Dear Diary

Little Surprises

2010-10-27T18:43:00.011-05:00

Last weekend I went to a 30th birthday party in NYC. We rented out a bar in Hell’s Kitchen, a quaint little place the likes of which only exists in New York. The party itself wasn’t a surprise for James, our birthday boy, but there was to be a little surprise.

At approximately 8:30, Trish, James' wife, told Marty and I to keep James distracted. We dutifully obliged, chatting him up about nothing in particular, par for the course. Everything was going according to plan when suddenly I noticed James' eyes drift over my shoulder and follow someone or something behind me as it moved through the bar and back towards us and the bathroom.

“Did you guys see that?” James asked, brow furrowed with confusion.

“See what?” Marty and I responded in unison.

“I think a midget just went into the bathroom.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” we responded more ore less in unison.

At this point I was ready to explode. This was too good. Cool Hand Marty continued telling some stupid story in the hopes that James would drop the subject. I tried to play it cool.

“Did you guys get me a midget?” he asked, his face suddenly lit up with hope. “You guys... got me a midget!”

“We didn’t get you anything,” Martin said. I just shrugged. Any second now, we wouldn't have to pretend anymore...

Practically on cue. the midget emerged from the bathroom appropriately dressed in a teddy and a thong. Everyone cheered as she spun James around on his bar stool and gave him a crazy little lap dance.

Little did I know, it was a bad idea to be standing so close to the action. Once she was done with James she grabbed me and sat me down on a stool in the middle of the bar and she took all my shirts off one by one (sweater, button down, then undershirt) and suddenly….. I was shirtless and really self-conscious about it in front of roughly 35 people. The midget leaned in and asked me, “Are you married?”

“Yeah, she’s right there!” I eagerly pointed at Moose. She went over and grabbed her and laid her down on a table in the middle of the bar, laid on top of her, spread her legs, and demanded I join them. Again, I obliged. One big happy family, we simulated a midget sandwich sexual encounter while the crowd roared. It’s pretty weird to look into your wife’s eyes while a midget’s writhing around between you. You'll likely have to take my word for it.

Suddenly, she whispered in my ear, “Pick me up!”

“Excuse me?”

She repeated herself. Yet again, I obliged. As I lifted her up she wrapped her legs around my waist and rode me like an upside down horse. This was happening. I was lightly buzzed enough to play along, though still painfully and self-consciously uncomfortable with the whole thing.

Then, suddenly, as quickly as it began, it was all over… And I was left to retrieve my clothes, and my dignity, which was strewn throughout the bar.

Happy Birthday, James.

Dispatch

2010-07-13T19:55:00.005-05:00

Got here. Everything went fairly smoothly along the way... Just oh so tired - SO long.

Things got interesting pretty much immediately....

A) I get in line at customs- The "Foreign Passport" line. Some Indonesian cop comes up to me, grunts, points and gently guides me over to the Permanent Resident Line. I showed him my passport in protest. He just grunted and pointed to the spot in line where he wanted me to stand. What???? What is going on here? I waited until he walked away and moved back to the "I don't live here" line.

B) Jakarta is a sort of a terrifying place. Think movies of third world Asian cities. They're no joke. Traffic like you wouldn't believe. But not normal traffic: People driving crazy... motorcycles literally crammed in every inch of space left by cars.... And ME on the back of one of them!!! I'd never been on a motorcycle before, and I pretty much loved it. Except when I was 100% certain every 30 seconds or so that I was about to be crushed beyond recognition from both sides by insane chain smoking indonesian men in giant SUVs. BUT, like I said, being on the back of a motorcycle is really fun, and rather romantic. Wahyu and I literally rode off into the sunset on it.

C) Wahyu takes me to his house. (Wahyu is an Indonesian guy I know from my school...he'd been visiting the states for the last 2 months (he has done work for the school in Indonesia for the last few years). His mother has prepared a TON of food, and it is on display all over the house. No one speaks English except Wahyu, but I meet the fam. Everyone is incredibly friendly. I just wish I could talk to them without Way interpreting.

Two little nieces were asleep on the couch. When they wake up their grandma brings them over to me. They stare, wide-eyed and frightened, hiding behind grandma's burka. She leans down, telling them something I don't understand, while pointing at me. All I can make out is "Barrrrrrbie, Barrrrrrbie." Wahyu laughs and says "She's telling them not to be scared because you are just a real live Barbie...like the doll." Later they told the little girls I was a princess. That was weird. Now they just peak at me from other rooms and run away if I look at them.

D) I was served boiled testicles, I believe. And I ate them. I've seen enough of exotic foods to feel like I know a teste in my dish when I see one. Wayhu's mother knows about 5 words in english, and one is "EAT!" She follows me around the house screaming it.

E) I have to shower. Wahyu tells me, "our bathrooms are different than yours," and naturally I respond, "Yeah, I'll figure it out." I'm no dummy. I go into the bathroom. WTF??????????!!! There is a faucet sticking out of the wall about mid femur height. But just open to nothing... The bathroom floor. Then there's a sink, a big one, but it's filled to the brim with water. Then there is another sink-looking thing on the ground. But with a toilet-esque hole in it. But nothing to flush. A bucket on the edge of the giant sink. What the hell am I supposed to do??? There's no toilet paper or even a trash can in sight. Thank Christ I didn't have to do anything serious. Apparently you squat over the hole, do your thang, and then use the bucket thingy to splash water on your parts until they are clean. Then you use the same bucket to rinse the squatty potty until whatever you produced eventually sinks down the hole.

As for the shower.... I just crouched under the faucet and showered all over the bathroom floor. Who the hell knows if that was right. Princess Caitlin is here from America everyone!!!

Get a haircut

2010-05-12T18:31:00.001-05:00

2010-05-09T13:17:00.002-05:00

Trying to get the juices flowing again

2010-05-02T14:14:00.016-05:00

This video is phenomenal. M.I.A is badass. Apparently so is this Romain Gavras guy. As if gingers didn't have enough to worry about already...

M.I.A, Born Free from ROMAIN-GAVRAS on Vimeo.

High Violet doesn't come out until May 11. Whether you caught the album when you could stream it from the NYT website or not, here's a taste of three tracks played live:

And, in case you're curious about their creative process:

My mind's still a little blown that Matt Berninger can't read music or play an instrument, something mentioned in that NYT article and in the clip above.

Anyone else's breath taken away by LOST last night? It's like I was all of the sudden thrown in my face that this show is well on its way to its end. Sayid's death felt so unceremonious, if necessary. I hadn't even decided yet whether I thought his goodness would prevail over the darkness that's been inside him ever since he was "saved" earlier in the season. Jin and Sun's demise, while it was given enough time to appropriately devastate me, felt so peripheral. Is Fake Locke now simply putting our heroes in situations where it is likely someone will perish in order for him to further distinguish pretenders from his new adversary? Or did he think the bomb in the sub would kill them all? And did the bomb only detonate because Widmore actually set the bomb up? Did Widmore set the bomb up?

You can download a new My Morning Jacket tune, "Friends Again", here. My visceral reaction: It's okay, but I wish they'd go back to the unbridled southern rock energy that preceded Evil Urges.

Also, I must say, I don't understand why all these musicians are dressing up in suits and ties lately. I actually have to dress for work, and almost find it insulting that someone would choose to dress that way without being forced. Irony perhaps? That's too much. I'm not really sure what sort of ensemble I'd be rocking if I were a musician, I definitely wouldn't be wearing a suit, vest, and tie that's for good goddamn sure.

I'm gonna go ahead and keep silent on wars, floods, earthquakes, volcanoes, racial profiling, tea parties, oil slicks, and recessions for the time being. I could barely cope today in the wake of Sun and Jin's demise, I'm definitely too fragile to talk about things that are actually real.

Hilarious

2010-04-29T21:24:00.001-05:00

NY Football Giants

2010-04-26T09:15:00.002-05:00

Pretty compelling argument for drafting Pierre-Paul.

Available until April 27

2010-04-24T15:16:00.001-05:00

Stream The National's new album here.

Moffitt

2010-03-27T17:10:00.012-05:00

My cousin got married a couple weeks ago at the Shore. The wedding was great: short ceremony, open bar, and most of my cousins were there. There's not really much more one can hope for. Well perhaps besides that all my cousins would have been there. It was a jovial but sophisticated reception. People mingled, chatted, smiled and laughed in celebration of Mike and Sarah having made the whole thing official. As a backdrop a classically trained guitar player strummed and sang away in pitch perfect harmony. Eventually, during dinner, the best man took to the front of the room where he spoke for about 15 minutes. He wasn't funny, nor was he trying to be, but my brother for some reason laughed deliriously and continuously throughout his speech despite the fact that the bridegroom was standing right behind our table. We took turns kicking him under the table but these attempts at shutting him up fell on apparently indestructible shins. The rest of the room sat at their tables and listened intently.

But then it happened.....

Tarzan? Everyone in the room turned around in their chairs to find some guy standing at the bar doing a pitch perfect (a theme of this wedding apparently) Tarzan yell. Moose was so confused that she clapped and nodded, thinking this was somehow a choreographed addition to the speech portion of the evening. It was one of the funnier things I’ve ever heard or seen. Moments later the speech resumed as though nothing had happened. Only we couldn't stop laughing.

It'd become apparent to me that my dad was drunk when he told my Uncle Bob that my brother and I do impressions of him because we love him (immediately after I had finished doing an impression of him). Saying weird shit like that isn't his style under almost all circumstances. And by "weird shit" I mean 'love' isn't a word I knew he could spell let alone use in a sentence. Be that as it may, I still never could have predicted what was to follow.... Errrrrrr, maybe I should have. After the speeches had concluded, the guitar player strummed the opening chords of "Danny Boy". As soon as my dad stood up the five of us knew exactly what was about to happen. We all looked at each other, muttering things like "oooohhhhh nooooooooooo" and "what should we doooooo?????" Meanwhile, he took to the front of the room where he snatched the mic and began stumbling his way through the first verse. I looked around for some sort of verbal or postural feedback from the bride and her family. Was this okay? Did we have to forcibly escort my dad off the stage? A testament to the bride I suppose, she at least appeared to be pleased with the whole thing. This was officially happening.

The guitar player actually tried to cut him off after one verse. He stopped playing and readjusted the mic so that he could resume his duties as the paid musical entertainment... But my dad grabbed the mic back, blabbering, “No-no-no, second verse!” I don’t usually get embarrassed, but I was officially mortified during this brief scuffle over the mic. When it became apparent that my dad wasn't going to back down, the guitar player relented. It got worse before it got better, though, when he forgot some of the words in the second verse and had to look to matriarchal/geriatric table for the assistance that would allow him to find his way.

I'm sorry

2010-03-24T11:09:00.000-05:00

But this is a huge fuckin' deal.

(This is not a link to a youtube clip of Biden's latest gaffe)

Jerry Effing Seinfeld

2010-03-04T20:21:00.000-05:00

He's still got it.

Band of Horses Announce New Album

2010-03-03T09:00:00.000-05:00

Band of Horses Announce New Album

Considering I've listened to their two previous albums so much that I actually can't listen to them anymore, I suppose I should be excited about this.

This never would have happened before

2010-02-27T15:37:00.026-05:00

A friend of mine teaches at a prep school for the economically paired. When he was in town last week as a chaperone for Model U.N. he made some sartorial choices that you'd expect of a New England prep school teacher; button-down shirt, tie, sweater, blazer. Though it made me sweat just to look at him, he looked good. I can only assume he felt good as well.

Several of us went out to dinner in the Back Bay. Good food surrounded by at least modestly good people. As is customary, the several drinks we had with dinner left us unsated. We walked several blocks to another bar, carrying on as though our youths weren't about to make their first appearance in our rear-view mirrors.

As we pulled seats up to a table and waited for our drinks to arrive, I looked around, taking a little inventory of our surroundings. This certainly was a Back Bay bar on a Friday night. The bar was filled with people our age or older, dressed to the nines like d-bags and d-baguettes. I tried not to dwell on this, opting instead to focus on the various topics of conversation we were nimbly navigating amongst ourselves.

Worlds collided minutes later when a woman in her late 30's, perhaps early 40's, approached with a question for the educator extraordinaire among us. "Hey. I like your tie." She said this without averting her gaze from him. "Hey, your tie. I really like it. I'll trade yah my undies for your tie?"

We all guffawed (2 parts uncomfortable, 3 parts incredulous, 2.5 parts this-is-awesome[?]ness). Eventually, it became apparent to us all that this little exchange wouldn't really be an exchange without a response. I slowly turned my head in his direction. He had a look on his face not unlike that of a lamb unsuspectingly tossed into the cougar pen at the zoo. But also kinda like a lamb who was trying to play it cool. "No thanks," he smirked.

"That was relatively painless," I can remember thinking to myself.

Two minutes later this same woman emerged from the ladies' room and strutted across the room and back to our table where she dropped her underwear on the table right in front of the object of her affection.

A collective gasp. "Is that really your underwear?" Marty wondered aloud. "It looks kinda big," he added, twisting the dagger.

Presumably embarrassed, she snatched her undies off the table and scurried off into the darkness never to be heard from again.

Spam

2010-02-27T15:27:00.005-05:00

This blog has been getting a lot of spam comments lately. As I reserve the right to either accept or reject them, the comments that are irrelevant to the [shitty] content presented here don't usually get posted. The most recent one was too good to ignore though. It actually made me laugh. Helps if you read it aloud with some kind of accent (because accents connote ignorance and stupidity, right?).

Anonymous said...
Hello, as you can see this is my first post here.
I will be glad to get any help at the beginning.
Thanks and good luck everyone! ;)

It's probably a virus. But whatever, I'm rolling on a Mac here.

What is....and what should be

2010-02-24T19:33:00.008-05:00

How come all of my nicest clothes aren't waterproof? Not only are they just not waterproof, they're actually destroyed when they get wet. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't 'nice' clothes be durable? It might help you feel better when you're trudging through the rain to think about how overwhelmingly miserable I am when I'm in the rain. The truth is, rain doesn't even bother me. Unless I'm commuting to or from work in it. Then, I'm practically bursting at the seems to break something or kill someone. This morning I was so pissed I smashed my umbrella in half just outside the threshold of my office building. This is especially pathetic when you consider I purchased the umbrella a half hour prior, just before getting on the bus.

Two entries ago I drew your attention to a Broken Social Scene song, new single off of their new album, which I believe drops May 4. Get on it. I haven't been this floored by a new song on the first listen in as long as I can remember. Actually, you can probably find that very sentence on this blog several times over the last couple years if you were inclined to look. So is this hyperbole? Yeah, but let's not split hairs.

Spike Lee

2010-02-23T19:39:00.003-05:00

This is one of my roommates from college, presumably at some rugby related shindig around Halloween time last year. Are you kidding me? Seriously, are you kidding me? This is the greatest picture that's ever been taken. Done. Case closed. Every picture you've ever been in or even seen sucks. This is it. This is the Sticky Fingers of pictures. It can't be improved upon.

Unbelievable....You can thank me later

2010-02-21T10:44:00.001-05:00

Read This

2010-02-17T11:30:00.001-05:00

We Were Promised Jetpacks

2010-02-15T13:12:00.013-05:00

It's Thunder And It's Lightnin...

Neither here nor there, but I think what bothers me most about Facebook is the fact that it's a forum for insecure people to try to prove to everyone how happy and secure they are. I'll sign on while I poop at work and always end up angrily wiping my ass, shaking my head and cursing to myself about some stupid shit someone I know well, barely know, or knew once posted as their status.... Did I just say that out loud?

I went and saw We Were Promised Jetpacks at the Middle East last night. I wasn't floored, nor was I pleasantly surprised like my sister and wife both were. I actually got mixed signals from Mackin between his incessant chattering in my ear during songs and the way this was punctuated by a jubilant bouncing around. I got what I expected I suppose. For a $12 asking price, it was well worth it. WWPJ is pretty straightforward. Truth be told, I'm not sure how excitable I'd be if their music weren't couched in a thick Scottish brogue. Catchy, brooding, earnest, angst-y, and sometimes aggressive, if you were to catch me with headphones on at any point over the last several weeks, chances are I was listening to These Four Walls. "It's Thunder and It's Lightning", "Roll Up Your Sleeves" and "Quiet Little Voices" were personal highlights, as was their closer, Mackin's favorite, "Short Bursts". With only one album under their belt, their set was understandably short. I did find the fact that they declined to come back out for an encore a little disappointing.

For the record, I still heartily recommend These Four Walls.

Get LOST

2010-02-07T10:33:00.019-05:00

I’m befuddled. I like to tell myself this show is ultimately about its individual characters and their moral/ethical quandaries, which is largely responsible for my loyal viewership, but I’m just as often scratching my head and wondering what the hell’s going on as the next guy. Through a certain light, however, it's almost like the time travel, the mystical island, and now the parallel realities are just unique backdrops for character driven story telling. At least this is what I tell myself when my confusion almost becomes frustration. What’s compelling now with this new flash sideways wrinkle is we're able to see what these characters may have done and become if the plane had never crashed.

Fake Locke brandishes at least two knives when he's in the giant foot with Ben after kicking Jacob into the fire.... In the flash sideways Locke's knives never arrive at LAX in 2007!
Not everything is the same in this alternate 2004 without the crash. Michael, Walt & Vincent weren't on the plane. Hurley’s happy and considers himself the luckiest man on earth instead of cursed, Desmond’s on board for some reason, during the turbulence Jack is reassured by Rose and not the other way around as it happened originally when the plane crashed. Boone couldn't convince Shannon to leave Australia.
Where is Jack's father, Christian? Maybe on board the wrong plane that ends up crashing on the island with all those new others on it? I don’t know.
I think Desmond knows more than he appeared to have let on in his brief interaction with Jack.
The mirky water wasn’t clean, as they said. Sayid is now Jacob. The island's headed for war.
Jacob and Fake Locke? No clue. One guy seems to espouse the idea that people make things bad while the other thinks they’re inherently good… but Jacob has blood all over his hands.
One of the new 'others' was the stewardess on the plane that gave jack the vodka… the others we’ve only seen on the island. Presumably the timelines converge at some point and/or the new others arrive on the island between 2004 and 2007? Maybe another plane crashes? Where did those other people come from? They seem pretty settled.
They showed the island under water when they fly over it in the “crash never happened” scenario. WTF?
Weren’t there cars in trees on the island in past seasons? Or something that shouldn't have been in a tree? Or something that suggested the island had been under water?

Still here... barely

2010-02-04T19:15:00.002-05:00

Check this out (sent my way by Ted Neldshmeim).

Then this (from Rycree).

From Pat.

EMBED-Drunk Guy Confuses Pants With His Shirt - Watch more free videos

Stopped Making Sense

2010-01-24T14:07:00.004-05:00

A long time ago. But it's fantastic anyway.

"The better a singer's voice, the harder it is to believe what they're saying."

Good call, Cait.

Martin & Cathy

2010-01-15T10:37:00.003-05:00

Went out to dinner with Martin and Cathy last night for Cathy’s birthday. I’m so banged up right now I shouldn’t be breathing, much less at work.

Just got off a conference call- 5 of us in an office with the door closed and I had CRIPPLING social anxiety the whole time due to this CRIPPLING hangover I'm blessed with. I couldn’t have been more awkward if I tried. Seriously. It was terrifying.

When the business development manager was going around the room introducing everyone in the room to the guy on the phone he got to me and realized he didn't know my name. He pointed at me and mouthed, “What’s your name?” But then I forgot it. I forgot my name. Or I didn’t understand the question. Or something like that. It was crazy. I just stood there with this confused look on my face trying to make sense of it all.

Haiti

2010-01-14T08:45:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, a group of middle-aged men got off an elevator bay of my building as I stepped onto one to go back up to my floor… One of them said to the others, “Well, I guess I’ll have to cancel my vacation.”

“To Haiti?” another one questioned.

“Yup,” he answered, smiling as though he was very pleased with himself.

They were all sharing a hearty laugh as the door to my elevator closed. I wanted to punch them all in the face.

Though “slactivism”, as my buddy Kieran referred to it, I suppose it combats a prevailing feeling of helplessness to a certain degree… Check this out for ways to donate to the relief effort.

Yesterday, without thinking about it, I texted Wyclef's foundation and The American Red Cross before realizing my employer pays my phone bill.... Which I suppose makes what I've done slacktivism squared?

Knee Jerk

2010-01-13T09:00:00.002-05:00

What do you think of Lane Kiffin? He was an assistant at USC -a successful one- then spent a brief but tumultuous stint in Oakland, rinse and repeat in Tennessee, and now he lands the USC job? Has this guy proven anything? Besides that he’s obnoxious and inflammatory? He's certainly not a proven head coach. I guess USC learned nothing from Notre Dame and the Charlie Weis experiment.

Also, and maybe I was just never paying attention until now, but is it depressing how much of a business coaching has become at the college level? I don’t know much about recruiting, but I assume most coaches don’t mention that they’ll leave their current programs if and when they’re offered more money for a gig with a more prestigious institution when they’re sitting on the couches of 17 year-old recruits and surrounded by their family? In fact, they’re probably touting other things: conferences, academics, the pretty girls at University of X, their offensive system or their defensive scheme, and the notion that they help kids become men.

Another P4k rip off with my 2 cents

2010-01-09T11:54:00.005-05:00

I'm totally sold on these guys. All of these songs are well worth the listen, especially "California English". Whenever Contra comes out, if it hasn't already, I'll be all over it. These guys are TIGHT.

The intermittent interviews are pretty good too. On one hand I feel sorry for the interviewer who keeps lobbing them stupid questions. On the other hand I'm glad the band manages to make fun of him in a playful manner without making any of the banter confrontational. If I was good enough at anything to be interviewed about it constantly, I'd probably err on the side of confrontational dickishness.

Cousins

interview re: Phish

white sky

Molotov

Horchata

Vampire Craze

California English

Contra

Feats of Stregnth

2009-12-28T21:17:00.006-05:00

Steve Tallent had a Festivus party at the Cornerstone in South Boston. This was not the first Festivus party he has thrown, nor will it likely be the last. My Festivus future, however, is very much in doubt.

Festivus at the Cornerstone is comprised mostly of revelry; its symbolic epicentre the Festivus pole around which the night's festivities revolve. At it's true core, however, is the airing of grievances.

Before I had finished my first drink, Steve came around to ask whether we were interested in airing grievances. Rick J, Mackin, Josh and Moose each respectfully declined. As Rick put it, "I don't have any grievances. Everything's great." I asked that Steve add me to his list. Apparently, at 10:30, the music was to stop, Steve would take his rightful place onstage as emcee, and we would each, one by one, be afforded the opportunity, with the assistance of a microphone, to expound upon the many wonderous flaws of this world as we perceived them, and in however much detail we saw fit.

Steve's introduction was a much lauded stand-up routine. No surprises here. His buddies followed suit, their sordid grievances drawing delirious laughter from the crowd seemingly without effort. Our cackle was doubled over despite not knowing any of the characters taking to the stage. These guys had certainly come prepared.

As I finished another beer, carelessly dropping the empty glass on the table, Moose leaned over to me and asked, "What are you going to say?"

"I don't really know," I responded, suddenly aware of the fact that I was likely in the hole or on deck.

"And next, we have my buddy, Seamus. Seamus...." Steve said as he gestured in my direction.

I took to the stage without hesitation, completely certain my "act" would work itself out.

As I took the microphone and looked out onto the crowd, all capacity for thought ceased. Autopilot.

"Yeah, I've got grievances," I asserted with an unfounded swagger. "I don't like black people!"

I waited for the flood of laughter to wash over me..... And waited..... And waited.

As I focused in on some of the individual faces in the crowd, I realized people weren't so much laughing as they were simply staring at me, mouths agape, in utter disbelief. I looked towards Kofi, a friend of mine who happens to be black. Surely this flash of comedic brilliance wasn't lost on the only black guy at the Festivus party at the bar in South Boston, right?

Wrong. Sorta. Kofi shrugged, as if to disavow my existence completely, but then smiled as if to say, "You're on your own, man. This is fantastic."

It was then that I got my flood. Not in laughs though. It was the sweat accumulating under my arms and on my forehead.

I started to tell the story detailed in "I'm a bad person". It took five minutes for me to get to the part where I cross the street with my dog. Suddenly I realized not only had I neglected to say anything funny while on stage for over five minutes, but the story I was telling didn't really qualify as a grievance. It was an anecdote.

"I can't do this..." I stammered, handing the microphone back to Steve and sauntering off the stage with my tail between my legs.

By the grace of god I had a fresh beer waiting for me as I slunk back into my chair. This served nicely as a prop that helped me pretend to be unphased by the steaming dump I left on stage in front of several friends and between 20 and 30 strangers. I tried to laugh off the taunts of my wife and my friends. By the end of that beer, in fact, with the help of those who followed, I was on the road to recovery.

All would soon be forgotten.

"Rick J!" Steve announced to the surprise of all of us. As Rick confidently strode up the stairs of the stage we wondered what was in store.

As Rick pointed at the DJ, there was suddenly an air of familiarity.

As he'd said before, Rick didn't have any grievances. "Everything's great", which is why it made perfect sense to us when the DJ put on "Welcome to the Jungle". As Rick channeled Axl Rose like only Rick can channel Axyl Rose, all was right with the world. Or so we thought.

As the song went on....... and on and on, we realized that everone else wasn't enjoying Rick's performance as much as we were. Eventually, a fellow reveler approached the stage with the Festivus pole, poking Rick with it while others behind him booed.

"Get off the stage!" someone hissed.

I couldn't have been happier. This was definitely worse than my performance. Everything in its right place, I smiled as I took a swig of my beer. "Seamus, you have to do something! They're gonna fight!" Moose interrupted.

Begrudgingly, I obliged, breaking up what may or may not have taken a turn for the worse had I been left alone to enjoy my redemption unfettered. (Rick and his would-be attacker actually shared a beer minutes later.)

Then, in what can only be described as a Festivus miracle, a stranger took to the stage. From the fact that Steve did not introduce him by name I assumed this man happened upon our sumptuous celebration and was now inspired by the Festivus spirit to participate.

He snatched the microphone from Steve.

"I have grievances! I'm Latina! I'm a fag! And I hate every single one of you!"

Lazy Sack

2009-12-17T23:06:00.002-05:00

People love retrospective lists.

Best Jazz Albums of 2009

Best Music of the Decade According to AV Club

Top 25 Albums of 2009 According to AV Club

The Year in Film

Best 50 Albums of 2009- Pitchfork

Top 100 Tracks of 2009- Pitchfork

Worst Album Covers of 2009- Pitchfork

Carson Daly

2009-12-16T20:46:00.008-05:00

My favorite Grizzly Bear song. (It sounds this good live and in person. Believe it or not. Seriously.

Sometimes you see a group of chicks and you think, "Dammit. Why'd I get married?" Or at least I do. Or did. Just this once. This joint makes me wanna dance.

If you're in a Trans Am, I'll make fun of you. Unless it's this Trans Am.

It's Beck and that girl from The Science of Sleep in one of the stranger videos I've ever seen.

Finally. A genie and a soldier from her majesty's imperial guard have formed a two piece indie-blues band. This is as awesome as it looks like it might be.

These guys are so fucking ivy league hipster it makes me sick. Almost as inexplicable, I really like them. This is a cool video too.

A new take on an old font, Times New Viking

Remember that U2 video for "Numb" where people rubbed their feet on Edge's face? Yeah, me neither.

Anybody out there?

2009-12-15T12:39:00.003-05:00

The NFL gets turned on its head every week. It's something that I love that also bothers me. The Giants were surefire Superbowl contenders after 5 games. As recently as two weeks ago, there was no way they were going to the playoffs. They had a shot at first place on Sunday but they dropped it. Now they have an outside chance at the division and a solid shot at a wild card. I'm simultaneously pessimistic and optimistic about the Giants. This isn't an anomaly really. It's how I operate most seasons.

Eli played absolutely out of his mind on Sunday night. There were at least 4 balls dropped by Nicks and Smith in the first half. Manningham would have had two touchdowns if he kept his feet in bounds, or started his pattern closer to the hash if you put stock in Collinsworth's assessment (I think the fade becomes too obvoius if you lineup too tight. Manningham just needs to get his frigin' feet in.)

These are all just young wideouts who need to get used to the idea that the ball might be there on any given play. In college, quarterback's don't check down to their 3rd and 4th options very often, certainly not in the spread offense that everyone's running. Does that necessarily explain Nicks dropping a surefire touchdown pass where he had beaten his man by two or three yards? No, but I think it's applicable at least to a degree. More importantly, it's fixable. It's frustrating but it can change.

When Eli Manning is hot he's one of the best quarterback's in the league. There, I said it. Consistency has never been his strong suit, however. He's given to lapses of lackadaisical southern 'awe shucks' crap. We must consider also that he has been playing on plantar fascitis all year in his right foot, and that this has given way to a more serious, stress-related problem. But let's not think about it too much. We're striving for a balanced perspective.

NSFW..... but so hot

2009-12-06T20:42:00.001-05:00

Rachel Bilson's Deleted Sex Scene from Rachel Bilson

A Life Examined

2009-12-06T18:26:00.007-05:00

Kieran Magee's got his fingerprints all over this one. A lot of people have good ideas. Very few transform them into realities. Even if you don't pay for green certification (though you should), the qualification process is an exercise worth your time (takes about 10 minutes).

It's easy to think you're green- that you're doing things to diminish your carbon footprint- because you drive a hybrid or because you've enacted a two-pee pre-requisite on flushing the toilet but, if you're anything like me, complacency is a persistent enemy.

If you don't know Kieran, he's the guy who hits his head.

Jack D

2009-12-04T13:22:00.002-05:00

You've led me astray, Jack! Not only does your penguin story date back to 2005, it was apparently confirmed as rumor by New England Aquarium officials around that time.

My Dear Readers,

I cannot in good conscience report that a child attending the New England Aquarium on a field trip managed to alude the watchful eye of teachers and chaperones in sneaking away from the group to dive into the penguin tank to catch and and later place inside his backpack a baby penguin.

When I first caught wind of this yarn, it made my day.

Regretfully yours,
Mgmt

Log It

2009-12-02T13:38:00.003-05:00

Brian Kelly will be the next coach of the Notre Dame Fighting Irish football program.

Log it.

Log it.

Done.

I'm Hungary

2009-11-25T14:51:00.003-05:00

Best anti-war song I've ever heard. End of story.

I'm a bad person

2009-11-25T11:15:00.003-05:00

Know what I’m not going to miss? Watching Charlie Weis eat his boogers on national TV every weekend of October through November. Good riddance. I stuck by that bastard for way too long. Now that I’m finally jumping his sunken ship, it feels good to be able to say some of the things I’ve held back for so long. I wanted to see you succeed, Charlie. So badly. You’re an ornery guy from New Jersey, you went to ND, and never played a down of college football there. It had all the makings of an incredible story. Just one problem: You’re not a head coach.

All this Charlie Weis talk reminds me:

Last week I took my dog out for a walk. She’s a 12 lb dachshund. In front of my building there was a minivan double parked and two vehicles headed in opposite directions. A big fat man in his mid to late 50’s driving a Lincoln Continental yielded to the vehicle traveling in the opposite direction. Once the other car had passed, he continued to sit there, presumably perspiring and breathing heavily from the exertion of applying pressure to the brake. I assumed he was yielding to me and Ruby as well, like a nice fat man. As we stepped briskly into the street and began to cross, he raised his hands in the air, an angry gesture that was likely accompanied by a few choice expletives that I couldn’t hear because he hadn’t yet rolled the window down. When I raised my hands, mocking him for his failure to either proceed in a timely fashion or for his lack of patience, he quickly rolled his window down.

“Oh! Big man!!! And his little fuckin’ dog!!!” he screamed.

I stopped beside his car, looked down at my little fuckin’ dog and smiled at her as she gazed back at me in wonder.

“Big man! Big man and his little fuckin’ dog!!! You pussy. Why don’t you get a bigger dog, you pussy!”

Completely fed up, I stooped to his level. Not something I’m proud of, especially because fat old men driving Lincolns sometimes have ties to organized crime. “What are you? 300, 400 lbs? How long did it take you to get into that car and get your seatbelt on? 15, 20 minutes? Seriously? How long? You fat fuck. Where are you going anyway? To have a heart attack?”

At this point his volume reached new heights. “Look at that little dog. I’ll kick that little dog. You fucking pussy!”

My volume increased evermore, “Are you kidding me? You couldn’t kick this dog if I put her on a tee, you fat fuck. Fat guys like you don’t kick things; you walk around taking baby steps and breathing heavily.”

From the park behind me a man chimed in, “Come on guys! Calm down! Sir, just drive. Just drive!”

I turned to look. It was a man and his wife walking their two dogs in the park. By the time I turned my head back around the object of my ire was driving away. I was both furious and embarrassed. In a huff, I walked my dog into the park, deliberately by the couple. The wife wouldn’t look at me. She was probably afraid of and disgusted with me. I earnestly offered to the man, “I’m really sorry about that. I’m not proud of myself.”

He turned to me and said, “That’s ok. It happens to the best of us. I just didn’t want to see it escalate.”

“Regardless, I’m sorry about that. No one should have to see that.”

Funny little hate crime

2009-11-15T11:43:00.016-05:00

Brockman's into some interesting shit. Since graduating from college he's done stints in Costa Rica, The Congo, and Argentina researching primates. At present he's in Wisconsin at his parents' house working on his graduate school applications, a full-time job unto itself. Needless to say, he doesn't get out much these days.

A couple months ago he seized an opportunity to eat and drink like a Roman at a cocktail party thrown by his parents in the house he grew up in. As one might expect, the guests and his parents had all deserted him by 11:00. A good buzz like this one too rare to be wasted on sleep, he sat outside staring off into the Wisconsin darkness, yearning for inspiration.

He heard revelry's call from somewhere off in the distance. In ominous darkness loomed boundless possibility. His wasn't the only party in the neighborhood on this night, just the tamest. Like minded citizens of the world perhaps? His heart raced. Having never before met his neighbors across the street, insulated all his life by rows upon rows of dense evergreen trees, he was determined to right this wrong there and then.

Naturally, before embarking on this trip into the unknown, he scurried back inside to retrieve his trusty head lamp. Naturally.

Some two hundred fifty yards later, two smokers standing alongside the neighbors' house noticed a light emerging from the darkness, shortly followed by a skinny, bearded man in his early to mid-twenties who was wearing..... a head lamp?

He introduced himself as "Isaac Brockman, from across the street." As the smokers brought him around back and introduced him to the rest of the party, everyone assumed Brockman was gay (after they were done staring at the head lamp in wonder, of course). As one of them astutely whispered to the other, "That's how fags shake hands... And that's how fags talk." Familiar with the notion that he might give off a gay vibe during introductions, Isaac has become well versed at sniffing out homophobia. And when he senses this sort of high school locker room vibe, he becomes deliberately gayer.

Having been handed a beer by his seemingly gracious hosts, he flitted about the room like Liberace at a Nascar race. "This will have to do," he thought to himself.

Suddenly, however, he was pulled down to the ground from behind. Instinctualy curling up into the fetal position and covering his face, faceless attackers punched and kicked him. "Fucking faggot!" they hissed.

Moments later his assailants were pulled off him by other party-goers. He was lifted to his feet by a man and a woman, presumably his progressive hosts. They apologized profusely, wiping the dirt and wet grass off his shirt and pants: "Oh my god, we're soooooo sorry that just happened!" Even under the influence as he was, their apologies seemed borne out of fear of legal repercussion than of shame that people they'd invited into their home were of the deplorable sort.

Isaac assured them, "Everything's fine! Happens all the time. Don't worry about it." This had never happened before.

They replaced the beer that had gone to waste during the attack.... He drank it, and then another, resolutely staring around the room at the people who were staring back at him while they spoke in hushed tones to each other.

He cracked a third beer before flipping the switch on his head lamp and venturing back out into the Wisconsin darkness towards the home he grew up in.

What's the password?

2009-11-12T20:03:00.007-05:00

As a rule of thumb, people assume no one will ever know their password. As far as I can tell, at least four of them are incumbent upon modern American life: voicemail, email, fantasy football, and online banking. If you have a job in a cubicle, you might have between fifteen to twenty more. These can be difficult to track. That's a lot of passwords. Repetition can be critical, especially when 15 to 20 passwords expire every 90 days or so and require that you change them to new passwords that haven't been used before.

When I am having computer difficulty from within the friendly confines of my cubicle, I have to call our outsourced IT team in India. Last week, I was cursed with an error message for a password protected software. When I picked up the phone, as with past calls I've placed to my counterparts across the pond and sand, I anticipated a run-of-the-mill, painfully cumbersome, misguided but ultimately successful interaction. I was only part right.

Once remotely logged into my computer, he innocently asked in a thick Indian accent, "Ok, what's your username, sir?"

I deliberately but politely spelled it out. It wasn't until I muttered the last character, the number '0', that I realized the question that was sure to follow.

"And your password, sir?"

My head whirled around on its axis Exorcist style, only nervous and paranoid instead of a symptom of being possessed by the devil. Assistant to my right, co-worker to my left, boundless potential for passersby behind, I tried to stabilize the volume and cadence of my voice. I needed to get this done in one take. No repeats.

"D--I--C--K--C--H--E--E--S--E--2...."

"Excuse me sir, did you just spell 'dickcheese 2' Is your password 'dickcheese'?"

I can only assume by the incredulity in his voice that he was not only surprised that someone would use such a password in a professional environment, but that this same person had presumably already used 'dickcheese 1'.

Phenom

2009-11-02T19:56:00.001-05:00

This guy drops a lot of F bombs. You've been warned.

Avett Bros

2009-10-25T14:33:00.008-05:00

Last Sunday Moose and I saw the Avett Brothers at the House of Blues. I've been to a few shows recently - some really good ones - and this one I actually enjoyed the most. I was blown away. These guys are a mesmerizing mix of sentimentality and tongue in cheek narrative manifested through a raucous southern, blue grass, country, punk romp.

Maybe it's the Third World Maybe It's His First Time Around

2009-10-20T18:49:00.003-05:00

Emmett's going to grad school in the UK for water engineering. Presumably to bring clean water to the third world upon completion of his studies. Or perhaps to make a bigger, better Brita filter. Regardless, he's promised a blog per day. At least someone's got something to say .

Emmett has a dry wit that often makes me feel inadequate. Read his blog so you can feel inadequate too.

Episode 7

2009-10-20T12:41:00.002-05:00

Mr. Curcio neglected to mention to me that Episode 7 features The Waitress from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. This was brought to my attention by my sister. I can't believe I missed this.

2 for 2 in 2

2009-10-12T18:33:00.014-05:00

Sadly, I'm too old for concerts on consecutive nights. At least I thought I was when I realized last Wednesday that Grizzly Bear was playing at the Orpheum on Thursday night, having
long ago committed to a Built to Spill show on Friday night. Just the same, the memory of watching Grizzly Bear's Cemetery Gates on Wednesday night fresh in my mind, the notion of missing this opportunity was too much to BEAR.

Going back about a year, I happened upon their video for "The Knife". Under the influence of controlled substances, my mind was sufficiently blown. I couldn't get my hands on Yellow House, the band's second studio album, fast enough. For a considerable time thereafter I struggled to put my finger on the reason or reasons I found Grizzly Bear so decidedly forgettable. So forget about them I did, until the release of their most recent effort, Veckatimest. When a friend brought the video for "Two Weeks" to my attention I was reeled back in, temporarily. Eventually, similarly to the album that preceded it, I had listened to Veckatimest over and over again without being blown away; never humming along to anything besides "Two Weeks". And yet I was confused by this, like I was somehow missing something.

The fog began to clear last Wednesday night while watching a live performance on my lap top: I actually have a beef with their production. The key to Grizzly Bear can be found in subtlety, and their production doesn't account for this. With the volume at reasonable levels I can't tell anything interesting is going on with their music. Or rather, I can tell, I just can't hear it. Turn the knob clockwise and suddenly my eardrums are bleeding. Cemetery Gates (which you can watch by clicking on its first mention above) solved this problem for me. Cemetery Gates solved it so well, in fact, that I ended up going to the concert by myself, save for three nips of Jameson. Easily the least hip person in attendance, I gleefully took my seat in the eleventh row, dead center, like the aging dork that I've become. Over the course of the next few hours, however, I came to realize I had also been hung up all this time on time signature changes that didn't jibe with my expectations. The often gentle instrumentation and pitch perfect singing of Grizzly Bear bestows a false anticipation of a pop sensibility that isn't there. These guys aren't for the meek, despite what their singing voices would have you believe.

Juxtaposed, I met Steve Tallent at my apartment at 7:00pm the following night for beers and Yankees. Some several hundred beers and a Yankee walk-off win later found four of us walking downstairs at the Middle East just before Built to Spill took their seminal brand of guitar centric indie rock to the stage. Not long after having heard Built to Spill for the first time, it became very apparent to me that I needed to see these guys live for the full experience. Well, no surprises. Dough Martsch (beard and hat) and Co. sound of Dinosaur Jr., Modest Mouse, and maybe a little Pavement. Or perhaps more accurately, Modest Mouse, Pavement, and Dinosaur Jr. sound a bit like Built to Spill. Emerging from the fertile (?) Boise, Idaho underground in 1993, I can't help but admire the way Built to Spill has made a living putting on shows like last Friday's; a very comfortable evening of writhing air guitar and sing along in the company of others who seemed to be enjoying the same.

Episode 7

2009-10-10T13:27:00.002-05:00

Fan video. Guess who's listed in the credits. Me. That's right.

Mallen!

2009-10-07T21:41:00.003-05:00

Congrats on a job well done. Mallen made a mocumentary about the SoCal surf scene. If you haven't seen it, you can see it here. The film was recently featured in the New York Surf Film Festival and written up here.

Dumber & Dumb

2009-10-07T09:30:00.004-05:00

Preamble:
Marty’s a close friend of mine even though he works in the self-aggrandizing, self-important world of high finance. I exaggerate and I kid. I actually like everyone he’s felt compelled to introduce me to, but I’m trying to paint a picture for the purposes of what will assuredly be another mediocre story. But I digress, Marty’s mildly successful, works hard, and, in keeping with his peers, takes himself very seriously. Coincidentally, he works “on the same desk” as someone else named Seamus. Together, they are the mover and shaker’s mover and shaker, wheeling and dealing all over the eastern seaboard in expensive suits and Vineyard Vines ties.

Story:
Cell phone rings at 7:00am. I’m out of it. That’s an understatement. My eyes actually well up with tears when the highlights of Minnesota’s 12th inning victory over Detroit culminate in frenzied celebration. I’m clinically brain dead. I’m watching SportsCenter at almost no volume, so as not to awaken the slumbering dictator in the other room, while putting the finishing touches on a carefully crafted work ensemble. The phone’s ringing catches me off guard and by “catch me off guard” I mean I jumped a little and shrieked like a mouse.

“Hello?”

“Seamus, it’s Jennifer from New York.”

“Uh…. Uhhhh…… Hi Jennifer.” At this point, I’m beginning to think she’s someone from home office but have no real clue. Her name doesn’t ring familiar, and I can’t think of anything I have going on at work that would require a 7:30am cellular phone call from home office.

“Jennifer Toll. I know you’re traveling today, but I need to set up a conference call between you, Logan Stilton, Thadius Redclay, Tristrom Barstove III, and Terence Wilforke.”

I’m traveling today? Am I supposed to be traveling today? Shit! “Ok! Let’s do it. What do you need from me? Ready when you are.” Shit! Where the hell am I supposed to be going today?!”

Wait a second! Logan Stilt? That sounds familiar.

“Jennifer?”

“Seamus?”

“Jennifer, do you think I’m Seamus Parker?”

“You’re not Seamus Parker?”

“I’m Seamus O’Connell. Although you can’t tell right now over the phone, I’m actually much better looking than Seamus Parker. Did Marty put you up to this?”

“Mr. Martino gave me your number.”

“Mr. Martino is Martin. Don’t let him fool you. He’s an idiot.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience!”

“Jennifer, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m actually a little disappointed. I really wanted to be on that call. Sounds like a doozy. Tell Seamus, Logan Stilton, Thadius Redclay, Tristrom Barstove III, Terence Wilforke, and Mr. Martin that I said hello. We’ll really need their best heading into the heart of the 4th quarter here if this flagship international corporation is to remain afloat.”

“Will do.” She laughs uncomfortably because I sound serious, but also like I have no idea what I’m talking about.

"Click."

Moral of the Story: This is what I love about Marty: just when I think I’m rock bottom stupid on some random, rainy morning, he was actually even dumber, first.

Capitalist Commensalism

2009-10-06T12:09:00.002-05:00

Symbiosis describes the close and often long-term relationships between species. Well, let's take one of the subsets of this idea and move it over to the business realm. All the way over, in fact, to hemorrhoid cream manufacturers, and smart phone manufacturers and their service providers. Way I see it, in fact, Preparation H owes Apple, Google, and Blackberry some serious coin. Or at least a back rub.

My sister, who is getting her PhD in evolutionary anthropology, will either be very impressed with this thought process or very disappointed. Either way, you just read this.

Old Friends

2009-09-28T17:58:00.003-05:00

Episode 4

OLD FRIENDS: TRUCE (Episode 4) - watch more funny videos

Episode 5

Old Friends - Katie's Day (Episode 5) - watch more funny videos

Episdode 6

Old Friends - Love Story (Episode 6) - watch more funny videos

The Fun

2009-09-26T15:07:00.003-05:00

SportsCenter anchors have been quoting "Got Some" while they ramble through baseball highlights lately. "Teixeira goes deep. Got some if you need it!" I love SportsCenter. It's been well-documented that I also love Pearl Jam. How come I don't know how to feel about SportsCenter anchors quoting Pearl Jam?

I really wish I hadn't seen Pitchfork's review of Backspacer before I had actually heard the album. Pitchfork is to the naysayers what I am to the yaysayers, so to speak... Now I feel like I have to maintain some sort of objectivity and integrity that I never had in the first place. It's a funny thing, listening to an album for the first time fully intent on writing a review, having already read [the first paragraph of] one. You can easily forget you're supposed to enjoy listening to music, lost in a fit of self-seriousness. This is supposed to be fun. Remember that.

Speaking of self-seriousness (segue!), Backspacer, PJ's ninth studio album, is undoubtedly its lightest in terms of sound and lyrical content. Coming in under 40 minutes, nowhere is the introspective weightiness of Ten or the dissident frustration of Riot Act or Pearl Jam. This album is less of a showcase for chops than anything else in PJ's catalogue. It won't blow anyone's mind who isn't already sold. It's not a masterpiece either, but it isn't trying to be. Backspacer is really fun to listen to, which is important. I forget that sometimes.

The album begins behind the power of a lilting bass line from Jeff Ament with a rock and roll energy that remains consistent until the appropriately titled "The End", save for "Just Breathe", track 5, which could have been included on the "Into the Wild Soundtrack". When Eddie croons "Stay with me, let's just breathe" about a minute in, the hair on the back of your neck will likely stand at attention. "Amongst the Waves" will make you want to get in the ocean. Triumphantly. On "Unthought Known", Boom Gasper's most prominent effort to date, when the opening chords chime by themselves just before Ed joins them in a whisper, I find myself eagerly anticipating the entrance of Boom's piano, because that means I'm that much closer to "Feel the sky blanket you With gems and rhinestones!!! See the path cut by the moon For you to walk on". In a departure from all of the material that has preceded it, this album is life-affirming, attesting to all its beauty and wonder. Like one of their shows.

When I started writing this review a few days ago, I expected to gently pan this album. In a strange way I wanted to. I wanted to prove to myself that I was capable of being objective about this band. Now, as I sit here listening to the album for maybe the 7th or 8th time, I can't help but laugh and shake my head while my it bobs back and forth and my left foot stomps. Who needs objectivity when you've got Pearl Jam? Not me.

Under Construction

2009-09-24T22:05:00.002-05:00

I'm working on a review that at least two or three of you may have an interest in. Should be done by the end of the weekend.

In the meantime, no dopers:

Backspacer

2009-09-22T20:52:00.005-05:00

Downloaded today, hopefully reviewed by the end of the weekend. Pearl Jam's 9th studio album is available exclusively at Target and downloadable on iTunes.

Thursdays at Augusta High School

2009-09-22T20:42:00.000-05:00

Into the Mouths of Babes

2009-09-20T18:33:00.000-05:00

Oh, The Temptation from Steve V on Vimeo.

Kicked to the Curb

2009-09-19T12:27:00.001-05:00

This is worth your time.... If you like laughing. It's a bunch of clips from Curb Your Enthuiasm.

The Other Clip

2009-09-17T21:22:00.004-05:00

My Kid Brother at My Wedding...

2009-09-17T10:09:00.009-05:00

Log It (Take 2)

2009-09-04T19:47:00.005-05:00

Steve Tallent, who used to have a refreshingly honest if not vastly misguided blog, has been so kind as to grant me permission to post his revisionist-- though still timely because a regular season down has not yet been played-- predictions for the upcoming season. I've known Steve for maybe three years or so. While his politics are a little Glenn Beck meets Peter Griffin, his sports knowledge is pretty much can't miss. You can take these picks to the bank. Except, naturally, the one where he has the Giants losing in the playoffs...

AFC East
New England 14-2
Miami-4-12
Buffalo 4-12
NY Jets 4-12

AFC North
Pitt 15-1
Balt 12-4
Cinci 8-8
Clev 3-13

AFC South
Indy 12-4
Tenn 10-6
Houston 9-7
Jax 6-10

AFC West
SD 13-3
KC 4-12
Oak 3-13
Denver 3-13

NFC East
NYG 12-4
Wash 10-6
Phily 9-7
Dallas 8-8

NFC North
GB 11-5
Minn 11-5
Chi 9-7
Det 2-14

NFC SOUTH
NO 12-4
Atl 11-5
Car 10-6
TB 2-14

NFC WEST
Ariz 10-6
Sea 9-7
SF 6-10
St.Louis 1-15

AFC Wild Card Round
Tenn beats SD
Indy beats Balt

NFC Wild Card Round
GB beats Atl
Ariz beats Minn

AFC Divisional Round
Pitt beats Tenn
NE beats Indy

NFC Divisional Round
NYG beats Ariz
GB beats NO

AFC Conference Finals
NE beats Pitt
GB beats NYG

Superbowl
NE beats GB

AWARDS
MVP-Michel Turner RB Atlanta
Offensive Player of the Year-Drew Brees QB New Orleans
Defensive player of the Year-Vince Wilfork DT New England
Coach of the Year-Mike McCarthy Green Bay
Offensive Rookie of the Year-Donald Brown RB Indy
Defensive Rookie of the Year-Brian Orakpo DE/OLB Washington

Odds and Ends
The Vikings will start 5-1 or even 6-0 and ESPN will be sucking Favre's old nuts, then Pittsburgh smokes them in week 7 and the wins start to dry up. They make the playoffs only to have Favre throw 4 picks in a first round loss. After the game Favre is indecisive about retiring.

NE & SD will not lose a division game during the regular season.

Pitt will run the table until week 12 when the lose a Sunday night game @ Baltimore. They won't lose again until the AFC Conference title game against NE.

St.Louis won't win a game until week 17 at home against SF.

I will finally hit the pick 5 down the Cornerstone.

The Cornerstone is the establishment in South Boston where Steve tends bar on Saturday nights. If you're ever in the area, it's another can't miss. Ask him if he updated his F5. Or just tell him you're interested in two things: Writing accounts and keeping them. It's that simple.

USA

2009-09-01T10:41:00.006-05:00

4th? Come on, America. We shouldn't lose to China, Pakistan, and Saudi Arabia in ANYTHING. If this were an Olympic event (I've heard grumblings that the committe is considering it for 2012), we woulnd't even medal or get to stand on the podium!

Also, hang up your cell phone.

Community

2009-08-23T18:35:00.005-05:00

I need to acquire some Dan Deacon. To be frank, I find some of his ultra-wanna-be-rogue-indie antics off-putting, but the score to this snippet -- which details his vegetable oil tour bus -- has convinced me beyond the shadow of a doubt that I need his music. Awesome tour bus too. And it is hilarious when he talks about it being too dirty for Canadian border control. Every time I hear something about Canada, I laugh, or at least furrow my brow and stare off into space.

If you've never heard the Avett Brothers.... even if you have for that matter, check this out.

As an aside, sometimes I find it annoying when a bands find sartorial themes an incumbent component of stardom. My beef I suppose includes facial hair, sunglasses, t-shirts, pants, etc. However, before I became too annoyed with The Avett's for this very reason, the fact that they're brothers occurred to me. Immediately I was reminded of the adorable way my younger brother incessantly "borrows" my jokes, mannerisms, and ideas. So I'll give them a pass. Plus, these guys are fantastic. If there is ever an excuse for slap-you-in-the-face similarities, it's with people who lived in the same uterus. They will actually be the first show Moose and I attend as a married couple. Boston House of Blues in October.

The Avetts' folk influences got me thinking about this next clip I first heard several months ago:

Churches are so often wasted on religious shit, Exhitibit A:

Exhibit B:

Exhibit C:

The Top 500 Tracks of the 2000s

2009-08-21T15:04:00.003-05:00

Have you seen this list? I can’t stop sifting through it, reading the odd blurb. Obviously there is plenty on this list of 500 that I haven’t heard, let alone own, but I’ve grown so accustomed to thinking of bands and their music in terms of entire albums that I’m suddenly finding it really enjoyable just to find songs on this list that I didn’t know anyone liked besides me. Moreover, there are songs included on here that I find to be guilty pleasures. This is a refreshing, viscerally honest list compiled by the ultra-snobs at Pitchfork.

Never mind the somewhat arbitrary order they come in. I don’t think that’s the point. At least to me anyway.

My Football Universe Email Thread: Bottom to Top (Literally & Figuratively)

2009-08-21T09:41:00.004-05:00

From: STallent
To: Seamus

Oh yeah! I forgot you have to actually go to class at ND.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Seamus
To: STallent

Yup. Combine that with the academic standards, and you’ve got a serious handicap.

Without the national exposure from playing on national TV every week, I don’t think they’re even relevant anymore. They’ve got to hold onto that forever.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: STallent
To: Seamus

Yup, football is the best thing in the world, by far. I think Weiss had really big recruiting years the last 2 so ND might be back. It must be tough: I know ND has all the history but if I'm one of the best football players in the country I'm not going to Indiana. Florida, Southern Cal; that's were I'd want to go get laid for 3 years

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Seamus
To: STallent

I’d like to think ND’s ducks are all in a row this year. Weis being a [chubby FUPA’d] New Jersey guy and alum with an interesting life story (never played a down after high school), I want his regime to work really badly, I just don’t know at this point. They showed flashes last year, but come on: their season culminated in a bowl game route of Hawaii. HAWAII. Sometimes I feel like I’m gioing to spend the entirety of my adult life waiting for ND to return to prominence.

Goddamn I love football. Moose hates it so much, because it’s only part of the year where I DEMAND the television for significant blocks of time consistently throughout the week.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: STallent
To: Seamus

Oh and Norte Dame will win a bunch of games against that schedule and get smoked in a BCS bowl.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Seamus
To: STallent

Eli just signed a huge contract? He must be fantastic!!!!!! Just kidding, I agree with your assessment. That's what keeps me up at night.... Only this isn't really any different from the last two years.

My optimism: Taking that 6’6” kid from Cal Poly looks like a great move. He’s supposed to be a really sharp kid too… which I think increases the likelihood he can be a valuable red zone target as a rookie. Look for Hixon will continue to develop. I don’t know about Manningham and this kid from UNC. UNC supposedly hasn’t had a great camp and Manningham hasn’t shown me anything since he lit up ND when he was at Michigan.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: STallent
To: Seamus

I like the Giants, I just don't know who Eli throws to now. I see teams putting 8 guys in the box to stuff the run and daring Eli to throw downfield to beat them.

Maroney (big year for him, put up or shut up time), Fred Taylor and Sammy Morris, and actually Kevin Faulk catching huge 3rd down passes.

But now the Giants lose the great Earth, Wind, and Fire moniker. Jacobs always seems to get hurt for a few weeks so it will be all Bradshaw for at least a time.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Seamus
To: STallent

3 headed monster??? Maroney's a chump and Fred Taylor's got cataracts. I thought Maroney was going to be something special because he was NASTY at Minnesota. Who's the third?

Speaking of running games, I like that Ward left and Bradshaw's still around. I wonder if that was their plan all along, because I always lamented the fact that Bradshaw didn't get as many touches as Ward last year. But maybe that's why they got rid of Ward, knowing Bradshaw's body has less wear and tear.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: STallent
To: Seamus

I'm keeping this email for January review. The Pats have a 3 headed monster at running back now and Brady will be a top 5 MVP candidate.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Seamus
To: STallent

You had me at “Log it”….. but you lost me at PHI beating NYG in the playoffs…. And then became laughable with NE winning the Superbowl.

Naturally, this has much to do with my own personal biases, and something to do with your's as well. You suffer from the same fatal flaw I do: If it’s remotely possible for me to pick/think/believe my team’s going to go on a championship run, I’m going to align my mouth and money with that possibility.

I like your regular season predictions though. I’m keeping this for review at the end of January.

Devil’s advocate: The Pats are pretty old and can’t run the football. Yeah, they added Fred Taylor who will probably be better than anybody else they’ve got, but he’s 120 years old and no longer a game changer. Plus, look for Brady to have a pedestrian season like Carson Palmer’s first one back after surgery.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: STallent
To: Seamus
Subject: Log it

Ok, I just went through the entire NFL schedule and the following is how it will turn out:

AFC EAST
NE 14-2
Buffalo 7-9
Miami 5-11
NY Jets 5-11

AFC NORTH
Pitt 14-2
Balt 10-6
Cinci 5-11
Clev 3-12

AFC SOUTH
Tenn 13-3
Indy 10-6
Hou 8-8
Jax 7-9

AFC WEST
SD 13-3
Oak 5-11
KC 4-12
Den 3-13

NFC EAST
NYG 11-5
Philly 10-6
Dallas 10-6
Wash 9-7

NFC NORTH
GB 12-4
Minn 9-7
Chi 9-7
Det 2-14

NFC SOUTH
Atl 11-5
NO 11-5
Car 10-6
TB 1-15

NFC WEST
Ariz 10-6
Sea 9-7
SF 5-12
St.Louis 1-15

AFC Wild Card Round
Indy beats SD
Tenn beats Balt

NFC Wild Card Round
Philly beats NYG
NO beat Ariz

AFC Divisional Round
NE beat Indy
Tenn beat Pitt

NFC Divisional Round
GB beats Philly
NO beats Atl

AFC Championship
NE beats Tenn
GB beats NO

Superbowl
NE beats GB

Bones to Pick

2009-08-19T19:26:00.006-05:00

I finally figured out why this blog has sucked so bad for 5 or 6 months now: It’s because I don’t interact enough with misogynistic, totalitarian, ass-faces. I am no longer consistently confronted with eccentric, drooling, morons. Ever since having taken a new job, I’ve dealt almost exclusively with competent, thoughtful people operating in an overwhelmingly professional manner. And it's single-handedly destroying whatever creative impulse I once had. I need to get a part-time job with some idiots.

........................

Don’t get me wrong, I can’t stand Brett Favre. I used to love him. Then he retired, unretired, retired, unretired, looked like a complete wiener in a slew of Wrangler commercials… And now I hate him. But how in the hell did he play a decent portion of last season with a torn bicep and partially torn rotator cuff in his THROWING ARM AND SHOULDER?! Moreover, how highly must Minnesota regard Sage Rosenfels and Tavaris Jackson in order to sign a 39 year-old with 350,000 miles on his body with a PARTIALLY TORN ROTATOR CUFF? Not highly you say? Oh. I know Favre is tough as nails, but how do you make it through a 17 week NFL season as a quarterback with a PARTIALLY TORN ROTATOR CUFF? Anyone want to take my action today that Favre doesn’t finish the season on the field?

.........................

What's wrong with being stoned and topless like the Noxema girl and that tool from Grey's Anatomy? Before you gleefully watch footage like this, I hope you realize that every time footage of something this awesome is leaked to the press, it incrementally reduces the likelihood us regular people will be able to film our own sexual encounters moving forward. It is in this vein that the paparazzi impinging on "famous" people's right to privacy [film sexual encounters] will soon eclipse national health care as the most critical issue facing our great society. Quote me.

Last time you asked the love of your life or the flavor of the week if you could film the next time you got your biz on, what was his or her response? Did it include a reference to all the goddamn leaked porn footage all over the interweb that was never meant for mass consumption? If it didn't, it could have.

Tortoise- From a Rooftop

2009-08-17T20:20:00.003-05:00

Given their propensity for abstraction in their music videos, to see these guys actually playing definitely adds a dimension. The fact that they so often switch instruments is pretty cool too. The dueling drums kinda kick it into high gear on "Swung from the Gutters", FYI.

"Gigantes"

"Prepare Your Coffin"

"Swung from the Gutters"

Pubic Transmutation

2009-08-13T19:26:00.012-05:00

Ever since I started taking the bus to work, I’ve listened to music on my headphones with a religious fervor typically reserved for the religious. Save for the occasional run-in with a friend on the bus on my way home, this is a routine I haven’t deviated from. While I’ve grown familiar with a broad spectrum of characters that stand beside me at the bus stop each morning, all of us staring listlessly into space, as well as the number of strangers that sit across from me, or that I occasionally bump into while the bus negotiates turns once on board, I can safely say I’ve never heard any of them speak. I remain unfettered, however, in my primordial quest for understanding: to categorize these people based solely on looks and mannerisms.

TO BE CONTINUED....

Pucker up: Leeds on Ecstacy

2009-08-13T19:11:00.001-05:00

Old Friends: Truce

2009-08-12T11:55:00.000-05:00

OLD FRIENDS: TRUCE (Episode 4) - watch more funny videos

Some Day My Prince Will Come

2009-08-05T21:09:00.008-05:00

My buddy Marty got married last weekend. While a detailed account would likely waiver back and forth between gushing bridesmaid (Moose) and sallow adolescent groomsman (me), suffice it to say this thing was fantastic and that a good time was had by all. I think this picture pretty much sums up the after party. And I think we all know how this one ends.

Happily ever after.

Actually, I just found a copy of the speech I gave at the rehearsal dinner. Thankfully, I suckled at the teat of a Grey Goose enough to loosen up and wing some of it. At least I'd like to think I did. I was so frigin' nervous.

A lot of people like lists. They make things easier to follow. Right? (awkwardly pause and wait for crowd to confirm whether they like lists.) Yeah, they do. For this reason, I'd like to start with one:

Martin's favorite things, in order:
1. Liz. Right? I mean, he is marrying her? He probably likes her....? (Wait for everyone to shower the two of them with applause. Encourage it.)
2. Family, especially his darling parents, Mike and Cathy. There they are. (Point at them and grin.) Look at them. Go on. Look. They're adorable. He likes his brothers sometimes too.
3. Martyball. And no that's not a football reference. Martyball is when you lay on a couch for an entire day watching TV and eating rubbish.
4. Complaining, about almost anything.
5. Eating out.
6. The Cape.
7. Noticing how stupid people are.
8. Starched, button-down shirts
9. The Boston Red Sox, who're in second place by the way (wait for boos).

Marty’s an anomaly. Always has been. Or at least has been since I've known him. When I first met Martin as a sophomore in college he was an apparently malnourished, shamelessly preppy hippy. At this point in his life, having already survived a heart attack, he’s managed to balloon to 230 lbs. Congratulations, Marty. (Wait for gleeful patronizing applause.)

At this point in his professional career, Marty’s an infamously successful schmoozer paradoxically incapable of schmoozing. If you’ve ever hung out with Marty, you know exactly what I’m talking about. “Yep.” “Nope.” “Fantastic.” This from a guy who majored in communication AND english! What takes most people an hour to explain, Marty can explain with a single grunt... which I suppose makes him the most efficient if not effective communicator of all time. “Gruuuuuunt.”

Confounding things even further, when the mood strikes him, he’s actually a fantastic storyteller. Never one to mince or waste words, he can bring an entire room to its knees with one of his stories. Like the time he pooped in his pants while he was waiting for the T. We've all heard that one, right?

Or one of his poignant one-liners that he'll bark in a tone that is quintessentially Marty. "It's not a choice, it's a lifestyle."

The aforementioned list and subsequent characterization may paint a less than favorable picture. You might be asking yourself, what the hell does Liz see in this guy? Why would this beautiful, articulate, and intelligent woman settle for this? Perhaps he treats her like gold? The truth of the matter is, it is oftentimes difficult for those close to Martin to know whether or not he cares.

Until last summer, my jury was still out. My mother had passed away July 19. I never really liked to talk about it. Still don't. Eventually, however, Marty and I found ourselves in his apartment after a night out on the town and probably a several hundred drinks. We sat there and cried on each other for at least an hour, but mostly Marty just told me between sobs how much he loved me, how much he cared about my family, and insisted that if I ever needed ANYTHING, anything, that I tap him. Neither of us are really given to sentimentality or overt gestures of emotion, so eventually we dried our eyes and calmed down like men, both suddenly uncomfortable with the levity and seriousness of what had just transpired. We undoubtedly loosened back up with another drink and an inappropriate joke.

In this vein, a week later, seated beside one another at a wedding, as we usually request, Martin put his hand on my shoulder and , gazing deep into my eyes, said in a solemn tone, "Seamus.... No matter where you are.... or what you're doing... Just know.... I am ALWAYS ashamed of you."

Now, of course Liz knows Martin loves her. She certainly doesn't need me to tell her..... But, just in case she does.....

Outside of his rigorous and demanding work schedule, Martin does what Martin wants, more so than anyone else I've ever met. Marty's personal life is 100% wish fulfillment. If he's eating dinner with his family, it's because that's precisely where he wants to be, what he wants to do, and who he wants to be doing it with. Consciously or not, he takes great pride in this.

He might not explain very well how he feels without the help of 200 adult beverages, but he does what he wants and what he loves with those he loves. So, if you pay a little attention, you can actually learn quite a bit.

I noticed he was big-league smitten with Liz when we were seniors in college, and he'd bail out on hijinks with the boys just to wait by the window for Liz's arrival on Fairfield Beach Road, cell phone in hand....

I knew he was in love when he continued to make similar choices well on into adulthood. While he chastises others for filling their social calendars in accordance with the plans of girlfriends/fiances/spouses, Marty stealthily leads the league in filling his calendar around the love of his life.

I'm not kidding.

"Grunt a bunch of times like Martin." Which means, I can't, I'm taking Liz out to dinner.

"Grunt a bunch of times like Martin." This means, I can't, I haven't seen Liz all weekend and she's on her way home.

"Grunt a bunch of times like Martin." You get the picture.

Liz is exactly where Marty wants to be.

Dumb & Dumber

2009-08-04T15:39:00.004-05:00

If you haven't yet seen this, I implore you to watch these two nutbags roar down this mountain on their longboards. Thanks Rycree.

Adam Kimmel presents: Claremont HD from adam kimmel on Vimeo.

Chuck Norris can kill two stones with one bird

2009-08-04T11:55:00.002-05:00

Chuck Norris has requested that Barack Obama furnish his birth certificate. What was already a stupid debate has just become a cartoon. When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

Epic: A Savage Journey

2009-07-20T20:56:00.002-05:00

By Mike Mallen.

2009-07-20T19:04:00.002-05:00

New Thom Yorke tune:

New PJ tune.

New Old Friends

2009-07-17T12:02:00.000-05:00

Old Friends: Tennis (Episode 3) - watch more funny videos

My Goodness My Guinness

2009-07-13T20:47:00.002-05:00

This is easily the most suggestive ad I have ever seen.

Sexy Guiness Ad - Funny home videos are a click away

Do Drugs Then Watch This

2009-07-13T20:25:00.003-05:00

Bang

2009-07-02T16:03:00.009-05:00

Tortoise's new album Beacons of Ancestorship is pretty sick. I plan on reviewing it if I can ever manage to get off my ass. Here's the video, which is VIVID as per their modus operandi, for "Prepare Your Coffin", the album's second track.

I quickly lost interest in Mgmt once I came to realize they'd become the favorite indie band of every yuppy that doesn't really listen to music. Not that this is a valid assessment tactic. I'm slowly coming around now though. Better late than never This video, though scattershot and meaningless as far as I can tell, paradoxically provides context for "Kids".

Everything M.I.A is involved in is still cool.

This one's actually even better.

Tyundai Braxton, of Battles, has a solo album dropping 9/15. I can't wait. Here's the second track off Cenral Market, "Uffe's Woodshop". Oddly enough, this is kind of what I expected.

Onomatopoeia

2009-06-30T19:14:00.015-05:00

Sometimes I worry. Actually, I worry all the time. But sometimes I worry that I don't worry enough. On Sunday, while we drove home from Pierre and Doyle's wedding, I worried that my insouciant demeanor had somehow diminished Pierre's conception of my conception of the grandeur of he and his wife's wedding day. Because of this, I didn't sleep last night. Wow, that was a mouthful. Allow me to expound.

I'm given to speaking my mind, particularly in the presence of friends. As fate would have it, what is most often on my mind is inane, profane nonsense. Unfortunately, the presence of strangers and distinguished adults often fails to temper this honesty, leaving me to toe the line between social correctness and juvenile delinquency. Thankfully, I've managed to make friends who find my candor oddly refreshing. And most of the time, we happen to congregate in environments with tacit rules for behavior that are without nuance. In these settings I can usually take care of myself. Don't break any laws. Easy enough. I can wrap my head around that.

Weddings are nuanced, however. They have strange unspoken guidelines like, don't shower the congregation with thinly veiled innuendo, and keep your pants on. I somehow managed to make it through the ceremony and cocktail hour with minimal embarrassment. At least I wasn't the girl whose dress blew up in the wind during the ceremony, revealing to the entire congregation a purple thong situated right between two voluptuous cheeks of butt.

As the beautiful day gradually became night, however, the dynamic changed. The other groomsmen were no longer at my side helping me circumnavigate potential behavioral pitfalls. SSShhhhh, no, no, no, you can't say that! eventually gave way to unconditional encouragement when we found ourselves back at the hotel after the reception, eating pizza and having drinks with the other wedding guests and the bridegroom. It was there that, for reasons that continue to escape my modest grasp, I felt it necessary to show people my underwear.

Moose wasn't impressed. Unfortunately, Brendan anticipated the whole thing and pulled my skibbies down right there in the lobby. At that point, I'm pretty sure no one was impressed.

Oh My God I Know Him!

2009-06-25T21:16:00.003-05:00

Remember when someone close to you would have you proofread their papers, and doing so would make you feel ashamed for having ended up at the same college as someone at a second grade reading level with no writing capacity? But you'd use the red pen sparingly in every sense of the word. Or when a friend demanded your full attention while they fumbled through some terrible song they'd written on the guitar? And you told them they sounded pretty good, and that they should start a band.

Yeah, I don't have to do that here. Not that Tim is looking for my approval by any stretch of my hamster wheel sized imagination, but these clips are funny. Hilarious actually.

(Mallen, I need to watch your movie again before I write a review. I've seen it twice, both times on Sundays after a wedding and a bachelor party while my brain dripped out of my ears. It deserves fuller attention. As do you.)

Crazy

2009-06-16T21:43:00.001-05:00

Loopholes

2009-06-02T16:46:00.015-05:00

How is it that most sports announcers are painfully inarticulate, obnoxious, and seemingly lacking in any relevant sport specific knowledge or potential for insight? How is it guys like Rick Sutcliffe, Joe Morgan, Tim McCarver, and to a degree Joe Buck, all have jobs covering baseball games? These guys must all be wracked with latter stage dementia, besides Buck who just wants to blow anybody who has ever put on a uniform. The madness that comes out of these guys' mouths is downright distracting. Nationally televised baseball games should be covered exclusively by Mike Tirico, Steve Phillips, Orel Hershiser, Dennis Eckersley, and Al Leiter, or some combination thereof.

...................

Sotomayer is a racist, huh? Really? As I've said before in this forum, someone should slap these grumpy old white men around. All of them. If these talking heads and policy makers can't adequately contextualize and comprehend a statement that was obviously meant to highlight the fact that the obstacles a non-white person encounters as they traipse through life could possibly set them apart from their white counterparts by granting them an enhanced capacity/spectrum for empathy, then they shouldn't have a forum to run their mouths, and they certainly shouldn't have any authority to evaluate the qualifications and suitability of a candidate for the supreme court. When was the last time anything in Knute Gingrich's life was made more difficult by the fact that he was Knute Gingrich? Besides futile attempts at getting laid. The very fact that these people have taken such issue with her statements speaks to their validity.

These same idiots provided the impetus for the following faux [hilarious] news story:

Conservatives Warn Quick Sex Change Only Barrier Between Gays, Marriage

I won't even mention the way they also promulgated the sort of misguided social perspectives that provided some nut bag the justification to murder George Tiller. Oops. Just did. Sure, Bill O'Reilly might not actually have blood on his hands, but he's still an unforgivable fuck face.

....................

I was initially very disappointed to read on several reputable online sources that Pearl Jam had entered into a deal with Target. Long after having waged an admirable but ultimately unsuccessful war against Ticketmaster, the notion that they would play their new single at a secret show in Seattle only to have the performance recorded by Cameron Crowe and edited into a music video AND Target ad seemed unthinkable. Until I was reminded of the fact that the band has recorded and plans the release of their new album without the support of a record label. I for one am willing to give them the benefit of the doubt until privy to all details.

In a decidedly more straightforwardly cool move, PJ unleashed their new single on "The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien" last night:

Wrong Foot

2009-05-28T17:56:00.015-05:00

There isn't much I can report of my bachelor party without potentially incurring the wrath of any number of my partners in crime. Pretty much the only thing I can mention that could possibly transcend the typical 'we had so much fun' and 'I almost died' generalities revolves around my tendency to fly off the handle at a moments notice.

As I placed my luggage on the conveyer belt beside me and struggled to take off my shoes and take inventory of all of the accessories and pocket items that might set off a metal detector, my cell phone rang. Already faced with the daunting task of multiple tasks -not one of my strong suits- I picked up the phone. It was Marty, a close friend of mine and the other bachelor we were simultaneously celebrating that weekend. He was already in Montreal, along with his brothers, my brother, and an assortment of mutual friends that had also been able to take the day off from work. I had actually received a flurry of text messages from them throughout the day, each of the 'Almost everybody is here- you should be here', 'We're having drinks' and 'When does your flight get in?' variety. Needless to say, I was chomping at the bit to get on that plane. I could not frigging wait.

But I digress, after telling Marty to hold while my phone was screened for weapons of mass destruction, I picked it back up on the other side, greeting Marty while clumsily fetching my belongings and redressing myself. His tone was business-like, but this didn't strike me as odd. Marty's verbal cadence is almost always terse and barked with benign impatience.

"You gotta do something about your brother," he said.

My gait slowed to the point where I was no longer moving. I could feel the blood either rushing to my head or away from it as I responded, trying to mask my frustration with his timing and purpose beneath a veneer of calm. "What do you mean?"

"Those of us that are already here went out for lunch. We all had a couple beers, but your brother started right in with vodka drinks."

My brother used to be a bit of wild card. While he's done a fair amount of growing up since he turned 21 (he's now 24), it was not difficult for me to picture him in Montreal, overexcited to be in another country for a bachelor party, sprinting out of the gate instead of walking. Be that as it may, feats of true belligerence are behind him. Or so I thought.

"So what? It's a bachelor party," I responded as cavalierly as possible while my heart rate picked up in anticipation of what he might tell me next.

"He's hammered. And he's out of control. He already tried to fight one of my friends."

"Well, where is he now?!" I yelled from the center of an intimately sized and near silent terminal. "I obviously can't do anything about this until I get there. "

"I don't know. When we left him he was running around... picking fights with strangers, making fun of their French accents, telling everyone they're pussies. He's being a dick."

"Are you fucking kidding me? Why are you telling me this now? Can't you just deal with it?!" I yelled, volume sputtering out of control in accordance with my temper. I could feel looks of disgust being shot at me from every direction.

My other buddy, Ryan, took the phone and told me much of the same, adding, "You really do need to reign him in, dude."

All of the excitement and anticipation I had been feeling leading up to this moment was gone. Originally, I'd foreseen nothing but a weekend of lighthearted revelry in good company. Now my primary objective was to find my brother and prevent him from being arrested. If I wasn't too late. Never mind the looming task of choreographing some sort of reconciliation, his having successfully alienated some of my closest friends upon arrival.

"Dude, you should give him a call. At least to make sure he's OK. He won't listen to any of us. Seriously."

"Fine."

I hung up the phone and called my brother in one fell swoop. By now I was simultaneously embarrassed about my behavior and too pissed off to give in to self-consciousness. As the phone started to ring my mind raced. If he's really fucked up, I might need to tone down my anger or it could send him off the deep end and make things even worse. Then, who knows what could happen?

My hands trembling, I started right in. "Dude, where are you?"

"In Montreal" he slurred.

"Where in Montreal?"

"What's our hotel called again? I don't know where I am? Everyone left me. Where the hell did they all go?" Individual consonants and vowels alike were painfully prolonged.

The motherly patience I'd somehow mustered to make the call was wearing thin. "Did you try to fight Marty's buddy? I don't remember what the hotel is called. It's French. I can barely pronounce it when it's written in front of me. You're there! You've been in the hotel! You don't know what the fucking hotel is called?! Or where you are?"

"He was fucking with me, Seamus. You know how I get when people fuck with me. Seamus, you know how I get. What's the hotel called? Do you know what it's called?"

On some strange level, I actually empathized. There he was, in another city with my friends and Marty's, some he knew and some he didn't. He was at least 4 or 5 years younger than everyone. It was almost not even his fault. I was barely even angry anymore. Resignation set in. I just didn't really want to go to Montreal anymore.

A brief but painful silence was broken when everyone in the hotel room broke into hysterical laughter.

"Seamus?" my brother asked, drunken drawl suddenly gone, "You there?"

From amongst the crowd, Kevin grabbed for the phone, laughing while he tried to initiate a conversation.

I hung up on him. I hung up on all of them. It took me at least 45 minutes to cool down.

Sulimay's

2009-05-27T19:05:00.003-05:00

Since I'm apparently lacking in any semblance of inspiration, check out what these old farts have to say about Young Jeezy and Animal Collective. I will continue to look for my muse I guess.

I hope I die before I get old.

DVR

2009-05-27T12:10:00.001-05:00

Pearl Jam will perform on the June 1 premier of "The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien".

Do I?

2009-05-21T20:27:00.009-05:00

have the biggest eyes in the universe, or do random foreign particles (dust, debris, etc.) blow into every one's eyes at least 10 times a day? Why the world so dusty? Someone should do a composition analysis of the random shit that lines the streets and so often blows through the wind and into my eyes, to figure out what it's made of. I assume there is quite a bit contributing to the cause in one way shape or form. To make the results easier to understand and interpret, they should make a pie chart. I'll get us started with some likely offenders that will be pre-filled in your spreadsheets:

dead sperm tails

dead sperm heads

various dead cells from the various parts of various animals

dust from old dead cells

pavement

cement

leather fragments

tiny shards of glass

pollen

baby rocks

shards of rubber from tires that drove over dead animals

dirt

grass

drugs

Whatever, isn't everything made out of carbon anyway?

This was an exercise.

Let The Rumpus Begin

2009-05-21T19:04:00.002-05:00

Moose passed along to me an article in an online trade magazine called AdAge. I'd post it if it didn't require a subscription. The fact is, unless you're weird enough to want to read marketing mumbo for shits and giggles or you are in the industry and already blessed with access, you'll just have to take my word for the sentiments expressed therein.

The crux of the article is the perspective marketing tactics being deliberated by the studio that funded Where The Wild Things Are. This is apparently the biggest dilemma in the big budget movie studio world of LA LA Land right now, at least according to the article. I'd like to start with a quote:

[The studio] may simply have lost control of the creators. Mr. Jonze, the director of quirky, sophisticated adult films such as "Being John Malkovich" and "Adaptation," was hardly a "safe" choice for a kids' movie. The "Wild Things" script comes from the Gen X literary icon Dave Eggers, author of "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius." Neither man screams "Bambi."

If you're trying to market this very big budget movie, I suppose the tone and its overriding themes potentially make your job either easier or more difficult, but I found myself immensely annoyed by the illumination of the fact that business people decide what movies get made, and with whom they can market them to in mind. I don't like to confront this aspect of showbiz any more than I have to.

So it appears the studio may have botched this one, unless artistic integrity trumps the almighty dollar.... and it obviously doesn't. Currently at the heart of the debate, did the studio unwittingly set itself up to lose money by spending so much of it funding a film lacking in mass appeal that will not easily translate to McDonald's happy meals? If Spike Jonze and Eggers both don’t scream “Bambi”, well, then perhaps you look elsewhere for your creative talent. I'm sure if they had, this movie could have easily been one that didn’t get my attention beyond, “oh, they made Where The Wild Things Are into a movie”, but one that did warrant a marketing blitz akin to the Harry Potter franchise.

At this point, I think they should put their marketing eggs in the hoards-of-people-in-their mid-20’s-to-mid-30’s-are-going-to-want-to-see-this-movie basket. And I only mention with certainty the demographic I'm reasonably familiar with. This is a book was actually written in 1963. So we're talking about a lot of people who loved this book as children, a book that captured the imagination with dark playfulness and childish simplicity. Well, they've all grown up and out of children’s books and their big screen counterparts. And many of us don't have children, let alone kids old enough to take to movies. This seems so obvious to me. Everyone I know already wants to see this movie and they've only released the trailer.

Thank god for people like Jonze and Eggers. I don’t think any studio ever has control over guys like this, which is why it's so great that they're out there and continually manage to get work. I'd like to think some big swinging dick movie exec ultimately signed off on this because the prospect of this material in Jonze' and Eggers' hands got them excited, and not just because they thought they'd end up with a merchandizing extravaganza by following some blockbuster formula.

While I suppose it goes without saying because it hasn't been released yet, I haven't seen this thing... So I'm not exactly sure why this movie and this innocuous article spurned this rant. Especially when I haven't written anything in ages and the entire world's going to shit.

Mr. Mayor

2009-05-21T17:05:00.002-05:00

I'm trying to find inspiration to start writing again. This isn't it, but it will have to do until then:

Bachy

2009-05-12T21:05:00.002-05:00

My bachelor party is this weekend. I have a feeling it will go something like this:

1918!!!!!

2009-05-10T21:13:00.001-05:00

Available for One Week Only

2009-05-10T17:13:00.005-05:00

And I'm not exactly sure when that week began. This was pulled from Pitchfork's "One One Week Only" feature. It's a 17 minute clip of Sigur Ros recording a song from their most recent album live accompanied by a full orchestra. It's pretty good. Pretty beautiful actually, Jonsi Birgisson's voice in particular. With all those impeccable ears gathered in one room I can't help but wonder what the musicians in the orchestra, and the children's choir for that matter, think of the arrangement, the song, and Sigur Ros as a band. Presumably, some of them were at least vaguely familiar with the band. By the same token, I bet several had never heard of them before. Moreover, it's interesting to hear the band members insights as to the impetus for recording this song this way.

Dave

2009-05-10T16:44:00.003-05:00

Animal Collective played "Summertime Clothes" last week on Letterman. This is my favorite song on their latest album, Merriweather Post Pavilion. I love these guys.

Apache

2009-05-09T09:37:00.002-05:00

Sordid

2009-05-04T21:10:00.003-05:00

Grizzly Bear - "Knife" - A Cappella

Broken News

2009-05-03T14:21:00.001-05:00

Three Fingered On Class Trip to Washington D.C.

Cavernous Navel

2009-05-02T15:25:00.013-05:00

Does this pandemic have special meaning for Kosher Jews? Was this prognosticated by the Old Testament? Was the whole purpose of Kosher an anticipated defense for THE chosen people against this horrible plague at this moment in the history of mankind??? Probably not. The Kosher aversion to all things swine is probably just as stupid as it has always seemed.

"I do not always drink beer, but when I do, I drink Dos Equis." What? So because this flaky Spanish guy who goes hiking in a tux, once played jai alai, and once had an awkward moment "just to see what it would feel like", that DOESN'T DRINK BEER OFTEN, drinks Dos Equis when he does, I'm supposed to feel compelled to do the same? Please, I'd much rather heed the beer advice of some couch potato who's never heard of jai alai and doesn't know how to spell tuxedo. I'll never drink another Dos Equis for as long as I live.

The other day, on the television that adorns the wall of the deli I've come to frequent recently, CNN played the most egregiously obscene "news" segment I have ever seen in my entire life. How this was not immediately diagnosed as staggeringly stupid, if not racist, is beyond me. Basically, CNN transparently cast a black anchor/correspondent that I'd never before seen, but who apparently had the requisite "swagga", to sit down with a bunch of Al Sharpton clones to discuss what it is about President Obama that made them so sure he was a "brotha" with "swagga" in spades. As if this framework weren't insulting and stupid enough on it's own quivering legs and feet, the explanations given by this distinguished panel helped push the segment into outer space and into the heart of malignant vapidity.

2009-05-01T17:00:00.000-05:00

Happy Earth Day

2009-04-22T20:28:00.010-05:00

I just started a new job. Said job allows me to take mass transportation to work every day but requires certain sartorial formalities.... $1,000 some odd dollars later and I have a few suits but none of their apparently requisite accessories.

Seamus: I'm sorry but Italians are fuckin' ridiculous. Say you're talking about some ginz from a major metropolitan area, he thinks he's John Gotti. Chicago, New York, Boston, Los Angeles, whatever. It's a guarantee.

Pete: I gotta ask what prompted this?

Seamus: I'm at a bar right now by The Charles River waiting for Moose because she organized - and I'm helping administer - the first ever Race to End Extinction, and this meatball sitting not ten feet away from me is at the bar telling a stranger how he knows "Joe Pesci, De Niro..everybody." He then went on to say, "at no point in my life have I ever had more," in his best Goodfellas brogue.

Pete: Douche.

Pete: Good luck trying not to fight him.

Seamus: As if that's not ridiculous enough, he's talking to a Rasta. An elderly, sophisticated Rasta.

Pete: Wow.

Pete: This is almost too good to be true.

Seamus: It is pretty crazy. It's raining, I'm wearing a suit, I've had to poop all day (not comfortable enough yet in my new office to go number 2) and I don't have a London Fog or an adequate umbrella.... Rather than go home and doodly-plip-plop, I have to work the registration table at this race. Aren't I the picture of perfection?

Pete: I can just say I'm sorry and glad i am not with you right now.

Seamus: This paison is now telling the other guy how he's never had Soul Food, and how he really wants to try some of that "jerk shit". It is very much evident that they have never met before.

Pete: This is seriously making my day.

Marriage Is What Brings Us Together

2009-04-13T20:02:00.007-05:00

I wish these two numb nuts would stop giggling and high fiving so that I could concentrate.... I haven't been to too many bachelor parties, but I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to bring your mom.... Whatever. I guess it's not that big of a deal. I brought my dad... He's cool though. He wears camou, and at least he's not like 50..... I wish I could replace this pacifier with one of those things.... I'm starving.

People won't be People when they hear this Sound

2009-04-11T08:54:00.004-05:00

People won't be people when they hear this sound
that's been glowing in the dark at the edge of town

People won't be people when they hear this sound
that's been glowing in the dark at the edge of town

Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh
Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh
Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh

Kitchen is the cook whoa, ey, oh
Scissors are the barbers, who, ey, oh
Singer is a crook, whoa, ey, oh
The chorus full of actors

Videos

2009-04-08T20:16:00.008-05:00

Yeah, that's right. Videos. Family Guy videos.

The Will Smith parody in this clip is absolutely hysterical.

Wait for the OJ verdict.

A-Rod

2009-04-08T19:18:00.004-05:00

Bill Simmons' latest column

Colbert on Glenn Beck

2009-04-03T16:21:00.001-05:00

The Colbert Report

Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c

The 10.31 Project

comedycentral.com

Colbert Report Full Episodes

Political Humor

NASA Name Contest