Blogging the Unbloggable

Skin Deep

2006-12-05T22:32:46Z

Gary stared at his unusual visitor. At first glance, he just seemed like any other neatly groomed, self-possessed 30 year old guy. But, there was something bothering Gary deeply about this interloper. And it wasn't the fact he was working in Gary's garage.

It was his skin. It was absolutely blemish free. No moles at all. No warts, pimples, scars... nothing. An even skin-tone through out. Not even any dryness or wrinkles. Very eerie in its perfection.

Well, that would follow, Gary thought. If this guy truly was from the future as he claimed, then maybe they had wiped out all skin aliments with an array of futurisic creams, lotions, and ointments. Stuff we in the present could only dream of. Stuff that makes Neosporin look like the goddamn horse and cart.

Or maybe they didn't rely on fancy medicines exculsively. Maybe through evolution and genetic engineering it was possible to be born with perfect skin. And they could program tiny nanobots to roam thorough his blood stream searching out any sort of skin trouble like millions of microscopic roving dermotologists. Zap, there goes a clogged pore. Zap, there goes dryness. Warning! INGROWN HAIR NEAR LEFT SIDE OF THE NECK! ALL UNITS RESPOND!

Wow.

Gary tried not to stare further while his guest attemped to repair his damaged time-belt with the neighbor's decidely non-futurisitc tool set. Apparently his name was entirely unprononcible by Gary's primitive mouth so he called him "Bob."

Bob's hair was groomed in a perfectly managed buzz-cut too. They must use lasers, Gary mused. Bob's sideburns were triangular...which made Gary laugh and think "I guess, that's one thing that Star Trek got right about the future."

Another thing, Bob had a perfectly symetrical head. His nose pointed forward square and true. No odd parts in his hair. No eye higher than another. He kind of looked like a video game creation more than a real person. He even seemed to emit a glow. His lanky, sleek, muscular frame had not an ounce of fat on it and moved with the poise of a dancer and no wasted movement. Unbelieveable.

Still, Gary was not going to lend him 50 bucks. He wasn't quite convinced. Gary felt that Bob had better make some crazy future-shit with that "time-belt" happen first before any money would be shelled out.

A Somewhat Open Letter to Nabisco

2006-10-26T19:23:30Z

Dearest Nabisco,

Please stop with the latest tidal wave of Oreo "Variatals." It's killing our country.

Certainly, the earlier introduction of Double Stuf and Fudge Dipped Oreos was a welcome change of pace. No one can argue that. But, recent sketchy offerings such as Oreo Double Delight Mint n' Creme and 100 Calorie Oreo Thin Crisps is really pushing the limits of our collective sandwich cookie-related attention span. And you must be out of your goddamn minds if you think anyone's Oreo dollar will be going toward the Oreo Lunchables Fun Snacks.

Please stop diluting the brand of a American classic with over-saturation of the snack market place. At this rate, the public will equate the term "Oreo" with "shameless supermarket shelf-space hog" as opposed to "black guy who acts white."

Please don't make me eat Hydrox,

Signed,

mort3965

I meant the dog.

2006-09-08T16:57:24Z

Yesterday, I was riding shotgun while my girlfriend drove. Which meant my job was to play CDs and provide random comments about pedestrians.

While at a stop sign, a somewhat-heavyset woman dressed in sweats walked across the street in front of us with her dog: a Siberian Husky. I looked at the dog and just said flatly: "Husky."

Then, my girlfriend and I both took a closer look and realized that I could have been talking about the woman instead of the dog. Thankfully, she didn't hear me.

If I was Larry David, she would have heard it, caused a scene, and then I would have ran into her later (probably at the Israeli Film Festival--which we mistakenly attended.)

Movies I Enjoy Falling Asleep to

2006-08-12T03:32:46Z

Favorite Movies To Fall Asleep To
Let's face it... the only thing I like more than watching movies...is falling asleep while watching movies. I've fallen asleep to four star, one star and all kinds of movies in between. Improbably, I've even caught some zz's during seemingly impossible-to-doze-through films like Blue Velvet, X-Men, and Battlefield: Earth (which by many is considered to be one of the loudest --and lousiest-- films
ever made.)

Now, this doesn't mean that I hate these movies (on the contrary, some of them on are on my list of "favorite movies ever.") It's just that once they get going, they often times trigger a sense of relaxation and allow me to slip into the warm embrace of slumber.

Here goes the list:

10) Citizen Kane
What! The greatest movie of all time? Yes, it's true. Gregg Toland's deep focus b/w photography first pulls me in to the wonderful universe of Orson Welles' mind; then tucks me in for a hour long siesta.

9) Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World
It must be the slow, rhythmic creaking of the boat acting much like a giant sea-faring cradle and rocking me to sleep.

8) Insomnia (both versions)
There is some obvious irony involved in this but I've never made it though either the original version of the American remake. Maybe I just feel so sorry for the main character and I decide to nap for him.

7) Eyes Wide Shut
I love Stanley Kubrick but his long, static shots and low-key dialogue are a recipe for me shutting my eyes widely.

6) Breakfast at Tiffany's
I don't recall ever making it past the opening credits so I don't now what puts me out. So it's probably either the Henri Mancini theme or the typeface they use.

5) Leon: The Professional
It must be the dulcet tones of Jean Reno that makes me saw some logs. The huge fight scene at the end usually wakes me right up though.

4) The English Patient
Never seen it. I'm gone after the first few minutes. The plane crash happens at the same time of my own crashing.

3) 12 Monkeys
Don't know why, but this one makes me go down like I got hit by some sort of trank-dart EVERYTIME. My brain must think that Terry Gilliam simulates my own dream universe, because my body assumes we are asleep and shuts down everytime. Brazil has put me out before also.

2) 2001: A Space Odyssey
Seems like a slam dunk for my first place slot. Kubrick. Outer space. H.A.L.'s soothing monotone. Close, but not quite....

1) Blade Runner
When I wake up in the middle of the night and I can't fall back asleep, I pop on Blade Runner on my computer and the dreamy visuals and Vangelis' etherial soundtrack puts me back into slumber land. It never fails.

Good night and good luck (uh, I'm just saying that...I'm not referring to the movie. Although, it seems like a good candidate for this list.)

The Myth of Jack Bauer

2006-05-26T07:08:13Z

Fox's hit show "24" shows an entire day of federal agent Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland) in real-time. Pundits of the show have long wondered how one man can go through all of the rigors of fighting terrorists for 24 straight hours without seemingly partaking in any food, water, or sleep. However, the reality of the situation is much different than at first glance. After careful reviewing (including painstaking frame-by-frame analysis of many key episodes,) we are able to see Bauer resourcefully keeping himself sharp by sneaking in these essential needs.

SEASON 1

4:04 AM: While visiting St. Mark's Hospital with his wife Teri and Alan York, Jack takes a moment to purchase a granola bar from a waiting room vending machine. He eats it immedately.

7:25 AM:
Jack arrives at the power plant. While clearing Jack for entry into the breakfast, Secret Service Agent Pierce asks Jack to open the briefcase. Jack complies and while being screened, he grabs an orange juice and cinnamon roll from the continental breakfast table.

8:45 AM:
While waiting at the construction site with his waitress hostage Lauren, Jack begins to fall asleep. Lauren tries to leave when he wakes up and catches her. After recapturing her, Jack changes his contact solution before the police arrive.

3:42 PM:
At CTU, Milo gives Jack the news that Ellis’ body was found. Jack is surprised when Nina arrives back at CTU since he specifically asked her to watch his family. Jack is also suprised to find a slice of cake in the CTU kitchen leftover from Agent Paulson's birthday celebration the previous day.

SEASON 2:

9:01 AM:
While in transit via helicopter before his latest mission, Jack devours a McGriddle, gulps down a cup of coffee, and loosens up his hamstrings with a portable heat pad.

10:34 AM:
After parachuting from a plane, Jack decides to take a small nap-- knowing that either the impact of hitting the ground or the nearby nuclear explosion will wake him up.

7:17 P.M.
Jack interrogates captured terrorist Syed Ali in the basement of a mosque. Ali won't crack, but he does mention a great place to get fish tacos in the neighborhood. Jack sends an agent to retrieve three fish tacos and a large horchata. Jack claims it's to make the suspect "cave in."

7:46 P.M.
Jack sips on a horchata in front of an irate Ali. Ali finally gives in and explains that the plan is to detonate the nuclear bomb from a plane over downtown L.A. While he calls CTU with the news, Jack cuts his toenails.

SEASON 3:

3:40 PM
Jack passes on an offer of a Powerbar from Chase, knowing through experience that after 24 hours everything will be over. "We can hit the In 'n' Out Burger after this," he mutters.

7:19 AM
Jack goes "dark" for 15 minutes during a conference at CTU. Tony Almeida nudges him awake and offers him a sip of his Grande Cappuchino.

11:40 AM
Realizing he has a heroin problem, Jack stops off at a Methadone clinic while en route to Saunders' building. And an Arby's.

SEASON 4:

1:04 PM
While on his way to follow a lead at Felsted Security, Jack flashes his badge and gun at a passing Elote vendor and gets two cobs with mayo, chile, and lemon. He scarfs them down whle holding the vendor at gunpoint "for his own protection."

7:45 PM
Jack gets Chloe to hack into the computer at Ago Restaurant, one of the trendiest eateries in all of West Hollywood. He demands reservations at 8pm and "a small table near the back."

9:30 PM
Jack gets back to CTU and is immediately repremanded by CTU director Bill Buchanan in his office for abusing his power and "wasting bandwidth with reservation requests" Meanwhile, Jack helps himself to a few fun-size Snickers from a dish on Buchanan's desk.

SEASON 5:

9:07 A.M.
Jack naps at Ontario Airport while doing recon of the terrorists holding hostages. A series of pre-recorded messages that have him saying phrases like "I don’t work for you," "Dammit, I'm running out of time," and "There's no time to explain now" gives CTU the impression that Jack is awake. This goes on until 9:58 A.M.

2:54 P.M.
After the shopping mall is secured from the nerve gas attack, Jack has the Hazmat team hastily decontaminate a Sbarro. "Just to be safe," he says.

3:02 P.M.
While leaving the mall, Curtis notices a red stain on Jack's flak jacket. "You've been hit," Jack nervously claims he's "okay." A breadstick rolls out of Jack's pocket as he enters a Ford Explorer.

4:10 A.M.
Jack grimly looks on as the hazmat teams cart out the bodies of CTU agents killed in the nerve gas attack. He then sheds a tear as they also cart out all of the contaminated food from the kitchen.

An Embarassment of Riches

2006-05-19T00:16:51Z

Supposedly the NSA is keeping a huge data base of all phone calls made in the United States. Who knows if that's true...but I know this:

The database of drunk-dials would be enormous. According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services: "almost half of Americans aged 12 or older reported being current drinkers of alcohol in the 2001 survey (48.3 percent). This translates to an estimated 109 million people."

I think it's safe to assume that at least 100 million of those people has access and working knowledge of a telelphone. So, to be fair, we can guess that there has got to be in the neighborhood With the previlence of cellullar technology, I can also safely say that we are in the golden age of drunk-dialing.

I would love to hear some of these calls some time. Imagine the raw amount of embarassment and late-night hilarity to be enjoyed from an entire NATION. I'm sure it's enough to power a major metropolis. Or, at least, if the government put all these phone calls on the internet and charged people to listen to them: they could recoup the deficit.

If the US Government doesn't decide to take advantage of this opportunity immediately, that's okay: there is a Plan B. Eventually through the Freedom Of Information Act, these phone calls will be declassified and we'll be able to enjoy millions of desparate booty calls, slurred party directions and other various boozy trash-talk-- courtesy of the Federal Government. It's an unending entertainment resource.

Don't even talk about it

2006-02-16T05:37:05Z

Well, it's been two months since I changed blades on that razor. Man, has it been going strong. I can hardly believe it.

Look at the results for yourself. What a close shave! Just as good as the first day. And no nicks, or cuts at all. For two months!

Let's not talk about it though. Let's not jinx things up.

Don't mention anything. Don't even go in the bathroom. Just don't say a word.

I'm gonna enjoy this for as long as I can. Because when it's over, baby...it's over. You know that. I know that. The razor knows that too.

That razor is in the zone. Unconscious. On fire. Please don't talk to it. Certainly don't mention the streak it has going. Don't put the razor in its head.

Maybe some day we can look back on this and put it all in to perspective, but for now....shhhhhh.

When I use the razor in the morning, I'm trying to keep all distractions away from it. I don't look it in the eye. I don't turn on the radio. I keep all the electric razors hidden so it doesn't think I might replace it at a moments notice. I don't even talk to it. Not a peep.

Maybe I'm superstitious but I don't alter the routine. Hot water. Same shaving cream. Start on the right side of the face. Rinse with cold water. Same after-shave. Then, I rinse the razor off and put it back in the same exact place near the sink. Same same same.

I'm worried about what happens when I run out of that shaving cream. Is another can going be able to step in and keep the streak going? I can't say.

I'm talking about it too much. Stop making me screw this up. Let's change the subject.

No, I haven't been watching the Olympics.

Resolve

2006-01-21T15:41:04Z

Clearly one of my New Year resolutions was NOT "update my blog more often."

Or it was, and I broke it on Jan 2nd.

Perhaps my resolution was to keep "updating my blog infrequently, but to add more substance."

If this is true, then I've broken that resolution also.

Giant Rats

2005-12-28T23:29:40Z

I walk in front this fancy downtown hotel on my way to work everyday. Over the past month, there has been a labor strike going on the sidewalk in front of the entrance. I'm not certain, but I don't think it has anything to do with the hotel. My guess, is that it's probably in conjunction with the construction of the Trump Tower across the river.

The first day I saw this little scene was a few weeks ago during an especially brutal cold snap. Two union guys were walking clad in work overalls, Carthartt coats, and sign/apron thing with "ON STRIKE" printed on them in red letters. Underneath this was written "Demolition Contractors" in black marker.

The "picketers" were shivering and pacing in front of the hotel with the hands in their pockets (which they couldn't do if they had the old fashioned picket signs.)

Also pacing with them was a guy dressed in a dark gray rat outfit that made him look like a malevolent college mascot. Even though the suit seemed heavy, he was clearly freezing.

I could be missing the point here but my best guess is that he was supposed to represent the management "rats" who are treating the workers poorly. But if the rat was supposed to represent "the man", why was he marching lockstep with the union guys? Maybe it's something else, managament was so bad that even the rats were marching in protest. Maybe there was some tie-in with demolition of buildings and a rodent problem. "I will implode buildings for you, Mr. Trump, but I will not kill innocent rats in the process."

I could be reading too deeply in the "meaning" of this gesture. It's main motive is to probably get peoples attention.

That same day during lunch, I saw the guy dressed in the rat suit with the rodent head off. He was clearly suffering from the cold and was drinking hot coffee. His two associates were huddled around him and seemed to be discussing the merits of using a vermin costume to get their point across.

Next day, the rat guy was gone and it was just two guys marching up and down with their signs. He must have simply got fed up with wearing it.

I also thought that maybe renting a rat suit just too expensive. This notion was disabused a few days later as I saw the two guys putting the finishing touches on a six-foot tall rat that was inflated by a gas generator. It was right in front of the hotel-- greeting hotel patrons who by the cab stand.

You could say it's ironic that a union who stands up for the rights of individual workers would replace a able-bodied worker with an inflatable rodent during a strike. Just a thought.

I don't know where they get these inflatable rats (Are they exclusively for strikes? Who else would need them?) but then a few days later: an even larger inflatable rat with it's own generator was installed next to the first one. It was roughly twice as big. This is sending a loud and clear message to the union: "if you don't meet our demands; there is no telling how large of a inflatable rat we will get!"

They have clearly raised the stakes. Will managment cave? I will try to keep you posted.

So very tired

2005-11-18T21:48:06Z

I tire of...

Unfunny, momentum-killing "Skit" interludes on hip hop albums

Extra long, over-explaining subtitles on non-fiction books

I'm aware of the irony of posting this here, but...people getting upset when I don't read their blog

"Free" subscriptions (to websites or magazines) that require a credit card number and will automatically charge me after the free trial is over

Fat-suit stunts in movies and TV...they never get the neck right

I just got an interesting phone call...

2005-11-17T23:37:26Z

I'm at work and I get this phone call from a friend of mine. Went something like this...

"I just had to call to tell you about this...I'm on Elston and Milwaukee..near SuperDawg. And I'm looking at an old hotel --the Esquire Hotel--

"It has a sign underneath that says 'television,''switchboard,' 'air-conditioning'"
one of the things they were advertising was that the hotel has a switchboard....do they have an operator there still?"

We laughed about that for a while-- wondering how having a switchboard would be deal-maker to entice someone to pick that hotel. Also we marveled at how that sign just became permanent and nobody bothered to change it--even in this age of cell phones. Pretty funny stuff.

Then he says, "okay, I'm in a funeral procession...gotta go."

Click.

My phone says "CALL WAS LOST." And that's it.

Blog is down

2005-10-28T15:28:36Z

This blog is temporarily out of service while I savor the Chicago White Sox 2005 World Series Championship...and ponder what impossible event will come next.

Have a good October

2005-10-14T16:37:09Z

This year, I've decided to just have a normal October.

Last year, I tried had a Rocktober and it was really disappointing. I've already passed on having a Shocktober, a Blocktober, a Mocktober, a Cocktober, a Brocktober, a Flocktober, a Jocktober, a Socktober, a Woktober, a Schlocktober, a Crocktober, a Stocktober, a Hocktober, a Doc-Ocktober, a Smocktober, a Frocktober, and a Clocktober.

Imagine, just a regular old October. It feels good to get back to basics!

The new IPod Shuffle

2005-10-10T22:49:06Z

He enjoyed listening to his iPod on the train. It gave him a soundtrack to unspool internal mini-movie epics of his mind. Each song was like a little scene of a larger, far-reaching story.

Heroes (Kruder's Long Loose Bossa)
Roni Size
The K&D Sessions

The endless bass. It sounds like it's filling an entire football stadium. Heavy bossa nova drums syncopate sharply and shakers rattle like deadly supernatural cobras. Strange keyboards moan and heavily-processed guitars sigh and fade into the distance. Otherworldly female vocals echo and bounce around various channels. These cinematic sounds of sheer menace ring in the earbuds of his iPod. His ears are blunted.

Ambient tracks with a heavy dub influence like Kruder and Dorfmeister made him feel like some sort of high-tech Government agent just getting off a transporter in the not-to-distant future. Perhaps he was assigned to rub out a malevolent shape-shifting alien killer walking amongst the populace. This murdering polymorph has eluded even the most sophisticated tracking systems over the past few years and was last thought to be in the vicinity of New Los Angeles. And now, the agent must act before he (if the masculine pronoun is even applicable) kills again. That's what brought Detective Mherilan here to Sector 5.

The drum track kicks into a stronger beat as he enters the main terminal. Thousands of people from all over the planet are gathered here. Sharply-attired, Detective Mherilan is reaches into his dark trench coat pocket for an experimental scanner that uses neutrinos to determine the genetic make up of anyone inside the building. The alien can look like us, but he cannot fake his own DNA.

After a few passes with the device, Detective Mherilan finds his target at a nearby bookstore outlet. This alien murderer looks innocuous enough-- short brown hair, metallic North Face jacket, vintage Nike Air Lebron's-- like any average traveler. He is downloading the latest bootleg John Grisham/Stephen King mashup novel into his cell phone to read for his flight. The detective moves in on him, drawing his Motorola Hand-held Pulse Weapon.

The inhuman senses of the alien detect the detective's motive and starts to break for the exit near the American/United/NASA counter. Detective Mherilan shouts a warning and start to run after the panicing ali--

"Can You Feel THe Love Tonight"
The Lion King (Broadway Soundtrack)

His futuristic government agent suddenly finds himself in a stage production of "The Lion King." A little disoriented, Detective Mherilan is center stage with an actress portraying Nala is looking at him longingly. A large chorus is singing Tim Rice's lyrics loudly:

Can you feel the love tonight?
The peace the evening brings?
The world, for once, in perfect harmony
With all its living things.

Meanwhile, Detective Mherilan is scanning the crowd, wondering what happened to his alien quarry. Finally, he sees his adversary. He is sitting in the 5th row--reading a Playbill with a large smile on his face.

The orchestra holds waiting for their new Simba to sing his lines. Actors shoot him nervous looks. A producer in the wings sweats. The audience collectively leans forward.

Detective Mherilan catches the eyesight of his adversary in the audience and thinks to himself "you've gotten away for now, but after this song: I'll be after you. I'll be after you..."

He looks to his scene partner, places his Pulse weapon in his trench coat, leans down to mime drinking water from a stream, and then opens his mouth to sing:

So many things to tell her
But how to make her see
The truth about my past? Impossible!
She'd turn away from me.

Special Report

2005-09-21T21:11:52Z

My brother called me at work and said first-thing:

"Did you hear the announcement?"

My mind was reeling. WHAT ANNOUNCEMENT? Maybe it's something to do with Iraq (he served there.) Or Hurricane Katrina. Or Brian Urlacher is out for the season? WHAT could it be!?!

"No," I said.

"Gillette is going to five blades," he says. "They just announced it today. It was on CNN."

Maybe he's more excited than I am becuase he shaves his head.

Sweetened Soft Drink Mix

2005-09-14T04:35:22Z

HEEEY KOOOL A...

NO! NO! DON'T SAY IT!

What? But I was just...

I KNOW what you were trying to do. Just don't say it...

But I'm thirsty. And, c'mon...you don't like the Kool Aid Man?

Well, I used to like him. I admired his zeal for his job. The first time he showed up was kinda cool. We all had a laugh. But, lately, he's been coming around here more often. It just gets tired, that's all.

Tired?

Yeah, he comes through the goddamn wall --BOOM-- and there's dust and bricks everywhere. Our office is a disaster. Then we're trying to get our bearings--making sure everyone is ok-- and he's handing out tropical punch like nothing happened? Unbelievable. We're all like "you just knocked down our wall, asshole! Who's gonna clean up this mess?" And then he just leaves. Gone. Our company is stuck paying for a new wall, and he's just waiting for an excuse to come back. You can't stop him. We had four walls breached last week alone. That's a whole goddamn building.

Oh, I didn't think of it that way.

No, and neither does he. That fucker thinks he's trying to help us but he's just causing chaos. He's like a big thirst-quenching narcassist. I don't know, he needs some professional help or something.

I see. I'm sorry.

It's okay, why don't you have something else?

Sure, I'll check the fridge.

Good idea. Get me a drink too.

Okay, how about a nice Hawaiian--

NO! NO! DON'T SAY IT!

This scarf

2005-09-07T02:02:07Z

Every time I do laundry, I have this black Nike fleece scare scarf that somehow works its way into my laundry basket.

Strange, really. I washed it after winter had passed and it, of course, hasn't got dirty over the spring and summer. I put it away many times but somehow it finds a way to get back in the laundry.

It's as if it's almost if the Scarf feels neglected and wants to join in the fun with all the other clothes. It hears wonderful tales and hearty laughs from the other dark colors. The only interactive social activity my clothing really every participates in. "What happened? How did it go?" the Scarf invariably asks when the other clothes get back--still warm from the exciting ride that is the dryer. "Ah, forget it, Scarfy...Ya had to be there!" a T-Shirt cracks back. The Scarf slumps dejectedly.

I have no doubt my wise-cracking T-Shirts call my scarf "Scarfy..." especially the one that reads "REHAB IS FOR QUITTERS."

Although, the Scarf is in an interesting position amongst the rest of my clothing. It's the only piece of garb that has me at a total disadvantage. It has access to my neck and could choke me to death should it so desire. Nothing else I wear has this power. I'm completely vulnerable and at its mercy when I wear it. And maybe all this neglect and insults from the other clothes has built up over the years. It must be tough being a scarf during the summer. The heat must be intense.

Hmmm. Maybe I'd better toss it in the wash just in case.

I can't wait

2005-08-18T21:06:25Z

I can't wait until it's September and I can listen to Big Star's "September Gurls" and not look like a huge jag.

Lord, I'm comin' home to you

2005-08-17T23:10:46Z

I was at a street fair over the weekend, in search of good funnel cake and bratwurst. As I entered the fair, I walked by the main stage where a band was ripping into "Sweet Home Alabama" by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I smiled and thought to myself "of course."

The crowd was large. I worked my way down the block to the far end and heard the sound of the first band fading away. A second band was playing "We're Not Gonna Take It" by Twisted Sister. As I passed them, this band then started playing "Sweet Home Alabama" within mere seconds of the other band.

I was shocked. I had somehow developed the ability to force bands to play "Sweet Home Alabama" by merely crossing their path. Unfortunately, there were only 2 bands playing so I couldn't further try out my newly gained super-powers. It's not much of a super-power...especailly compared to flying, wall-crawling, or super-strength but hey I'll take it.

I can't wait to try it out on the Chicago Symphony Orchestra this fall.

Words from a professional criminal

2005-08-15T15:58:21Z

A sure sign that a homeowner is out of town is their house plants. I like to keep an eye on a residence and take note of the shape their foliage is in. For example, I was scoping a place nearby and last week noticed a rapid downturn in the health of their plants. The residents were out of town.

I was able to break in undetected. Unfortunately, once I got in there I found nothing of value that could be moved easily. Not wanting to waste a good break-in, I stole the dead plants.

Now I'm going to Franks Nursery and Crafts to shoplift some plant food.

AVP

2005-08-04T15:44:51Z

The reviews are in for Alien Vs. Predator

"It's like Alien meets Predator" -Jeff Craig, Sixty Second Preview

Thoughts on sex tapes

2005-07-19T16:08:18Z

It's simple: If you are a celebrity and you make a sex tape, it will be on the internet eventually.

It's like "the bowl is already broken" theory. You should assume that everyone has already downloaded it.

It's possible the thrill of taping and thinking "maybe i'll be the one who gets away with it" is what drives these people to film themselves. Or, as actors, they are just more comfortable in front of cameras.

There's also the idea that an agent will order up a "sex tape controversy" to resusitate a flagging career. The tapes get out "mistakenly" just in time to coincide with a downturn in popularity.

This sounds like a decent enough plan (probably more respectable than going on "The Surreal Life") but what happens if a porn star's career starts to stall? Release a sex-tape? Would anyone care? Would it help or hurt their careers?

Well, maybe if it was just only ordinary.

Oooohhh

2005-07-08T23:57:41Z

I execute a sweet hip toss...and then "BOOM." Score an ippon for me.

Match over.

We bow. I shoot a cute, flirty wink over to my opponent. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't wink back right now. His eye is seriouly swelling shut. It's giving him like this weird permanent wink. He's pretty pissed off too. He just got tossed on his head by a girl. The sensei's of the dojo (who was reffing the match) is stunned. He looks at me practically saying "where did THAT come from?" with his face...still holding his arm out signalling an ippon. Video cameras are rolling the whole time.

I'm smirking a bit, trying to keep from laughing. I feel kind of bad. This date was supposed to be fun. And, it got a little... competitive.

Okay, at this point, a little backstory is in order. After a few months in LA, I was bored out of my mind and signed up for one of those dating shows. I know, it sounds dumb, but I thought it be a fun lark I could tell my friends about. So, they picked me and then the producers pair you up with a guy and then you go out on a date. I met this 22-year old guy named Will and we drove around for a while getting to know each other. He's in sales for an Internet company in Santa Monica. He likes football, the band System of a Down, and "partying down." Pretty much a jagbag.

We weren't hitting it off too well. He wasn't a total asshole but had a real condesending attitude toward women. Kept calling me "honey" and "baby" instead of "Erin." Pet peeve of mine.

After driving around a while (with cameras hooked up to his car,) we pulled into our destination. I thought it was a funny coincidence that our first date was a free Judo lesson at a local dojo. They must have done some research because I don't remember mentioning my judo background in any of the interviews or applications.

(I should mention that I spent much of high school training for judo and, until a bad knee did me in, was seriously considering trying to get on US National Team. Not to brag, but I was pretty damn good. You wouldn't know it by looking at me --5'1, 109 lb-- but I had some serious skills.)

The producers like to do that kind of stuff on the show often. They match the couple up in a competitive situation. It gets some physical contact and blood going. Kind of contrived but still can be a lot of fun.

NOT THAT I WATCH THE SHOW EVERYDAY... c'mon!

Well, for some reason...when we showed up at the dojo, I pretended like I didn't know anything about judo (Darrrr!) Will was acting like a total jock: bragging about how in high-school and college he used to play football, wrestling, baseball, and whatever blah, blah, blah... He said "Judo's just like wrestling--except you get to grab the dude's clothes."

I don't even want to get started on that one. Sure, Will...it's exactly the same. You know everything about Judo. Ha.

But, I played along...like I didn't know any better.

The gave us judogi's (judo outfits) and even head gear. Will, naturally, turned down the head gear. Big mistake.

The sensi patiently ran us through some basic drills, tumbling, falling, a few holds....simple stuff. Playing for the cameras, Will kept screwing around: making jokes and taking opportunities to get real grabby with me. Another pet peeve of mine: Grabbiness.

Finally, after learning some holds (the sensi was super-patient with Will,) they asked us if we wanted to spar. I said "sure" and Will was all like "I'll try not to hurt you too bad, honey." I had to really try hard to not choke him out right there.

So we sparred a little bit and instead of taking it easy on me... HE REALLY STARTED GOING AFTER ME. He tried to take me down with a few clumsy leg-sweeps. This guy is no gentleman! We were really grappling for a while.

Ok, Asshole. IT'S ON!

I trapped his left arm in an under hook with my right forearm. With a creepy look on his face, he tried to cop a feel with his other arm. RUDE! That was it. I used his momentium and wedged my right hip into his left side. I shot him over my hip and dropped him on his head. BOOM! Match over. Not a perfect throw, but great considering I haven't been in training in years.

I can't wait to see what kind of wacky graphics the producers put on top that sequence.

Our dinner afterwards was quiet and tense.

Layne Flack is a Famous Poker Player....trust me

2005-07-06T05:50:08Z

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA--I was hanging out at the World Series Of Poker with my brother and we look over across the giant room at the Rio and see the final table of the $5000 NL HE short-handed event going (max 6 to a table.) We decide to go over an watch. On my way over, I'm looking at my bro on my left while walking and I accidently put my shoulder in to the chest of some guy walking the other way. I mutter, "sorry" and keep walking...not really looking at the guy.

"You just bumped into Layne Flack," my brother said.

"Good," I replied...only half kidding. But, in my mind I was like..."wait wasn't he at the final table?" Well, he didn't seem pleased so I guess he just got eliminated:

Layne Flack arrived as the chip leader, and many suspected that he would pose the biggest threat to Doyle Brunson in his quest for the tenth bracelet. But things went bad for Flack and he played a short stack during much of the final table. Much of Flack's stack disappeared when Brunson won a big pot with trip 8s. Then, Flack (with K-10) went out when Brunson (with K-9) called Flack's last all-in bet and nine fell from the deck.

So, I smashed into him right after he was bounced on a tough beat. Injury to insult. Brunson was still at the table (with Scotty Nguyen) and went on to win the event and capture his 10th bracelet.

Oh and I saw Kato Kalin coming out of the spa.

Here's to the Losers

2005-06-24T19:17:34Z

So last night, I caught a pretty exciting Game Seven of the NBA finals. Either team could have won it all--especially since it was tied going into the fourth quarter. But when it came down to crunch time, the San Antonio Spurs had a little more gas in the tank than the Detroit Pistons. Aided by Finals MVP Tim Duncan, the Spurs captured the NBA title for the second time in the last three years.

This is all fine and dandy but what I wonder about is what happens to the losers afterwards. Or, rather, specifically...

I'm worried about the champagne.

How is this handled?

Perhaps each team is responsible for their own champagne? Who is in charge of that, the Trainer? An assistant coach? A rookie 12th man? Does Detroit benchwarmer Darko Milicic poll his team ahead of time about which brand they prefer and then place an order?

Or does the NBA have one cooler full of champagne and then cart that over to the winners locker room when they find out the results. That would have be fast since the victors want it the instant they get back to the locker room. Setting up the champagne and covering the lockers with plastic would take a crack team that can operate quickly.

Or do they hedge their bets and keep 40 bottles of Cristal on ice in each locker room? If so, do the employees at the SBC center hustle the champagne out of the Pistons' locker room before the disappointed losers wander back? That would be embarrassing to have just lost Game Seven of the NBA Finals and come back to see a cooler full of champagne bottles mocking you.

Or maybe the losing team can decide to keep the champagne -- and drown their sorrows in it quietly while the victor pours it all over each other in the other locker room. If the losers don't drink it, then do they just throw all the bottles out? Or, perhaps in a fit of ecological responsibility, Ben Wallace and company pour the bubbly down the drain in the shower and recycle the bottles in a blue bag.

They don't usually show the losers locker room on TV after a Championship...so I can't say one way or another. Someday, I hope to find out.