It's The End of The Year As We Know It

Well, well, well. The year is coming to an end, and possibly the world unless John Cusack can save us and get us to one of those giant metal boats. I'd have to say that all and all this was a pretty good year for myself (and if anyone of the 3 people who reads this and the 75 others who just stumble upon it had a great year as well, high five!). I had some personal triumphs, made some important changes in my life for the better, and got my academic/professional life kinda somewhat maybe figured out.
Figures that I go through some of these things during the 25th year of my existence, maybe some of it was like a pre-midlife crisis. Hopefully not, but if so it better damn well help me when that shit happens for reals! I made some of the best most consistent and thought out work to date (by the time I write something like this again next year, unless the world ends (see above) I hope that will have trumped that work).
On the horizon I have some pretty daunting things to look forward to but, for once in long time I feel ready to kick that shit in the ass.
Well, gang (and whoever stumbles upon this (again see above)) I hope you had a great year and if not have a way better 2012. There will be more hilarious and awkward stories to look forward to next year. Hell, I'm getting ready to fly home again and maybe there is another chapter in the epic god damn saga of What's that Smell?

Random Stand Alone Story Time!!!!!!

RANDOM STAND ALONE STORY TIME!!!!!!

So here's the deal with this one, I was 20 at the time of this taking place. For Spring Break/Mandi & Megan's 21st birthday we went to Canada with some other people...who made the trip interesting in a few ways. But this is about one specific portion, specifically crossing the Canadian boarder to come back to the United States. Here we go.
We pull up to the window thing with the smug asshole at the gate. He asks why we are coming through, never mind the fact that we were all U.S. citizens and I had North Dakota license plates on my car; apparently I gave him a smart ass answer. Add in my long hair and I guess I was asking for what happened next.
He tells me to pull up ahead and asks us all to get out, then go in this small room. As we sit there I see them start to pull all the shit out of my car and looking at everything. They got to the trunk and pulled out my drawing supplies I kept in there for my Figure Drawing class. I see them pull out the pad and start flipping through it, while looking back at me as I wave. 10 minutes later we were let go. Oh, yeah did I forget to mention that inside that 18x24 drawing pad were dozens upon dozens of drawings of NAKED MEN?! By the way; it was a nude figure drawing class just in case you needed me to fill in the remaining blanks.

Memo to self: in the future (when I get another car) take all drawing pads out of the car when I go on car trips that take me to another country. Otherwise it could get interesting.

YOU CAN'T BE NO NOVICE WHEN YOU HAVE THESE!!!!!

Here are some funny short stories, that involve me in the sense that I was there to witness them. Enjoy. Or not, what the hell.

1. A few weeks ago I went to the dollar store by my house, because I like to buy cheap shit and it makes me feel rich sometimes. Anyways, I bought a few things and then as I was standing in line the magic happened. This guy in a suit grabs Wassabi Cashews and says the following to me (please note I did not engage him first): "AH MAN, WASSABI CASHEWS!!!! YOU CAN'T BE NO NOVICE WHEN YOU HAVE THESE!" Then the woman in front of me starts complaining about the price...of the dollar store. Next thing I know her and Wasabi Cashew guy begin a discussion about where the cheapest place to get shit is. Here is the jist:

Woman: This is outrageous! $1.25 is too much for this. I'm going to go to the dollar store downtown.
Wassabi Cashew guy: Oh yeah that place has great stuff, but its out of my route.
Woman: Me too, but I'm going to make the time to go there.
Wassabi Cashew guy: I can't.
Woman: Actually you know where the best one is? In Chinatown. Everything is 69 cents.
Wassabi Cashew guy: Yeah, but do they have name brand stuff?

Unreal.


2. When I worked at a music store back home, we went to an old folks home to deliver a piano to a resident. As we walked in, I saw photos of all the residents on a bulletin board. Above it was text that said the following: WANTED BY GOD.


3. On the way to meet a sculptor downtown a few weeks ago, my awesome fiance and I were riding a bus through the shitty section of town since it was the most direct route. On the bus happened to be the world's worst rapper/beat boxer. For 15 stops we listened to this guy throw White people and Asian people under the proverbial bus for the plights of Black people while making beats and trying to sing a chorus to his song. The two funniest things about this were the fact that everyone was pissed of that he wouldn't shut up, yet no one said anything because there is nothing like witnessing a train wreck in person. The other funny thing was how his rants made NO factual or historical sense AT ALL. Just to give you a glimpse at this, he actually blamed White people for the assassination of Malcolm X.

Awesome

I've been to my fair share of concerts, and I have some good memories of them. One of them is seeing Guns N' Roses* in 2003 and getting handed a toy by Buckethead. My favorite one though would be the first time I saw Slayer in 2003. I'm not sure what it is that got me thinking about this, maybe it was just deciding to throw on a Slayer album the other day (World Painted Blood) or maybe it just randomly popped into my head during my daily 5 mile journey.
Here's what happened. We were in high school and  had bought tickets to see Slayer on the 2003 Jagermeister tour. I went with my best friend and another friend of ours who decided to bring his dumb ass skanky girlfriend along (boo). My friend Ray and I were separated from our other friend and his skank. We were at the front on the left, while they were on the right. Show starts and bam! Craziness ensues.
When I was going there I was totally set that I wanted to see Dave Lombardo, because he's the fucking man, but as the show started Jeff Hanneman was right in front of me. The entire time. I couldn't believe it. Next thing I know, their set is halfway over and then Jeff Hanneman throws his pick RIGHT at me; the one he had played the entire first half of the show with, and some ass face knocks it away. Then the security guard picks it up and it seemed like time slowed down. The pick seemed to be sitting there for minutes. Just sitting there in his hand. I saw it and went for it, grabbed it while the asshole next to me went for it. I then open my hand and see it sitting there. The security guard saw that Hanneman had thrown it at me and when he saw that I got it, he high fived me. Than to top it off, Jeff Hanneman saw that I got it and screamed "YYYYYYYEAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" at me.

It. Was. Awesome.

Also Ray got a pick from him also.
Than I had to drive the 5 hrs back home as our dip shit friend didn't (and probably still doesn't) have his license, and I wasn't going to trust his girlfriend driving my car. So that's my favorite concert memory, and I still have the pick!


*As much as you can call it Guns N' Roses I guess. It was still a kick ass concert.

Clearing the Air

Maui wowie! It's been almost a month since I wrote on this doo hicky. I would have wrote something sooner, but I a) didn't have anything to mention and b) I just didn't care to.

Since I switched back into fine arts, I've noticed a few things about the people around me, from both my old Graphic Design days and also Printmaking. I know, I know; another thing about this blah blah blah... What I have noticed is that quite a few people who I go to class with simply just don't care about what they are doing or trying to earn (a masters degree), it's amazing. I mean the school we go to is not the cheapest in the world, so you figure that you would want to put in as much time and thought as you can right? I guess not for some people. I mean it's graduate school, it is supposed to be harder and you are supposed to produce better, more thought out, and consistent work. Yet there are some people I know who just don't give a damn. To them it seems like "let's experiment and do whatever we want without trying to become well rounded artists". The only reason I can remotely guess, is because it's easier when your parents are flipping the bill than yourself.
As for Graphic Design, I find it...interesting how students are trained to be ahead of the curve and change peoples way of thinking about social issues, yet everyone does the same dry boring ideas. Processed food this, evil corporations this, blah blah blah. To me that lacks originality in a big way. Also a side note to that; how is it that they are expected to change the world with Graphic Design? Is seeing a poster that was made out of recycled paper telling me I'm a bad person if I don't do this or that going to change my mind? One other thing that I have noticed also is how much fluff people put into their projects. It's super dry and boring, and they make it even more dry and boring by dressing it up using a thesaurus. Bravo.
 I don't know about anyone else, but I see through all of this and it frustrates me on many levels. People who don't give a shit about what they are doing and also people who try to change the world by making you feel bad about yourself. And fluffing up a dry shitty topic.

I promise this is the last time I bitch about this for a while. :)

Raise Your Hand If You're An Artist, Not So Fast...

As I made the switch back into Fine Arts from Graphic Design in the winter of this year (2011, in case anyone reads this down the road), it got me thinking. Are Graphic Designers really artists? I'm not trying to discredit or insult them by any stretch of the imagination, this is just a means for me to ask this question. I mean yeah they do "artistic" things but does it really count if everything you do is on a computer?
Someone who works with type is called what? That's right, a typographer, not an artist. They work with type. Sure they follow the rules of design and layout; how you want the piece to look are pretty much the same thing. Give the piece a first, second, third read; a place for your eye to enter the piece; but does that make you an artist?
If you don't get in there and make something out nothing with pencil, charcoal, ink, paint, clay, metal, etc... but rather you do it with a lasso tool, can you honestly call yourself an artist? From my point of view, since I have been on both sides of the table, I would say no. Everyday that I was just a Graphic Designer, I felt more and more disconnected from being an artist, I just felt like a guy who moved shit around on a screen. My skills (which never were or are the greatest, but they work for me and I try to get the most out of them) seemed or at least they felt like they were eroding.
 I guess that I would have to say the closest way to combine them would be through book arts and bookmaking. Sure you could combine styles and things of that nature into your work, but on it's own, I would have to say that being a Graphic Designer does not make you an artist. And I don't say that or any of what I said as an insult to anyone. This is just something that I have been pondering in my brain.

Books

So I'm in the midst of a sweet class called Book Arts; it's awesome in every since of the word. I have made plenty of books before and it is a very interesting process. In no particular order; you write the book, design the book, assemble the book, etc... if you do it right it looks bitching. Which leads me to ask a question; with books being kind of/gradually replaced by ebooks, why would you want to move away from real books? There are so many things that I feel go against ebooks, sure they have some pros, but largely I would say they aren't good. The typography is HORRIBLE! Did they even consult a typographer at all? Plus you can't interact with it really at all. I mean there is a book called Helvetica, where the goal is to rip the book a part. How would you achieve that with ebooks? *
In short, I would say that this class has made me appreciate books on a whole other level. Being so close to them in other ways besides reading them makes you see how awesome they really are.

*Yes I know I only mentioned like two things, but I've done papers and had discussions about this plenty of times before, so I get tired of typing out my arguments every time. Point is I see why some people like them, but I do not and I feel that I have some very good reasons (most of which I was too lazy to type).

5 More Tales of Heroism

• When I was in 8th grade, we took a class trip to a farm for a hayride I believe. On the way back from said trip, I was sitting in the middle of the bus and I decided to pull the window down and hock a loogie out the window. About 10 seconds later I hear someone in the back scream. The wind pulled the loogie back into the bus and hit someone right in the face.
  
• In high school I took 2 years of German (sprechen sie deutsch?) and in my first year of it something glorious happened. We all basically cheated off of each other and for some reason everyone thought that I knew this particular assignment, well guess what? Fucking no, I didn't. Not even close. So anyways everyone in all directions of me copied this particular assignment. The next day we got called up to the board to answer the questions and wouldn't you know it, everyone who got called up had copied off of my work. We all looked like tards.
  
• In this one, I think I was like 7(ish). I lived in Montana and it was the winter. So we had a big neighborhood snowball fight. Well, I really knocked some kid out with a throw. I stood up and celebrated and laughed my ass off, you know like anyone would do. At the same time I had opened my mouth to laugh, a guy threw a snowball and it landed exactly in my mouth; almost as if it had a homing beacon on it. The sports equivelant would be this: nothing but net. I'm sure you can imagine how it felt.
  
• This one didn't happen to me, but I was there and saw it happen in my mind before it happened. My friend and I met up with some other friends at a frolf course (I hate frolf). We were standing at the basket and one of my friends was about to throw the frisbee and the friend I showed up with was standing at the basket with me. In my mind I saw him getting hit in the face with the frisbee. 3 seconds later I took a few steps to the side and proceeded to watch him get hit in the face. Everyone laughed and I then said I saw it coming, which made everyone laugh harder.
  
• In one of my undergrad art classes, I think it was called Concepts of Art, we had weekly assignments we had to both print off and email to the instructor. They were discussions based off a book we were reading for class. Well, I typed up my assignment at work and meant to print it off at home. So I had to go back to work to email it to myself which I did, only when I do that for myself I put dumb stuff in the message line. Sounds fine right? Well after I did that I emailed it to my instructor like I was supposed to only I forgot to take out my dumb message line. It went something like this : HERE YOU GO YOU BASTARD! Surprisingly it was totally okay with him and he said the following to me "Ha, don't worry. That's not the worst thing someone has emailed me."

Licey Dreds

Skinny bad ass Max/ Fat washed up hack Max

What the hell happened to Max Cavalera? Seriously? Granted that he has been doing making and preforming music for going on 30 years and in that time span people change a lot, but seriously what happened to this dude? I mean he's only 42 but in the last decade he looks like he has aged 20 years and ate maybe 2 people, while also starting to look and presumably starting to smell like a hobo.
For reals, he's let himself go in virtually every way. Gained about 1,000 lbs, lost a few teeth, and his hair, holy shit. I know that he's got some dreds, but man I wouldn't be surprised if he's got a few colonies of lice living in his hair. The changes in him though go much deeper than that.
Now lets look at his music. How could someone go from writing something like Arise or Chaos A.D. something that has some sophistication and depth to it, to writing terrible drop A riffs that take the skill of someone who has played guitar for about a week. It also goes beyond just writing. Live his playing has taken more than a few turns for the awful. The guy is such a liability it's not even funny. He can barely play his own songs anymore. I mean I watched a clip on Youtube of Cavalera Conspiracy playing some old Sepultura tunes, and he more or less just his arbitrary notes. Then there are his vocals. Granted his style of singing is more in the "I swallowed a bucket of gravel" vein, but he was great at it. Then just as his guitar playing started to go down, so did his vocals. He just stands there looking dazed and bloated, while just mumbling incoherent words. What. The. Funkinwaggles?
I guess what I'm wondering, is how can one person start to suck so hard at their job in all aspects? It's kinda sad to me really, because he used to be so great at what he does and now it seems like he's a bloated, greasy, lice infested version of himself.

What's That Smell?: Part Five: Pizza and Smelly Grandmothers

And now for the next thrilling installment in What's That Smell?


This past July I took my semiannual trip back home to visit my family, that end was all that and a bag of potato chips, but as usual in these installments the focus is on my trip to the airport along with the flights and these ones were no exception.
I have decided that I like to just take the hassle out of my day and just take a shuttle to the airport, no fuss no muss. The only thing with that is that I am never the only one in the shuttle of course. In this trip it was fine until we picked up some old lady and her grand daughter, no big deal right? Well it wouldn't have been for 3 things: 1. this lady smelled like 4 days old B.O. (tie in to the title!) 2. she sat next to me (fuck my balls) and 3. her grand daughter fell into the stupid kid age (from when they can talk up to 18). Recipe for disaster. It would have been fine except that this lady couldn't handle the silence of the van ride. No, she had to make weird sounds and also when a fairly common pop song from the 70s' came on she hummed the melody...according to her that was. She made one up that had NOTHING to do with that song at all. Then it got quiet again and she tried to wake her grand daughter up who was sleepy and she said this to her "...you know when I was a kid to stay awake we played a game called Spot the Red Car..." Next thing you know "..one...two...three...four..." FUDGE.
So we get there and I pay $9,000 to check my bags and get fondled as I go through security; just like any other flight right? Everything was all good until we get on the plane, as I discover that I had the bitch seat. To go along with that, the two dicks to the left and right of me decide that the leg room they had wasn't enough and decided to annex mine for their own. Also why is it that when flight attendants come through and offer their cart o'crap they can't comprehend when I don't want anything? I mean, it's a 4 hour flight. Why can't some people just not stuff their faces? Anyways, we land and it's all good. Then I go to look for my connecting flight and run into an interesting gentleman, and that man's name was Bono.
His name was Greg Bonomanson and he was a fat ass who lived in Wisconsin and here is the conversation and chain of events that unfolded.
I'm taking my mac out to eject a DVD while sitting on a bench and Bono comes along and says "Hey, could you scoot down so I could sit down?" I said yes while thinking to myself: I'm on the edge. There are 3 other seats you fat bastard. Then he decided to make some small talk with me since I have something about me where people do that, which I normally don't mind. He asks what I do and I tell him I'm an art student/artist (you can be both right?). Then he proceeds to tell me that he sucks at art so bad that when he sees stuff around that he can do, he thinks it isn't art. How the hell do you respond to that inside of like 5 minutes? Well I didn't. I just indulged him so he would stop talking about it. Then when I left he asked for my name for the following reason: "...that way when you make it big, I can say "I met that guy in an airport before he made it big and he was a cool guy"". Thanks Bono.
The connecting flight was uneventful. Moving on to my return.
The first flight wasn't too bad. I had a row to myself and got complemented by the flight attendant for my Joe Mauer jersey. Once I found my terminal, I had some pizza and called my family so they knew I was there okay, since I'm a good person. My flight was supposed to leave at like 2:30 but board at 1:50 I think. Well it was 2:00 and I saw that my plane wasn't even there. I frantically look around to find out that they had moved my gate! Those assholes.
So I barely made it onto the plane and once again, I was in the bitch seat in row 653 of the plane, but again I got complimented by the flight attendant for my Joe Mauer jersey. On this flight I was seated between a guy who made no noise or movements, and a dude who I can only describe as being an odd combination of Michael Cuddyer and David Putty from Seinfeld. He was a trip. First he stared at the back of the chair in front of him for 45 minutes. Then fell asleep for 45 minutes. Then he went to take a shit. How do I know? He brought the smell back with him (another tie in to the title!). Then he bought 2 bottles of tequila along with a Coke and had them both. In 20 minutes. Yet he strangely just sat still and said nothing.
To fast forward and wrap this up, we landed and I lived.  Tune in Januaryish for the next thrilling chapter of this epic god damn story!

Satch vs. Mustaine

On YouTube, I subscribe to some Guitar Center channel and on it there are some pretty sweet videos. They have this series called In Session or something of that nature. The short and skinny of them is this: get a famous guitar player and have them tell some stories about their tunes, play their tunes, and interact with the audience. Sounds simple right? Well what I am going to do here is compare and contrast two guitarists they had on there; one is Joe Satriani and the other is Dave Mustaine.
So on one hand, we have Satch. Super smart, creative, and a virtuosic player. He also happens to be a nice, funny, and engaging person. He talks about his songs in a technical but very accessible way and also is self effacing about  the whole thing. He also cracks jokes, talks to the fans, describes things relating to gear, music, and inspiration. How cool is that?
On the other hand, we have Dave Mustaine. Again, he is creative and smart; no where near the level of Satch (this is not an opinion, it's a simple truth). Yet during his In Session, he couldn't look more annoyed or bothered to be there. It looked like it was such a chore for him to play his songs, talk about them, and talk about them. Also he is not engaging, not even a little bit. That leads me to ask why? Seriously how bad is his life here? All he is doing is answering questions and telling some stories about his songs. He also can't help but bad mouth ex band mates  (surprise, surprise huh?). I mean the whole point of this is that you are celebrated for your playing by Guitar Center and the fans, and also have a good time. But he can't just have a good god damn time.
I mean I like them both for different reasons, but these things also showcase what type of person/personality they have. One guy can't be having a better time, while another guy just seems to be dragging a dark cloud with him because it is impossible to find joy in something (when he does,  it seems SUPER awkward). I guess if I were able to hang out with one guy, it would be Satch. I've met him and these videos also give an insight into how much a nice guy he is...and what a turd Mustaine is 96% of his day/life.

Snip Snip Snip

I know it's been a while since I updated this thing, but who gives a shit. 3 people read this and I'm willing to risk alienating them (I kid, it's not 3 people, more like whoever stumbles onto this).

This is going to be a short one but a mediocre one at that. This tale is about me cutting my hair. Sounds like a edge of your seat thrill ride right? Good cause it had been 8 years since I had cut my hair as short as it is now. It was kinda nerve wracking and honestly felt really strange, but I'm glad that I did it. I like it as well as does just about everyone I know. The only downside if there is one is that my neck gets cold, and because my hair is really fucking weird I have to either put some sort of product thing in my hair or wear a hat. But other than that it is pretty banging.
Getting it was sort of strange, because I had been talking about doing it for awhile, and asking my fiance's opinion about what kind to get. All of them I saw sucked or looked douchey. So the day before I made a decision that could have made me look god dam stupid; I was going to let the hair stylist do something that she felt looked good on me. It was a gamble, but guess what? It turned out to be winner winner, chicken dinner!
The next task was deciding how to style it with the product in it. After about 3-4 days, I decided on the slicked back look. And I guess it works, because I've gotten lots of compliments...unless they were being facetious; which I doubt...maybe.
Anyways that's my hair cut story.

Next up is the thrilling 4th installment in the legendary and soon to be motion picture tales: What's That Smell?

Who Thinks This Actually Works?

So I was walking towards my studio today to do some printing and I saw these taped all over street lamps. At first I wasn't going to take a photo of this or even write anything about it, but after the fourth one, I stopped and read it and it got me thinking: do these people really think this works? Seriously, when if ever has a gathering of naively idealistic people ever changed how the government, any government does something? At least not in this country. Especially on a level like this. Okay, you get some of these people together and they complain about, say a park or something; I guess if there is enough funds they would do something about it. But this? What makes them think that a few dumb ass people (I would guess no more than 30-40 people would show up for this) has any chance of getting national attention to show what they about the bombing of Libya and how they feel it is wrong? I mean 10 years ago and even now there are protests to end the war(s) in the middle east and bring home U.S. troops, last I checked we were still over there and a few people getting together to whine about in their free time isn't going to change it. I guess my advice would be to just do what the rest of the country does; bitch about it at the dinner table or at work and make it uncomfortable for everyone who doesn't give a damn, because they know you can't do anything about it.

That Is One Tiny Dugout

Two things: a) I love the Minnesota Twins, even when they suck and 4th) As I have mentioned in pervious posts, I rediscovered my love of reading since I moved to San Francisco. I guess it's the culture and the sophistication...yeah that's stupid; but it sounds like something someone here would say. I mostly got back into it because it is cheap and most of my stuff hadn't arrived yet. That being said anytime two things I love merge, that's awesome. For me at least. Only in this particular case it's a bit underwhelming.
The inspiration for this post was from the season finale of Curb Your Enthusiasm when they did the Seinfeld reunion. In the episode Larry David pisses Jason Alexander of by commenting on how his book is so thin it looks more like a pamphlet. That got me thinking, have I ever read a book so thin, that it was really nothing more than a glorified pamphlet? The answer was yes. Yes I have.
There are actually two books that fit this category. One is The Great Gatsby, but that book is so fucking killer you kinda let that slide. The second was Tales From the Minnesota Twins Dugout by Twins legend and resident round belly Kent Hrbek. Now I love reading, the Minnesota Twins, and also Kent Hrbek; but for as good of a book as it was, I was shocked at how thin it is.
How thin is this literary masterpiece? Great question. 300 pages? No. 400 pages? No. Surely it can't possibly be 500 pages? Nope. It's a whopping 186 pages. Yep. that much. Incredible huh? He manages to cram in all of his pre baseball life, baseball life, and post baseball life up until it's release which was just before Target Field opened. Think about that for a minute. He crammed his father dying, making the Twins, becoming an All Star, the nucleus of the Twins championship teams coming together, said teams struggles, finally winning a World Series, his relationship with Kirby Puckett, his relationship with the fans, winning a second World Series, retiring, and doing his T.V. shows. All of this covered in a blistering 186 pages, and that's counting the appendix!
So yeah, there are those types of books out there, and I'm not knocking this one for quality. It might be even more amazing how much he got in here quality wise, but it's just shocking that a well known player who accomplished so much had so little to say. Still though, it's not a bad way to spend like an hour or so.

I've Come To Suck Your Blood

So vampires and werewolves are immortal right? And that means they can never die right? Or at least not very easily. Depending on the author at hand they have any number of weaknesses, but generally they are immortal. So why is it that in the Underworld movies (which I do like, though #1 is the best), these bastards die so god damn easily? More so the vampires than the werewolves. Seriously these guys get a paper cut and they die. I mean in Interview With the Vampire, Lestat has his throat slit and he comes back and is still as much of a bad ass as before. But these guys? I mean they have all sorts of gadgets and vests and stuff, but they can't dispose of a werewolf or you know, stay undead. What.The.Fuck.
Another thing is the character of Marcus. He seems ruthless and bad ass, like Victor, but he gets killed by a helicopter? Did I type that right? Yes. Yes I did. Granted he had a wing shoved through his skull, but the helicopter finished the job. Also why is he the only one who can fly and turn into a bat thing? Speaking of Victor, his death is bizarre. In the first one he dies by getting his head sliced off, kinda makes sense kinda doesn't. Then in the third one which is a prequel he gets stabbed through the mouth...and dies. Then moments later is on a boat...alive.
I know I just spent the last 976 pages ranting about how these immortals really aren't immortal, and also pointing out plot holes, but I do really like those movies. I enjoy how they really aren't the pussy vampires that exist in the world of Twilight, but they seriously get a cold and die. I think the only other vampire character who was weaker in the end was Vlad Dracula in The Historian. Blah!

Neighbors: Part 3: The Return

So when we last left off in this god damn epic story, our neighbors were assholes and also douches. We spoke to management and wouldn't you know it, they got kicked out. And we laughed and we laughed. All was well in the land of #220, the enemies in the far away land of  #221 had been vanquished. It was all good, and then we got some new neighbors. We thought: how will this play out? Because we really don't like being the people who have to be calling in noise complaints 5 out of 7 nights a week but if we can hear you partying clear as a bell through 1-3 concrete walls, and then bring it out on the street; you need to go.
As I said, we got new neighbors and wouldn't you know it, they party as well, and they are international students. It hasn't really been a problem so far. I would say that the biggest thing has been their little dog. I wouldn't say it's the dogs fault, because its owners lock him a closet. Yep. They put him in a god damn closet when they leave. That's nice, lock a tiny dog who wants attention in a closet when you are tired of him. Any who, them partying hasn't been a problem aside from we can hear their bizarro rave music a few nights a week. Seriously, how much Ecstasy do these people have? And do they have enough glow sticks and knee pads for everyone?
I guess aside from those things, they are infinitely better than our previous neighbors. Although it doesn't take much to do that. I apologize that this installment wasn't as thrilling as previous installments, but just you wait Part 4 could be coming down the pipe soon. Also if for some reason you stumbled upon this, go check the previous installments, they have been optioned by a big Hollywood studio and are going to be made into a movie staring Jeremy Irons, Brad Pitt, Jean Claude Van Damme, and Billy Bob Thornton.

Cracker Ass White Bread Honkies

I'm not going to lie. I'm as white as the day is long, always have been. What does that have to do with anything? Well, I started to read an excellent book called Whiter Shades of Pale by Christian Lander (I know it's the second book, I have the first one coming) and in it he points out the "finer" points of us crackers. I always thought that white people were some of the dumbest people and this book reaffirms it. I would have to say that since I moved to San Francisco, every type of white person, trait, and interest I have spotted. From the obscene love of Trader Joes, camping, Whole Foods, trivia,  the World Cup, etc... it's here. I certainly have seen it in every teacher I had in Graphic Design along with almost everyone I knew from that department, and it has definitely carried over to Printmaking. It's not as bad where I come from but it's there. I think that white people as a whole are douches and we love to be smug, elitist, or ironic. Need proof? How many people do you see wearing v neck shirts, skinny jeans, or listening to shitty music?
So if anyone I know reads this, it's not that I think you're a tool, it's just that you are a caricature of a person. You live to be hip and "cutting edge" instead of an individual. And no by listening to an album by some shitty band who recorded it in their basement using a $50 keyboard doesn't make you an individual, or buying clothes at the thrift store, or wearing douchey Italian leather shoes. It just makes a fake person and one who is described to a T in Christian Landers books. So CHEERS! (that folks is intended irony)

Seriously...

Not to be insensitive or anything of that nature, because when someone dies no matter if you knew them, loved them, liked them, or hated them it's sad. But with that said; now that it has been firmly established that Ryan Dunn was extremely irresponsible in his actions that ultimately took his and his friends life, can we stop portraying him as some sort of martyr? Seriously. He was a drunk driver. A drunk driver that has affected who knows how many lives because of his actions. I mean seriously, his fans and friends need to realize and accept that fact. I mean lets just say it was reversed. He was driving home and he was hit by a drunk driver, how much do you want to bet that his fans and friends would call for swift justice on the guy who hit him?
Also while I'm at it, why is that whenever a famous person of any nature dies of some irresponsible self inflicted accident, that they all of a sudden become a saint? Maybe it's being a prisoner of the moment or just seeing this person with blinders on, but people can never seem them as someone who threw their life away. Sure there are always going to be redeeming qualities from other portions of their lives, but they threw it away by not being smarter. As I said earlier, if it was say, your neighbor who died of a heroin overdose, would you view him the same way as someone like Keith Moon? He was a great drummer, but also an incredible fucktard.
So as hard as it maybe, something like this needs to be taken with a grain of salt. He was funny, probably a nice guy, BUT he was drunk driver who killed himself and his friend. People need to see that as well as him being what he meant to those around him.

You Know What You Should Do...

I guess that it might just be in our nature as people, but one thing that seems to bother me is when someone tries to should you to death. What do I mean by that? It's something that everyone has experienced in one form or another. Either you are predominately someone who is doing the shoulding or you are the one getting shoulded. To be honest, everyone falls into both categories at one point or another, but we are usually in one most of the time.
So what does it mean? Well, say you are in any situation, it doesn't matter, really. What happens is you relay it to a friend, a family member, coworker, group of people, or the local hobo. This person again, doesn't matter and is interchangeable. You tell them of your woes and then their reply goes something like this ..."You know what you should do? You should do this (insert some dumb ass thing that is very easy for them to suggest since they are not in the situation at hand)"...
How many times has this happened to you? How many times have you done it? I would say a lot in both counts.  I'm not really sure how or why this happens, but it is rather lame since this person who plays a member of The View in your life usually just spots off simple here say answers and when you explain by saying something like this "Yeah but, it's not that easy." They just stare at you like you are a deaf mute. I'm not sure why this happens but, it does and it gets rather annoying rather quickly. If anything it just adds to your problems. God damn people.

Brains, Brains, Brains!!!!!

This post is more of a me thinking out loud (on a blog, otherwise this would sound crazy) so just go with me on this one. So...I love zombies. Movies, books, whatever; I find them fascinating. I like the various takes that authors can have with it. You can focus on the survival aspects of it or the overwhelming numbers you'd face, and the list just goes on and on. There is one thing that puzzles me though: how the fuck are they alive if they are dead? I mean seriously. Can someone explain that to me. Because the thought is that a virus or whatever element the author chooses, brings them back to "life"; that's fine, I get it. But without trying to get to sciencey here and breaking out my internet PHD (coughs), from what I gather is that your brain controls everything in your body. It tells you when to breathe, move the joint in your pinky, or when to fart. So you die and everything is shutdown never to come back. But a zombie is able to reanimate and do everything a living person can do. How the hell does that work? If the central piece of equipment needed to live is turned off, how can you eat, stumble, or move your hands? I mean yeah it's fiction, and just like vampires every author has their own interpretation (which is good), but that little piece has always made me think.


P.S. Sunlight was never fatal to vampires until Nosferatu; again they took creative liberties, since it was an illegal version of Bram Stoker's Dracula. In that book it, just annoyed him.

Spring Cleaning

As I was doing some spring cleaning today/throwing shit I should have thrown out a long time ago, I decided to go through my portfolio and I was surprised at what I found. I found drawings and prints from what seems like another lifetime ago (even though it was only 5-6 years ago). Since I had a drawing instructor who was a Grade A dick/butthole/turd, I was under the impression that everything I had done back then sucked big time. I was actually surprised at what I found. I mean yeah sure some of it did suck and still does, but some of it wasn't half bad. It also brought back memories of the classes and experiences of things I was going through. I mean I found a picture of something that I used for reference material in my first ever drawing class in college; that blew my mind! The drawing was long gone, since it too sucked.
Under my bed, I was going through crap from my graduate school time (which is still ongoing btw) and found a bunch of sketch books from my time studying graphic design; whew. Those things were filled with some stinky shit. Yeah, some good to great stuff came out, but damn that other stuff, what a bunch of shit. I also looked at every print that I have ever done (just to keep everyone up to speed, I'm a printmaker). That was nice to look at. More so than my drawings and definitely more so than my graphic design work, I can see a nice and very steady progression through my work. It made me happy. It also gave me the motivation to keep going and get better.

Haven't I Already Seen This?

The summer is coming upon us and so to is the summer movie season. This season there seems to be a bunch of sequels (aren't there always though?). This summer one of the most anticipated ones is The Hangover Part II. Now as of this writing it hasn't come out yet, but I have already seen it. How is that possible? Simple. I saw it in 2009, it was called The Hangover. This seems to be with the exception of Escape From New York/Escape From L.A.,  one of the few instances where the writers and directors are literally giving the general public the middle finger and daring us to spend money on something that we have already seen. This isn't an instance where it's a similar plot or type of movie out already, IT IS THE SAME DAMN THING! If you don't believe me I have provided the posters for each movie. Look similar? Thought so. What about the trailers? Yup. What about the plot? Oh this time they are in Thailand. Never mind, totally different movie. Just forget about the fact that the same things are going to happen to the characters. I mean look in the poster/trailers, Ed Helms is missing a tooth and then gets a Mike Tyson tattoo! I'm sure that it will still be funny even though you will be able to telegraph the whole movie. Even though most people seem to realize that it is essentially the SAME movie, it will still make an ass ton of money and hopefully not spawn  a third installment. Also quickly, is there any other movie out that shouldn't have had a sequel more than this movie? I mean Alvin and the Chipmunks The Squeakquel was probably more of a departure from the first on than this movie will be! And this will probably make me seem like a hyporcite, but I am sure that I will eventually end up seeing it and laughing at it. Then I can just count myself in as one of the people that Todd Phillips (whose work I like BTW) gave the finger to.

U.G.L.Y. You Ain't Got No Alibi!

Not to slag on anyone who posts off of blogspot, because it is really cool that you can browse all 95 million jillion of them, BUT some of them look like pure dogshit. I'm not referring to the content because the great thing about this whole doo hickey is that anyone can write about anything and it doesn't matter; much like I do (really, though mine (both of them) are pure god damn gold). What I mean is that some people have some EXTREMELY ugly ass looking blogs. Terrible, terrible typeface choices (not completely their faults), ugly ass color schemes, and shitty photos. I'm not trying to say that both of mine are all that and a bag of salty potato chips, but I feel that since I go to a douchey art/design school and have been studying this stuff for longer than 2 days, I kind of know how to make something look like...not dogshit. So again, I'm slagging anyone who reads this and has a blog because it's great that you do even if it's about going to Walgreens for the day, it's just that your blog might look like ass.


And yes I am aware that writing this has put me in a glass house.

Hilarious!!!!!

Laugh tracks. Is there anything lamer? Okay maybe there is but for the purposes of this, there isn't. If you are a television producer or better yet an actor or writer who is involved with a shitty show that utilizes a laugh track, do the world a favor and quit. If I were associated with a show that had anything to do with a laugh track, I might change my name and get plastic surgery. Seriously it's that lame. Laugh tracks are used on shows that aren't, well funny. Not even a little bit. If a show uses a laugh track, it means that it's not funny and they have to tell you where the "jokes" are. Maybe if the writers wrote better jokes/stories shows wouldn't have to use them. Plus, if you think about it, the people who are on those laugh tracks have easily been dead since the 1970s' and that's being generous. Why can't shows just do one of two things: 1) Get a studio audience, or 2) Be like Scrubs and actually be well written so that you can figure out the jokes on your own and when you are supposed to laugh.

(Applause)

The Second Coming?

So apparently the messiah has already come back to Earth and he has done so in the form of one Nikki Sixx. Yep, that Nikki Sixx. The same guy who wrote songs like 10 Seconds to Love, Hell on High Heels, and lets not forget Girls, Girls, Girls. Really who would have seen this coming? In the 80s' he was busy sucking ass at playing bass but was writing good songs and also the occasional solid album. And he was also doing mountains of heroin. Somewhere along the line, I would have to say maybe...1992ish, he started to have this shift from being you know, a dip shit, into someone who was all of a sudden darker. Then recently he started to shift into becoming this guy who tries too hard to be deep and philosophical in just about every way possible. I think the first real indicator of this would be around the time he wrote The Heroin Diaries (great,great book all around btw; not complaining about that) and that stupid album that went along with it. Now flash forward a few years and he has followed it up with a book that looks very redundant called This Is Gonna Hurt. Why does it seems redundant? Because most everything you need to know about him was covered in either The Dirt, The Heroin Diaries, Behind The Music, or one of the other Motley Crue guys' books.
Reading the press releases for this he seems to be so full of himself these days. Like everything he touches or conceptualizes is a work of pure genius. I would counter that by saying he has people around him who can't give him fair and honest constructive criticism. That or he does and he doesn't care. We get it, you had a really messed up childhood. So did thousands of others, big deal. The funny thing is that in Motley Crue he has only touched upon these "deep" topics in about 2-3 songs tops.
So in closing, I would like to say that while I do like Motley Crue along with The Dirt and The Heroin Diaries, this dude needs to realize that his shit does stink and he is not some creative super genius who is deep and philosophical. He's a guy who is full of himself and trying to be something more than he really is; which is a guy who plays average bass, hasn't really written a kick ass song/album by himself in about 15-20 years, wrote a great/messed up book, and looks like he hasn't aged a day since 1990. And he is NOT the messiah like he perceives himself to be.

Are You Ready To Read? I Said Are You Ready To Read?!

In 2001, an excellent book about excess came out, that book was called The Dirt. To say the least it was crazy. Much like anything that is successful, it spawned other books similar to it. Like when Metallica did S&M and everyone and their mom made a "symphonic rock album", or when Survivor became a hit it spawned "reality TV" (these are GAME SHOWS!, that's a different story), or how Toy Story became popular and other 3-D films were released; okay that's enough examples. ANYWAYS, it lead to more rock stars than you can shake a cocaine covered stick at "writing" their autobiographies. Here is a short list that have been release since The Dirt came out in 2001:

Kiss and Make Up - Gene Simmons
The Heroin Diaries - Nikki Sixx
This Is Gonna Hurt - Nikki Sixx
Tommyland - Tommy Lee
Clapton - Eric Clapton
Slash - Slash
Tattoos & Tequila - Vince Neil
Mustaine - Dave Mustaine
My Appetite For Destruction - Steven Adler
Life - Keith Richards

Obviously this is not all of them, I mean Bobby Blotzer from Ratt wrote one, Steven Adler's mom wrote one (for reals?), Steven Tyler is writing one, Tom Hamilton is writing one, Duff McKagen is writing one, and I've heard that Ace Frehley and Peter Criss are both writing one. The real kicker is that they ALL say that "...this isn't going to be about backstage drama; who did what drugs, who slept with who..." yeah and that sitcom Emeril Lagasse had was great. BAM!
Not that I am one to say that people shouldn't do this but for reals, when multiple people in the same band write an autobiography what is the point? Also this is directed to Motley Crue; yes The Dirt came out ten years ago but do we really need FOUR more books from you guys? Half of it is going to be a recap of the main book while you catch us up on recent things and bitch about your band (that's how all of these go btw).
I know I just complained about these things but I do like to read them. They tell me some combination of these things: 1) save your money 2) do drugs in moderation 3) don't get AIDS 4) casually document your life so you can throw people under the bus later and in a public setting.
I guess what I'm saying with all of this is that I love reading! Unless it's brail, that shit is hard. And also I want to check out DLR's book Crazy From the Heat, I heard is awesome!

Two Thumbs WAAAAAAYYYYYY Down

This is something little and maybe stupid; BUT I think that the "thumbs up" sign needs to go away. Really what does it mean? It could mean: "Yes! Those cobras attacked me but I'm fine!" or it could mean "Yep, I shit my pants and these boxers are going in the trash." But instead what we have are total and complete douche nozzles on sites like facebook giving the thumbs up in dumb ass poses in about 90,000 of there photos to be funny. Guess what? You're not and you are ruining a very useful and easily understood gesture. You know what is funny? Puppies, Alf, Black Gallagher, the entire country of France, and America's Funniest Home Videos (the Bob Saget version naturally). If I were to come across someone giving me the thumbs up, because of facebook I would interpret it as this " Hey! I'm a fucking idiot, look at me trying to be funny!"

Blast From The Past

I was surfing the interweb the other day and ended up on youtube for awhile and instead of watching dogs play with shopping bags or guys getting hit in the garbage, I was watching something that made me hate when I grew up. I was watching a ten part "best of" series of Headbangers Ball (the old one) and it made me feel bad that I missed out on such a great show. No instead I lucked out and got stuck with that show the second time around and boy does that suck ass.
Back in the early 90s' they had great, great ass rock/metal/alternative stuff that they just don't have anymore. Bands like Metallica, Megadeth, Slayer, Anthrax, Alice In Chains, Prong, Pantera, Sepultura, Faith No More, Soundgarden, and the list goes on. Plus there were good interviews and segments that made the show entertaining, you got to see and get to know some of these bands; now, I don't want to know these bands. They are all generic knobs who sound the same and look the same, the show is so generic and run of the mill. It's screaming this, downtuned guitars this, and blast beats galore. Plus it's like you can't even acknowledge the fact that you like music from the 80s'-90s'. What the hell is the deal with that? It makes me cringe. I don't want to say that all newer bands suck giant wieners BUT for the most they do and it's not just heavy bands. Throw in the alternative bands, the indy bands, and the metal bands. It really is a sad state of affairs these days. Anyways that's my little rant, fuckin' MTV.

The Brown Sound!

Van Halen. Shit they used to be awesome. I feel unfortunate that I was born too late to experience them in their prime. I mean they had everything. Great songs, great vocals, and obviously great harmonica playing. If you watch some old videos of them playing in the Roth era, man there wasn't thing that they couldn't do. To quote John Mellencamp "...even their bad songs are good..." Hell yeah to that statement.
Of course like any band they went through changes; like from Van Halen to Van Hagar to Van Cherone, finally back to Van Halen...minus a key member who really wasn't all that key I guess. We've seen DLR go from the definition of a rock star to a bald guy. And we've seen Eddie turn into a fricken weirdo. He gets cancer, blames it on his metal guitar picks, does music for a porno, then gets a haircut and gets sober. All in like the span of a weekend.
It's great that DLR is back, but it seems like it's too late. Plus since the man with two first names isn't there to play bass and lend his awesome backing vocals; it just feels.....weird. Anyways this was all brought upon because a) Van Halen is bad ass b) I love Van Halen, and c) I was watching some bad ass Eddie Van Halen guitar videos. I mean he was playing "Eruption" and in the middle he starts to improvise and  he starts playing what turned out to ultimately be "Mean Streets". Damn that sucks when one person is that good.

Movie's For D-Bags

Generally speaking, I do not like most things relating to the arts the first time I experience it. Not sure why, I just do. Then I warm up to it and have an intense infatuation with said piece for anywhere from a few weeks to a few months, then it cools down and I still appreciate it with spurts of me rediscovering why I fell in love with it. The only thing that I really loved the first time I experienced it was Death Magnetic by Metallica. With all of that said, there is one movie that holds a special place in my heart, not because I grew to love it, but rather because I dislike it a little more each time I see it. That movie would be The Boondock Saints.
The first time I saw it was in 2003 and by that time the movie had been out for several years with almost no one knowing of it. My older sister described it and I thought it sounded good. Gave it a shot and thoroughly enjoyed it, and it stayed that way for a few years. Then something happened; this movie that no one had heard of became popular. That is not the movie's fault, but rather it's the people who like it. D-bags. Total complete d-bags. People who have big stupid posters of the movie, tons of shirts, and lame tattoos. And they act like it is the most incredible and deep movie of all time. As a result I can barely stand to see this movie anymore because of these people. It was never a "great" movie, I mean I read a review of it on IMBD or Rotten Tomatoes or something and it was summed up as "...either you love this move or you hate it..." That is totally true. Now I find myself loathing this movie and the people who enjoy it. I never saw the second one but my fiance's sister saw it and she said it was awful. Maybe it will attain legendary stature by these same turds in time. Until then I will continue to like this movie less and less instead of liking it more and more like I do with everything else.

Kid Show Business Is Back!

So the new semester is underway and even though it is roughly 4 or 5 weeks in, god damn it I'm loving it. Again it's only like a month into my new major, but I really feel like I made the right choice. I'm free from having to sit behind my computer all damn day hoping that I stumble upon something great. Now I am back making art that I really like to and that I also think is good, boarding on immaculate (please note that I am not that full of myself). I missed getting my hands dirty doing things like drawing and print making. Even though I have left the realm of graphic design, I still have been able to incorporate some things from that into what I'm doing now, and also to sprinkle some wisdom on my fellow printmakers. It's also rather banging that I have my own studio space. I guess it gives one motivation to do work or at least more of it. Plus the people I have met are really nice and helpful. The same thing(s) could not be said about everyone in my former almost kinda future occupation. The best thing to come out of this though is that I am no longer a negative bastard like I was for all of those months. Instead I welcome the challenge of coming up with something new and also being able to actually draw, print, or just make something using my mind and hands. Something that I had not been able to do for over a year.

NFL, seriously...

God damn Super Bowl. What the hell? I mean I know just about one year ago I wrote this same thing. Almost every commercial sucked ass, and the half time show. My god, the half time show. Seriously, American football is like the most macho, ass kicking sport this side of the WNBA so why don't they get some GOOD bands. Seriously, what makes them think that the Black Eyed Peas were a good choice? They come out dressed like they are from the future, they barely move around the stage, they have weird people with glow stick outfits, invite Slash out to play about 10 seconds of "Sweet Child O'Mine" then kick him off the stage, and sing like shit. C'mon NFL. Get your shit together and get some cool bands. The Who were a good start last year, but this whole Super Bowl was almost a dud. I think this is the first time that I haven't watched the game exclusively; I did homework and took a crap.
Well, since this game marks the end of the football season, there is a dark void that can't be filled until baseball season starts. I mean hockey does what it can, but nothing can replace football. And with the uncertainty regarding the CBA, this could be it for awhile. NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Has Somebody Been Kidnapped?!

A few days ago I was watching the newest Louie C.K. special on Comedy Central. It was okay; not nearly as good as some of his previous ones, but he did briefly touch upon something that was interesting to think about. The point was about how impatient people are with cell phones and how you can communicate with people hundreds or thousands of miles away almost instantly. It's not just with phones either; think about how many different ways you can talk to someone one who may live in a different state than you in the blink of an eye. You have cell phones, landlines, text, instant messaging, Skype, etc... That's pretty good damn incredible, especially if you stop to think how far and how fast we have come with communicating over distances.

A few hundred years ago if say the King of England wanted to communicate with the governor of New York; it would take weeks to get the message to him and weeks to hear back. Around the same time you also had things like horse back, which was kind of faster. Then Morse Code, telegraph wire, the first phones, and I'm sure there are more I can't think of. The incredible thing is that even as technology has advanced it hasn't advanced as evenly. I just finished reading this awesome book about the Cuban Missile Crisis called One Minute to Midnight, and in it the author talks about how slow communications were between Washington D.C. and our own Navy. They were able to communicate faster with Moscow than they were with our own ships. What's the deal with that? (My inner Jerry Seinfeld)

Once you start going down the line from the 1960s', things start to increase at an incredible rate. More and more satellites were launched and technology leapt at increasing rates. Next thing you know the affordable portable phone is developed, the Internet gets going and changes how we communicate. Gone are the days of handwritten letters, no matter how cool or touching they are. Your first thought is something along the lines of what Jim Gaffigan said: "What the hell? Has somebody been kidnapped?!"

Now we can talk to anyone anywhere at anytime in virtually anyway. You want to instantly message them? Done. You want to talk to them? Done. You want to see them while you talk to them? Friggin done.  Plus it's not like this is going to stop. Smart phones are taking for example the very computer I am typing this on (Mac Book Pro for those wondering) and shrinking it down to a hand held device. Who knows where it will go next. Also it is cool because around the time that I was writing this my fiance was visiting South Korea and I was able to talk to her. How cool is that? Seriously. She was on another continent separated by the biggest ocean on Earth and I could talk to her.

I guess I just thought if you stopped and really thought about it for like a minute, this is sort of cool. Something that took weeks to months or even years, is done before you can blink. Plus it would be really funny to see some of those people who probably die if they didn't have a god damn cell phone and had to wait on some dude showing up on a horse.

Weedely Deedely Deedely Weeeeeeeeee! (Guitar Noises)

One of the few things in life that I know that I am legitimately good at (bordering on genius, okay not that great) is playing guitar. Since I was a little Josh (ages 0-10) I was enamored with it. The first real memory I have of a guitar and knowing it was cool was when my family lived in England or Great Britain or the United Kingdom or....I think that's all of their names. I looked up and saw this bad ass (what my stupid brain told me was bad ass at least) purple guitar; it looked like one of those lame ass C.C. DeVille guitars in retrospect, but I was hooked.

Flash forward to my tenth birthday.

I bugged my parents and finally I got one. It was a cream colored Fender Stratocaster, which I still have and plunk around on when I come home to visit, along with a little Crate practice amp. Immediately I was awesome. By awesome I mean that I made it sound like shit just by looking at it. The first time I broke a string I thought that I was going to get in trouble because I was a stupid child. I didn't tell anyone and kept it in it's case for a while. Eventually I let the cat out of the bag...and caught a beating. Just kidding?
Eventually my mom got me signed up for lessons with my first teacher Ryan. The first thing he asked me was what I knew, my answer: "I can play D." Swish. Well, in my eyes things progressed quickly. I was learning quickly and was one of the few people who legitimately loved to practice. I played all of the standard AC/DC tunes but soon got bored. Around this time Ryan moved to Minneapolis and I took lessons from the guy who taught him, Jeremy. He was great. He challenged and pushed me into newer territory making me better.
Also around this time I began to jam with some people from school, doing the shitty high school band thing. I don't want to say that I was hot shit or anything, but I kinda was. I mean one day the other guitar player's (at the time) was cool enough to give me a ride home and he said this: "...you know you guys are not bad, well those other guys are not bad; but you I can tell, you really like to play and practice..."

Flash forward to my sophomore year of high school.

I played football and broke my god damn knuckle. No guitar for like 6 months. Bye bye callouses, muscle memory, speed, accuracy, blah blah. I did make a triumphant return and I feel that I play better than before even with limited range of motion, just because I had to relearn things instead of just going all guns blazing.
Around this time I also made my first upgrade in the guitar department by winning a music store contest; by being the only one to enter it. Hey $200, is $200. Also my English teacher found out that I played guitar so she hounded me to come in and play for the class; no joke she did. So I did and ended up playing for two classes and missing my lunch. I also did this for a speech class. Needless to say my superstar skills and devilishly handsome looks got me some attention from the ladies.
Our little shitty band made an upgrade by getting my friend Ray to be the other guitar player. We both took lessons from Jeremy and we had a healthy competition between each other which helped us get better.

Flash forward to "real life".

Once college came, boy things changed. Gone were the days of playing for hours on end with out responsibility. It became more of when I could, although I always tried to play at least one hour a day no matter how busy. It got easier to do once I started working at a music store and teaching lessons because I was playing upwards of five hours a day and some of my students were really good. Now that I'm in grad school and inching towards real real life, who knows how much time I will have. I do know that no matter what I will always love to play it is one of my first loves and something that I know I am really good at; there is no doubt about that. The shitty thing is that when school is in session, I can only play maybe 3-5 hours a week if I'm lucky. On breaks "Whoa Nelly" do I go to town. I'd say about 10-15 hours a week. The first few days I suck balls (in my mind), but at about day three or four my callouses are back in full form along with speed, accuracy, and my memory. Side note: I have this game I play with myself. I like to learn tune all the way through, play it about 900 times and then not play it for about  six months to a year. Then I try to play it off of memory without the aid of a book. The first time or two I just sort of feel it out, but by take three I have it all the way back.

So as time has gone by I have also upgraded just about everything and gotten rid of almost nothing. I have somewhere around 10(ish) guitars and about 6-7 amps. Even though most aren't really worth a damn or even "sexy" guitars I love 'em all for different reasons. They all have different sounds and feels. I should probably stop getting them because I only have two hands and can only play one at a time, and it gets a bit costly to maintain them. But I love it, it's like crack.

I Aim To Hit You In The Face In One Minute!

A few days ago I saw True Grit (bad ass movie by the by). This little doohickey is not going to be about the movie per say because my url is not Rotten Tomatoes or IMDB; it's about the old bastard who sat next to me and tried to give everyone around him a play by play of the movie.
My mom and I get into the theater and it is surprisingly full. Not that that is a bad thing, it's just in my whole movie going life, I have only seen a handful of full movies. As we sat down, I took stock of the spaces around us. My mom had the aisle and I was next to her. Next to me there were two seats and behind us there were two seats. Those two behind us went to a younger couple; so I realized that there were only those two next to me and that was it. Then about 5 minutes into the movie Father Time and his bag of bones wife stroll in. I could see them waiting for a moment of light to look around and then like lighthouse in a storm they spot those two seats. In the blink of an eye they were there. SHIT!
Well, they sat down with Mr. Wrinkles sitting next to me, and this was the start of me resisting the urge to hit him in the face. The man was one of those skinny old guys but breathed like a 900 man being wheeled in on a forklift. Then he ate so ungodly loud. My favorite part was on deck though: play by play.
Since True Grit was originally made in 1969, this guy thought that it was going to be a straight remake. Nope, guess again old man. This version is a "re-imagining" if you will. It is supposed to be based more on the book than the original (Note: as of this post I have not seen the original 1969 version or read its source novel). Every time some scene that looked vaguely, VAGUELY familiar to this old bastard he would do a play by play of it for his wife while forgetting to dial down his voice. If that was not annoying enough, he was wrong every single time. Let me say that again. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. My personal favorite was near the end when the Maddie character falls down the hole and sees that dead body. She notices that it has a knife on it. As she tries to get it she notices some snakes. The movie theater narrator (the old bastard next to me) says and I quote "Oh, watch this. There is going to be one snake that jumps out at her." Not only was there not one snake, more like 12; it didn't jump out at anyone. They just sort of fell out of the body.
As we left the movie theater I wanted to get a good look at this bastard. Just then I got the urge to punch him in his gizzardy neck. But I swallowed my hate knowing that I would never see him again. The moral of this story is that you should KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AT THE MOVIES! Except if its the previews because who cares about that shit? And much like babies and children, the elderly are very annoying.

What's That Smell? Part Four: De Plane! De Plane!

Well, well, well; first blog of the new year and also this marks the completion of the first whole year of this masterpiece of writing. Time flies and I have written some truly breath taking things; my god they are so beautiful. They make Olivia Munn look like a man by comparison. Anyways, new year; new tale so here we go!

(Imagine this with laser sound effects in the beginning)

Date: January 3rd 2011
Time: 4:30 am  (PST) - 9:00 pm (CST)
Place: San Francisco, Seattle, Minneapolis, Grand Forks

So I'm preparing for my epic journey back to the motherland. My chariot is going to be the awesome Super Savers Shuttle; you know the blue vans where you nearly die reaching your destination. The guy was late, no big deal though. My flight was at 7:00 am and I was the first one to be picked up out of what turned out to be 4 people. The Russian Bear ( my driver) finally picks me up and I wave bye to Mandi only to sit outside for another 10 minutes as he plugs in the next location on the GPS. Finally we get going, and we pick up who turns out to be a run of the mill dumb as dirt sorority girl*. Next up some old self righteous woman who felt the need to say the following things time and time again: 1) "I'm going to Thailand to teach English." 2) "I got a call saying that they were going to pick me up in 5 minutes. He didn't show up so I tried to call this number because I thought that he missed me." (She said this like the driver was deaf and or not there) 3) "I don't get it, my flight is from SFO to L.A. and then to Thailand; why do I have to go to the international terminal? I don't get it?" Our fourth was a lady who much like myself said nothing, except what airline we were flying.

Um, so the flight to Seattle was not bad I guess. The airport sucked big fat wieners. Then as we are about to board the flight to Minneapolis they decide to abruptly change the boarding time to 30 minutes later. YEY! I love sitting in this shitty airport with a Hudson News stand! (This was what I thought). We then get on the flight and here is where the fun begins.

I'm riding bitch. Again like from SFO to Seattle. Super duper. Then I try to watch Predators and find out my MacBook Pro's disc drive is on the fritz, looks like I'm reading the whole time. As we get ready to land the same dance begins: I need to get the fuck out of there to find my terminal and people won't move their god damn asses; "Let's just take our time; that's how accidents happen." SON OF A B! This was a problem because for my next connecting flight was scheduled to depart in about 45 minutes and boarded in about 15. So I race literally through the Minneapolis airport stopping only to pee. I then reach my terminal which was conveniently located on the exact opposite side of the airport. Once I got there, two things happened. 1) My flight time was changed to 30 minutes later. So I rushed through the airport looking like a tool for no reason. 2) There was this guy who looked 100% like a turd bomb teacher of mine, all the way down to the hipster glasses. He resembled him so much that if anything had happened to him, this guy could fill in for him and no one would be the wiser.

Finally, the flight is boarded and who sits by me? Not the guy I just mentioned. I know it seemed like I was going that route. It's this old fart who decided that he was going to annex my leg room and claim it for his chair. He then decided to play with his cell phone and text. Good god that was hilarious. His phone had the classic old guy leather case on it that was cool for about 1.5 hours in 1995; and he took about 5 minutes to send a simple three line reply. How do I know? It was to me. Just kidding, that would have been weird. Seriously though I was so flabbergasted by it that I couldn't take my eyes of it. It was like a car accident almost. So painful to watch this guy try to be hip with all the youngens. Although the next thing he did was more on the side of sad and tragic. After he annexed my leg room for the greater good of seat 5C, he decided he wanted to get some work done and he whipped out his brief case. No problem except for the fact that his brief case contained a few pens, a crumpled magazine, and a legal pad with some scribble phone numbers and names. It reminded me of that episode of Seinfeld when Kramer went to work and the only thing in his brief case were crackers. So he went to work and started off on a real hot streak, writing down a name or two. Then for the next 25 minutes he would stare into space and then scribble something for two seconds and stare off for five more minutes. Having accomplished a mountain of pressing paper work he called it a day. About 20 minutes later we land and go through the same song and dance. "Hey lets just stand here for awhile".

Thus concludes the journey from San Francisco to Grand Forks. Will anything exciting/annoying/crazy happen on the way back? Stay tuned!

* I will go into depth at some of the brilliant comments she made later. Good stuff.