Monday, May 30, 2005
Let Me Stand Next to Your...Fire
Today was the UCLA Jazz Festival and it was scorching on stage and in the sky. Clad with sunburnt skin, fried catfish, funnel cake and my ears wide open, I delved into the festivus (for the rest of us) with open arms. Surrounded by soul food, african crafts and bongs, the ambiance was something seldom experienced in Los Angeles. The Jazz festival was not only an opportunity to listen and watch some great bands but also experience the African-American culture that we don't see often in our everyday lives.
Here are a few select pictures from the festival. All pictures can be found on My Yahoo Photos, at your discretion.
The festival before the horde descends upon it
"Dude, you know what would be soo totally awesome....T-shirts...with like pictures on them."
"Dude, I was JUST thinking that."
"Dude...You just blew my mind."
It's ALMOST symmetrical.
Best food evar.
One cool cat of a DJ, Garth Trinidad, host of Chocolate City on KCRW.
The UCLA Jazz Ensemble. You know you couldn't get through an event at UCLA without a "GO BRUINS!"
The Nolan Shaheed Quintet, complete with bitchin ethnic attire...and a couple Armani suits as well.
Collect them all.
The souliest soul sistah I've ever seen, Sheree Brown.
What did the microphone say to the singer?
Your wisdom teeth are coming in nicely.
If you can think of a better punchline, please, let me know.
"One of these is not like the others...one of them just doesn't belong."
Now that's how you get DOWN!
THAT'S where that cloud of tantalizing smells came from.
There was something about Dwele that didn't sit right with me....
Perhaps it was the way he artificially mingled with the crowd...
I actally think it was the way he held his mike. The angle is just too perfect.
The US is the most obese country in the world!? HA! What a load of hogwash! Sweet...juicy...hogwash.
Endless mass of heads.
Ok, extra points to the person who thinks up the best thought bubble for the woman sitting two seats from the left in the black shirt, in the front of the picture. Have at it.
Now HERE'S who I came for, Roy Hargrove and The RH Factor.
The Miles Davis of today.
The most well-rounded band in the world. Brilliant winds, percussion and vocals.
"HEY! THE SHOW'S IN FRONT OF YOU! Bitch."
"WE JAMMIN!"
Something in the distance caught the bassist's attention. We don't know what, we don't know who. But it was absolutely mesmerizing.
In conclusion, ladies and gentlemen...Black Power!
What a way to bring one's mind to peace....before the utter mayhem of finals that is to come. Through the storm of life and its follies, a flurry of light appeared. The light of jazz and funk. And it was good.
Black power to us all.
4:52 AM
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Friday, May 27, 2005
No Soup for You!
It has always been my belief that it's the little things in life that make it worth living. Such is the case when yesterday I only had one class from 9am-10am since my other noon class was cancelled. Driving home, I realized that I could go get a nutritious, wholesome breakfast at everyone's favorite promoter of heart disease, McDonalds. There's something about places like McDonalds that remind you of an earlier time, a (some say) better time, when we were younger, getting those happy meals with those tantalizing toys. We loved those symbols of childhood, despite the gastric bypass surgery that would result from so many visits. Collect them all? Oh I'll collect them all. No matter what it takes.
I drove on over to the fast food establishment close to where I live at around 10:30, hoping to get an Egg McMuffin or two...or maybe even a Sausage McMuffin. Thinking of the possibilities made me giddy with joy. Walking up to the counter to order, I realized the menu for breakfast was no longer up. Instead, the regular burger menu was up. But there were so many people there. They couldn't have been there to get a Big Mac with supersize fries this early in the morning....could they?
"Welcome to McDonalds."
"Uh thanks...you...too"
"How can I help you?"
"Are you guys still serving breakfast?"
"No...it's over."
Now is that a response to a query from a hungry teenager regarding the most important meal of the day? This response was such a shock to me, I could barely think of a response. Here is the conversation replayed to show how I heard it.
"Welcome to McDonalds."
"Uh thanks...you...too"
I always do that. Note to self: think of a better response next time. Don't welcome people back.
"How can I help you?"
Oh you can help me.
"Are you guys still serving breakfast?"
"NO. IT'S OVER!"
"But...it can't be!"
"OOOOOVVVEEEERRRRRR!!!!"
"This...this isn't possible...it's only 10:30 in the morning!"
"DID YOU JUST GET HERE?! WE START LUNCH AT 10:30 TO PLEASE ALL THE HORDES LARGE, LARGE PEOPLE! LOOK AROUND YOU!!"
"But...I don't understand!"
"It's not meant to be understood....Now, GET OUT!!"
"I....I..."
"OUT!!!"
This conversation with Anna-Maria was severly damaging not only to my stomach, but to my psyche as well. How could they end breakfast that early? And not only was the truth hurtful, but it was the way Anna-Maria delivered it. It's over. So... final. Irreversible. That's not a way to deliver such horrific news that breakfast is no longer being served. It's kicking someone while they're down is what it is.
So I went home, to wallow in my ordinary Frosted Flakes, wondering if they were really that grrreat. I decided that they weren't. And as Bob Barker announced the prize for the next game, I wondered. I wondered about what could have been. Would life have been different if I had that Sausage Egg McMuffin by my side? I suppose it's to soon to tell. One thing is for certain. Anna-Maria will always be there. Serving as a reminder of a lost past.
A past without hash browns, a past without McMuffins, a past without hope.
But seriously, who gets a Quarter Pounder with cheese at 10:30 in the morning??
2:55 PM
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Thursday, May 26, 2005
8:56 PM
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Monday, May 23, 2005
A Taste of Seamist
Inspired by a certain Mr. Dehar's query to a certain restaurant, I was decided to contact the makers of the best thing on earth: White Cranberry Juice with Peach. I wrote this letter while studying psychology last night (reading about ADHD.....I kid you not) and my study daze, I think, comes out in my wording...it's for the best though, I reckon.
Dear Sir or Madam,
I am writing this email to basically compliment you on your fantastic product White Cranberry Juice with Peach. I discovered this juice a few weeks ago and I have to tell you, I haven't been the same since. In fact, I think I'm a better man because of the delectable drink. Not only is it refreshing and thirst quenching but the uncanny blend of white cranberry and peach is like none other. Now, I am still a fan of the regular White Cranberry Juice and White Cranberry with Strawberry Juice but it is the White Cranberry with Peach that has taken my heart.I also wanted to make a suggestion of other possible blends with white cranberry. Perhaps a tropical line of juices such as White Cranberry with Mango, White Cranberry with Guava or White Cranberry with Kiwi. This is just some food for thought (or juice for thought...as the case may be) Again, I commend you on a fantastic product and thank you very much.
Sincerely, Pasha Bahsoun
Now here is the somewhat underwhelming response from Gemelyn (what you get when a gremlin and a precious stone, mate) from Oceanspray consumer affairs. Although it is fairly professionally written, the response is a victim of standardized corporate responses, never giving detail or evoking emotion. Nonetheless, I'm glad they responded.
Dear Pasha:
Thank you for visiting us at www.oceanspray.com.
"Good for you, America" has been an Ocean Spray theme for many years. We truly stand behind this theme. Producing high quality food products is our primary goal. Your encouraging words let us know that we are accomplishing this.
Over the past several years, Ocean Spray has brought you many exciting new products. You can be sure that we will continue to develop new and innovative products to meet your needs!
We appreciate your taking the time to share your thoughts with us, as it is always enjoyable to hear from consumers who enjoy our products. Please be assured that our Research & Development personnel keep up on new package and product variations that might further benefit our growers. You may be sure that every alternative is considered at some point. At this time there are no plans to market the product you suggested. We regret that our answer could not be more favorable.
If we can be of any further assistance, please feel free to e-mail us again or contact us by phone at 1-800-662-3263 Monday through Friday 9-4 EST. When responding, please reference the case number located at the bottom of this e-mail.
Thank you,
Gemelyn
Ocean Spray
Consumer Affairs
# 5,195,158
The basic purpose of my sharing of this experience is to convey the fact that it is best to contact large corporations when you're working on 5 hours of sleep and have been studying something for at least 16 hours. And I implore each and every one of you. White Cranberry Juice with Peach is here for you to enjoy, so indulge in this fine product.
Sweet, divine nectar of Olympus. How I praise you.
8:14 PM
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Friday, May 13, 2005
The Physics of Brain Farts
Coming out of a Physics exam that I bombed, I feel it is necessary to discuss the quirks and kinks of the organ we call the brain.
We've all experienced what we in the professional world call a "brain fart." This occurs in situations like the following:
"Jimmy, what is 7 x 2?"
"Uuuuhhhhh......"
"Jimmy, it's not a hard question."
"UUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH."
"..."
*CLICK*
"Fourteen!!"
"Thank you, Jimmy."
Now it is important to note that Jimmy is a graduate student in computer sciences at the University of Alabama, Birmingham. (I know, I know..I didn't know they had computers in Alabama either)
Now a brain fart is most volatile when it is not followed by the saving grace of the *click* that allows us to access the information in our brain that the fart is blocking. This is when the brain fart is at its most dangerous because by the time a click comes, if there even is one, it's too late. Take the following example of me buying a gourmet trader's bowl (also known as garbage medley bowl) at the Bombshelter just today.
"That'll be $5.24."
"Alrighty here's a 5...but wait for it! I've got a quarter!" Editor's note: Don't you just love it when you have near exact change!
"So how did 4W go for you?" At this point in the conversation the fart has been exhumed and neurons are just firing in the wrong places, frantically searching for either what 4W signifies or if this person looks familiar.
"....wha?"
"You know. English 4W...last quarter... With Professor Devine?"
Of course! Idiot. You took English 4W last quarter.
"You don't remember me do you?"
"Uuuuhhh."
There were only 20 people in the damn class. You had better remember her.
Glancing down at her name tag I realize that I do remember her....and she sat next to me in class.
"Oh man of course! Yeah you sat right next to me!"
"Yeaaaahhh"
"Well...now I'm embarrassed."
"Tee hee."
"Yeah...yeah it went pretty well for me. You?"
"It went well for me too."
"Awesome...well, I'll see you later."
"Alright. Nice seeing you again."
At this point, the conversation has ended. I kind of redeemed myself by drawing attention to my foolishness. But did I realize this? Of course not. Followed by a proverbial brain fart came what no one else saw coming.
"You know...I think it was the glasses you're wearing...I...didn't recognize you with the glasses."
"I always wear these glasses."
"Oh...ok then....the hat then?"
"Maybe."
"Ok...........bye."
Yes ladies and gentlemen. As if the brain fart wasn't enough, a brain puke had to follow. This can be described by moments when you know you should stop talking, but alas, you do not. The neurons just keep afirin', and you just keep on ayakkin'.
I suppose lapses in brain function are what makes us human. What makes us tell these embarrassing stories to others. What keeps us going through the day. Sure they can be pretty awful, (especially when you have a 50 minute brain fart during a physics exam) but without them, we'd have brain indigestion. Without the passing of brain gas, and the exhuming of brain vomit, what would be but cyborgs. Unfeeling, unembarrassed, unhuman.
Although being a cyborg would be kind of cool. You could have like a laser on your right arm...and...and a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher......totally bitchin.
So go through your days, young ones, taking on these kinks of your ever-changing brain as they come because it is not whether they come or not that makes you who you are, but how you take them on and overpower them. Because without this power, who are we but a bunch of Paris Hiltons roaming the earth. And that, my friends, is what we call the apocalypse.
3:42 PM
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Thursday, May 12, 2005
It's Death Week
And you know what that means! Procrastination + Midterms = Surveys!
Your brain: 80% interpersonal, 120% visual, 100% verbal, and 100% mathematical!
| Congratulations on being 400% smart! Actually, on my test, everyone is. The above score breaks down what kind of thinking you most enjoy doing. A score above 100% means you use that kind of thinking more than average, and a score below 100% means you use it less. It says nothing about how good you are at any one, just how interested you are in each, relatively. A substantial difference in scores between two people means, conclusively, that they are different kinds of thinkers.
Matching Summary: Each of us has different tastes. Still, I offer the following advice, which I think is obvious:
- Don't date someone if your interpersonal percentages differ by more than 80%.
- Don't be friends with someone if your verbal percentages differ by more than 100%.
- Don't have sex with someone if their math percentage is over 200%.
|  |
My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: | You scored higher than 70% on interpersonal | | You scored higher than 82% on visual | | You scored higher than 80% on verbal | | You scored higher than 68% on mathematical |
|
2:00 AM
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Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Ok this is either hilarious...
Or extremely disturbing.
Protect our troops - from the womb to the war. What if the fetus you were going to abort would grow up to be a soldier bringing democracy to a godless dictatorship? Plastic replica of an 11-12 week old fetus, 3" long, holding a firearm in its precious little hand, with an assortment of other military paraphernalia, encased in a translucent plastic ornament, with a patriotic yellow ribbon on top. Includes a metal ornament hanger. If only a womb were this safe, attractive and reasonably priced! Show that you support the "culture of life" by buying and proudly displaying one of these patriotic unborn Americans. Also available in a Brown model.
Buddha bless you all.
4:45 AM
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Sunday, May 01, 2005
Best. Boondocks. Ever.
8:06 PM
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