I Clean Up Good.
Friday night was "Socializing With Art Museum People" night, in the form of a cocktail party which required that I wear a jacket and tie. Initially, I was told it was "formal", but it turns out lmfB and I don't have the same definition of "formal". My definition is the one where that means having to wear a tuxedo. Anything less is "semi-formal" or "business attire". Or something. To be honest, I was a little disappointed. I'd kind of like to put on a tuxedo, and top hat, and carry a cane. I think manbeard + top hat pretty much has to = "Abraham Lincoln Costume", which would have been cool.
Anyway, apparently I "clean up good". I knew I should have worn that goddamn John Deere hat with the jacket and tie.
Mrs. Henderson Presents
Last Thursday (as opposed to this Thursday, of which speaking about in the past tense would be a little odd, not that I'm above it, but, you know, just for clarity), we went to see Mrs. Henderson Presents (official site). It was picked pretty much at random, and I was completely surprised and impressed. I was also a little surprised at how old Judi Dench looked, but, as it turns out, I was confusing her with Judy Davis, and remembering Davis' role in "Husbands and Wives", from about 92 I think, where she looked a lot younger than Dench would have a mere 14 years ago. I guess people with the same first name and last initial aren't necessarily the same person.
Mrs. Henderson Presents: You should go see it. It's the best film I've seen in probably six months. Wait, when did Land of the Dead come out, again?
Rocking the Fuck Out
My friend David and his wife recently had their first little baby girl, and she is absolutely adorable. Best of all, she has taken a liking to my music, under my nomme de plume, "DJGinsu". Woohoo! I feel like I finally have accomplished something!
"Your Conscience is a Rotting Corpse": My friend and bandmate Sean came to record yesterday. This was 1/2 of the result. It rocks a lot. Tuesday, I'll go to work on the other song we knocked out.
I bought a cheap-ass, but new, bass guitar on Sunday prior to the aforementioned recording session. I am a much better bass guitar player than I am a regular guitar player, largely due to the fact I've been playing bass a lot longer than I have guitar. It's pretty cool to pick an instrument you haven't played in a while up, and find yourself completely at home with it. Plus, I like the fact that bass guitars are bigger, and have longer necks, than regular guitars. \m/ 8==m==>
What I really, really want is a Rickenbacker, but they're hard to find. At least the old ones are. I know someone who has one, though, who I may try to persuade to sell it to me. He only uses his SG now, so the Rickenbacker sits pretty much unused. This particular Rickenbacker is rich in Rock History lore, as well; it used to be owned by Mike Mills, who sold it when REM played in Bloomington, at which point my friend Greg bought it, then sold it to another friend, Matt, the current owner. Man, the crunchy, metallic sound of that thing was FREAKIN' AWESOME. Neeeeeeeeeeeeed. Rickenbacker.
On Saturday, I broke out the Octave CAT synthesizer I have on a sort of "semi-permanent loan", and rocked the fuck out with that, too. The end result is an atrocious piece with a totally rad name, "Touching A Cat's Junk". It's noisy and annoying, and I don't suggest you download it and give it a listen. Just appreciate the SHEER AWESOMENESS of my SONG-NAMING SKILLZ.
Curse You, Ewoks!
Apparently I am "overqualified" to work for George "Chebacca" Lucas in the capacity of the position for which I interviewed. They'll keep me in mind, though, if a position more suited to my abilities crops up. Meanwhile, I'll hold my breath.
On the plus side, this liberates me with regard to my idea of yoda-napping the Yoda statue from the fountain in the ILM/Lucasarts/Lucasfilm complex. Step one: borrow a truck. Step two: recruit ethically versatile assistance. Step three: STONE YODA IN MY OWN BACKYARD. Naturally, this paragraph serves as a perfect alibi, were such an event to take place. I mean, who'd be insane enough to steal a Yoda statue after saying they were going to steal a Yoda statue on the Internet, where everyone and Al Gore can read it? Not me, that's for sure!
This Week In Naked Raygun-Related Discoveries
Chicago's Naked Raygun was one of the encouraging new punk bands that bloomed in the Midwest long after thrash had apparently isolated the punk aesthetic in its own circumscribed ghetto, where it would never again challenge the musical values of regular folk. Lump the longer-running Raygun in with Hüsker Dü, Man Sized Action, Big Black and Breaking Circus and you'll be oversimplifying, but you'll have your finger on an early-'80s movement of sorts. All of these bands expanded the boundaries and cast aside some of the trappings of punk to bring it back into contact with the mainstream. If none of them ever attained huge success, all at least appealed to adventurous people who don't have mohawks.
I loved Naked Raygun in my high school and early college years. Every chance I got to see them, I went. I looked forward to the FREE SHIT section of each show, and the way they'd rip through their repertoire of 2 minute aggressive, melodic songs, heavy on Stiff Little Fingers and Buzzcocks influence. I can still easily listen to all of Throb Throb or All Rise, and rock the fuck out. Therefore, it was a pleasant surprise to learn that Pezzati isn't just resting on his laurels, and, in fact, has a kickass band now, called "The Bomb". No, they're not as kickass as NR was, but they still kick a lot more ass than, say, Liz Phair, Urge Overkill, or Smashing Pumpkins ever did.
My Almost-the-End-of-March Work Resolution
I hereby vow to spend at least four hours a day of "worktime" searching for another job. Maybe I should remove some stuff from my resume, so as to prevent future "overqualified" bullshit responsii. I'm seriously slacking on searching for a new job, which is lame, but every time I start, I get bored, and start doing something else. Goddamn you, golden handcuffs of BOREDOM!
On Bluetooth Headsets
I finally broke down and purchased a Bluetooth headset, on the basis that it looked the least amount like a vibrator clipped to one's ear. On the plus side, that little boom mic thing that extends below the ear is pretty much obscured by my Manly Manbeard. On the down-side, ear-hook technology is totally bigoted against people who wear glasses. Fucking annoying. If I take my glasses off, the earpiece fits perfectly. If I put them back on, they battle for which one is closer to my head, which is a zero-sum game.
Also, it occurs to me that it's a little lame to have a wireless phone, that then extends, wirelessly, to a wireless earpiece. Wouldn't it be easier to just make phones fucking smaller, so you could wear them on your ear, and cut out the middleware? Or maybe an implant...
Guess What Motherfuckin' Time Is It!
That's right, it's motherfuckin' POOPSTIME, y'all! Get your poops on.Update [2006-3-27 11:50:57 by MohammedNiyalSayeed]: Addendum: Anyone have any suggestions for a reasonably-priced, durable bike trainer? I'm leaning towards this, but mainly because it's cheap.
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