amplified to rock
The stinkin' server has been down here at work, so I've got two hours of work to make up. Bleh. But before I descend back into corporate slavery, here's something from Matt: an Ebay auction featuring...
a moldy lemon?
Yes, this confirms it: some people will buy ANYTHING.
Matt emailed me to let me know that the moldy lemon is being sold by his friend Geoff. Geoff is not just a moldy lemon seller, oh no. He is also in the band Fuck. I feel like such a scenester, I've met him.
Stupid server's down *again*. At least the internet connection is working this time.
Anyhow, I'll be at the Mil Mulliganos show tonight. If you will be in Chicago, you should check it out. It's at Magoo's Underground Lounge, 945 W. Newport, in good ol' Wrigleyville. I'll be easily identifiable, as I am wearing my fluorescent orange boots today. You can spot me a mile away in the fog!
This interview with Stephan Jenkins of the alterna-crap band Third Eye Blind has been making the rounds of the indie rock weblogs (
Catherine's pita and
us|against|them is where I've seen it). It's all pretty funny, Jenkins shows what a complete jackass he is throughout, but my favorite part is when he says that Third Eye Blind is right up there with Fugazi in terms of how DIY they are. Yeah, Stephan, last time I looked, Fugazi was regularly accepting corporate sponsorships and playing shows where the ticket price is a ridiculous $65.
Today in the "work funnies" category:
Someone performed a spell check on a chapter. This is not bad, strange, or unusual. However, it turned into a problem when this person managed to replace some words that shouldn't have been replaced. Every time the chapter said "cock" (which, amusing though it is, is a common term in boiler operation) it was changed to "chock." The best, however, was the instance where "flame-establishing period" was changed to "blame-establishing period." I have had many of those in my lifetime...
A little over five months ago, I wrote
this business, which mentions the way I count time. Five months and five days from now it will be Christmas Eve. I vividly remember writing that piece. This means that Christmas Eve is not far away, and if Christmas Eve is not far away, then New Year's is not far away, and considering that my tentative plans for the Beginning of the Real New Millennium involve being with Ray, who I am still missing in the worst way, then I can come to the conclusion that IT IS NOT LONG UNTIL I SEE RAY AGAIN!
Weblog o' the moment:
kerplink.pitas.com. Lots of fun stuff to follow, including some interesting book recommendations that caused me to go and spend a bunch of money on books last night. I am now looking forward to receiving four Lemony Snicket books in the mail.
I remember seeing the promo for
Coyote Ugly when I went to see
Gone in 60 Seconds a month or two ago. (Stop laughing, I didn't get to pick the movie that day.) I sat through the whole chicks in tight tank tops working at a bar thing and, at the end, thought "wow, chicks wearing tight tank tops working at a bar! how empowering!" And then I forgot about the whole thing. Until
Fred brought it up again.
It doesn't surprise me that the movie was written by the same writer responsible for Showgirls, a movie with more gratuitous titty than I had ever thought imaginable and one of the most laughable sex scenes in the history of cinema (I'm talking about the Elizabeth Berkley/Kyle McLachlan coupling in the swimming pool, the one where she's humping his stomach). Don't get me wrong, I love Showgirls. I think it's a laugh riot. That movie actually inspired me to go to the shops at Caesar's Palace and stand in front of the Versace store ("Nomi, it's 'Ver-sa-chay'") gazing longingly at whatever 70s looking ickiness was hanging in the window.
But there's bad taste that's somehow good (Showgirls, John Waters movies, the campy classics of Ed Wood) and there's bad taste that's just awful. Coyote Ugly is bad taste that is just awful. What I really dislike about it is that I gathered from the preview that women are supposed to feel empowered by the movie. I see very little that's empowering about a bunch of chicks in tight tank tops working at a bar. It's fluff and it should be presented as fluff.
I didn't mention this last night, so I'll mention it now: there's an update in the
journal. It's mushy!
From
this listing of speed traps: a very true observation about a
speed trap in the town next to the town that I work in. It is a well-known fact among employees of my company that the East Hazel Crest police sit on Center Street and pull people over for going over the extremely low speed limit of 20 mph. East Hazel Crest is an incredibly dinky little town, so speeding tickets are probably one of the only ways they manage to generate revenue.
Weird Nanette Habits #1: I talk to inanimate objects.
From a recent exchange with the color printer:
"It looks like you need some paper! Here, I will give you some paper!"
I got an email letting me know that Ray's
Klein bottle is on its way. Those fond of math humor will find
this page amusing. I think this was my favorite of all the items on that page:
Solve Poincare's conjecture! It's one of the most baffling unsolved problems in mathematics, involving the relationship between topologically identical spaces and how to reduce topological questions to abstract algebra by associating topological spaces with algebraic invariants. Be the first to prove it ... just purchase a dozen Acme Klein Bottles and then develop a generalized theory for 3-dimensional manifolds. You'll win the Fields Medal and the Clay Millenium Prize ... get invited to colloquia which often offer FREE COOKIES!
So you see, math people and English people are similar. I know that the free cookies were always a major draw for English department events. And my university made really good cookies, so that helped.
From Amanda, who really needs to start her own weblog because she sends me the best links:
Shit vs. Shinola: The Definitive Battle. Once, in a rant about some printer that had screwed up a job, my former boss suddenly exclaimed, "They don't know beans from Shinola!" Then he looked at me and said "you know I mean shit, don't you?"
I almost bought him a bottle of Shinola as a retirement gift. I found one in an antique store, box and all, in decent condition. But I didn't feel that it was worth $25.
I've never been to
Decatur Celebration, though I spent four years of my life living in that god-forsaken town. This year, I'm going to go. I don't know if it's the fact that Taylor Dayne and Eddie Money are headlining the main stage, or if it's my weird midwestern craving for corn dogs, but I am so there. Colin has a convertible, we should decorate it and be in the parade!
Lookit! I'm actually going to talk about indie rock instead of the other crap I've been talking about lately!
I was looking at the Polyvinyl Records website today (I was feeling kind of sensitive and emo) and I noticed that they had a split 7", one half of which featured the band Back of Dave. And then I got all excited because I've met those guys, I've seen them play at crappy little punk rawk clubs in suburban St. Louis (I think I was in Alton or Edwardsville, it was definitely on the Illinois side of the river), and my friend Matt survived a massive car accident with them. I remember a 3 AM post-show meal at Steak 'n Shake with one of the band members. I was so young back then!
I'm not one of those scenester types who always hangs out with the band, so I get excited when I notice a band whose members I actually know in some capacity.
Oh yeah, and my friend Robin had a flyer from Back of Dave taped on her car's back windshield, and people always asked her "who's Dave, and why do you want him to back off?"
