Sunday, December 29, 2002

Wednesday, December 11, 2002

follow up:
skunk girl wrote in. we're going to an orchid show in santa barbara next weekend.

Tuesday, December 10, 2002

chance encounter
You: Brunette in skunk outfit wielding hand-held spotlights stage right, 6 December 2002 at the Long Beach Flaming Lips + Beck show.
Me: Awfully good-looking, visibily inebriated guy with artfully tousled hair, 4 or so rows back, the shortest one in the group of four guys (and as you can see, humility is one of his best qualities).
We had cheer sex, you + the rest of the animals came off stage during "Do You Realize?", bum-rushed past the 3 6+ footers and gave me a hug, you returned to the stage and giggled with your friends.
I realize you hugged about 50 other people, but still... the cheer sex, the cheer sex, the cheer sex!

Monday, December 09, 2002

It's coming!
All the reminders are starting to surface, the mini-vans with the menorah on top cruising the neighborhood, the crowded mall parking lots, the girls at jumbo's clown room donning santa caps--The holidays are coming!
This my favorite time of year, not because of the paid week off or the three hours of free drinking sponsored by the company on thursday night or presents or shopping, but largely because this means that there will be at least 2 or 3 of those round tins of flavored popcorn placed around the office, no doubt from cheap-ass vendors or clients who saw the $6.99 tin in the checkout line at the drugstore. Truth be told, I love the stuff (cheese, butter, then caramel in order of preference)� I even know how much they are because I was tempted to buy one for myself but just couldn't muster enough self-loathing. Besides, I don't want to get the orange cheese fingerprints all over me red velvet couch.

things i have been doing instead of blogging:
- going to the vh1 "big in 2002" awards
- watching adaptation
- seeing beck and the flaming lips
- working weekends
- playing tony hawk pro skater 4 online against kids who obviously have nothing better to do than humiliate 31 year olds
- playing grand theft auto: vice city
- playing mat hoffman pro bmx 2
- playing bmx xxx
- drinking
- looking for a new apartment
- redesigning my personal website

so there.

Monday, November 25, 2002

ok, the super design stars (design superstars) were amy and josh from futurefarmers. sheesh. amy's work i had admired forever and a day, and i had no idea that josh did they rule , which is one of THE best data visualizations I have ever seen in my entire life. That sounds super dorky, but look at it and like diarrhea tugging you towards the loo, you will have no choice but to agree.

Sunday, November 17, 2002

Just one of the many ways that the internet is making me dumber.
I was driving to Chinatown last night to meet up with two design superstars (whose names I can't even bring myself to mention), who we will be entertaining all week at the death star. Now, I've lived in Los Angeles for a long time, but I rarely make it over to Chinatown, mostly because there really isn't much there that you can't get elsewhere in this hugemongous city.

Since my income does not allow me to own an in-dash dvd navigation system or a live-in sherpa, I must consult mapquest or mapblast! (my preferred choice, they seem a little more excitable, i don't know what it is about them) for driving directions when I'm going somewhere I'm unfamiliar with. Easy peasy, you type in the starting point (usually home or work), and your destination (usually someplace that is not home or work), and it spits out turn-by-turn directions which you can print out and consult as you're driving.

This is all fine and dandy, but if you're like me, and you've printed out directions for every place that you've driven to in the past few years, you'll notice a couple of things:
1) It's dangerous. Last night, while driving at 85mph talking on the phone and scrolling through thousands of songs on the iPod, I momentarily misplaced my sheet of driving directions among the several thousand others I have in my car from all the other places I've driven in the past few years, and realized that maybe I was multi-tasking a little too much.
2) You lose all sense of direction. I know i've printed out directions to chinatown at least 3 times and by that rationale, I should know that it's off the hill street exit on the 110, but since it's become so fricking easy, you just don't pay attention anymore.

Oh well, fuck it.

Thursday, November 14, 2002

What do you get when you cross a swede with a cholo?"
So now that Ingrid and I have settled down for the long run, I decided I might buy her something nice, so I was looking around some Volvo sites for something kinda sexy, and I found a bunch of pictures that people have taken of their Volvos. In amongst the teeny-tiny thumbnail images of other Volvos, I saw one that looked just like my sweet little baby, and I clicked on it. Holy shit. What the hell is that all about? It's a Volvo STATION WAGON FOR CHRISSAKES, NOT A '66 IMPALA.

new layout!
Unless you are visually impaired and have your computer read this blog to you in one of those computery/Stephen Hawkings-type voices or better yet have your girlfriend (or boyfriend, wife or husband, fine) read this blog to you out loud while your eyes are closed and she strokes your hair, then you'll no doubt notice the new layout, which is a bit easier to read. It's temporary, while I'm designing my own super-custom layout, but for now, it'll do.

I do this for you, my readership, who at best guess seem to be a couple of people that I've told about the site personally and some Canadians following links around the internet.

Monday, November 11, 2002

WOW. The sun is O U T. For all the rejoicing about gray skies and rain and whatnot last week, and even though the familiar brown layer has come back to the sky today, it's days like this that make you say "Boy, it's damn fine to be here." Let's go grub some money!

Sunday, November 10, 2002

Dear Friend (this means you),

I've created a slideshow using .Mac Slides Publisher that I want to share with you. (this serves the purpose of not having the time to write anything because it's so damn beautiful outside today)

To subscribe to my slideshow, just follow these instructions:

1. Make sure you have Mac OS X version 10.2 or later installed, and you're connected to the Internet. (take notice, i am at the forefront of geektech)
2. Open System Preferences and click Screen Effects.
3. Select .Mac in the list of available screen savers.
4. Click the Configure button and enter "sx70" in the Member Name box. Then click OK.

Now sit back and enjoy. My slideshow will appear the next time your screen saver is activated. When you are connected to the Internet, you'll automatically receive any updates I've made to the slideshow. (updates will be often)

For more information about Mac OS X, visit Apple at

Friday, November 08, 2002

I wasn't going to do a weather-related post, I promised myself, especially since a Very Well Known blog did one earlier today, but now I've gotten all riled up.

It's raining here in Los Angeles, it's even raining down here in the South Bay, where I work. It doesn't rain much here, it didn't rain for shit last year and finally we get some rain. BUT IF I HEAR ONE MORE PERSON LOWER THEIR VOICE AND SAY "OOH, IT'S GONNA SAY STORMWATCH 2002 ON THE NEWS TONIGHT, HAR HAR HAR", I AM GOING TO PUKE.
That's called "shooting fish in a barrel" folks, and it ain't fucking funny.

Wednesday, November 06, 2002

Los Angeles Sur La Bicyclette
I was understandably antsy after my normally 45 minute commute from behemoth workplace to the bagel belt turned into an hour-plus yesterday, and since i'm detoxing from the past two weeks of (insert vice here), I could not rely on my usual coping mechanisms. My second choice, the massage with the happy ending cost too much, and besides, I had a pretty good parking space so that was out of the question. So, I decided to ride my bike.

Bicycling in Los Angeles is right up there on the list with walking, taking the bus, smoking, being open and honest, and wearing light-colored jeans as one of those things that you don't do. After all, why would you a) get your shoes dirty, b) ride if you can drive, c) mess up your hair, d) be seen as someone who can't afford a car, or worse, e) get run over and killed? It actually can be tremendously difficult, especially in relation to somewhere like Manhattan, where people don't actually go into driveways, the streets are laid out in a grid, and the cars are all yellow and a thousand times easier to see than the cars here, especially at night.

Anyway, seeing it up close last night and not from a car window at 40mph was nice and calming. I rode by a bunch of things that I would miss if I moved to Canada. Doughboys, Room Service, Newsroom, Union, kBond, El Carmen, King's Road Cafe--Maybe I won't move. But then again, maybe if i didn't go to those places I would still have $.

addendum: i'm not name-dropping, i'm just saying. sheesh

Tuesday, November 05, 2002

Over the weekend, 8 of the hours that weren't spent playing Grand Theft Auto: Vice City or frolicking ecstatically with friends and new friends or paying off sleep debt were spent sitting in movie theaters. Those who know me well know that I hate talking about film in general, so much so that I patently refuse to talk about a movie withing 100 yards of the theater after walking out, but since you're reading this on your own volition, I figure it gives me the right.

In any case, two of those hours were spent Saturday watching "Bowling for Columbine", the new Michael Moore film. I highly recommend it, if only because it might change your mind about whether or not scruffy, obese men can squeeze out more than one good documentary. But seriously, it was great in that makes-you-really-question-a-lot-of-things-to-the-point-where-you-want-to-do-something-about-it kind of way. I will try to not wreck the movie for those who haven't seen it (not that there is some sort of crazy "he's really her brother and their father is the evil guy" kind of plot twist), and will just assume (you and me, we're asses) that the rock you happen to live under is within crawling distance of the 24 theaters in the country that are playing it and you've gone and seen it. It wasn't so much about the gun issue as it was about the U.S. and our society driven by fear. Sensational stories about people killing and stealing beget high ratings. High ratings allow media to sell advertising space. Advertising strikes fear into your heart, making you believe that you can't talk to the girl on the street because you don't drive a Lexus or use the right toothpaste or your furniture isn't shiny enough because you don't use the latest waxy wood cleaner. Fear, spoon-fed by our sensationalistic media and our money hungry advertisers and corporations--oh yeah, that's me. I make a decent living working for a large make-you-buy-things-kind-of-place, making people aspire to unattainable lifestyles, overextending themselves, making them feel bad for not having what I have to sell them. Great.
Having said all that, do you want to maybe move to Canada with me? I'm thinking about leaving my doors unlocked somewhere in Vancouver. There's good snowboarding there, good concrete skateparks, and it's a relatively nice, new city. I realize it's pretty far from Graceland, but it's close to Seattle, and I like Nirvana more than I like Elvis, so that doesn't matter too much. It's close to Los Angeles too, so we could visit our friends here. Oh, maybe you don't have any friends here, but we could visit MY friends here. If you're a girl, and we get to like each other, maybe we could visit my family too. All the recent garbage about my loving Los Angeles has just gone out the window, because I think I love Canada now, and I'm now, I'm not sure I'm entirely happy about what I do.

Monday, November 04, 2002

ahhhh, there i am. feeling great, thanks for asking.

Halloween has come and gone, and once again I have to ask: What's so fucking great about it?

This year, I did not celebrate my inner catholic priest, cheerleader, policeman, fire fighter, kool-aid man, square-pants-wearing cartoon character or sports mascot, I spent halloween like I always do--actually, I spent it like I spend the other 364 days of the year, getting drunk for free at The Standard Downtown. (I don't spend all year drinking at The Standard, Actually.I'm not even sure I like The Standard. I do drink elsewhere, it's just on Halloween night that I happened to be there and, oh you get the idea anyway) I figured it was the dignified thing to do. I mean, it's not as if I don't have the wherewithal or creativity to come up with a costume, I'm a designer ferchrissakes and I have plenty of wherewithal. Plenty. I mean, there was that crazy-rocker guy costume I had the one year, and then the super-great Beastie Boys costume that one year, and that same night, I went to another party dressed as--uh... um... well...

I think it may have been the time I was forced to dress as Ginger Spice that ruined it for me, I'm going to have to have that checked out.

Thursday, October 24, 2002

Every time I come to sit down at the blogstation lately, it's been for not good reasons. So if it's been quiet, it's because this isn't my style forum for bitching about the opposite sex or my parents who don't understand me. It's my forum for bitching about more mundane things that happen to be kind of funny in retrospect. or not.

In any case, the weather is beautiful, The Ring was mediocre, and Ingrid has escaped the past few weeks sans injury. The skatepark has of late been my savior, and I'm seeking some "quality escapism". C'est tout.

Monday, October 21, 2002

a new "most humiliating moment":

buying (sheepishly pushing across the counter and shrugging-style) the "cooking for yourself" cookbook at williams-sonoma.

Thursday, October 17, 2002

I broke my coffee maker this morning.

I woke up a little late, though not late enough that I couldn't have a little breakfast before traipsing off to the office. I lined a small bowl with baby spinach leaves and some mushrooms, dropped some sea salt and fresh black pepper in there, then cracked two eggs in there and stuck it in the oven that had been preheating while I was making my coffee.

15 minutes later, my baked eggs were ready and I went to pour myself some coffee, only to find that instead of the nice dark french roast i was expecting, there was a light brown liquid in its place.

Yes my dear friends, I put the coffee grounds in the water receptacle.

Wednesday, October 16, 2002

Well, my pad is very messy and there's whiskers on my chin
And I'm all hung up on music, and I always play to win
I ain't got no time for lovin' 'cause my time is all used up
Just sittin' 'round creatin' all that groovy kind of stuff

So last night, the behemoth advertising agency that I work for and our little cousin behemoth advertising agency went to see Nando Parrado speak. Nando was 19 years old when the plane carrying his rugby team and assorted family and friends crashed into the Andes during a flight from his home in Uruguay to Chile, where they were to play a match. An amazing story really, how these guys survived for 72 days in the Andes, especially when some of them had never even seen snow before. They had to break one of the biggest taboos to stay alive, but you know, you do what you gotta do. Hearing the whole story from the horses mouth makes me realize that eating their dead friends was one of the lesser sacrifices they had to make.

Now I know y'all are used to my reading my neuroses and bitching and whining and whatnot and I'm sure that'll return in time, but right now, I guess I'm just counting my blessings. I'm going to go watch my signed copy of "Alive" now. heh.

Monday, October 14, 2002

Oh yeah, you can comment now. Good idea, Heather #2. That's what we would call a Big Idea in advertising.

Which reminds me...

I was at Ralph's on La Brea the other day across the street from the hottie Trader Joe's (always hotties there), buying a greeting card for a birthday party. I was late of course and rushing through the express lane with my one item and neglected to put a divider after my card on the conveyor belt. This of course, caused the item belonging to the person behind me to continue, finally coming to rest on top of my birthday card.

I heard a quick gasp, saw a hand reach over to gingerly pluck her pink pregnancy test package off of my sad little card, and then hastily put behind a grocery item divider.

Oops. Sorry. Maybe NetEPT for this girl next time.

So, I watched Four Weddings and a Funeral yesterday. It's a romantic comedy as you probably well know and for whatever reason (I'm now afraid to ask why) people have been referencing it a lot lately. This of course drives me batty because I would like to think I'm pretty well-versed in popular culture references, highbrow, lowbrow, or anywhere in between. Unfortunately, this movie was probably released during a non-going-to-the-movies, especially not by myself period of my life, so These References were lost on me.

Anyway, thanks to Netflix., I was able to watch this movie without having to go to the video store, which would have necessitated some sort of other rental (something either highbrow or something at least masculine) to offset this not-very-manly choice, or barring that, at least some sort of excuse. You know the drill, buying a Sheryl Crow album (although I haven't), and then asking them if they have giftwrap, or "Well, I really don't want to watch this, my girlfriend wanted to see it, I hope she's not trying to tell me something, you think?".

Anyway, Netflix. I love it, I don't have to deal with lines, I can rent whatever the hell I want, no late charges, although if you're an idiot like me and you keep a movie for--oh, I don't know-- A YEAR, you may or may not come out ahead.

FYI, my other Netflix rental was Chungking Express, AND btw, woo-hoo, I made it a whole day without writing about my car.

Aw man, I was all set to write about yard sales in my neighborhood this morning (that would be Monday), and dooce beat me to it. Not that I had a yard sale or anything, but whatever. Anyway, my thoughts on the subject (in condensed form) are there. Bugger!

Friday, October 11, 2002

Ok, some explanation: I named Ingrid right around the time when I was trying to decide where our relationship was going. It had been a good 3+ year relationship and it was time to either stop renting (leasing) her and move on to another svelte euro (german? another swede?) or to settle down with my (still) dream date.

smoovebert: what time and how much? (i'm embarassingly broke)
skampgirl: i'm embarassingly broke too.
smoovebert: how does this happen? fuck.
smoovebert: it's because i decided to settle down with ingrid instead of just renting her
skampgirl: oh that's right.
skampgirl: she's your julia roberts in pretty woman.

aye. she is.

No seriously though, I need to move. I woke up this morning at 5:45 to hear a loud neighbor (think Megan Baltimore's "Mike") yapping on the phone. 5:45! "Yo, dawg, what's up, I can't believe you're calling me, yo!" And that was a very excited "I can't believe" rather than a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing-calling-me-at-this-hour "I can't believe". I can't believe that guy's such a dork.

Repeated "shhhhh!"-ing, "Shut Up"-ing, and finally a plaintive "Please be quiet." from my neighbor (not "sings-better-than-me" girl, but "has loud sex" girl) and I finally shut that fucker up, but that's the perils of apartment living, yo. Maybe I need to stop off at Party House Liquors on the way home.

Thursday, October 10, 2002

it would be nice if you wouldn't make fun of me for naming my car.

I want to move. Pretty badly, actually. Why? Funny you should ask.
- Ingrid. There's no parking at my apartment building, so she is getting scraped up repeatedly by people who can't parallel park for shit and is no longer looking as pretty and sweet as she used to when I first brought her home. Not only that, I always have to consider the possibility that I may not find parking if I leave. So I basically I never go to the grocery store, and my diet of late has consisted of the few things in my immediate vicinity: Canter's, Nova Express, House of Thai Taste, Damiano's, Benito's Tacos, Max's, and Subway. And of course, Yummy, the new Pink Dot competitor.
- I think there is the remote possibility that the bathroom may collapse at any moment into the apartment downstairs. The whole floor in the bathroom is super warped, no doubt a side-effect from the amazing water pressure that the shower pumps out. Too bad I can't transfer some of that pressure to the toilet, which has NO pressure, meaning clogsville. All that water damage probably means that I'm slowly dying from mold poisoning too.
- While I'm on the subject of the apartment downstairs, let me mention the girl that lives there. I've never met this girl, much less seen her, but I can hear her sing and play guitar, and she is so much better than me that I have almost completely given up on playing and singing in my apartment. The few times that I do is usually preceeded by me crawling around on the floor making sure she's not home to hear me and laugh, or maybe i just get too drunk to care, which as you can well imagine, makes me suck even more.
- My commute sucks. It takes me something like 40 minutes to get to work, most of which is spent getting to the freeway. I hate Fairfax.

It's EXPENSIVE. Ok, maybe not THAT expensive, but more than I should be paying for a shitty one-bedroom with no parking and a toilet that won't flush anything bigger than a cigar without choking.

Wednesday, October 09, 2002

well looky here. i spent almost a whole day installing movable type on my web server. i'd imagine that if your'e reading this, you could have probably done that in your sleep (or know someone who could), but hey, i'm sorry, it took me forever. i'm good at the "making pretty" part of things, not the "making work" part of things, sorry. that's why we have programmer types that wear glasses and all that. bleh.

so it took me forever just because i wanted to make more work for myself and more importantly, save the $20 installation.

$20 is $20. still, why am i still using blogger? maybe it was because it was a challenge. you know us aries. whew!

Tuesday, October 08, 2002

Whoa, like a new blog and everything! Get out of town! No way! Woooooooooooooooooooohooo.