look, your friends won't tell you, your mom certainly didn't tell you, its about time you get a clue, and just in the nick of time...its the haters guide to...
5.15.2007
sprinkles and the nuts who love 'em.
When i first moved to Los Angeles i hated it. i hated everything about this place. I hated the fake people, the plastic boobs, the plastic smiles and the personalities that had the depth of a martini glass. i felt alienated from the culture that focued on appearances and fame and spent every day regretting my decision to move here.
But then, something happened.
I decided to get to know Los Angeles a little more by driving around, and what i saw was that Los Angeles is not any one thing at any one time. This city suffers from a case of multiple personality disorder in that each neighborhood in the sprawling landscape has its own culture, its own dress and people with varying intersts and tastes. I pulled over to have tea in Los Feliz and while i sat and watched the tragic hipsters walk by that's when i realized something.
Los Angeles is a layer cake.
A really fucking crazy layer cake, but a layer cake nonetheless.
Think about it. When you first move here, or visit here, what's the first thing you see? Its the most obvious stereotypes of the city: those Hollywood wannabes, who spend every penny they have buying plastic surgery, leasing B.M.W's while they live in a complete shithole, all just to attain the look of "making it." Unfortunately, because of reality t.v. and all sorts of dumb movies, this is what the rest of the world thinks Los Angeles is like. These narsisstic characters, for better or worse, are the first thing people see when they come here. These over-processed blondes are the sprinkles of our large layer cake that we all call home. They stick out, they look delicious, but when it comes down to it, there's always more to a cake than the sugary, processed sprinkles.
Should you investigate more, should you cut the cake open, you would find that there is indeed more to Los Angeles than just the sprinkles. There's layers of apricot, kiwi, vanilla frosting, chocolate, whatever. There are things you never expected in the cake, and these are things that you love, things that you always hope are in the cake when you cut it in half, and yet you're suprised when someone does put it in. cheesy as it may sound, this is our city. our chameleonlike culture changes from mile to mile and affords every different personality a space to explore.
you want chocolate, tight pants and awkward haircuts? Los Feliz, Silverlake and Atwater Village are at your disposal.
Looking for pineapples, yoga and organic lifestyles? Santa Monica probs has every kind of spiritual-oriented work out you've ever dreamed of.
and though our city has many problems (like cakes that unexplicably have rasins in them), i believe that the diversity of this city overcomes all of the assholes on sunset that we'd all like to see move somewhere else (and take the saddle ranch with them). In any case, if you hate this place, i promise you there's more than meets the eye. Did you know, for instance, that there is an event almost every month that involves a lip-synching contest with tetris battles?
yum. i love layer cakes, and now i love los angeles. sprinkles or no....I just scrape them off.
i'm just going to come out and say it. paris hilton's friends are asking the governor for a pardon for her dumb ass stint of driving on a suspended DUI licence. i mean, you know....it might work....
jesus. come the fuck on with this.
i mean, maybe tomorrow i'll find a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, and maybe i might not. who knows?! you know?!!
hey, i know! lets ask burger king to lobby president bush to give paris a federal pardon because of all of her hard work and dedication that she put into that stupid burger king commercial when she writhed around on a car. i mean, its hard work being paris hilton. just look, sometimes its hard to even walk straight. she deserves a purple heart for all of her hard work. she's a real american idol.
ugh..i think i just threw up a little in my mouth.
The petition is in keeping with the brilliant legal strategy of pointing the finger at others (obviously it worked at hearing, so.....). now, i'm only a third year law student, but i'm pretty sure that, "what??!!! she did it too,she even killed somebody and you didn't put her in jail" isn't a real sound argument, especially when the "her" is none other than....brandy. i mean, what's next? blame it all on transformers and the impending robot war? obviously adhering to reality isn't important here.
The best part of this whole petition is the use of the word "career" in reference to paris hilton:
"Brandy's California Highway accident, although no proof of DUI was evidenced in her accident, resulting in the death of a young wife and mother in California, yet Brandy walks free as of today, never doing any time and A WOMAN HAS BEEN KILLED most likely due to her reckless driving!
Yet, Paris Hilton did not hurt, injure, or kill anyone or anything, and yet she must do jail time. [ohhhh, good one.]
This petition is to ask Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger to pardon Paris Hilton for her mistake. Please allow her to her return to her career and life."
jesus h. christ. check out the petition and take part in the revolution. free the drunken, anorexic tranny! i'm thinking of making buttons. whose in?
this is possibly the best news i've recieved in a long time.
i've actually toured a jail in los angeles county and lets just say it ain't no fucking picnic. i luv that kathy hilton asked the city attorney for his autograph because "this is rediculous." no what's rediculous is that you own a million, kadrillion, dollars and you can't hire a fucking driver for your trannalicious daughter of yours. come on.
this is certainly the month for celebrity justice. girls gone wild guy cries in jail as his jailmate taunts him day and night while spector's lawyers are accused of hiding a fingernail that had gunshot residue on it (meaning that good ole mr. fro-do fired a gun) from the D.A's office.
fuck it. dating sucks. everyone knows it, except you happiest of happiest couples, to which i say congratulations...you can suck it.
its always fucking backwards: the one that you want doesn't want you, the one that you want disappeared, broke your heart or took a trip to france and, well, never came back (or died, went to berkley, something.....). either way, no one's happy and we all make each other fucking miserable.
what gives?
for instance, i know, oh, a handful of women who are smart, pretty, confident and either find themselves sadly relating to songs by paula abdul or, tragically, songs by tragic eighties artists ( i don't care what anyone says, "we built this city on rock and roll!!!!!" is NOT the worst song ever written, but i majorily digress). it feels like over and over again, every single one of my girlfriends becomes another victim to the, "uh, so i like you a lot, but i just don't want a girlfriend right now." its fucking retarded. grow up. but something still haunts me.
what if, what if...god forbid, tom likus is right and there's no fucking hope for those of us ladies who prefer a gentleman and an education? are we doomed to the singles tables at weddings for the rest of our lives pretending that we're stewardesses instead of lawyers and doctors?
if so, i'm fucked considering that i'm finishing up law school. awesome. i paid 150 grand to be undatable. oh, wait, don't forget the fancy piece of paper i get to put in my office!
ok. when i was in college i learned about the marriage gradient. it means that researchers have found that while women typically tend to date and marry at their education level or above, men tend to date and marry at their education level or below (big surprise there, oh wait). what that means is that the more educated you get as a man, the more people there are for you to date and marry-hurrah! but if you're a lady with a brain, good luck. better grab that gardner who was whistling at you when you sat next to him at the light (i mean, hey, he might be able to get the truck one night for himself, and if not, you can always squeeze in the cab right?). soooo, as my friend with an M.B.A and i were discussing, we're fucked. and the most frustrating thing is that magazines, t.v., movies with john cusack (hey cloisterman, i'm with you, cusack has ruined it for all of us), make women believe that there are men out there who want a smart woman, but in reality that's not the truth. its just not. and the older i get the more convinced i get of this. or rather i should say, the more ex-boyfriends i accumulate who pick up dumber girls.
its fucking sweet. high five!
i will now admit something i'm not proud of, really not proud of. today, after my four hour final, i watched the Lake House with keanu reeves and sandra bullock. i watched it mainly because i wanted to see if they would explain how the magical postbox the delivered mail two years back and two years forward worked (and why all the other mail that keanu received--bills, magazines etc--was NOT forwarded two years into the future), and you know what, it never did. but what the movie did provide was another male character in a romantic comedy that liked the smart (doctor), witty, beautiful and lonely sandra bullock. he liked her so much that he went and found her copy of Persuasion, found where her apartment would be in the future and burried it under a floor board for her to find two years in the future and clutch to her breast in an oh-so dramatic moment.
there are so many things wrong with this movie that i kind of don't know where to start, but one thing really seems to jump out. at one point in time keneau in that matrix voice of his ("woah, i know kung foo") yells, "what about Persuasion!!!! remember persuasion!! i'll wait for you!"
this is complete and utter bullshit. i'm sorry. i love jane austin. in fact, i am somewhat of a fanatic of jane austin. i re-read one of her novels every year and every year i am more and more fascinated with the idea of the austinian man. in fact, a man like keaneu reeves in the lake house. a man who will wait two years for a woman he's only corresponded with through a magical mailbox. these men are a falicy. no man reads jane austin and i know of no man that even knows that jane austin wrote a book called persuasion. men don't wait around magical mailboxes pining for two years for the woman who rented their house before (after??) them and the only scene that has an ounce of truth to it in that whole damn movie is when sandra bullock plays chess with her dog because there's no one else around. that and when she has lunch on valentine's day with her mom. stupid hallmark holiday (but that's a whole other topic). point is, men like mr. darcy (hilariously named fitzwilliam, not so cool now, eh?) who liked the strongheaded elizabeth, and mr. architect, brooding, keaneu reeves guy don't fucking exist and if they did, they'd most likely not fancy me.
or women like me.
so my question is (rather sarah jessica parker of me, i know): is the myth of the man who likes smart, funny girls a reality or is it just another character in a john cusack movie that makes me want to hurl my beer at the tv. and shout LIAAAAAARRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
well its time to procrastinate again in light of the looming final i have coming up on monday. as i've been studying hard (read sweat my ass off in my kitchen reading about video game contracts), i've also been spending a little bit of time with my friend itunes.
goddam their fucking accessibility. its like being a heroine junky and having a dealer as one of your roomates. anyways, while i'm scared to think of how much money i've spent on itunes, i'm happy to state that i ran into some excellent music while i was avoiding studying audit rights for a publisher developer blah blah blah blah...
here goes:
you ain't nobody till you've invested in psapp's new album "everything i've ever wanted." the album is a fucking great follow up to their debut album (which if you ain't got it, just buy it now and act all pretensious about how you had it before grey's anatomy made them popular-i won't tell). the whole album pops and zips with odd noises, but adds a nice edge to the smooth vocals of the lead singer. swear these two go out with a mic and just record everything they can get their hands on (including cash register rings). nuff said, go out and buy it.
as a radiohead fan, i'm happy to report that thom york's solo album is super depresing and just what all of us crave in the age of all the shit on the radio. anyone who can sing "i'm your lapdog, i'm your laaaaaaaaaapppp dogggg" and fucking rock it deserves credit in my opinion. i especially liked itunes description in which they stated: "no one knows how to package misery quite like thom york." yup, that's just about right. do it for the kids, get the album.
kanye west's newest project, rhymefest, recently released "blue collar," a daring hip hop album that brings the genre back to the band and away from the bare, artificial, beats that has been dominating the radio as of late (not that i'm trying to hate on chamillionaire's "ridin" or nuthin'). rhymefest's lyrics are tragic, edgy, humerous and paint the picture of a man whose more concerned with more than just money, ice, rims and hoes. i was particularily suprised with the use of a guitar riff from the strokes in "devil's pie." delicious.
likewise, cut chemist's much anticipated debut album, "the audience's listening," is a nice transition into what urb magazine insists is "turntabalism" (sadly, i'm not cool enough to call it that). with laid back beats combined with great samples (not to mention some hip hop talent), most of the tracks are strong, though some of them sound like postmodern bullshit. the good ones are worth waiding through the weaker ones though. i'm partial to "the garden," though a couple others are definitly worth getting to.
band of horses release this year may just be my favorite sleeper album of the year. the southern laid back style of the band, combined with the (don't kill me its the only way i can think of describing it) pretty arrangements make for a solid rock album. what can i say, i fell in love with the album and highly recommend it to those indy folks looking for an album to get sticky to, and especially the track, "the great salt lakes." mmmmmm, indy lovin'.
last but not least, a quick re-discovery: citizen cope's album "the clarence greenwood recordings." cope's voice is like butter and is soulfully combined with arrangements that are just, hawt. i think this album has the only santana duo that i've ever been able to stomach (yea, not a big fan of that michelle branch song). if you don't have this album, but think you're a little funky, or are just looking for a little something for that summer bbq, this is the album for you.
also recommended: gnarls barkley, ashley simpson (ohhh jokes), and all the other crap that's on the radio right now (NOT including that shitty justin timberlake release that's pissed all of us closeted fans of "justified" off.fuck that falsetto shit).
go forth and purchase my children.
p.s. anyone wanna go see tom jones at the bowl? it could be fucking hilarious. anyone? anyone? dammit.
totally one of my favorite scenes from a more than excellent movie: http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.msu.edu/~mensing1/pics/SuperTroopers_coolchrism5.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.msu.edu/~mensing1/&h=480&w=720&sz=53&hl=en&start=15&tbnid=5V_lH-R3wVcmYM:&tbnh=93&tbnw=140&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dsuper%2Btroopers%2B%26svnum%3D10%26hl%3Den%26lr%3D%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26sa%3DN hell yes.
if you haven't already, go watch this movie. more than once. in fact, watch it at least five times, then report back. that's an order.
turns out the area around the beverly center in los angeles is not the type of fodder that mr. roger's neighborhood stories are made of. Namely, in this neighborhood, your neighbors steal your beer out of your fucking cooler when your trying to have a good time.
fuckers.
being the neighborly sort that i am, when my neighbors asked if they could imbide a tasty beverage or two, i obliged! of course. little was i to know that a few meant about 6 of my beers and then all of the beers that my friends were kind enough to leave at my house when they left.
i mean, fuck, dude. stealing someone's beer is just so not kosher, but stealing your neighbors beer is downright unethical. this on top of the loud "flaminco" music that the healer-come-music producer guy pushing 50 upstairs blasts from the hours of, oh wait, always. lets just say the guy doesn't even have a fucking bed up there, just music equipement that he rapes every hour, on the hour, to create what he thinks is music. then, we have the two yapping small dogs that would even make paris hilton think about drop kicking them. i mean, i can deal with the dogs, the loud music, but steal my motherfucking beer will you?! this calls for revenge.
their nice guys and all, and have donated bottles of very nice gin and fresh pastries to our lower apartment every once in a while, but never did any one of us from our apartment go up there, ask for a glass of gin and then take the whole fucking bottle. i'm, offended and quite frankly, i'm ready to take action. anyone got any ideas? nailing them in the face with hot dogs has been suggested i believe in addition to the ever popular tennis balls on the ceiling, but none of it seems to make an impact, what will it take??
if this site wasn't so fucking awful to navigate it might actually be cool, but alas..its not, so you have to dig around for the good stories ("whory lorie" is my favorite): http://www.annoyingneighbors.com/
and finally, of all the revenge tactics that i read, this seemed to be the best: For no reason at all go outside and shoot video of your neighbor. He will have no idea that you are doing it JUST to annoy him.
the rest just seemed focused on ordering catalogues, sharpies, telephone numbers and bathroom stalls. eh. i think the videotaping one would be funny especially since i live in a duplex and it would be totally creepy. [insert mr. burns here] exceeelllleeeennnttt.
the non-fiction book about the san francisco serial killer (that was never caught) that this movie is based on is the entire reason camping and making out in secluded, dark, roads makes me want to puke from fear (thanks mel for passing that shit on when i was like 15 p.s. that pretty much took care of my high school social life): http://www.thezodiacfilm.com/
for the artsy ladies, basically "garden state 2." as far as i'm concerned, zack braff can keep making movies about his confusion about his life, because god dammit, the boy is hawt (i once saw him in a gardening store near my house and didn't say anything, though tempted to yell out "many moore sucks!"): http://www.apple.com/trailers/dreamworks/thelastkiss/
if i see any one of you in line for the lake house, you can rest assured that i will walk by yo' ass like we ain't never met. x-tina, i'm looking in your direction (as if "miss congeniality: armed and fabulous" wasn't enough...sheeshh).
alright, i think i officially heard this phrase about 50 times today: "look, that CSI show is just crap, don't pay any attention to it."
who knew david caruso was causing such a stir in the scientific community.
so here's what i learned today:
1) turns out superglue is pretty awesome at lifting the prints off hennesy and snapple bottles.
2) apparently people are drinking hennesy and snapple...together. (wtf?)
3) fingerprints are now matched using ridgology or some shit like that. its all about grooves and bumps and more adjectives that seem like awful 90's dance moves.
4) don't stop for a beer when your in the middle of a burglary and are not wearing gloves. (no, seriously).
5) careful what STDs you get, that can be an identifying mark later on (ie: "we knew that this woman was obviously not the victim because she had genital warts" ewwwwww)
6) all manner of hair style and facial hair is acceptable at the crime lab including handle bar moustaches and mullets. in fact, the "m & m" is encouraged.
7) rows upon rows upon fucking rows of guns are in the crime lab. so if the aliens come, i know where i'm fucking going. (i mean, there were more bullets there than in that crazy guy's basement in "tremors," and that's fucking saying something).
8) DNA from blood co-mingels and even masks "touch" DNA marks. heavy....
9) even five year old crime scenes can yield results. (creepy).
10) gun powder can mark someone even four feet away. but conveniently can be washed away with a quick shower. (yay for criminals!)
needless to say, the three hour tour was, um..instructional if not anything else (i'm still freaked out about the warts thing)...
i went to, wait stop...i fucking schlepped down to irvine last friday to go see nine inch nails and co. for what promised to be a good show. needless to say, when i finally arrived (uh, like 50 miles and about 2 hours later), i arrived about 2 acts deep into the fucking show at seven-fucking-forty-five.
yo, wassup with that homies?
isn't it illegal for rock and roll to be performed during daylight hours (with the obvious exception of an all day festival)? i mean, goth music was not meant to be played while the sun beats bright and exposes all the fat that is pushed into vinyl (that just reminds one of german hand-made sausages) alongside all the pastiness that is the trench coat maffia. that is just not right my friend. but alas, here's the problem: this is the second damn show even just this year that i've been to that has started at like seven (green day even started early).
now what the fuck does that teach the kids hey? no, c'mon. your supposed to hit the stage late, allow the grown ups to pre-game in the parking lot and end around midnight (at the very earliest). what's this over at 11 bullshit? does someone have a fucking curfew? i mean, this is rock and fucking roll people, not bed time story time. this is nine inch nails, not disney sing along at the hollywood bowl.
its absurd. and i'm not going to stand for it any longer (that is until massive attack comes into town and then maybe i might stand for it).
furthermore, this bloody concert was in irvine, at seven pm, on a FRIDAY. what the fuck? additionally, to compound matters, nin didn't play a LA show, meaning that lots of people schlepped down from LA and sat in traffic in two hours only to completely miss peaches and a good part of (oh fuck, i have no idea how the hell to spell this next band's name) bauhus (??). what bullshit. seven might be alright on a saturday night man, but on a friday when people get off work at 5pm? i think the only people that made it for peaches were fucking unemployed high schoolers who got their mom to drive them there. i mean, they might has well have played a fucking cd, because i guarantee no one was there to watch the poor girl. what a fucking insult.
and speaking of insults, i'm insulted. i mean, is rock and roll getting older and going the way of the early bird dinner special? are they gonna hand walkers out now instead of tickets? plaid pants intead of hair dye?
