my carpet, and after nearly three years they STILL can't secure it tightly.

So Tuesday morning comes, and cognizant of the 8am deadline, I get into the shower just before 7:30am. After I'm thoroughly wet but not yet soapy (I'll give the ladies a moment here to imagine me getting soapy in the shower. La la la. We all good? Okay, let's move on.) the water turns ice fucking cold. A half hour early. I used my anger to quickly wash before the heat on my skin totally dissipated and on the way to work I decided that the letter posted in the elevator needed to be tightened up just a bit:

Of course, this meant that I'd have cold showers on TWO consecutive days. Simply unacceptable. Not, however, as unacceptable as what I saw in the elevator upon my return home on Tuesday night:

THREE days to install the hot water heater? THREE mornings with no hot shower? That's not just unacceptable, it's comical. Screw the people in Darfur. I want Sally Struthers and Bono here with barrels of hot water ASAP! And fancy soaps! The kind that smell like grandma's perfume!

Even as beloved a personage as myself cannot arrive at work with three days of stank on me. A solution needed to be found. And lo, it was. As it happens, I live two blocks away from a 24 Hour Fitness location. Gyms have showers. Hot showers. And they frequently offer free trials. A quick visit to the 24 Hour Fitness website confirmed that I could secure a free 7-day pass. Thursday morning I hustled over to the gym and sincerely expressed my interest in a new and healthier lifestyle. I dutifully endured the 30 minute tour/hardcore sales pitch and said that I would certainly think about it. Trainer Kristen shook my hand and told me to enjoy the gym and speak to her on the way out about my experience. I made an immediate beeline for the showers. I quickly undressed, anticipating this shower more than about half of the Christmas mornings in my lifetime. I hit the stall, cranked the dial toward "hot", and reveled in the...ICE COLD water. NO. NO, GODDAMMIT. NOT HERE TOO!

After about two minutes of filthy language and frantic gesticulation, I realized that the "hot" and "cold" ends of the shower dial were incorrectly marked. "Cold" was "hot". Soon, hot steaming water, sweeter than milk and honey, flowed over my stinky skin. The feeling of relief was like that of an orgasm or a massive crap. After twenty thoroughly satisfying minutes, I dressed and snuck past Trainer Kristen to make my escape.

The hot water in the building indeed came back on Thursday night. Ingenuity had seen me through these dark hours. And I will be reminded of my experience for years to come, when a representative from 24 Hour Fitness calls every 8 hours until the Sun's explosion into a supernova reduces the Earth to a cinder.

The G-Chat Diaries, Vol. 12

2010-05-03T08:31:00.000-07:00

In a departure from previous installments of The G-Chat Diaries, I have redacted several statements from Chatter X to preserve the tattered remains of his/her reputation. If you would like to be featured in a future installment, just hit up WWW via the Plugoo chat application over there on the right!

Chatter X: I'm talking to you from an unsecured wireless network...is that bad? Can people see this?

WWW: No it just means there's no password for the network.

Chatter X: I'm totally stealing someone's internet.

Chatter X: So they can't see what I'm doing?

WWW: Nope.

Chatter X: Unless they're some kind of brilliant hacker?

WWW: And also, if they cared.

Chatter X: Off to the porn sites! If my identity is stolen and my [Naughty!] are published somewhere, I'm killing you.

WWW: I'm okay with that.

Chatter X: Not afraid of death, eh?

WWW: We both know you're too lazy to travel 3,000 miles to kill anyone.

Chatter X: That's true.

Chatter X: Although, while I was there I could try to swing by that whatever festival to see [Shitty band Chatter X loves]. I get all the festivals confused.

Chatter X: It's not Bonnaroo.

Chatter X: Uhhh. [Expletive].

Chatter X: I hate when information falls out of my head.

WWW: Coachella?

Chatter X: YES

Chatter X: They're headlining Coachella this year.

WWW: Really?

Chatter X: Yes.

WWW: Was Jesus Jones unavailable?

Chatter X: [Shitty band Chatter X loves] is huge, what are you talking about?

WWW: Huge? Hmm. Moderately. Besides, I just don't like them at all. Despite the presence of [Chatter X’s stalkee].

Chatter X: Well, you're stupid.

Chatter X: That's my only retort.

WWW: It's an old reliable one.

Chatter X: POOL IS STUPID!

WWW: I like pool!

Chatter X: I know, I was quoting Jeff Winger. Oh, how I wish full frontal was allowed on NBC.

Chatter X: I'm very curious to [Trust me, you're better not knowing] what Joel McHale is packing.

WWW: I should interject here, in case this ever becomes a Chatter X post, that we are speaking about an episode of the delightful NBC comedy Community, starring Joel McHale as wisecracking ex-lawyer turned community college student Jeff Winger.

Chatter X: That's true. You know, I have this theory that they sort of named Joel's character after Bill Murray's in Stripes.

Chatter X: John Winger / Jeff Winger. They're both charming, wisecracking smartasses.

WWW: Hmm. Not Kip Winger?

Chatter X: Nah, not enough hair (chest and head) for that. And he never pirouettes.

Chatter X: It can't be Debra Winger, because Joel's voice isn't deep enough.

WWW: I think we've exhausted pop culture Wingers.

Rocking For The Weekend: Brendan Benson

2010-04-30T14:34:00.000-07:00

Hey kids, it's Friday! And that means one thing...it's time for Rocking For The Weekend! (Never mind that most of you will see this after you're already home from work, if not on Monday. I'm late, so sue me. I'm working nights this week.)

This week I'm featuring Brendan Benson. This is "A Whole Lot Better" from his latest album, My Old Familiar Friend. Most of you have probably never heard of him, but you've probably heard his music. This is because he moonlights as a member of Jack White's other band, The Raconteurs. Brendan's solo work is a little less rock, a little more pop. He would have been huge back in the day when people cared about the Billboard charts and the top spots were occupied by actual, you know, songs. But today, well-crafted catchy pop/rock is a niche genre, and Brendan is a niche performer. Hopefully, today his niche gets a little bigger. Enjoy!

Priorities. I Has Them.

2010-04-19T13:19:00.001-07:00

While I enjoy the website Texts From Last Night, I never wish I was acquainted with any of the people who send texts in.

Until now.

Meet the future Mrs. WWW:

(248):
We aren't going to mix hockey and sex texts tonight.
(440):
I totally agree. all sexting is on hold till after the games over.
(248):
Playoffs. This shit is serious.

I only hope that (248) is the woman. (440) has a disturbing grasp of the use of apostrophes.

Rocking For The Weekend: The Heavy

2010-04-16T03:00:00.000-07:00

I meant to start this feature again once I went back to work, but I slacked. For the uninitiated, Rocking For The Weekend is a Friday feature where I spotlight a song that has the exhilarating feeling you get while running out the door on a Friday after work. Since everyone (except BeckEye) knows I have outstanding taste in music, this should be fun!

This week I'm featuring The Heavy, a neo-soul group that also incorporate guitar rock, blues and a little dance into their mix. Even if you haven't heard of them, you've surely heard their song "How You Like Me Now?" from the Kia commercial with the mechanical bull-riding sock monkey and the giant red dildo.

If you want to see the actual music video, you can find it here. But I'm going to feature the spectacular live version from The Heavy's visit to Late Night with David Letterman in January. This performance is so good that when Dave comes out to say hi, he asks the band to keep playing the song. Which they do, to the audience's delight. Enjoy, and Happy Weekend!

Reasons To Hate The Movie Business, Vol. 1

2010-04-15T10:28:00.000-07:00

In keeping with our desperation to find anything at all to post about, welcome to what will become a new running feature in WWW, "Reasons To Hate The Movie Business". As some of you know, I am a low-level functionary in film production. This makes me privy to a host of stories that make you question the basic decency and intelligence of humanity. Here is the first.

Yesterday, we held what is called a "show-and-tell"¹ for [redacted], one of our studio executives. This is when the executive comes over and we show him character designs, storyboards, location photos, etc. for his perusal and approval before the movie begins production.

A few hours before the show-and-tell, [redacted]'s assistant called our production office with a request.

"Can you make sure that there are, like, interesting little things on the table to fidget with? [redacted] really likes to fidget with things while he's thinking. It helps his process."

- Fin -

1. Official movie lingo!

Fun With Camera Phones: Date Night

2010-04-12T10:06:00.001-07:00

"Put on your fanciest halter top, baby! I'm taking you out for endless salad bar! And we are going in style."

Return To Sender Redux

2010-03-29T04:00:00.000-07:00

In my last entry, I complained about charities that send you return address labels as a bribe for donations. Mostly I was annoyed because the Ziggy-themed labels themselves are embarrassing. Cora and Tales of a Well-Fed Graphic Designer (nice concise name there!) suggested I make the labels less embarrassing by vandalizing them. I thought it was such a good idea that I did just that. Behold my new labels, all of which I vow will be affixed to real mail.

Look out, Ziggy! It's a poorly drawn banana!

Admit it. You suspected as much.

For the Caddyshack fans. Which I sincerely hope are all of you.

Daisies ARE the most girlish flowers. Plus he can use the height boost.

Ziggy's pets all seem to have the same idea. Can't say I blame them.

The bird is right. I hope Ziggy doesn't wear out his Billy Ocean and Culture Club tapes.

Return To Sender

2010-03-24T04:00:00.000-07:00

You know what I get in the mail? Trash.

Supermarket circular? Trash.
20% Bed Bath & Beyond coupon? Trash.
Jury summons? Trash.

But I got a piece of mail recently that was more than trash. It was an affront to decency.

It was a plea from the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I made a donation to them once, approximately 86 years ago. I'm pretty sure that's before lymphoma was even invented. In the intervening years, they have spent my entire donation sending me mailers soliciting further donation. The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, like many charities, includes return address labels in their mailings to guilt you into donating. However, they make the mistake of including "Ziggy" themed return address labels. Sending a letter with a "Ziggy" return address label is code for "My penis sued for emancipation and won." Consequently, I am not sure whether this is to be interpreted as a sarcastic and pointed gesture designed to punish me for not donating, or an ignorant yet sincere attempt to curry my favor. Either way, it is an unadulterated failure.

Regardless, the dilemma for me remains. Should I use these labels? To throw them away would be wasteful. However, to use them is to acknowledge that I enjoy cock. I am caught, much like the titular Ziggy frequently finds himself, between a rock and a hard place. I fear the answer is beyond my powers of deduction. However, one message shines brightly like a beacon amid the darkness - do not donate to charity.

Jesus Can Be So Preachy!

2010-03-19T14:21:00.000-07:00

I had an odd dream the other night. I have odd dreams in general, so if a dream is odd to me then it is very odd indeed. I dreamed that Jesus kept jumping in my shit and making me feel guilty. Now, I know that Jesus is generally telling people to be kind to each other and to accept suffering with good humor and grace. But he was being such a dick about it.

I can't remember every detail with clarity, but the dream generally followed a specific pattern. I would complain about some minor inconvenience, and then Jesus would show up to remind me that he died pretty gruesomely on my behalf, and that it would be a good idea for me to stop being a baby and shut the fuck up.

Like, here's an example. I was in line at the DMV and they had forgotten my appointment. Naturally, I complained. Not only would I have to wait an hour in an uncomfortable plastic chair likely to injure my spine and make the left side of my body go numb, but the only reading material available would be a tattered copy of Woman's Day from March, 1993. And I already HAVE Phylicia Rashad's recipe for Cherries Jubilee! Anyway, as soon as I complained that the DMV forgot my appointment, out pops Jesus from behind a silk ficus like some kind of toga-wearing ninja. He comes up to me and holds out his bloody hands and says "I'm Jesus Christ." That's all he said, but his tone said a lot more. "I'm Jesus Christ. I got nailed to a goddamn (sorry, Dad!) piece of wood and had a sticker bush shoved on my head. I think you can sit in that chair for an hour without crying like a little bitch. Oh, and some tool jammed his sword through my ribs, too. I always forget that part. So yeah, long story short, suck it up."

I don't remember the complete details of the other scenarios, but they all went pretty much the same.

"Dammit, they're always out of Nacho Cheese Doritos. I hate Cool Ranch!"
(Bags of salty snacks part, revealing a bearded face) "I'm Jesus Christ."
"FUCK, dude. Can't you wear a bell or something?"

I try to be a good person! Really, I do. But the DMV sucks and Cool Ranch Doritos are gross. These things aren't my fault. Please stop haunting me, Mr. Jesus sir. Thank you.

When Irish Eyes Are Popping

2010-03-17T17:20:00.000-07:00

I feel I should make a post in honor of St. Patrick's Day, since I am 99 44/100% Irish. But I didn't want to talk about drinking, because I'd rather do it than say it. And I didn't want to talk about history, because that's a little too classy for my blog. So I'm going to talk about redheaded chicks!

I decided to tackle this topic¹ because I was so infuriated by a sexy redhead list at celebrity site Wonderwall. Let's take a look at their "Top 12 Hottest Redheads", shall we?

12. Lindsay Lohan
Is this list from 2003?

11. Emma Stone
Never heard of her. Not that hot anyway.

10. Rupert Grint
This selection should be discussed on Really!?! With Seth & Amy.

9. Julianne Moore
A classic. I guess even a blind squirrel finds a nut now and then.

8. Conan O'Brien
I find women sexy for being funny, so I'll allow it. But he didn't get in on his looks.

7. Ann-Margret
No argument here. She banged Elvis.

6. Isla Fisher
Approved. They're on a mini-roll!

5. Nicole Kidman
See Lindsay Lohan.

4. Prince Harry
He's just Dewey from Malcolm In The Middle all grown up.

3. Rita Hayworth
If I think of you in black and white, you don't count.

2. Ewan McGregor
Um, he doesn't even have red hair.

1. Christina Hendricks
I've been wanting to get this off my chest² for a while now. She's not that hot. I mean, if you saw her walking down the street then yeah, she's quite pretty. But she can't hang with hot movie stars. There, I said it.

Is it me, or does this list look more like "Let's Name 12 Random Redheads"? I was so angered by this abomination that I decided to make my own list. Feel free to heckle, criticize³ or suggest your own. Without further ado, let's see...

WWW's Top Ten Hot Redheads

10. Hayley Williams
Kinda young, but just adorable. I want to carry her around in a backpack.

9. Kari Byron
Sexy because in addition to being pretty, she can do science-y stuff.

8. Jenny Lewis
Like a real life Holly Hobbie. If Holly Hobbie had a foul mouth and a voice like Karen Carpenter.

7. Neko Case
Yes, another singer. Last one.

6. Bryce Dallas Howard
Yeah, I'll get some funny looks for this one. More Bryce for me!

5. Molly Ringwald
She made me a man sometime in the mid-80s. There couldn't be a list without her.

4. Alyson Hannigan
Starting to get down to brass tacks here. The top 5 are pretty interchangeable.

3. Megan Mullally
Yeah, she's 51. And I'll take her over two 25 1/2 year-olds any day. Probably the most blatantly carnal appeal of anyone on the list.

2. Amy Adams
Often compared to Isla Fisher. They don't compare to me.

1. Sara Rue
She's #1 as much to make up for NEVER appearing on these lists as she is for being a total babe. Gorgeous face, killer smile, great body. The total package. Also just got engaged. Damn you, Sara Rue!

1. That's what she said!

2. Huh huh. I said "chest".

3. I am waiting for the ladies of Gingers Is The Watchword to murder me in my sleep for what I said about Christina Hendricks.

Rodney Wins The Internet

2010-03-10T16:22:00.000-08:00

The internet is one of the most amazing technological advances since crusty French bread¹. This is an indisputable fact. But people disagree on what this marvel's most appropriate use is. Some say instant news. Some say personal expression. Some say porn. They're all wrong².

The best use of the internet is, of course, the multi-platform explosion of meaningless pop culture phenomena. Taking a simple event or idea and completely blowing it out of proportion with hilarious results. Early examples were the lolcat, the inexplicable popularity of David Hasselhoff, and plump, naked breasts.

However, my favorite is the recent career explosion of Rodney Stanger. You may remember Rodney as the hamster falsely accused of kidnapping and murder that landed at #1 in my Best Whatever Of 2009 list³. Rodney has rebounded nicely
from that fiasco and appears to be more
popular than ever. The industrious little hamster has his own Facebook page, and you can even follow him on Twitter!

I'm not sure what Rodney does for a living, although judging by the clapboard he is always toting around, I imagine he works in film production. Whatever it is that Rodney wants to pursue, I'm sure his recent visibility (including last week's visit to The Late Show with David Letterman) will prove beneficial to his prospects.

I salute you, Rodney Stanger. Many hamsters would respond to such adversity by hiding away in a local celebrity's ass. But you put yourself right back out there and made lemonade out of lemons. You are an inspiration to all who find themselves pilloried in the public eye through no fault of their own. God bless you and keep you.

1. Which is way better than sliced bread. Sliced bread must have dirty pictures of someone.

2. Except maybe the people who say "porn".

3. I hereby claim full credit for Rodney's newfound celebrity.

I Will Gamble On Anything

2010-03-05T10:29:00.000-08:00

The Academy Awards are this Sunday, and I hear that aside from making it difficult for me to drive in Hollywood for a whole goddamn week, these awards chiefly exist for gambling purposes. The Oscars are the gambling equivalent of the Super Bowl for hipsters who hate sports because they were never any good at them.

In keeping with this tradition, we here at WWW are offering a list of proposition bets for the Oscar telecast. Print it out and share with your friends or people you want to take money from. Enjoy!

Hosts Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin open the show with jokes about how inane and vapid Hollywood is, then proceed to unironically host three hours of inane and vapid festivities
ODDS: 1-5

Randy Newman zones out and performs one of his nominated songs from prior years and no one notices
ODDS: 3-2

James Cameron speaks in N'avi during an acceptance speech
ODDS: EVEN

A nerd watching from a basement in Racine, Wisconsin corrects Cameron's grammar
ODDS: 5-2

Best Actor nominee Jeremy Renner wins, and in his excitement, tongue kisses presenter Whoopi Goldberg
ODDS: 10³-1

Host Steve Martin makes a joke about Jack Nicholson's age and the camera shows Jack in sunglasses pretending to make the "I'll kick your ass later" gesture
ODDS: 1-3

Nicholson actually kicks Martin's ass outside after the show
ODDS: 17-1

The Price Waterhouse guys wear ill-fitting rental tuxedos OR flub their lines
ODDS: OFF THE BOARD

A winner forgets to thank their spouse in an acceptance speech
ODDS: 4-1

The Dead People Montage is set to Michael Jackson's "You Are Not Alone"
ODDS: 3-1

The Dead People Montage is set to Patrick Swayze's "She's Like The Wind"
ODDS: 99-1

In his closing remarks Alec Baldwin tells his daughter, "Okay, you little pig, you can go to bed now!"
ODDS: 6-1

10,000 WWW Fans Can't Be Wrong

2010-03-04T10:12:00.000-08:00

Sometime last night, some bored person in Fairfield, California who clicked a wrong link became the 10,000th visitor to this here blog! Big ups to the anonymous reader. If this were a supermarket, I'd give you a one-minute shopping spree and see how much you can cram in the cart. Unfortunately, this is a blog and it doesn't work like that.

Mr. or Mrs. or Miss or Ms. Fairfield found the blog by Googling the phrase "30 pounds overweight". I'm sure there is a message in that, but I can't hear it over the deafening sound of chewing my highly-sugared bowl of Cap'n Crunch.

Medals!

2010-03-03T09:49:00.000-08:00

We've had some laughs, but alas, it is finally time to choose a winner in WWW's Olympic Comment Contest. There were some hard chargers, but in the end there are only three medals to award. Let's see who stands atop the podium.

BRONZE
The bronze medal is awarded to Red of Gingers Is The Watchword. Not for any particular comment, but for her shameless whoring in an effort to win. Here at WWW, we respect competitiveness and ass-kissing. For her efforts, Red will receive this spiffy Certificate of Participation, suitable for framing.

SILVER
The silver medal goes to BeckEye of The Pop Eye for her comment on the entry "Words On Assignment".

"Aren't all your former drunken hookups also relatives? Don't be redundant, dude."

BeckEye will receive a case of Turtle Wax and Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco Treat.

GOLD
The gold medal, the chintzy Olympic souvenir, and our hearty congratulations go to none other than MJenks of Vita Brevis. MJenks' winning comment appeared in the entry "Olympic Joke-Off":

"In a bit of movie magic, we see both Heath Ledger AND the Joker showing off their silver medals."

MJenks managed to not only imply that innocent bystander/ice dancer Meryl Davis looked like a man, but also a facially maimed homicidal psychopathic man. I respect this. In hoc signo vinces, my good man! Email me your address and your prize is on its way!

A Town By Any Other Name Smells Just As Pungent

2010-03-01T10:43:00.000-08:00

On the drive up to Vancouver, I saw this road sign and laughed my ass off. I made sure to be ready on the way back to capture it for your amusement. I know that California has some of the most lenient drug laws in the nation, but this was still shocking.

This also closes the book on my Olympic Comment Contest. The best comment on any of my Olympic entries up to and including this one wins a souvenir. The ladies especially are encouraged to give an effort - I have two different souvenirs depending on if a man or a woman wins, and to be honest the chick souvenir is WAY better. I'll pick a winner on Wednesday - stay tuned!

Fun With Camera Phones: Vancouver Edition

2010-02-25T22:36:00.000-08:00

At first I was alarmed that Mr. Tube Steak was selling his wares openly on the street. Then I remembered that Canada has a much more laid back attitude toward things like this. I must say, $6 for tube steak nestled in buns is a good deal in any country.

An ad featuring Tiger Woods and the words "Perfect Lies". Yeah, not so much apparently. Wordplay!

Olympic Joke-Off!

2010-02-25T11:33:00.000-08:00

Viewers of Saturday Night Live are familiar with Weekend Update's "Joke-Off" bit where Jimmy Fallon and Tina Fey used to read a news story and then take turns making rapid-fire jokes and trying to top each other. Here at WWW, we're going to try it all by ourselves. Let's see if we're funny enough for two!

Meryl Davis and Charlie White of the United States proudly show off their silver medals for Ice Dancing

Wow, look...

...Christopher Atkins and a chick from the "Black Hole Sun" video won a medal!

...Wooderson from Dazed and Confused and Janice from the Muppets won a medal!

...a guy that looks like Disco Stu if he was in Fraggle Rock and an avatar won a medal!

...a gap-toothed fat guy is making fun of other people's looks!

This, I Don't Need

2010-02-23T00:03:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, my ex-roommate Edie (she of fudge hole fame) introduced me to the concept of the Friend You Hate. According to Edie, everyone has one Friend You Hate. This is a person who is your friend, but you don't actually like them most of the time. If you met this person today, you would never be friends, but you've been friends so long that it doesn't matter.

Amanda is my Friend You Hate. She's the one I stayed with in Vancouver last week for the Olympics. She sealed her Friend You Hate status with the following stunt.

Two months ago, I bought tickets for Amanda and I to go to one of the medal ceremonies at the Olympics. She didn't care which night we went, so I chose a night where medals were being given out in a selection of events that I thought Americans might win. The goal being to experience one of those goosebump moments when you hear the national anthem and see the flag get raised.

Well, my prognosticating abilities proved dead-on-balls accurate. The day before the ceremony, four Americans earned medals to be awarded that night, including golds for Shaun White and Shani Davis. Upon learning this, Amanda confessed that she didn't feel like going. Being (through no fault of her own) Canadian , she felt like she wouldn't enjoy watching a bunch of Americans celebrating. She asked if my friend Liz would like to go in her place. Liz and I found out via Facebook that we were both in Vancouver and had hung out the previous day. This was one of the only things that Amanda and I were going to get to do together, so I asked her if she was sure. She said "let Liz know it's a possibility and that you'll let her know in the morning for sure." I said okay, and the next morning Amanda gave me the go ahead to give the ticket to Liz. Liz and I made plans to meet that night and that was that.

Or so I thought.

Three hours before Liz and I were to meet, Amanda called me. "I know I'm a horrible person, but I'm going to be selfish. A Canadian just won a gold medal to be awarded tonight, and I want my ticket back." Um, WHAT? Didn't I just take great pains to ask you if you were SURE? Amanda seemed to waver, and seemed like she wanted me to make her decision for her. "Am I being really rude?" I told her that yes, she was being really rude, but if she wanted it back I would ask for it. She told me to ask for it. I left a message for Liz apologizing profusely and telling her what happened. And that was that.

Or so I thought.

Fifteen minutes later, Amanda called again. "I feel terrible. Tell her she can have the ticket." And then immediately started wavering again. WHAT. THE. HELL. She clearly wanted me to tell her she wasn't being a jerk. I was not going to do that. You just made me tell this poor girl I was taking her ticket away and now you're jerking us around again? It takes a great deal for me to get angry and raise my voice. I did just that. I told Amanda that she wasn't getting another chance to change her mind. Liz hadn't called back, so I had to assume she was still going to meet me at the venue. I told Amanda I wasn't making Liz come all the way there to turn her away. She was getting the ticket.

Congratulations, Amanda. You are now my Friend You Hate.

And for the record, the ceremony DID cause goosebumps.

P.S. - my Olympic contest is still open. The best comment on any of my Olympic-themed entries (there will be at least one more after this) wins a souvenir I brought back from Vancouver. And trust me, it's awesome.

A Tale of International Brotherhood, Stilts and Electrical Tape Pants

2010-02-17T17:24:00.000-08:00

I witnessed a heartwarming scene here in Vancouver yesterday. Two exuberant young Canucks were parading through the streets with a giant Canadian flag in preparation for the first Team Canada hockey game an hour later.

Alas, nothing gold can stay. Before long our intrepid heroes were confronted by the Goliath to the South, their nemesis Uncle Sam himself! Just look at Uncle Sam's demeanor - he don't play. Some bad stuff was going to go down, my friends.

However, people began gathering around and taking pictures of these national symbols together. And instead of a Battle Royale, we got smiles and poses. Uncle Sam is even helping to hold up the Canadian flag. No one who witnessed this display of peace and brotherhood left unchanged.

Pussies.

The Money Shot

2010-02-14T01:49:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you have to pull over to the shoulder even when the signs say you're not supposed to and just admire nature. This is Mt. Shasta in northern California.

Click to enlarge

The Hills Have Wangs

2010-02-13T03:31:00.000-08:00

En route to Vancouver, I've stopped for the night in Red Bluff, California. Sounds pretty, right?

NO.

This little burg in the middle of nowhere is an episode of The Twilight Zone waiting to happen. For the last 45 minutes I drove in a dense, impenetrable and vaguely threatening fog. While getting settled in my room I heard the distinct sound of three gunshots not far away. And below, you'll see the access code for my hotel internet service.

In light of the fog and the gunshots, the code has me worrying what else this cursed town has in store for me. If I don't blog in several days, someone please notify the authorities. And a proctologist.

Words On Assignment

2010-02-12T04:00:00.000-08:00

Words...words...words... is hitting the road!

I'll be leaving today on a road trip to the Winter Olympics in Vancouver. I made some friends when I worked there a few years ago, and it's time to cash in on some favors! I love the Olympics because it is one of the few times that jingoism and xenophobia are embraced. I'll be attending a USA hockey game and a medal ceremony, as well as taking in the sights, sounds and smells¹ of the Games. Make sure you bang it here for daily updates on what really goes on² at the Olympics.

In commemoration of this august publication's first attempt at reporting, there will be a contest! Whoever leaves the best comment on any of the Olympic entries will win a yet-to-be-determined souvenir trinket.³ Comments will be judged on humor, relevance and fawning. Relatives, employees and former drunken hookups of WWW, Inc. are not eligible to win.⁴ All entries become the property of WWW, Inc.

In other news, when I return from Vancouver, I will be coming back to a new job! Despite the fact that the film in question is certain to be a steaming pile, there is much rejoicing⁵ throughout the land.

1. Hopefully not the smells.

2. I desperately hope something interesting goes on now that my cheese is publicly in the wind.

3. WWW, Inc. makes no guarantee about the quality of the trinket, except that it will be cheap.

4. Unless we like you.

5. Spending.

The G-Chat Diaries, Vol. 11

2010-02-09T23:49:00.000-08:00

Chatter X: Sup

WWW: Well, I feel better today. But I also just spent $900 on my car.

Chatter X: I'm spending like $700 tomorrow!

WWW: What are you getting?

Chatter X: A new axle, brakes, and some other shit I wasn't listening to.

- FI...wait. Not fin.
Cut to one hour later, when Chatter X was informed of this honor.

Chatter X: I AM PUTTING THIS ON MY CALENDAR.

Chatter X: DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I HAVE WAITED FOR THIS DAY, YOU ASSHOLE?

WWW: I didn't even know you read my blog.

Chatter X: Every time I read one of those in your blog I'm like GOD DAMMIT. THIS ISN'T ANYTHING I HAVE SAID.

Chatter X: I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE HOW FUNNY I AM

- FI...nope. Not just yet.
Cut to ten minutes after the above exchange.

Chatter X: ARE YOU DONE YET OR WHAT

WWW: I'M MAKING IT FUNNY

Chatter X: UGH FINE. This better not be the last time I'm posted in one of these BTW. This better be the FIRST OF MANY.

Chatter X: MANY.

WWW: If you don't STFU it won't even be the first.

Chatter X: Fine. LOVE YOU <3

- FIN -
(Yes, for real)

Actual Conversations With Real People, Vol. 10

2010-02-04T10:03:00.000-08:00

Today's Actual Conversation is between myself and an elderly woman at the supermarket. Enjoy!

The elderly woman is shopping without a cart and is carrying all her groceries by hand. She comes up to my cart and begins unloading all her things into it.

WWW: Uhhh...

EW: (in thick Russian accent) What are you looking at? I'll take them right out.

WWW: *mouth agape*

The elderly woman rearranges her groceries into her arms and shuffles away.

- FIN -

Fever Dreams and Other Things

2010-02-02T00:23:00.000-08:00

It's been a weird week here at WWW Headquarters. I'm drifting in and out of sleep at strange hours. I'm not eating very much, and eating foods at weird times of the day. My head swims and starts lucidly dreaming while I'm watching Jeopardy! or reading or not blogging¹. The lucid dreams are so surreal that it looks like John Mayer is on The Tonight Show playing "California Dreamin'"² with a children's choir dressed in red sweater vests³. I'm on an every-other-day showering schedule⁴ and seem to have grown a full beard. All in all, a vibe of general weirdness. After consulting experts in the field, I've learned that this can mean one of only eight (8) things:

1. I am starring in a remake of Mr. Mom (sans children)
2. I am slowly dying of consumption
3. I have been drugged by an international cabal of bloggers in an effort to silence me
4. I have mono
5. I'm really just bored
6. I need a job
7. Ennui

I'm pretty sure that I would be aware of #1 because I wouldn't have to make my own coffee. #2 would require me to live in the 19th century. There is no motive for #3, as I have been pretty silent on my own. I haven't kissed anyone, ruling out #4. #5 has possibilities. I think #6 and #7 are the prime suspects, though. Luckily, I have been contacted about a job and should find out about it at any minute. And if I don't get it, I expect #7 will consume me.

1. Not blogging appears to be my biggest hobby lately. I just opened a new post and started writing, resulting in...this.
2. English grammarians need a solution for instances where a word ending in an apostrophe is enclosed in quote marks. It looks retarded.
3. Upon further investigation, this has proven to be all too real. Eek.
4. That's right, ladies. You have a 50/50 chance of catching me all clean. Rowr.

The Road Not Taken

2010-01-26T02:34:00.000-08:00

I was talking with a friend last night about the old story that Hitler only turned to politics when he was denied admittance to art school. We wondered how the world might be different if only some art professor had been a little more enthusiastic about young Adolf's portfolio. After a little research, I discovered that many of the world's dictators and genocidal maniacs had a dream cruelly dashed before taking out their revenge on the world. A sampling:

Josef Stalin: Was a promising flautist before being demoted to second chair in the school orchestra and concluding that meritocracy sucked.

Pol Pot: Won championships at hundreds of quilting bees before his girlfriend left him over his obsession; soon decided that the arts were indulgent and vain.

Idi Amin: Enjoyed floral arrangement until he was drafted and subsequently ridiculed by his Army buddies; vowed revenge on everyone, saying "I'll eat your children!" decades before Mike Tyson did.

Benito Mussolini: Was an exceptionally emotive dancer until his career derailed when a late train caused him to miss an audition for the Bolshoi Ballet. A distraught Mussolini pledged to improve the efficiency of public services at any cost.

Kim Jong-Il: Harbored dreams of a career in the NBA; despite his outstanding defensive play, his diminutive stature limited his potential and he soon developed a Napoleon complex.

Love Letters

2010-01-21T06:24:00.001-08:00

Last night I went to the movies. I went down to the parking garage of my apartment building and found two notes under my windshield wiper. Immediately I thought, "Oh great, someone hit me." Instead, I found some delightfully weird notes, which I responded to.

A-hole Note #1:

Management: Please be advised that I will be parking in my space tomorrow in the Evening (sic). Please let your son's girlfriend know so that she can make other arrangements. I've left 2 messages on the voicemail!

Thank you, A-hole in #306

A-hole Note #2:

Please move your car.

I was concerned that this person would park in my spot while I was at the movies, so I left a note of my own and taped it to the pillar adjoining my spot.

My Note #1:

To the person requesting that I vacate my own parking space:

I am not management. Barring a bout of amnesia and gender reassignment surgery, I am also not the manager's son's girlfriend. I am a tenant and I've lived here for eight years. And this is my parking space. I expect that when I return later this evening, my space will remain unoccupied. Regards, WWW.

In fact, my space was unoccupied when I returned. My note was intact. All that's left is to hope they don't key my car for being a wiseass.

Things I Would Apparently Rather Do Than Write In My Blog

2010-01-19T04:41:00.000-08:00

Play Activision Ice Hockey over and over again until I can beat the computer 30-0 (I'm up to 26-2)

Watch episode after episode (after episode) of Pawn Stars

Break the world record for number of different ways to cook eggs

Not work on my screenplay

Compete on Dancing With The Stars*

Make voodoo dolls of Tony Romo and Jerry Jones

Socialize with friends (Dripping with irony, but true)

Become the first person to successfully read the entire internet

Stay up until 5:00 in the morning and sleep 'til noon

Watch my blog slowly die

Leave a flaming bag of poo on Jay Leno's front porch

Find a new job

Compile a half-assed list and pass it off as a blog entry

* Just seeing if you're paying attention

Grading Christmas

2010-01-02T21:33:00.000-08:00

In an effort to exploit the fact that nobody I know in real life is aware of my blog (unless I actually met them THROUGH my blog), I proudly continue my annual tradition of ungratefully...

Grading The Christmas Gifts

Mountain Man Dance Moves: The McSweeney's Book of Lists
This is a volume of strange lists from the editors of the periodical McSweeney's. Prior lists from McSweeney's are the inspiration for some strange lists I've had in my blog. I think this book, while hilarious, has the most white space of any book ever published. Despite a length of 224 pages, I finished it in the space of one cross-country flight with a layover. Also highly recommended is another McSweeney's book, Created In Darkness By Troubled Americans.

Grade: A

Phillies vs. Dodgers baseball tickets
As a Philly fan living in Los Angeles, I always try to see my teams when they come to town. Normally a tremendous gift. However, tickets for the upcoming season have not yet gone on sale. So the gift was offered with instructions to either buy the tickets when they go on sale and ask the giver for reimbursement or ask the giver for his credit card number to make the purchase. Which brings up the sticky situation of how much the giver intends to spend...tickets range from about $15 to well in the hundreds. Giving a gift might be stressful, but receiving a gift should be easy! The grade was adjusted accordingly for emotional distress.

Grade: B

Roll With You by Eli "Paperboy" Reed & The True Loves
This is a great CD by one of the finest current practitioners of 60s-style Motown soul. However, the reason it made this list is because of what my brother said when presenting the gift. "Whatever the hell this shit is, Merry Christmas."

Grade: A

Under Great White Northern Lights box set by The White Stripes
For the obsessive fan in your life. The box contains a documentary, a live DVD, a live album (on both CD and vinyl), a hardcover book, and a silkscreen print. The White Stripes' emphasis on art direction has never been put to better use. It doesn't arrive until March, but I've already had several wet dreams about finally clutching it to my bosom. Technicality: Because it actually hasn't been released yet, I pre-ordered it with Christmas money. So the credit for actually choosing the gift (and for the excellent grade) belongs to me.

Grade: A

Atari 2600 Video Computer System
Yes. The original. The best game system ever devised - save it, Nintendo apologists. My parents are moving, and when I was home for the holidays we cleaned out the attic and found about 30 Atari game cartridges from way back in the day. I immediately decided to take them home with me and find an Atari 2600 system. It should arrive any day now, and I couldn't be more excited. The Christmas that my brother and I first received the Atari, back in 1979 or so, we hardly got to play it. All my aunts and uncles (most in their 50s, mind you) who came over for dinner became enchanted with Freeway, a Frogger-like game in which you are a chicken trying to cross the road. We barely touched the prized gift until the next day. This remains one of my family's favorite Christmas stories. Technicality: Another gift purchased by me with Christmas money.

Grade: A+ (if it works)

Donald Duck Skydiver
My father instituted a new Christmas tradition once my brother and I became adults. He goes to the dollar store every year and gets each of us a toy so that there are still toys given out at Christmas. I got a Donald Duck figure with a plastic parachute. Of course, I immediately went out in two feet of snow to see if it worked. If you wrap it loosely, it really works. If you wrap it tightly, Donald is a stain. To my chagrin, the packaging did not explain the dramatic events that might have required Donald Duck to jump out of an airplane. I guess for a dollar you can get a toy, but not a narrative.

Grade: B

If any of you would like me to grade your Christmas haul, simply email me the list of gifts you received and I will be happy to heartlessly quantify how well you did. Consider it my gift to you.

The Best Whatever Of 2009

2009-12-31T16:27:00.001-08:00

Many bloggers are posting lists of their ten favorite movies, music, books or TV shows of the year. For me to come up with ten of anything, I'd be including about 60% filler. In that spirit, we at words...words...words... present to you:

WWW's 10 Best Whatever Of 2009

10. Winning Firecrotch Of The Year at The Pop Eye
Because being handsome, single and charming is not enough for me. I must be told by strangers that I am marginally funnier than other funny bloggers.

9. Attending the NFC Championship Game
Despite such things as driving six hours and spending $200 on a ticket to watch my Eagles lose to the Arizona frickin' Cardinals, spraining my ankle, and getting jumped outside the stadium, it was a grea...you know, this probably should be in the "Worst Whatevers of 2009" list.

8. Being Employed For 11 Months
Which is about 9 more months than I was employed in 2008.

7. Eating at Pizzeria Mozza
Mario Batali, if you weren't a man and also constantly handling fish, I would kiss you.

6. Up In The Air and Inglourious Basterds
Don't make me pick. I want a job that keeps me on the road 300 days a year like George Clooney's character has. Unless it gets me captured by Nazis like Brad Pitt's character.

5. Groupon
I'm not getting paid for this. It's just that awesome. Every day you get emailed an offer for a crazy good discount on a restaurant, retail store, attraction or service in your city. If enough people agree to buy it, the deal is on.

4. Texts From Last Night
For when you need to know that other people have lives more depraved and horrific than yours.

3. Taking My Nephew To The Movies
Watching him and a theater full of other kids inexplicably enjoy what I spent the last year working on was very gratifying. And also a reminder that little kids are stupid.

2. Winning My Fantasy Football League (for the third time in six years)
What else earns you bragging rights over nine of your friends, gives you an excuse to watch as much football as you want in the name of "research", and nets you $300?

And the Single Best Thing about 2009 is...

1. This:

I did not laugh at anything harder this year. I want to buy a hamster and name him Rodney Stanger. Enjoy!

Christmas Throwdown!

2009-12-31T15:14:00.000-08:00

Scoffers always contend that professional athletes are selfish children who don't care about anyone but themselves and their own egos. As will be amply demonstrated, some athletes have virtually no ego (or self-respect) at all. Let's examine the holiday greetings offered by the Cincinnati Bengals and the Detroit Pistons and see who comes out on top! Are you ready for a throwdown??

Song: "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town"
Performed By: Cincinnati Bengals
Musical Skills: Nearly competent
Enthusiasm: Jolly
Best Thing: Orange Santa hats
Worst Thing: They're the Cincinnati Bengals
MVP: #52 and his spine-tingling falsetto
Suggested Album Title: Grab A Tiger By The Tail...And It Will Sound Like This

Song: "Jingle Bells"
Performed By: Detroit Pistons
Musical Skills: Nonexistent
Enthusiasm: Similar to that of people singing at gunpoint
Best Thing: Everything Rasheed Wallace does
Worst Thing: Everything everyone else does
MVP: Rasheed Wallace for breaking it down AND doing the Carlton Banks dance
Suggested Album Title: The Detroit Pistons Listlessly Mumble The Classics

The Verdict

The Bengals put forth a more consistent effort and showed far more teamwork than the Pistons. However, even collectively, they cannot outshine the incandescent talent that is Rasheed Wallace.

WINNER: Pistons!

Merry Christmas

2009-12-25T03:00:00.000-08:00

Many of you have been very kind to me and my blog this year. I wish you all a happy religious holiday, pagan ritual, drunken revelry or appalling consumerist bacchanal. And I hope you all have as much fun as this handsome devil with the new airplane, piano and baseball bat.

Theatre Review: Ho Ho Horrendous

2009-12-24T10:06:00.000-08:00

A part of every critic’s job is sitting through the bad as well as the good. It is simply a hazard of the profession. However, enduring “Christmastime Is Here” as staged by Miss Othmar’s class at St. Paul Elementary School is a sacrifice not to be asked of anyone. A class of fourth-graders celebrating Christmas should be a joyous occasion, but last night’s performance is evidence that the legitimate stage is no place for childish revelry.

The problems began with the play’s director, Charlie Brown. Master Brown brought no coherence to the proceedings. A ham-handed retelling of the Nativity story (which inexplicably included a Christmas Queen) was followed by free form jazz music and strange dancing that would be more at home in a production of “Hair” than in a solemn holiday story. Two small twin girls danced in frightening unison like they were trying to remove water from their ears, and one young man bobbed his head in such a manner as to suggest that he had broken his neck! The strange goings on continued as a beagle portrayed all of the animals in the Nativity story. Dada-esque theater has its place, but in Master Brown’s hands it simply seemed like cheap shock tactics. This reviewer, for one, was previously unaware that a penguin was present at the birth of Christ.

Set design was practically nonexistent save for a tiny, barren Christmas tree that appeared unlikely to prolong its painful life enough to even see Christmas Day. The pathetic little tree was an apt symbol of Brown’s amateurish production and its odd juxtaposition of the sacred with the profane. It's quite apparent that Charlie Brown was hired to direct the play on the recommendation of his psychiatrist.

The evening finally came to a close with an overbearing recitation of a passage from the Gospel of St. Luke by Linus Van Pelt. After hearing Master Van Pelt describe the Nativity with his particular brand of pretentious faux humility, I’m sure he has a bright future as an oncologist, a philosophy professor or Alex Trebek’s replacement on Jeopardy!

All are encouraged to skip this holiday disaster. If you are so unfortunate as to receive tickets to this production for a Christmas present, you can be sure that you were deemed “naughty” this year.

Mom, Mom, Watch Me Dive!

2009-12-23T04:00:00.000-08:00

Actually, it's "Blogland, Blogland, watch me take pictures!" But that doesn't have the same ring. I'm back home in New Jersey, where we are under 23 inches of snow. Here are some cool pictures.

My parents' house. That pine tree on the left was our Christmas tree one year, and then we replanted it. And fed it steroids.

This is the hill I used to go sledding on, and it's right across the street from the house, which was sweet.

Here's a little cove about a block away. We used to play hockey on this perfectly shaped little patch of ice. I really like this picture.

I saw this a few blocks away, and I just love the way the lights shine through the snow.

And last but not least, here is this year's batch of Christmas cookies. Ginger chocolate, hazelnut chocolate chip, cranberry pinwheel, almond roca, and green tea shortbread.

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

2009-12-22T09:56:00.000-08:00

Happy Holidays from everyone at the Virtua Surgical Group! Except for Bob. Bob says you can go fuck yourself.

Actual Conversations With Real People, Vol. 9

2009-12-21T11:26:00.001-08:00

Welcome to another installment of Actual Conversations With Real People. Today's real person is my three-year-old nephew.

WWW: Grandmom told me that you got in trouble at school. What happened?

Tot: I hit Shawn.

WWW: Why did you hit Shawn?

Tot: He was being mean at me!

WWW: He was being mean? What did he do?

Tot: He hit me back.

Rocking For The Weekend: The Dead Weather

2009-12-12T08:52:00.001-08:00

The Dead Weather aren't purveyors of happy fun songs, like most of the ones I've posted. But "Treat Me Like Your Mother" is a perfect Friday song if your weekend plans include kicking ass. The Dead Weather consist of Dean Fertita from Queens of the Stone Age (guitar), Jack Lawrence from The Greenhornes and The Raconteurs (bass), Jack White from The White Stripes and The Raconteurs (drums), and Alison Mosshart from The Kills (lead vocals). You may also enjoy the awesome video, which includes lots of gratuitous violence.

Enjoy the weekend!

Porn Is The Cleanser

2009-12-07T01:51:00.000-08:00

Things have been slow here at the blog lately - if it can be said that an anvil falling off a building slows when it hits the pavement. I actually have things to write about but cannot even begin to put words together and describe them. I need something to disrupt my inertia. And what shakes things up better than abject obscenity? Thus, I present you a completely silly and thoroughly appalling list of porn movie titles based on real movie titles. Please enjoy this quality ~~filler~~ comedy.

A warning...it really IS filthy. So if you're of a delicate constitution, go read Ziggy or something.

No, really.

Last chance.

I knew you'd still be here. Here you go, perv:

Sperms Of Endearment
Lay Anything
Herpes, The Love Bug
Guess Who's Coming On Dinner
Eat The Parents
Clitty Clitty Bang Bang
Willy Wonked Me In My Chocolate Factory
Grinding Nemo
The French Erection
Monty’s Python In The Holy Grail
Some Like Her Twat
Jack Off My Beanstalk
A Swish Called Wanda
12” Angry Men
Wangs of Desire

The G-Chat Diaries, Vol. 10

2009-11-30T21:27:00.000-08:00

Chatter X: Words, I think I'm becoming a hippie.

WWW: Oh no!

Chatter X: I know! I've started becoming CONCERNED about things.

WWW: That is never a good sign.

Chatter X: I KNOW!

WWW: If you ever get the urge to wear Birkenstocks or leave your pits unshaved, please contact me first.

Chatter X: I've already had that urge... I couldn't get past how fugly Birkenstocks are, though.

WWW: Good for you! If there is any medicine or therapy you can use to avoid hippie-ism, I will be happy to donate.

Chatter X: I...I bought a Burt's Bees sampler pack and I...I actually like it...*cries*

WWW: There, there. Words is here. Maybe you should avoid driving past Whole Foods when you are out and about.

Chatter X: *bursts into tears* I DON'T EVEN DRIVVVVEEEEEE!

WWW: THAT'S RIGHT. This is worse than I thought. You are in Stage 3 Hippie-ism.

Chatter X: It was all so subtle that I didn't even notice it sneaking in!! Oh God what have I done...

WWW: It's not too late!

Chatter X: But I...I have opinions about things now! How do I get rid of them?!?!

WWW: You should start watching lots of E!

Chatter X: I want to fix the hippie-ism, not fall asleep from boredom.

WWW: You're not making this easy. Perhaps you could eat at fast food restaurants.

Chatter X: Fast food, okay that's good, I could try that...

WWW: You could also leave all the lights on. And stop recycling.

Chatter X: I...I don't know if I can do that. The recycling can is just...so near the trash can.

WWW: Oh! You could also start buying clothes made by companies who use sweatshop labor.

Chatter X: I already do that! I'm not a total hippie!

WWW: All is not lost!

Chatter X: However...I have been seriously considering...making my own clothing...I'm just lacking time to do it...

WWW: Oh, for fuck's sake. Do you want to beat this or not?

Chatter X: *cries some more*

WWW: You might as well be playing an acoustic guitar under a tree.

Chatter X: Oh god! Why! Why did this have to happen to me?!

WWW: That's not important now. What's important is that you figure a way to get better.

Chatter X: *sniffle* Okay..yes. You're absolutely right. I can do this. I CAN do this.

WWW: You just need baby steps. The next time you go grocery shopping or to a restaurant, I want you to think of only one thing. "How can I most gratuitously harm an animal with my dining choices today?"

Chatter X: Okay. This is good.

WWW: And just remember...I am on your side.

Chatter X: Thank you, Words. You have no idea how much that means to me.

WWW: I'm so glad I can help.

WWW: Mostly because I don't bang hippies.

Rocking For The Weekend: Tsar

2009-11-20T05:00:00.000-08:00

This is my last Friday of gainful employment for a while, so today's song has to be extra awesome. That's why it's time to pull out Tsar. They're a local LA band that people who know me are constantly asking me to shut up about. So now I'm telling people who don't know me (i.e. you.) Tsar are a mix of power pop and glam rock that any fan of T. Rex or Cheap Trick will find irresistible, and if there were any justice in the world "The Love Explosion" would be a #1 single. It's not my favorite of theirs, but it's sugary sweet bubblegum rock that fits Friday like a glove.

Enjoy your weekend, and...um...please ignore the 70s cheese-tastic video. Just close your eyes and enjoy the rock.

Fun With Camera Phones, Vol. 4

2009-11-17T10:33:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty sure this action figure set is the Worst Thing Ever. When God decides the Earth needs another flooding, this will be His Exhibit A.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SPOILED BRAT!"
a play in one act

MOTHER
Happy Birthday, Madison!

MADISON
ZOMG! Thank you, mommy! Now Taylor can come over and we can play TMZ!

MOTHER
I knew you'd love it.

MADISON
I can't find the bald Britney doll. MOMMY WHERE IS THE BALD BRITNEY DOLL!!?!

MOTHER
Madison honey, it doesn't come with the bald Britney doll. That's sold separ...

MADISON
Mommy! This set is USELESS without the bald Britney! How can you do this to me? This is the worst birthday ever!

MOTHER
I'm sorry, sweetie! We'll go out and get it right now.

MADISON
Never mind! I already texted Daddy and Nikki. THEY'LL get it for me.

- FIN -

At The Movies With WWW: 2012

2009-11-16T08:21:00.000-08:00

2012
Directed by Roland Emmerich
Starring John Cusack, Amanda Peet, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Oliver Platt, Danny Glover, Tom McCarthy, Woody Harrelson
**** Four stars out of five

Autumn is the time in the movie calendar for thoughtful, serious fare. The bang and clatter of the summer thrill rides has abated, and the cavalcade of holiday family films has yet to hit stride. It's a blessed if short window for quieter, more introspective films that demand more of the moviegoer. Roland Emmerich's 2012 is a fine example.

As the film begins, we meet Jackson Curtis (John Cusack), a failed novelist who drives a limo for a Russian gangster. We soon learn that Jackson is divorced from his wife (Amanda Peet) and has lost custody of his two children. He is the classic example of a man who is more dedicated to his ambition than to those he loves. To make matters worse, he has sold only 500 copies of the novel he sacrificed his family for. Jackson's wife has remarried to Gordon, a successful plastic surgeon (Tom McCarthy) whom his children love.

The story of 2012 is built around a camping trip to Yellowstone National Park. Jackson takes his children away for the weekend to try to rebuild their tattered relationship. It is revealed just how large a task this will be in the heartbreaking moment when his young son texts Gordon that "camping sucks". Jackson starts to gain insight into winning back his children from a wizened old hippie (Woody Harrelson) who lives at Yellowstone. In order not to spoil the film, I'll just say that Harrelson provides some sage advice that proves invaluable to the family.

An interesting subplot involves government geologist Adrian Helmsley (Ejiofor), who has discovered an implausible (but ultimately true) new theory. He is fighting for the approval of his superiors in much the same way Jackson is fighting for the love of his children. Emmerich brilliantly brings these two men together in a chance encounter where Adrian discloses that he is a fan of Jackson's ill-fated novel. Clearly the struggle for acceptance is universal, and Adrian's appreciation for Jackson's novel demonstrates that we can all achieve it.

2012 is a wonderful film that will surely spark thoughtful discussion about how we can overcome obstacles by leaning on those around us, strangers and friends alike. One exits the theater reassured that even when things appear bleak, it's not the end of the world.

Tech credits are solid all around.

Rocking For The Weekend: R.E.M.

2009-11-13T05:00:00.000-08:00

After a year of hard labor, my current job is coming to a close. We have about ten days left to go and things have slowed to a crawl. Today our studio person is taking us to lunch, and then instead of going back to work we're gonna play hooky and go see 2012.

This makes today's Friday-feeling song an obvious choice - R.E.M.'s "It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)". This song and the excellent album Document will always remind me of the end of high school, with the subsequent R.E.M. album Green a companion piece heralding the beginning of college. The song won well-deserved Grammys for both Longest Song Title and Happiest Song About The Apocalypse.

Enjoy the jangly exuberance of R.E.M. and enjoy the weekend!

Fun With Camera Phones, Vol. 3

2009-11-12T05:00:00.000-08:00

I don't think this business plan was very well thought out.

Reality Ices Parody

2009-11-09T05:00:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the world takes such an aggressive turn for the ridiculous that it outraces our ability to make fun of it. Parody becomes impossible because reality achieves a level of crazy far beyond anything you can dream up. Like spoofing Kanye West for having a raging ego right before he raised his game at Taylor Swift's expense and launched a classic internet meme.

This, my friends, is one of those times.

Long time readers (both of you) will recall that one of my first entries concerned a haughty blurb on the back of a bag of ice. Here's an excerpt:

Southern California Ice promises us "premium quality packaged ice" and invites us to "taste the difference". Is this artisan food trend so out of hand that ice can now be a premium handcrafted artisan food item? Are we about to be assaulted with "ice tastings" at snooty gourmet stores? Will rich a-holes present their guests with several different varieties of ice? "Oh, Eleanor, you simply MUST try the desalinated Arctic sea ice in your vodka tonic. It's a pairing straight from heaven!

It was funny. In fact, I encourage you to read the whole thing if you haven't. But now, some L.A. ice company has gone and ruined my little parody by actually making this utterly ridiculous scenario come to pass. It could only have happened in Los Angeles. The company sells their "hand-cut ice" to bars and the ~~retarded~~ discerning home mixologist at the low, low price of $25 for a ten pound bag. The following feature from the otherwise excellent website TastingTable.com tells the sad tale. I'll give it the final word.

The Ultimate Ice
Elevate your cocktails with custom-made cubes

To Névé Ice owner Michel Dozios, all cubes are not created equal. Frustrated with the quality of mass-produced ice, the former bartender at Seven Grand, Comme Ça, and Church and State decided to make his own--and the city's top mixologists took note.

And now you can buy it for your home bar.

The inspiration behind this hand-cut ice company was both a matter of taste (the water is double-filtered before freezing) and intensity. "Machine-made ice dilutes your drink by 70 to 85 percent," Dozios explains.

Névé's dense cubes melt more slowly than traditional ice cubes and come in a variety of shapes: perfect cubes, tall cylinders and golf-ball-size spheres. There are even specially designed square cubes that won't crack or explode when worked vigorously in a cocktail shaker, ensuring the purest martini possible.

The Library Bar at the Roosevelt Hotel and the Langham Hotel Bar are among the devout hand-cut ice fans. Bottega Louie uses Névé ice to keep every sip of the Louie Sling (gin, sweet vermouth, lemon and bitters) perfectly flavored.

To get the same bar-quality drinks at home, Bar Keeper and Wally's sell mixed 10-pound bags ($25) of ice--more than enough for a double-fisting holiday cocktail party. You can also custom-order flavored ice cubes, like strawberry spheres or rosemary blocks.

Rocking For The Weekend: Gay Dad

2009-11-06T11:39:00.000-08:00

This Friday, I bring you "To Earth With Love" from the amusingly named band Gay Dad. I don't think that anyone in the band is either gay or a dad, but that never stopped the Thompson Twins. Gay Dad had one kickass album in 1999 called Leisure Noise and then promptly disappeared off the face of the Earth. This song is happy, poppy and perfect for Friday. Ironically, it's more joyful than the also excellent song "Joy" from the same album.

Have a great weekend!

A Tip Of The Cap

2009-11-05T11:00:00.000-08:00

Last night the New York Yankees defeated my Phillies to win the World Series, 4 games to 2. Despite my earlier World Series-related post that some have found to be slightly biased, I hold no ill will toward the Yankees. They beat the Phils fairly and soundly. Just to show that I do not carry a grudge, I've taken the time to look up Yankee third baseman Alex Rodriguez on MyHeritage and I am devoting this post to him. This website matches your photo against its vast database and shows you which celebrities you most resemble.

Alex, I hope you enjoy looking at your matches, and congratulations on a well-earned victory!

2009-10-30T05:00:00.001-07:00

Here's a big fat slice of good old rock n' roll from The Pink Spiders called "Nobody Baby". The Pink Spiders are a glam rock/power pop band in the vein of Cheap Trick or T. Rex, but on this song they simply rock out. This is the perfect kind of song to end a rock show, but I hope it starts your weekend off with a bang!

A Guide To The World Series

2009-10-28T17:03:00.000-07:00

Lo, it is October and the World Series is upon us. This year's Fall Classic begins tonight. It matches the hubristic and morally bankrupt New York Yankees against my own hometown Philadelphia Phillies. Many of you in blogland are not sports fans, and so I have created a guide to help you decide who to throw your support behind. Let's have a look at some of the players, shall we?

Meet Yankees starting pitcher C.C. Sabathia. C.C. was suspended this year for hiding that giant hamburger under his hat. He also tried to eat teammate Joba Chamberlain.

Most people know this fellow, shortstop Derek Jeter. Derek enjoys visiting strip clubs and hanging baby kittens upside down until they cry.

Here is noted philanderer and Yankee Alex Rodriguez. Alex has dated Madonna and Kate Hudson, and apparently longs to make love to himself. Sadly, this photo is not manipulated in any way. Oh, and he also shot a dude.

Shown here is the Phillies' Gold Glove centerfielder Shane Victorino during a game this season in which he spied a baby falling from the stands. As usual, Shane made the catch with aplomb.

Relief pitcher and good neighbor Brad Lidge spent his offseason helping fans move. Lift with your legs, Brad!

Finally, as everyone knows by now, MVP slugger Ryan Howard singlehandedly apprehended Osama bin Laden while on a trip to Afghanistan to give food and medicine to orphans.

I hope this simple (and entirely objective) guide has helped you familiarize yourself with the teams and decide your rooting interests for this year's World Series. Play ball!

Rocking For The Weekend: U2

2009-10-23T09:09:00.000-07:00

This week, I wanted to post a U2 song because I'm going to see them on Sunday. However, their catalog is not exactly full of fun, exuberant, bust-out-of-work-early-on-Friday tunes. I was going to give up until I remembered this little gem, "Lady With The Spinning Head". It's a B-side, but definitely an "A" song. It seems to foreshadow Pop, their foray into dance music, but the song was recorded during the sessions that led to Achtung Baby. It was ultimately broken up for parts like an old car and pieces of it wound up in other songs. The astute ear can hear parts of what became "The Fly" and "Ultraviolet". Have a great weekend!

The G-Chat Diaries, Vol. 9

2009-10-22T21:59:00.000-07:00

Chatter X: I got nothing.

WWW: I win!

Chatter X: you get a cookie!

WWW: Woo hoo! What kind?

Chatter X: Chocolate chip.

WWW: Mmmm. A classic.

Chatter X: It's the doggy style of cookies.

WWW: No, I think it's the missionary position of cookies.

Chatter X: Sugar cookies are the missionary.

WWW: Sandwich cookies are doggy style.

WWW: No, vanilla wafers are the missionary. Or maybe vanilla wafers are twin beds and frustrated masturbation.

Chatter X: Sandwich cookies aren't that satisfying. They're the quick hand job of cookies.

WWW: The doggy cookies should be fairly common but yet with a rep for being fancy and unusual. Maybe Fig Newtons.

Chatter X: Shortbread?

WWW: Oh, that's not bad. But with the English connotation, maybe they should be the London Bridge of cookies.

WWW: I’ve got it…doggy is Pepperidge Farm cookies.

Chatter X: MILANO!!!

Chatter X: Is a London Bridge like an Eiffel Tower?

WWW: I don't know what an Eiffel Tower is.

Chatter X: To the Urban Dictionary!

WWW: A London Bridge is two girls straddling a dude, one on his cock and one on his face, while they make out.

WWW: I bet an Eiffel Tower is the same thing but with three dudes.

Rocking For The Weekend: Tinted Windows

2009-10-16T11:59:00.000-07:00

Today I bring you "Kind Of A Girl" by Tinted Windows. The band is a power pop supergroup made up of Taylor Hanson (Hanson), Adam Schlesinger (Fountains of Wayne), James Iha (Smashing Pumpkins), and Bun E. Carlos (Cheap Trick).

Adam Schlesinger is one of the best pop/rock songwriters of the last 20 years, and this is right up there with his best. If you don't hear this song and want to pull off your tie and run out the door into the Friday sunshine, I don't want to know you.

Enjoy and have a great weekend!

Never Trust Anyone Over 30 Pounds Overweight

2009-10-15T09:40:00.000-07:00

Ben & Jerry's will not leave me the hell alone. You may recall this entry, in which I related the tale of how Ben and Jerry stole my idea for an ice cream flavor. To recap for those of you too lazy to follow the link, I entered a Ben & Jerry's contest to invent a new holiday flavor. I didn't win, but my exact flavor showed up on store shelves that Christmas under the name "Festivus". Well, they're up to their old hippie tricks again.

Now they have re-released MY flavor under a new name, Gingersnap. Apparently the strongly-worded letter I detailed in the previous entry had no effect. The problem is, I cannot think of a way to word my distaste any more strongly. What should I say to them this time? I know some of you people have even filthier mouths than I do. It is your time to shine.

The G-Chat Diaries, Vol. 9

2009-10-13T17:58:00.000-07:00

Chatter X: Fun fact: I just had to correct the spelling of “Boyz II Men” in someone's essay.

WWW: Awesome. Did you have to correct it because they spelled it...correctly?

Chatter X: Hee, you guessed it!

WWW: I hope they even used the word "to" instead of II.

Chatter X: They did! "Boys To Men".

WWW: That makes it even better.

Chatter X: It's fun to be the 30-something teacher correcting the whacked-out spelling of an R&B artist's name.

WWW: Oh, the irony. I think you just made it into the G-Chat Diaries.

Chatter X: w00t!

Counterfactual Football

2009-10-11T09:12:00.000-07:00

It is a well-established fact that Blogland is deserted on the weekends, so I am going to take this opportunity to slip a football-related post under the radar. Not only a football-related post, but a post that requires you to be insanely into football to appreciate. In other words, I should have just emailed it to MJenks.

I was talking with a friend about the recent signing of Michael Crabtree by the San Francisco 49ers. Crabtree was the last draft pick to sign, waiting until four games into the season to realize that he can't make any money until he signs a contract. I said that I thought Crabtree's attitude and long holdout would make him a bust. My friend, who is a Raider fan (poor guy) agreed and hilariously added that the Raiders would find a way to give the New England Patriots their first round pick for him. I decided to try to figure out a way that this could be possible, despite the fact that the Patriots are not involved in these events at all. This is what I came up with:

1. Crabtree is a bust and the 49ers cut him after the 2011 season because they can't find a trade partner.

2. Several teams show mild interest, but a humbled Crabtree chooses the Patriots and their offer of the league minimum for the chance to be Bill Belichick's next reclamation project and to catch passes from Tom Brady in the twilight of his career.

3. The Patriots showcase Crabtree in several preseason games, forcing him the ball in the second half against soon-to-be-unemployed defenders. "Unnamed sources" whisper that the team is high on him and he is expected to start.

4. Hearing the rumor, the Raiders offer their first round pick in 2013 and undrafted rookie wide receiver Alan Smithee for Crabtree. The Patriots "grudgingly" accept.

5. The cryogenically frozen head of Al Davis declares a new age of vertical offense in Oakland, built around the talents of Crabtree and rookie QB Ken Stabler, Jr. Davis' head refers to the Raiders as "an elite NFL franchise" six times in the four-minute press conference.

6. The Raiders start the 2012 season 0-6. Crabtree and offensive coordinator Art Shell (on his fourth tour of duty) get into a shoving match on the sideline during a 37-6 loss to the Chiefs.

7. The Raiders collapse and finish 3-13, securing the first pick in the 2013 draft...for the Patriots. Meanwhile, in New England, Alan Smithee catches 89 passes and wins the Offensive Rookie Of The Year award.

8. The Patriots make 17 trades on draft day, eventually parlaying the #1 pick and some spare parts into the entire third round of the draft.

Go on, tell me it's that unreasonable.

Rocking For The Weekend: Bobby Patterson

2009-10-09T10:12:00.001-07:00

Bobby Patterson will kick your ass. I'm a big soul fan, and "T.C.B. Or T.Y.A." is one of my favorite soul songs of all time. Listen to this song and you'll be ready to mix it up on Friday night. You also won't take any guff from your man or woman, as the case may be. Have a great weekend!

Fun With Camera Phones, Vol. 2

2009-10-08T15:56:00.000-07:00

After ten years of using, watching and dodging golf carts at work, I finally encountered the Holy Grail of cart-related buffoonery - a car vs. golf cart accident!

Someone I work with was pulling into their parking spot on the lot when a golf cart screamed around a corner like it was 11:58 and they were trying to return a movie to Blockbuster.¹ The path of the cart was perpendicular to the car, so the cart had to swerve to avoid T-boning it. Swerve it did...right into a concrete wall. We heard it immediately from our office, and rushed out expecting to see two crumpled cars. Instead we saw a golf cart against the wall with the windshield in pieces on the ground and the driver looking spooked and sheepish, which is a really difficult combination of looks to pull off. Curiously, he didn't drive off in the cart. He put the broken pieces of windshield in the bed and wandered off without it. I hope he didn't think he was going to get away with it, because eventually someone was going to wonder where the golf cart went.

The silver car in the foreground is the car that almost got hit.
In the bed you can see the broken windshield, and in the
back you can see building 732, where I work.

I'm actually surprised I haven't seen this before. Golf carts at movie studios are used about 50% for legitimate work and 50% for tomfoolery. Kind of like the cop car in Superbad. People take corners on two wheels, people race them², and if you happen to work at Universal people drive up to the road used for the studio tour and buzz trams full of tourists. It's pretty fun - if you wave at one of the trams, everyone will whisper, point and take photos while trying to figure out if you're famous. Unless you crash while they're watching. Then they probably just point and laugh.

On the wall you can see the mark the tire made
when the cart slammed into it.

1. I used to be a Blockbuster manager, and I saw more reckless driving there between 11:55 and midnight than I've seen the whole rest of my life combined.

2. It's especially fun to race them at the studio I work for now. Most places put something called a "governor" on the carts to restrict their speed, but my current place of employment does not. So it's likely that the moron in this case was going upwards of 20 miles per hour.

Rocking For The Weekend: The Hold Steady

2009-10-02T08:52:00.000-07:00

I'm going to send you off this Friday with a truly rocking song from The Hold Steady, "Constructive Summer". If you ever thought Springsteen was cool but wished he cranked it up to 11, this is the band for you. They're phenomenal live, so go see them and then buy all their records. No pressure. Enjoy the weekend!

Gonna Sigh Now

2009-09-30T10:00:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I decided it was time to get fit and lose approximately six hundred pounds. Despite encouraging reports that the world’s fattest man had become engaged to be married¹, I reckoned that a fitter, thinner me would enjoy improved confidence and quality of life.

Displaying a level of both fiscal responsibility and pragmatism that most gym-belonging humans never reach, I quit the gym a year ago because I never went. Not eager to pay the exorbitant fee required to sign up yet again, I recalled that my apartment building has a fitness room. In advance of my first workout, I went down to see what kind of equipment was there.

To my dismay, I found a graveyard of broken equipment that would look very much at home in Miss Havisham’s decaying mansion. There was a Nautilus weight machine with a broken cable and a missing pull-down bar. There was a stationary bike that worked in the sense that the pedals turned, but the electronics were ripped out. There was a step machine with steps that sank straight to the floor and exhaled with a “thoooop” as soon as you stepped on them. There was a trampoline that was intact, but rather inadvisable for use in a room with an eight-foot ceiling. And there was a treadmill that sort of worked. The treadmill runs, but that’s a very generous description. The destroyed plastic overlay makes the control panel nearly impossible to read, the machine has a habit of shutting off by itself when you raise the speed past 3.5 mph, and it also arbitrarily raises the incline by as much as 15 degrees in a matter of seconds entirely on a whim.

I briefly considered living out my remaining years as a fat man, reasoning that at this rate at least there wouldn’t be many of them. I also toyed with the idea of performing an exorcism on the treadmill. But as always, we find our redemption in the movies.

I had recently watched one of the gems of American cinema, Rocky IV. As you surely recall, this is the one where Apollo Creed is beaten to death in the ring by a steroid-gobbling Russian meathead, prompting Rocky to travel to the Soviet Union to train and then avenge his fallen friend by fighting the commie cyborg in Moscow.² In an attempt to prevent Rocky from properly preparing for the fight, his Russian hosts put him up in a log cabin in the middle of Siberia with no modern amenities or training facilities. However, in a stirring montage to the strains of a Survivor song that is not “Eye Of The Tiger”³, Rocky trains with what is available to him. He chops wood, rolls logs, runs in the snow and pulls a donkey cart. The clear implication is that Rocky has been toughened by his experience and is better prepared for the bout than his Soviet counterpart, who is shown in very antiseptic environments getting shot up with needles and working out amid enough technological machinery to launch a Space Shuttle.

Of course, this leads to Rocky not only winning the fight but getting an arena full of commies, soldiers and KGB stooges to chant his name, much to the consternation of an actor portraying Mikhail Gorbachev. I decided that much like Rocky, I would use the sad state of the fitness room as motivation. No fancy chichi gym with plasma TVs and safe, operational equipment for me! I’m getting down in the muck and slugging it out with both my flabby body and that broken down crap!

It’s been three weeks. The stationary bike is somewhat usable but frustrating. I’ve managed to work around the treadmill’s quirks to a degree. I’ve even added “Gonna Fly Now” to my workout mix.

But on the whole, I’d rather pull a donkey cart.

1. Where does he even meet girls? Honestly. Unless his wang is the fattest one in the world too, I don’t get it.

2. If Rocky had only realized that this was no fearsome warrior, but merely Dolph Lundgren, I imagine a lot of this nonsense could have been avoided.

3. I didn’t know there were any others, either.

Rocking For The Weekend: Matthew Sweet

2009-09-25T09:59:00.000-07:00

Welcome to a new feature at Words, Words, Words...Rocking For The Weekend! Every Friday I'll post a fun song I love that is perfect for flying out the door at 5pm on Friday (or 8pm if you're me) and cranking the stereo on the way home.

Well, maybe not every Friday. But at least until I am sick of it. (See "Seven Word Sunday" food posts.)

Today's song is "Girlfriend" by Matthew Sweet. It rocks. It's one of my ten favorite songs of all time, and the drum break is sick. Enjoy!

This Is My Rifle, This Is My Gun...

2009-09-24T15:54:00.000-07:00

...books are for learning, TV's for fun!

When I watch television, I watch pure entertainment. Sitcoms, sports, even the occasional reality show. I promise I don't learn anything. This both perplexes and on occasion infuriates some who know me. They say things like "You're too smart for that." I assure you, I am not. I also like to read, but very rarely read novels or frivolous books. I read a lot of nonfiction...essays, biographies, science, sociology, etcetera. Reading a novel makes me feel like I'm slacking or wasting time. I've always operated under the tenets of this clear delineation - TV is fun, books are work. But it always infuriated me that I didn't have a ready answer why.

I think I have a workable theory. When most people go to work, they have to dress up a little. A tie, maybe a suit. But no one complains because a tie and a suit are the uniform for work. Sure, you'd probably rather not, but you just do it without complaint because you understand that that's the way it is. But imagine that you went on vacation to Hawaii and at the airport you were greeted not with a lei, but with a tie and suit. You'd say "Screw that, I'm on vacation! That's what I'm getting away from!" You feel comfortable rejecting the tie because you've come to expect that vacation is for shorts and t shirts.

I think TV and books are like that. In school, we find that books are for learning. Almost everything we read as a child is related to school. But when we get home, we turn to TV for cartoons (or if you were me, The McLaughlin Group.) If we got home from school, turned on the TV, and found someone doing math problems, we'd throw a tantrum. I guess along the way I determined that TV was for my entertainment and books were for my enrichment. This would explain why I don't want to learn anything from TV, and why I feel guilty getting frivolous entertainment from books. I'm not sure I need to change anything, or that it's bad to operate like this. But it's nice to have figured it out.

I'm aware this might be really banal, and if that's the case, I am prepared to blame it on novels.

Springfield Rock City

2009-09-21T23:29:00.000-07:00

It occured to me the other day while watching The Simpsons that Krusty the Clown is the Gene Simmons of comedy. After thinking about it some more, it only followed that Gene Simmons is the Krusty the Clown of rock and roll. These two men, while probably not acquainted, have similar attitudes, values and foibles. I'm certain they'd get along like gangbusters...at least long enough to have a debauched weekend in Vegas. Come, won't you, and let's examine the startling parallels between these two titans of the entertainment industry!

	Gene Simmons	Krusty the Clown
Hairstyle	Three-pronged afro (black)	Three-pronged afro (green)
Makeup	Evil clown	Sad clown
Abandoned Career	Imparter of knowledge (schoolteacher)	Imparter of knowledge (rabbi)
Addiction	Poultry-related (chicks)	Poultry-related (dodo egg omelettes)
Sidekick	Hairy ape (Paul Stanley)	Hairy ape (Mr. Teeny)
Secret Shame	Judaism	Judaism
Ill-Advised Endorsements	KISS coffin/beverage cooler, KISS wine, KISS Mr. Potato Head dolls	Krusty Brand Imitation Gruel, Krusty Brand Home Pregnancy Test, Lady Krusty Mustache Removal System
Skill At Chosen Career	Questionable	Very Questionable
Eventual Cause Of Death	Shot by hooker	Shot by bookie

Kanye West To Pick Winners At MTV Awards

2009-09-15T07:31:00.000-07:00

NEW YORK (AP) - In a shocking turn of events, music channel MTV announced today that beginning next year, all winners at the MTV Music Video Awards will be chosen by rap music star and noted tastemaker Kanye West.

Sunday’s broadcast of the network’s annual flagship event was marred when West interrupted “Best Female Video” winner Taylor Swift’s acceptance speech. West stormed onstage and shouted over a stunned Swift, asserting that singer Beyonce should have won for her video “Single Ladies”, calling it “one of the best videos ever”. The incident was only the latest in a string of awards show shenanigans by West, whose hijinks frequently include interrupting speeches to issue pronouncements that he was wrongly denied a meaningless award. Curiously, West did not interrupt host Russell Brand at any point in the proceedings, a move that would likely have put him back in the good graces of those in attendance and a television audience of millions.

The decision to appoint West to such a powerful post would seem unlikely considering the embarrassment he caused the network on the one night each year that people actually consider watching MTV. Not so, says MTV Networks president Doug Herzog. “At first we were angry at Kanye,” Herzog said. “But when we were honest with ourselves, we had to admit that he really does know best. His opinions, even on topics as disparate as music videos and 19th century pre-Raphaelite art, are invariably correct.” Herzog also noted that convenience was a factor in the decision. “We realized that having one person decide all the winners was much easier than actually conducting a vote of the general public. Besides, what are we really losing here? This is a group of people who have bestowed the coveted (sic) Moonman on the likes of Paula Abdul, Kylie Minogue and the Pussycat Dolls. Frankly, I think I should receive some kind of award myself.”

Within hours of the announcement, West weighed in via his blog. “MTV YOU FINALLY DONE SOMETHING RIGHT!!! I AM SOOOOO JACKED TO PICK THE WINNERS!! I PREDICT THAT KANYE WEST WILL SWEEP NEXT YEARS VMAS!!! YOU KNOWWW IT!!”

At press time, it was rumored that officials of the Oscars, Grammys and Emmys were contemplating offers for West to choose the winners of their awards shows as well. In related news, 20th Century Fox this afternoon greenlit the lavish biopic Kanye West: A Man For All Seasons.

A Mildly Amusing List

2009-09-10T01:00:00.000-07:00

Phrases I Have Read This Week In Other Blogs That Would Make Good Band Names

The Stingy Vaginas

Cobra Kai

Frequently Naked Neighbors

Heels Or Flats

The Dutch Rubs

Superior Brew

The French Style

Chinese Five Spice

Looming Manhood

The Ginormous Zucchinis

Black Life Forms

Glorious Tooting

Lexicon of Love (more of an album title, really)

The Chupa Chups

Deathtoilet

Great Aunt Helga

The Blogging Tools

Sexy Menz

Sullen Teens

Fun With Camera Phones

2009-09-08T23:40:00.000-07:00

Fun with camera phones at the sporting goods store!

I can't tell you how relieved I am to learn that these golf balls are experienced and professional. Those golf balls you hire right out of college aren't worth shit.

I'm glad the marketing pros at Sportcraft have taken pains to assure their customers that this is their good bean bag toss. Not to be confused with their bad bean bag toss, which I can only assume is not a top seller. I imagine it consists of two old coffee cans and a Ziploc bag of actual beans.

Desk Hero

2009-09-07T09:26:00.000-07:00

Klank thumpthump klank thumpthump klank thumpthumpthump klank klank

“All right!”

Klank thumpthump klank thumpthump klank thumpthumpthump klank klank

“I got somethin’ to say!”

After my thunderous drum intro, Mark took over on guitar and proceeded to rock this place to the ground. I don’t know how to play drums and he doesn’t know how to play guitar. But we had played the hell out of “Rock Of Ages” just the same.

We’re not a band. We’re Desk Band.

When you spend about 12 hours a day cooped up in a room with two other guys with nothing to entertain you but each other and three iTunes-equipped laptops, you have to make your own fun. Desk Band started innocently enough, with Mark drumming the pads of his wrists on the desk to the sounds of Rage Against The Machine. Like that hackneyed movie cliché where one guy stands up in an auditorium and claps alone only to slowly be joined by the entire room in a standing ovation, our officemate Shane and I chimed in and forged a three part cacophony.

Shane was cashiered from Desk Band in a matter of days for utter lack of rhythm. There was none of the usual acrimony attendant when such things happen though, as he is our production assistant/flunky/errand boy. It was but the latest of his humiliations. Desk Band lives on as a two-piece act. Whenever we’re bored or stressed or mad, you can feel it coming. Just crank up the volume, and it’s showtime.

Dutdut dutdut dutdut dutdut dutdutdut THUMP

“I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord…”

That's What She Said (Really)

2009-09-01T10:59:00.000-07:00

This morning our PA was dispatched to the Apple Store to pick up our boss's computer, which had been in for repair. The clerk at the store called to ask my boss if our PA was "authorized to pick up your unit." The clerk actually stifled a chuckle as he realized what he said, then let out a proper laugh after hearing my boss laugh. This has led to an hour's worth of "unit" jokes in the office, after which I've come to learn that there are about twenty minutes' worth of good "unit" jokes. The incident made me think of this classic gaffe by my old roommate Edie.

Edie and I were in Vegas for the weekend and we were trying samples at a fancy chocolatier in the Venetian. Edie was a particular fan of fudge, and asked to try the milk chocolate flavor. As she tasted it, a glow of infinite joy lit up her face and she immediately asked for a quarter pound. The clerk asked if she would like it wrapped in a box or loose in a bag. "Just put it in a bag," she said. "I can't wait to cram it in my fudge hole!" The clerk and I immediately started laughing, although he tried to stop himself. I absolutely did not. It took a second for her to realize the alternate meaning of what she'd said, and when she did she tried to apologize through her laughter. "Don't apologize," said the clerk. "That's the best thing that's happened all day!"

Edie and I make "fudge hole" jokes to this day. They're way better than "unit" jokes.

The Lottery Hostage

2009-08-28T13:05:00.000-07:00

I don’t care what psychologists say. Negative reinforcement can be at least as strong a motivator as positive reinforcement.

Two weeks ago, the MegaMillions jackpot was $170 million, which proved high enough for all the Denizens of the Double-Wide here at work to get together and chip in $10 each to buy a bunch of lottery tickets. I’m not a big lottery player because I am good at math. But hey, for $10 one time I can put logic aside and engage in some workplace camaraderie.

We didn’t win. But even more significantly, nobody else did either. So the next time the jackpot was up to $230 million and we attracted a few more players looking to stand on a stage and hold a giant check. I stayed in this time too. “What’s the harm?” I thought. “I’d probably just blow it on beer anyway.”

For the second time, nobody won. The pot now stood at $270 million, and at this point we had 14 suckers on the line. Including me. The only people holding out were the director (who doesn’t need it anyway) and one girl who ditched us in favor of playing the lottery on her own. I suppose 1/15 of $270 million doesn’t go as far as it used to. Losing the lottery sucks, but I can’t imagine anything worse than the horror that would ensue if we all lost and this girl won. Conversely, I can’t imagine a more satisfying scenario than our group winning and her having to watch us jump around like a bunch of drunks at a wedding who just heard the DJ crank “Mony Mony”. Not to mention the fact that she would be the only one left standing after a mass tendering of resignations that might actually delay the release of the film and leave the studio in a considerable lurch.

Which leads me to my current dilemma. In keeping with the fact that it’s easier to be struck by lightning twice while laying down a royal flush on Mars than it is to win MegaMillions, nobody has yet won. Today the pot is worth $331 million, and I have absolutely no choice but to keep playing. Not because my investment in this foolish endeavor has now reached $40 (although I’m keenly aware of that too), but because dropping out and watching the group go on to win would be such a soul-crushing turn of events that I’d have no choice but to commit seppuku. My fear of being the one left out in the cold is far stronger than my hope of winning. So I have again plunked down $10 purely as an insurance policy against a nervous breakdown. I pray that someone wins this week and ends this vicious cycle.

Just as an aside, if you never see another entry on this blog ever again…we probably won.

And Now For Something Completely Different

2009-08-24T13:00:00.000-07:00

Blog-block makes you start scrounging for ideas and posting things you never thought you'd post. This is one of them. A few years ago, a friend and I tried a writing exercise. We sent each other random photos and we had to write something about the story taking place in the photo. The photo that prompted this writing is lost to the mists of time, but it was a black and white shot of two girls and a guy leaning over the railing of a ferry heading for the Statue of Liberty. The date is the actual date I wrote this, and I thought of it immediately after 9/11.

Journal Entry
4/10/01

Look at that stupid bitch. She has no idea that in about an hour, she's going to rank with the all time stupid bitches. Typhoid Mary, Mrs. O'Leary's clumsy cow, and whoever decided that a giant wooden horse was a lovely gift. I can't even look at her cute, dumb little blond self without laughing...I get the most inappropriate emotions at very important moments. She's even taking pictures of the Statue of Liberty for my "brother", even though she works there. Which is basically why the poor bitch is in this situation. I think she might really love him, even after only a few weeks. I'm almost embarrassed for her. It kind of irks me that he's fucking her, but it's all for the mission. He still comes home to me at night. I kind of want to tell her this when it's all done...let her live with her shame, even if only for a moment.

I'm sorry to whoever finds this, I'm not being very clear. My name is Heather. My boyfriend's name is Josh. And we're currently on a ferry to the Statue of Liberty. When we get there, Josh's carefully cultivated 'girlfriend' of three weeks will let us in the employee entrance, where security is just a word. We’ll take the elevator to the torch, like good tourists. Then Josh will escort her to the rail to enjoy the view. Then I will plant this thermonuclear bomb that's in my bag, detonate it, and pretty much melt everything from here to the Bronx.

Yeah, so I have a flair for the dramatic. I'm entitled, I'm about to be the most storied terrorist in history. The President is in New York. They're busy patting everyone in the damn city down for a gun, and here I am carrying around Hiroshima X 5 in my Saks tote bag. I guess it's like that old adage about how the bigger the lie, the easier people will believe it. So, the President will be dead. And the Vice-President, who's tagging along. Which means that soon, a third rate senator will be running a country that just lost the largest city in the world.

My dad is just not going to believe this. Dad was an oil company executive, and I spent about half my childhood in Syria. So did Josh. There was a little enclave of American oil types, and that's where I met him. We would go on little expeditions into the city, out of the safety of our little Americatown. We made friends, and got invited to dinner, and did sleepovers, and all the stuff kids do everywhere, I guess. We also saw Islam. And we liked the purity of it. You can bet that the recruiters loved us. We can walk around all over America without being suspected of either bombing things or selling Slurpees. These fucking Americans and their 'religion'. They bitch about going to church for an hour once a week, and then bitch some more when they are forced to eat lobster and crab on Fridays during Lent. I never realized how soft Americans were until I discovered Islam. Our people are killing and dying for religion all over the world, and that's why we're going to win. It's so poetic too...America never thought that in the marketplace of ideas, one of their own might find their merchandise rotting from the inside. I guess that's about to bite them in the ass. They really should have expected something like this to happen. In a world where Friends is dubbed into French and Chinese kids think that the NBA is Fan-fucking-Tastic, it had to go the other way at some point.

Okay, enough of the rhetoric. We're about to dock, and I have to leave this journal here on this ferry and hope it survives. I kinda wish I could watch this from New Jersey instead of being in the middle of it. But hey, a free trip to heaven is a free trip to heaven. Praise Allah.

The G-Chat Diaries, Vol. 8

2009-08-21T10:11:00.000-07:00

WWW: Oh, HELL. The Border Grill taco truck was on the lot for lunch this afternoon and I just found out! It's too late!

Chatter X: Oh, no!! It's not still there?

WWW: It left at 2:30. Ten minutes ago!

Chatter X: No one told you? These people are not your friends.

WWW: I had to find out on Facebook from someone who just had some!

Chatter X: WHAT? Your office peeps have some 'splainin' to do.

WWW: No joke. That should be a public announcement. Who doesn't enjoy a delicious taco?

Chatter X: Crazy folk, I'd imagine.

WWW: That could be the only explanation. Or people who belong to a religion that forbids the eating of tacos.

Chatter X: That is possible. Or people who were in a car accident that damaged their olfactory nerves, contributing to a lack of taste sensation.

WWW: That is truly sad. Because tacos are definitely a taste sensation. It's sweeping the nation.

Chatter X: Yeah, even I've heard of tacos, and I don't follow many trends.

WWW: Well, you come from taco country. Or taco country-adjacent.

Chatter X: Yes, it is practically Mexico here.

WWW: Do you know the Frito Bandito?

Chatter X: He is my uncle. Tio Bandito.

WWW: Wow! I can't believe you never told me that.

Chatter X: I had to make sure you were trustworthy, as you can understand. It's like telling people you're Gary Busey's daughter or something. You can imagine the hangers-on and wannabes.

WWW: Wow, yeah. I imagine if someone told me they were Gary Busey's daughter I'd have about a million questions.

WWW: Like, “Are you sure you should be telling people that?”

WWW: But I'm glad I passed the trustworthy test. So is your real last name Bandito? Did your family have to change it to avoid persecution?

Chatter X: Nah, it's a stage name that just means he likes to steal Fritos. His real name is Harold "Ed" Chatter.

WWW: Fascinating.

WWW: So can you get me free Fritos?

Chatter X: Oh, man. Here we go. It's like high school all over again.

WWW: I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking.

Chatter X: It's okay. It's just, everyone wants a piece of you, you know?

WWW: Yeah, I know what you mean. It's like when people come up and tell me I'm really handsome like they're the first one that ever thought of it.

WWW: "I KNOW. Can we move on now?"

Chatter X: Oh, man, I know! That gets SO old. People are lame.

WWW: Well, what can you do? It's the burden that comes from being exceptional. We've both learned how that is.

Chatter X: Yeah, and that sad part is that people don't understand that we're really being sincere when we say it's hard to be so smart and phenomenal-looking.

WWW: No, they think we're saying it like a pro athlete who jumps to a new team for an extra $5 million because he "has a family to feed".

Chatter X: They're just haters. All of them.

WWW: We didn't ask to be born like this. We’re just the way God made us.

Chatter X: We're just doing the best we can.

WWW: I mean, I never complain that I don't get to sit around outside all day like homeless people. Or spend lots of time with my family like the unemployed. So don't complain about my looks.

Chatter X: That is perfectly reasonable.

WWW: I think so. But then again, we’re smarter than they are.

Seven Course Dessert

2009-08-17T11:17:00.000-07:00

Noted Australian cultural authority and sweet eater Soda and Candy has tagged me with a meme. And thank God. Seriously. I normally don’t like doing memes, but I haven’t a single thing to write about, so this is quite welcome.

S&C's meme asks you to list seven sweet things you enjoy. After doing a quick count, I realized that listing seven sweet female bloggers would result in at least two or three brandishing a rolling pin in my direction. Therefore, in the interest of my personal safety I’ve decided to instead list the seven best desserts I’ve ever eaten out. Not all are fancy or great culinary accomplishments, but all were delicious and several created a cherished memory.

Mexican hot chocolate, Senor Fred
Senor Fred is a Mexican place in my neighborhood. The food is good and the atmosphere is nice, but on the whole it’s pretty unremarkable - except for the Mexican hot chocolate. It’s served in a big coffee cup and is extremely thick and rich. It is actually as much like a pudding as a hot chocolate. Creamy and velvety and tasting deeply of dark chocolate. Best of all, it’s served with freshly made churros for dipping. And these aren’t theme park churros. These are deep fried slabs of sweet dough, perfectly undercooked so they stay pliable and slightly elastic, then rolled in cinnamon and sugar. Exquisite.

Cheese roll, Porto’s Bakery
Porto’s is a Cuban bakery here in Los Angeles. Everything, from pastries to breads to mouthwatering roast pork sandwiches, is exceptional. But the best thing on the menu is the cheese roll. Sweet cream cheese filling is surrounded by layers of flaky phyllo dough and a lacquered sugar-glazed surface that cracks when you bite into it. Light as air and delicious.

Tres leches cake, Casona
To continue the Cuban theme, Casona is a Cuban restaurant in my hometown. It opened a few years ago, and I ate there when I was home for the holidays last year. I’d never had tres leches cake before. It’s a spongy cake soaked in three kinds of milk – evaporated milk, condensed milk, and heavy cream. I know it doesn’t sound that great, but it’s wonderful. It has a unique texture that I haven’t encountered anywhere else, and the texture is what makes the cake special. The closest comparison I can make is to the little cake pieces on the outside of the ice cream bars called Strawberry Shortcakes and Chocolate Eclairs. Imagine a whole slice of cake with that texture, and that’s kind of close.

Key lime pie, forgotten greasy spoon in Key West
The exact location I had this pie is lost to the mists of time, but boy do I remember my first bite. A bracing citrusy tartness dominated, and the lime flavor was strong. I’m sure the local limes were juiced the same day I ate the pie, and it showed. Still the best key lime pie I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a lot.

Chocolate ice cream, Good 'N Plenty
Surely nothing as unadorned as a simple bowl of ice cream could make a list of great desserts, could it? It could. Good 'N Plenty is a family-style restaurant in the Amish country of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. My family used to make a day trip to the Amish country quite often when I was little, and this was usually where we ate dinner. The menu is littered with authentic Amish classics like buttered egg noodles, chow chow, apple butter and shoofly pies. But I always loved their chocolate ice cream best. It was served alone in a freezing steel bowl, and the creamy, milky flavor was phenomenal. I wondered if this place was a romanticized childhood memory or the real deal, and I had the chance to find out when I went just a couple of years ago. It is most definitely the real deal.

Mango pudding, Hong Kong food stall
Somewhere in the maze of food stalls that wind through the streets of Hong Kong, I had this fantastic dessert. It was a molded pudding that resembled a tiny bundt cake. The base layer was a moist dark chocolate cake, and the top layer was a refreshing mango pudding that had the texture of a very firm flan or egg custard. I’m not especially fond of actual mangoes, but this dessert had a great texture and just the right balance of richness and lightness.

Water ice, South Philly truck
When I was a little kid, my parents would ship me and my brother off to my aunt and uncle in South Philly for a week every summer. In return, my parents would take in my two cousins afterwards so that each couple got a kid-free week to enjoy themselves. The highlight of the week was always the water ice truck. Every evening when the sun started to go down and the sweltering heat emanating from the concrete began to dissipate, we’d hear the truck coming. Ice cream trucks usually played chimes, but the water ice truck had a stereo and blasted rock music out the back. No matter how many years this was a ritual for us, I swear the only song they ever played was Juice Newton’s “Queen Of Hearts”. The water ice was shaved ice drizzled with sugary sweet syrup and served in a paper cone. Cherry was my favorite flavor, and to this day I’ve never seen a red quite as red as cherry water ice.