stale pbj

Sometimes I get CD's from the library. I'll just browse through the CD section, grab a few that I've heard about, and then listen to 'em at home. The problem is that sometimes I listen to something once, put it aside, and then forget exactly what I thought of it before returning it to the library. So, before I forget, just a quick reminder to myself: Peter, Bjorn and John, you totally suck.

T-Bone's spa therapy

I've never had a professional massage. I'm not shitting you; I shit you not. There are some people out there who get a massage every week, you know? Hell, you can get a massage at the airport, for christ's sake. But I'm just not a self-pamperin' sort of guy. Except ...

Every 6 months, I schedule an appointment and go to a local place for my own little special therapy. I get to sit in a comfy chair, put some shades on, kick back, watch a little TV on the ceiling, and let someone else take care of me for a while. And where is this magical haven, you ask? Why, it's my dental hygienist's office!

Seriously, for me, getting my teeth cleaned is the closest I get to a sort of man-spa session. And if you think carefully about it, the comparison is apt. In addition to the chair, and the sunglasses, and the comforting elevator music, you're also getting your teeth cleaned. When I leave that office, my smile is looking like a million bucks, and it stays that way until I eat a burrito or something like that and get a bunch of chicken shreds caught in my teeth. But even then, I know that in another 6 months, the dental hygienist is going to pull those shreds out.

What about the discomfort, you also ask? Ah, let's face it: it's not that bad. OK, getting the mini-water jet on an exposed nerve is bad, and I guess I don't like that thing that makes the high-pitched whine. And spit sinks. Why did they ever do away with spit sinks? They had 'em when I was a kid; and back then, going to the dentist for me was like spending the day at an amusement park. Suction sucks! If I can find a dentist around here who still has a spit sink, I'll be happier than a pig in pig heaven.

So there you have it. That's how I roll. I bet most of you Mad City fans never saw this one coming.

hallie bateman, superstar

Some people believe in eating locally. I believe in consuming local art. My latest and maybe greatest find occurred not too long ago, when I stumbled across an art exhibit at Beyond the Bridge Cafe in Tacoma. It's not even my usual coffee house hangout! I've been going to Metronome mostly. But for whatever reason I went to Beyond the Bridge that day and saw the exhibit by local artist Hallie Bateman.

Not sure if you've checked out the link to the Ridiculous Sister website (it's right over there), but that site belongs to Hallie and has plenty of her cool art. She's currently a senior at University of Puget Sound, which is less than a mile away from my crib, and will be graduating real soon. The piece that I liked the most at her art exhibit (a crocodile in a wedding dress) was already sold, which distressed me, but soon thereafter I came up with the idea of commissioning an art work for my friend B-Phat's "man cave" (check out the link for Concords Are Better - it's right over there). I got in touch with Hallie and sold her on the idea, so to speak, and the results were staggering. Just look at that smile on B-Phat's face! You can tell he likes his man cave picture.

At any rate, check out her website, and think about commissioning something for yourself. It's the gift that keeps on giving ...

michael medved

As I've made my way through this crazy adventure called life, I keep stumbling over this one fact which can't be avoided: Michael Medved is a complete ass. Not only the worst movie critic of all time, but also a hard-right political commentator (who used to be a liberal activist! And then talked about how he'd "seen the light" or some shit like that, and became this right-wing dick). And I think he lives in Seattle! If I'm not mistaken. I guess his radio show is broadcast from Seattle. Probably lives in Bellevue ...

Remember that movie "Kangaroo Jack?" About some mobsters who get stranded down in Australia, and then have to chase this animatronic kangaroo because somehow all their money got in its pouch? Clearly one of the worst movies of all time, right? But Michael Medved liked it! Because it was family-friendly, and didn't have sex or violence or naughty curse words, etc etc. But then he decided he couldn't write a good review of it, because the director contributed money to Democratic political candidates. I shit you not.

Is Michael Medved gay? (Not that there's a problem with that; I have no problem with anyone being gay) He strongly gives that impression, no? But if he is, he's one deeply closeted son of a bitch. Maybe that's why he took that hard-right turn in his life: he didn't want anyone to guess his true sexual identification. Just like Ted Haggard and Larry Craig.

Give it up, Michael Medved! You completely suck. In fact, I can't think of anyone in America who sucks more than you.

the name game

Ideas can be a dangerous thing. For every Bill Gates out there with a crazy idea about something like "software," there are probably 99 people who drive themselves into financial and psychological ruin by pursuing their dream. And I have to say I'm teetering at the edge of the abyss right now.

I have no experience in running a Vietnamese restaurant - hell, I've never run any kind of restaurant - but when out of nowhere the greatest name ever for a Vietnamese restaurant strikes you ... well, what are you supposed to do? Just forget about it? And just as it would be very difficult to imagine what our world would be like if Microsoft had never came along, I think someday people will be asking themselves how they ever got by without Pho Sure.

road rage

I'm generally a pretty even-keeled guy, but I do get kind of pissed off at times on the road. More than is healthy for me! And typically I just feel embarrassed and stupid about it later. But I came up with two ways to address this: A) I give myself more time to get to places now. Running late is a surefire recipe for stress and B) I just consider that other people don't drive as well as me. I may not be the greatest driver in the world (I'm no A.J. Foyt) but I'd say I drive better than 95% of the people out there. And looking at it that way, allows me to forgive them.

Feel free to borrow these driving tips! Namaste ...

cherry, cherry, quite contrary

Spring in the Pacific Northwest means one thing: drizzly rain. Wait: it also means the blossoming of cherry trees. Two things.

Right now there's cherry trees blossoming all over my neighborhood. Looks great, smells great. Who can complain, right? Well, I've got my hand in the air. I'm not complaining exactly, but I want to ask you all how things are going to look in another week or two. All those blossoms will be gone, and we'll be stuck with a bunch of skinny old nothing-special trees.

Now don't get me wrong: I love trees. So much, in fact, that I question why we can't have other trees besides these cherry trees everywhere. How about some macadamia trees? It would be so cool to be just walking along and find a whole bunch of macadamia nuts under some tree. I love macadamias! Or maybe some banana trees. I actually don't like eating bananas, but I've seen lush banana trees in real life, and they look so damn bountiful! I'd just like to see some of that in my neighborhood. And we've got palm trees here - there's a couple right around the corner, as a matter of fact - so don't tell me banana trees won't grow in Tacoma.

Hell, I'd even take some apple trees. I love apples. Maybe a nice Jonamac tree, or even a basic old Macintosh tree. I don't care! I just want to be walking down the street, and see an apple tree over there, and just go over and gorge to my heart's content. Can you do that with a cherry tree? No. At least, not the ones around here. You're not gonna eat anything off of them. I'm not even sure if they all ARE cherry trees - maybe there's some other kind of blossoming tree that people cultivate - but let's call them cherry trees for convenience's sake. I want something to eat.