TK's Sober Movie Reviews

Let me get this out front first: As I alluded to on Twitter, I fucked up Sober January. Actually, I fucked it up repeatedly, but last weekend (when I posted about it on Twitter), it was totally and completely The Wife’s fault. We were at this art show thing and I was sulking around with my Sparkling Water and The Wife finally browbeat me into having wine so we could have Fun. Which then did ensue and ended up in a lengthy, late-night dinner for 5 at Foreign Cinema with lots more wine and booze and then the Smoking of the Cigarettes and the Hailing of the Cabs and then the Further Unnecessary Drinking.

And then, once it’s ruined, why not just carry on the rest of the weekend? Hey, Miss America’s on!

(I only watched – LITERALLY – like 10 minutes of it and could totally tell that Miss Texas was going to win. Also, I saw a little bit of the talent competition and some chick did a Double Ventriloquist thing with 2 dummies that was mindblowing and immensely sad at the same time. It almost made me cry.)

What was my point? Oh yeah, anyway, back on Sober January again and you know what happens during Sober January? You watch a lot of movies. So here are my uninformed bullshit takes on what we’ve seen, in roughly reverse chronological order:

Three Kings: I guess David O. Russell’s original vision for this film, which concerns the Gulf War for Oil and came out in 1999, will forever be tainted by, um, subsequent events. I found it impossible to not think about what was coming 10+ years after this film is set. Anyway, it’s pretty good. Ice Cube actually does a serviceable job with the acting. The ending’s a little too pat, but that’s Hollywood. (Humorously, David O. Russell is known in Hollywood as “David O. Asshole.” No point; I just think that’s funny.) George Clooney plays Major George Clooney.

Please Give: Yes, it’s another film about whiny, navel-gazing, self-involved Manhattanites, but I actually really liked it and I don’t know why. Maybe Amanda Peet. Amanda Peet rules. Also, there’s a kid who turns in a great performance. The message of the film seems to be that joy comes from material things, which is refreshingly honest. Or maybe that’s not the message, I don’t know. Anyway, there’s not a lot of story but the dialogue is pretty great and Amanda Peet is in it.


Amanda Peet is startled while looking for something to wear in her next low-budget, character-driven indie.

Catfish: This was awesome. It’s a documentary about meeting people on the Internet and GASP maybe everyone is not what they seem. It’s hard to say too much without giving the whole thing away. There is one scene of incredible tension that rivals anything in some retarded Michael Bay action thriller, and there aren’t even any explosions in it. Anyway, if you use the Internet, you will enjoy this film.

Heathers: I hadn’t seen it in a long time, and The Wife had never seen it. I was anticipating a fun-filled romp through the past, but The Wife fell asleep and I found out that this movie really doesn’t hold up well at all.

The Ghost Writer: Now, this was pretty great. It’s sort of a political suspense thriller which may not sound that exciting but it really is. Reappearance of the teacher from “Rushmore”! Anyway, totally worth watching.

Monsoon Wedding: Pretty much exactly what I expected. It’s a chick flick from India. It was fine. Better than some chick flicks, I’ll tell you that much. It was better than “Love and Other Drugs.” That’s a chick flick, right? It wasn't very good.

Top 5 Things The Wife and I Say to Each Other While Watching Top Chef (Any Iteration)

1. "That guy is such a prick."

2. "Bourdain sure likes himself, doesn't he?"

3. "I would eat the shit out of that."

4. "That looks disgusting."

5. "Oh, Gail. Poor Gail."

So now we have "Top Chef All-Stars," which isn't really All-Stars because none of the actual winners of past seasons are on, just contestants who did well and didn't win. I guess "Top Chef All-Stars" sounds better than "Top Chef Runners-Up." Whatever, I'll watch it. Every season now I think "I've had it with Top Chef, I'm not watching this season," and as soon as I see the first Quickfire Challenge I'm hooked.

Plus, The Wife has a thing for Colicchio (who is known, colloquially, in our house as "Coleek").

(But in all seriousness, we ate at his place Craft in NYC and I shit you not, it was one of the best meals I've ever had. Don't even get me started on the little individual copper kettles of potato gratin.)

(Oh, that brings up the time that I missed my chance to introduce myself to Dave Matthews. He was eating at Craft at the same time we were and then we went outside at the same time and I was waiting for The Wife, who was inside going to the restroom or something and Dave Matthews was talking to his manager or lackey or whatever the guy was and asked him for a cigarette and the flunky didn't have one and I happened to have a whole pack and I was thinking "Man, I should offer Dave Matthews a cigarette" but I didn't and so he didn't get cancer and continues to inflict his "music" on dopey fratboys everywhere.)

Plus, since "Sons of Anarchy" ended I needed to pick up a new show anyway.

Mad Men #13: FMK

Ummmmmmm, OK, how about: Faye, Meghan, and Dr. Rape.

Friends, we are here. We have reached the End of Our Journey and it has been a strange one, what with the Chocolate Bunnies and the slapping and all the trips to California and whatnot. Now I can finally stop taking notes while watching the TV.

Let’s kick things off with Faye over at Don’s place. He’s got a “sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.” Maybe he read the spoilers on Twitter, too! Faye’s the one who should have the sick feeling, speaking of spoilers. OH SNAP.

Don’s taking a meeting with the American Cancer Society. For the first time ever on this show, there’s a meeting where everyone’s not smoking. Looks like ACS has the same offices as the Susan Ross Foundation on “Seinfeld.” Back at the office, Ken won’t play ball and ask his Father in Law to join a foursome. I think they’re talking about golf. God, I hope so.

Did you know that Creeper Glen is played by Matthew Weiner’s son? It’s a good thing Dad runs the show, because that kid cannot fucking act. I mean, I’m sorry and it feels bad to criticize a 12-year-old or however old he is, but it’s really apparent when he does all these scenes with Kiernan Shipka and she’s basically Meryl Streeping his Keanu all over the floor. ANYWAY Creeper Glen shows up at Chez Bets to say goodbye to Sally since they’re moving to Rye and CG says “I say goodbye to people all the time” in his creepy Children of the Corn way and Betty comes home and he is so BUSTED and then she gets mad and fucking FIRES CARLA!?! BITCH! You can’t go around firing Carla! She was cool and plus now the show is whiter than the Brady Bunch.

So Don’s off to Cali again and needs some help with the kids. Maybe Megan wants to come! That’s a good audition for the Mrs. Draper role that’s currently open. As a matter of fact, she does want to come! To California, I mean. Nudge nudge. So off they go and they are in the COOLEST HOTEL ROOM OF ALL TIME and Megan is teaching the kids some weird-ass foreign songs and generally being cool. Meanwhile, Don goes over to visit Stephanie, who looks like she could have just walked out of Pop's. I guess hipsters always look like hipsters. She gives him Anna’s old engagement ring. HMMMM MAYBE FORESHADOWING?????

Back at the hotel, Don’s having a High Life and reading some Le Carre. He goes next door to see Meg. She was told she can never become an actress with teeth like that. She is a little horsey, to be fair. But cute enough! Time to get it on like Donkey Kong. These two. Always with the sexing. Then the next day she’s got the kids at the Super Cool Diner and one of them knocks over a milkshake and Megs is just cool as a cucumber and we’re supposed to think that Betty would be FREAKING OUT and going “FUCK YOU, YOU LITTLE MONSTERS, YOU’RE GETTING MILKSHAKE ON MY BEAUTY” and instead Meg is all “I got this,” and Don’s like “Whoa.”

Hey, what’s this now? Peggy’s drumming up some bidness with Topaz pantyhose! No one’s very excited. I’m not that excited either. “Topaz, it is a brand of pantyhose.” They’re going to have to come up with something catchier than that!

Then we get to the big moment. Don proposes to Megan! “Megan, will you accept this dead chick’s ring? Hopefully whatever she had isn’t contagious.” And she’s all “I don’t know what to say.” It’s fucking Don Draper, figure it out. Later Peggy comes in and she’s like “Are you going to fuck or marry every chick in this office but me?” She’s got a point! Don calls Faye to dump her. I don’t know, man, I think they’ve been on 5 dates and the rule is that you have to dump someone in person if it’s been 5 dates. But she doesn’t want to meet up. Oh well. Bye, Faye!

So Joan’s on the phone with Dr. Very Short Lifespan. I’m kind of amazed he doesn’t get blown up during their conversation. Wait, he knows she’s pregnant? I guess she’s keeping the baby. Honestly, can you ever hear that phrase without “Papa Don’t Preach” popping into your head? Anyway, he’s just as slimy as ever. He’s gonna look good in a casket, though!

I hope next season starts in 1976. I want Don in a leisure suit, hot-tubbing with a couple of stewardesses.

Mad Men #12: Why I'm Quitting Tobacco. Not personally, I mean.

Man, this whole operation is going down the tubes. Don's trying to scare up some Bean Business with Mr. Heinz, but they won't commit because SCDP might not be around in 6 mos.! That's some bullshit! But he's right about one thing. Pickles are funny.

The business consultant guy or whoever he is who looks like Dr. Bunsen Honeydew says SCDP should stick with what they know: delicious cigarettes. There's gonna be a new brand of Chick Smokes. Are we seeing the birth of Virginia Slims? Awesome.

HEY SWEET CREEPER GLEN IS BACK. He's chatting up Sally while wearing an Arizona Cardinals uniform. They talk a lot about Bets. WONDER WHY. But hey, any excuse to get Creeper Glen back in the mix. Later we see Sally playing Go Fish with Dr. Edna. My shrink never played Go Fish with me! Fuck, for $125 an hour I should have gotten fucking Baccarat. Then later Bets catches Sally hanging out with Glen and Glen bolts even though they're not doing anything. YET, anyway.

Don runs into Midge from the Village. Remember her? She was that boho chick he was banging in season 1 or 2 or thereabouts and smoking The Pot and reading Frank O'Hara and all that jazz. LITERALLY. Anyway, she's looking pretty good but she's on the smack. Let's go over to Midge's for some whiskey and chicken cordon bleu with her creepy-ass husband. She's running some kind of art for sex scheme. DD throws her some money and takes Number 4. Oh, Midge. You've really let yourself go. You know what else is like drinking 100 bottles of whiskey while someone licks your tits? Pride in a job well done! Not really.

Dr. Honeydew comes around again and tells everyone at SCDP there's no cig company business after all. FAIL. Shit is going downhill. Everyone freaks out. Peggy wants to change SCDP's name. They should change it to "BBDO"! Those guys seem to be doing well. They could probably get a ton of business just by accident. Oh wait, even better, how about just "Puppies"? Everyone loves puppies!

Back at Don's pad, he stares at Number 4 for a LONG TIME and then oh shit he's gonna write in the journal and here comes that awful voiceover oh wait no, it's cool, he's writing "Why I'm Quitting Tobacco" and publishing it in the New York Times and basically being a fucking GAME CHANGER and being DISRUPTIVE and all kinds of dot com startup bullshit. Um, the other partners don't like it so much. Bert hates it so much that he's taking his shoes and leaving. That's sad! I'll miss Weird Old Bert. Then that fucking Ted Chaughough calls up and pretends to be Mayor Quimby Robert Kennedy and HA HA HA I hope you get killed by a hippie who writes "KILL THE PIGS" in blood on your wall.

Hey, where did Don get all that damn money? He's walking around with $125 in cash, which is like $7,500 in today's money and he's paying Pete's partnership stake and basically he's just got gobs of fucking cash.

Next week's the season finale. I'm rooting for a "Who shot Ted Chaoughough?" cliffhanger.

Mad Men #10: Guess who's not getting a "Best Dad Ever" mug for Christmas this year?

Here are a few surprises: Joan's pregnant! And Sally gets to see The Beatles! And Lane has a Black Girlfriend!

First things first. Joan's knocked up and tells Roger. He wants to know if she's seen the 1978 Billy Crystal vehicle "The Rabbit Test". Oh wait, I might have that wrong. He wants to know if she's had a rabbit test. Joan only buys cruelty-free cosmetics, so the answer is no. Later, they go to the doctor, who has all the affable likability of Josef Mengele. Have you ever noticed that doctors on this show, as a rule, are not exactly portrayed lovingly? Someone had a bad experience at the doctor's as a child! I'M ON TO YOU MATTHEW WEINER.

Anyway, Rog wants to keep the baby but this is a bad idea, even though Doctor Rape is never, ever coming back from Vietnam and Rog seems to think that every Army Wife has been knocked up by the neighbor. Plus, the last thing the world needs is the Unholy Offspring of Roger and Joan. So, following a little pregnancy boozing & smoking, Joan's off to the Abortion Doc, who thankfully does not appear on camera because I'd hate to see what Weiner would do with him.


So Joan has the aborsh and that's the end of that. Or at least I think she does! Were they like making it all ambiguous so we don't know? MYSTERY. Also, I see big things in Hilary's future and it's probably for the best.

Speaking of the Folsom Street Fair, HERE'S LANE'S DAD! Lane thinks he's getting a visit from the Too-Obviously-Named Nigel, who I gather is his kid, and instead SURPRISE IT'S DISTANT AND DIFFICULT DAD INSTEAD. At least, I hope that's what happened, or Lane's gift of stuffed animals and balloons is WAY creepier than I thought. Lane and Dad and Don all go to the Playboy Club for dinner and Lane makes a big show of inviting his Black Girlfriend over and Dad's all like "Whatever" and Don's all like "Whatever" and it's pretty much a bust. Then later Lane meets up with her and calls her his "Chocolate Bunny" and I almost died from how awesome that is.

Lane's Dad comes over and Lane and Chocolate Bunny are there and they're all about to go out and, whoops, Guess Who's Not Coming to Dinner? (I stole that joke from Julia, or I think it was Julia, I was kind of buzzed, so credit her for that or whoever said it.) Nobody's coming to dinner is who because Chocolate Bunny leaves and then Dad smacks Lane with his cane and then steps on his hand! WHOA, ABUSIVE DAD! Don pays good money for this kind of shit and you're just giving it away!

OK, meanwhile SCDP is trying to get this big Defense Contractor client because cigarettes and Vicks Vapo-Rub aren't evil enough. So this leads to a big background check and Holy Shit now everyone's going to find out about Don's Secret History! Well, unless he can put a stop to it. Don is FREAKING OUT and tells Pete to call someone he knows or something and put a stop to this. Then he goes and just tells Faye all about it! WTF!

Oh, 2 more things: Lee Garner from Lucky Strikes fires SCDP and this is going to be big trouble, and Trudy is EXTREMELY PREGNANT. Next week is going to be the tits, I can already tell.

Mad Men #8: The ether, the blindness, and then I got the goggles

Oh God this is painful watching Don write in his My Little Pony diary and having these awful voiceovers frame the whole episode. “Dear Diary, today I fucked a secretary and then went for ice cream!!!!!!! I got pistachio!!!!!!! I love Frank Sinatra.” Please, Weiner, no mas. I don’t know why I even bother with Mad Men anymore now that there’s a new season of Rehab: Party at the Hard Rock. One day I’m going to teach a grad-level seminar on Rehab: Party at the Hard Rock and we’ll talk about the symbolism of the tiki cups with the potentially sabotaged holes in them and also about Matt’s character arc. That show rules.

OK, so it looks like Don’s trying to cut down on the boozing, maybe after Pegs called him out on it last week. Unfortunately, you can’t smoke while you’re swimming or I’m sure he’d try. He’s doing laps and journaling and going to yoga now I guess. Hey, the Stones finally arrive on the soundtrack! About fucking time! Then Don leaves the N.Y.A.C. and puts on those sunglasses I WANT SO BADLY and then there’s a long voiceover about corn or some shit. NO MORE VOICEOVERS.

This episode is actually not about Don and His Boring and Trite Diary but instead about Women in the Workplace. Joey is VERY MEAN to Joan and boy is he gonna get it. You do not fuck with Joan, I am serious. Back at her place, Joan has a breakdown and seeks solace with Future Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall Inscribee Doc, who just wants to hit it. Actually, I find that hitting it really does fix almost anything, so maybe he’s on to something.

Oh, Don’s making a Life List! 1. Climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. 2. Float down to the bottom of the pool just like Bill Murray in “Rushmore.” 3. Have sex with January Jones. Oh wait, that’s mine. Number 3 is mine, my mistake. 3. Buy stock in Canadian Club.

A million restaurants in Manhattan, and Don and Bethany and Cryptkeeper and Bets all have to show up at the same one. Betty sees DD and needs a gimlet stat. Meanwhile, Bethany needs more from Don. Like maybe a nickel for milk at school, because she’s about 16. CK and his buddy have some political talk, while Bets retreats to the bathroom to suck down a smoke because she’s tensed out. More gimlets, please.

Two car rides home with two different results! In Car #1, we have Bets freaking out and Cryptkeeper calling her drunk. In Car #2, we have Bethany – WHOA, BETHANY – umm, that’s some advanced shit for 1965! I didn’t think blow jobs in the back seats of cabs started until the mid-70s at the earliest, but I always knew Bethany was ahead of her time.

Let’s return to the office now, where Terminal Joey is preparing a vodka and Mountain Dew. Hey, Joey, did we go to college together? I went through a vodka and Mountain Dew phase. Actually, it was a vodka and anything phase – Coke, coke, Sprite, Gatorade, milk, water, whatever was handy. ANYWAY, this is all prelude to the Important Vending Machine Meeting that Joan and Lane have and I guess the vending machine is supposed to symbolize something but I don’t know what. Joey puts a mean drawing in Joan’s window and Joan tells all the kidz they’re going to get killed in Vietnam but they’ll just get deferments so probably not. But then Peggy, who is wearing a cheerleader skirt for some reason, fires Joey! Holy shit! He doesn’t really take it all that well. He’s kind of a dick but we’ll miss him. Joan’s pissed, though, because she had her own ways of handling that little prick and she didn’t get to do some Joan-Fu on his ass.

Don goes by the Old Homestead and picks up his boxes and Cryptkeeper is mowing the lawn like he’s in a Viagra commercial. Then he goes inside and shit, dude is fucking ripped. He’s like that guy from the Bowflex ads who’s like 55 and plays bass in a band and whatever. What do they, have Gold’s locations in Ossining in 1965 or something?

Let’s wrap this shit up. Don goes out with Faye FINALLY and they get some chianti and start making out in the cab and NOW she’s ready to give it up since she got in a fight with her BF and told him to shit in the ocean but DD’s not giving it up. Great strategy! If you don’t want to get laid, I mean. Anyway, later Don shows up at his kid’s birthday party and Cryptkeeper stares at him REAL HARD and there’s no music over the closing credits.

No Roger, so that’s an automatic 15-point deduction.

And just in case that last post had you thinking that maybe I'd lost my edge

Here is a non-exclusive list of people who pissed me off whilst traveling 6000 miles in the last 5 days:

1. Fat Guy with Rolls of Neck Fat seated in my row (but across the aisle) from SFO-DEN who called everyone he knew to tell them his flight was delayed, then squinted at his phone with his fat face and then called someone and said "Yeah, she's got nice....eyes, heh heh heh" like you are so smooth Mr. Operator and who the fuck is sending you naked pics on your phone while you're waiting for your plane to take off?

2. Vaguely Native American Bro on another flight seated diagonally across from me (i.e., so I could see everything he did) and who was dipping (i.e., using smokeless tobacco) and spitting brown spit/tobacco juice into a clear plastic cup. I would rather you light up a fucking Cohiba than spit into your spit cup within 5 feet of me. THIS ISN'T FUCKING DEADWOOD, HOMBRE, IT'S AN AIRBUS GOING TO DENVER.

3. Overly Aggressive Frontier Airlines Master Card salespeople in the Denver Airport. Actually they didn't bother me because one of them started to approach me and I gave her The Look that I reserve for situations like this and that probably makes it look like I'm about to kill somebody or dismember a baby and she backed right the fuck up.

4. Everyone who LEAPS into the aisle of a plane the INSTANT it stops moving and then stands there waiting to push off the plane. That will not get you off the plane any faster, you acorn-brained numbnuts. It WILL result in you jiggling my chair back and forth while you stand there in the aisle, annoying me, however.

5. Overly Friendly Coffee Store Clerk who has to extract everyone's Personal Life Story and Detailed History of every single fucking action they've taken since the last time you saw them when all I want is a half-pound of your fucking house blend ground for automatic drip so I can get the fuck out of your cutesy coffee shop and get some goddam caffeine into my system. Oh really? It rained out where you are? NO FUCKING SHIT THAT IS FASCINATING PLEASE GO ON IN MINUTE DETAIL ABOUT EVERY DROP OF RAIN. Did any of the drops touch you or your pets? Please tell me everything omit nothing.

OK, I feel better now. My headache is starting to go away.

BFD of the day

Gavin Newsom's wife's trust held stock in Transocean, the company that owned the drilling rig that is now permanently ruining the Gulf Coast. BFD.

It turns out that San Francisco's eco-conscious Mayor Gavin Newsom and his wife, Jennifer Siebel Newsom, own a piece of the deepwater rig at the center of the gulf oil disaster.

According to the mayor's most recently filed economic disclosure statement, last year the couple invested between $10,000 and $100,000 in Transocean Inc. - the company whose ruptured deepwater rig, which is leased to BP, is spewing millions of gallons of oil, endangering wildlife and beaches all along the Gulf Coast.

So what? I'm sure my mutual fund is invested in baby seal coats and Bible stores and whatever. I have no Earthly idea what I'm invested in. I highly doubt Gavin knew either. And if he knew, through some weird circumstance, that his wife was invested in Transocean, do you think he did some due diligence and found out that Transocean ran deepwater drilling rigs in the Gulf of Mexico? Please.

Yes, it would be best if we researched every company that our spouse's trust is invested in to make sure they're all in line with what we believe, but who really does that? Besides Ed Begley? I mean, the new chancellor of UCSF had a substantial investment in tobacco stock. Tobacco! And she's the chancellor of a medical school with a famous anti-smoking crusader on the faculty! She had that stock from August of last year until someone noticed last week. See my point?

Generic thinks this will cost him the race for Lieutenant Governor. I say it costs him, at the outside, a few hundred votes. The majority of Californians will never hear about this story. Gavin may lose for other reasons - namely, that there are a lot of Republicans in California - but this? Hardly.

40goingon28's Best of the Decade Awards

The Aughts! Wow. So that started with Y2K and then we were all like "Oh, that Bush totally stole the election" and then it was boring for a while and then 9/11 happened and things pretty much went in the shitter after that. Dad says that we shouldn't have walked on the Moon, that it threw everything out of balance when we walked on the Moon, and hey, that's as good a theory as any. I think he's kidding, though. He maintained that one of my friends was the Unabomber for a long time until they caught the real Unabomber so you can never really tell with him.

In the Aughts I lived in North Beach, changed jobs, got divorced, lived in Cole Valley, went to Texas, went to Ireland, went to England, went to South Carolina, went to Oregon a few times, got married, and a bunch of other stuff. It's been a good time.

Best album: The Wrens, Meadowlands


If you really care, ask me and I'll bore you to death with why. If you don't know about it, just listen to it and get back to me.

Best cioppino: Caesar's, on Powell.

Best showers: The two I took consecutively immediately upon returning from my one and only Burning Man, in 2004.

Best wedding: Probably mine, earlier this year. OK, definitely mine, earlier this year.

Best bar (overall): Zeitgeist. Remember, I'm covering a whole decade here.

Best bar (early 2000's): Tony Nik's. Has anyone been there lately? What's it like now?

Worst thing that happened to me: Getting hosed for a shitload of money by my ex.

Best thing that happened to me: Getting a dog. KIDDING! Meeting and marrying The Wife. Everybody together now: AWWWWWWWWWW.

Thanks to everybody who made this decade possible. You guys are all awesome.

Happy New Year! Don't smoke too much. See you next year.

Goldschlager is a sometimes food

You thought you could always count on Cookie Monster. Sure, we can't smoke in the grocery store any more, people look at you funny if you have a couple of Crown Royal rocks at lunch, and now I have to bring my own tote bag to the grocery store like an NPR listener with a little grey ponytail. Fine, whatever. At least Cookie Monster was still out there. He was all FUCK YOUR RULES, I EAT COOKIES, THAT'S WHAT I DO, TAKE YOUR SALAD AND YOUR SOY MOCHA AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS.

Then they got to him too. Because you know what? Now "cookie is a sometimes food." Oh, fuck, CM, I am so sorry. You were the rebel, the danegrous one, and now you're putting on your New Spirit cross-trainers and doing yoga and having a smoothie. This sucks. I prefer to remember you as you were:



Cookie was good enough for all of us, Cookie Monster. For all of us.

Don't stare at Oscar the Grouch if he's looking a little placid and glassy-eyed. It's the klonopin.

Today's Top 5: Guilty Pleasures

1. White Castle frozen cheeseburgers

I live far, far away from the nearest Krystal, which is basically White Castle with a Southern accent, and sometimes I get a powerful craving for those little square burgers. Sometimes I address this craving with a 4 6-pack of White Castle frozen cheeseburgers, which is kind of like addressing a craving for cigarettes by watching "Mad Men." It's frustrating and makes you want the real thing. Nevertheless, sometimes they're satisfying in an Oh-My-God-I-know-this-is-terrible-but-what-the-fuck-I'm-hungover kind of way.


2. To Catch a Predator

Here's some advice for all you middle-aged men out there: The 13-year-old chick you're chatting with on AOL is not a 13-year-old chick. It's some dude who works for Chris Hansen and pretty soon instead of having a Mike's Hard Lemonade in some little girl's hot tub while her parents are "out of town," Chris Hansen is going to be asking you why don't you just have a seat right over there and you're going to be explaining why you brought condoms with you when all you wanted to do was talk to her about how dangerous the Internet is.

3. Santigold

Yeah, it's not as bad as liking, say, the Jonas Brothers or Jack Johnson, but Santigold just seems like something a teenaged girl would like and then there's the pesky issue of those Bud Light Lime commercials. But no matter. Still fun, catchy pop songs, just like nature intended. My gloomy indie rock isn't going anywhere.

4. Big Brother


I know, I know, believe me, I know. Even by the extraordinarily low standards of reality shows, Big Brother is a bottom-feeder. Alternatively boring and horrifying, I have no explanation for why I watch this.


5. TMZ (the TV show)

Look! There's Christian Slater waiting for the valet! Look, it's Jerry O'Connell coming out of The Standard! Why am I watching this? Because they're famous!!! Utterly and proudly devoid of any actual content or meaning, this dopey, lovable show features a faux-command-center full of empty-headed celebrity chasers detailing their latest finds to Chief Culture Destroyer Harvey Levin, followed by video. Hypnotic.

Observations my friend Olu had at the Giants game last night

- The Dodgers suck.
- They Dodgers are afraid of Pablo Sandoval.
- It would be great if Tim Lincecum struck out Manny Ramirez.
- You can't smoke on the Club Level patio at the ballpark any more.
- Even Brian Wilson won't blow a 6-run lead.
- James Loney looks like he might have ridden on the short bus.
- I hate Russell Martin. Maybe more than any other ballplayer.
- The Dodgers suck.

What I saw at the Bay Bridged birthday party

It's raining! Fuck. I know, I know we really need the rain and it's a good thing and blah blah but it's still a pain in the ass, as far as I'm concerned. I got up this morning around 6:40 to walk the dog and put his leash on got to the door and he took one step out and froze and looked up at me like "Are you fucking serious?" I had to drag his ass down the steps.

Happy Friday, everyone!

Last night after band practice Stoney and I walked over to Rickshaw Stop (warning: faux-Geocities website) for the The Bay Bridged's 3rd Anniversary party. For those of you not in the know, The Bay Bridged is a website covering local music that also puts out a regular kickass podcast concerning same. Now, if I could just get them to cover my band we'd quickly become a big deal and Pitchfork would accuse us of selling out. Sweet.

ANYWAY, they got a great crowd out, even on a semi-shitty night, and, Madre de Dios, it wasn't all hipsters which kinda surprised and pleased me. The excessive use of a smoke machine to make the interior of the club hearken back to Ye Olde Days when you could actually smoke somewhere did not.

First up we had Geographer, with the rarely-seen guitar/keys/sampler, electric cello, drums lineup. I liked it! Definite indie-pop undertones, which always grabs me, and definitely interesting instrumentation. I think more bands should use cello, too.

Then Birds and Batteries. I really liked their first few songs, which I guess you could describe as art-blues maybe, if that didn't sound totally grad school pretentious, but then things took a turn for the Zappa and that's when I kind of lose interest. I'm still gonna check out their record, though.

I missed The Heavenly States because after B&B it was 10:45 and I had to go home because I'm old and I had to work today. Wah.

Iggy Pop hates me

This is going to be one of those multi-topic catch-all posts without any specific focus or theme. So that should be perfect for you MTV generation kidz who have the attention span of a 3-year-old and click away from something if it doesn't get your attention in the first 14 seconds.

Google Image Search result for "Bright Shiny Things." LOOK AT IT!!!!

- OK, so now I'm on what, Day 5 of not smoking? OK so far, I guess. The Sister, who's a nutritionist, has me on these crazy supplements with 1600% of my RDA of Vitamin C for the day and L-tyrosine and 5-HTP and she PROMISES that they're going to reduce anxiety and make me serene and calm. So far, all they're doing is making me ANGRY and SAD and giving me weird dreams. Like last night, when I was shopping and found a really cool blazer and then went out to the parking lot and noticed that Iggy Pop and Lou Barlow were in a van and they were apparently headed my way. So I got in and then we left and I asked them very nicely just to drop me off and Iggy Pop FREAKED OUT and started SCREAMING in my face about how I had never asked them for permission to get in the van in the first place. I woke up with a start right then.

- Obama picking Biden as his running mate would be just as stupid as McCain picking Lieberman. Who's Biden supposed to appeal to? Wonky 50-something college professors? Believe me, Big O, you've already got that vote tied up.

- Finally, sigh:

(Click on link for larger version. If you identify with this as much as I do, let's trade Guadalcanal Diary singles!!!1!1111!!!)

A somewhat belated weekend report

- This is Day 3 of not smoking. It's actually not as bad as I expected. I guess the patch really helps. It makes my arm sore, for some reason, though.

- Oh, OK, so on Sunday Super Hot Irish Girlfriend and I went to brunch at South, which is apparently an Australian restaurant. Who knew there were Australian restaurants? Now, before I get into this, let me preface this by saying that on Saturday, we were at an afternoon-into-night outdoor block party at The Sister's, which featured quite a few PBRs and Sangria her neighbor made and some wine and I think they went through a case of champagne. There were about 30 people there, give or take, and roughly the same number of dogs.

This party ended around 11 pm with us playing jukebox on Stoney's iPod, which was hooked up to the stereo. Oh, and then we went to Uva Enoteca for a glass of wine on the way home, but the less said about that the better.

OK, back to brunch. Now, as you might have surmised, neither SHIG nor I are in top form. I got the bangers and mash, which was pretty good but had asparagus in it, for some unknown reason.

SHIG got the eggs & soldiers, which consists of two softboiled eggs (the "eggs") accompanied by a bunch of thin slices of toast (the "soldiers") and I guess the idea is you dip the toast strips in the soft-boiled egg. The eggs come in little cups, like this:

So they come and SHIG looks pained and says, "I can't open them." So I sawed at them with a knife and finally got them open. Nicely done.

I guess we weren't hurting as bad as we could have been, because we then proceeded to Rug Doctor our carpets. Score one for the productivity team!

In sum: I'd like to try the dinner at South. The brunch was OK. The asparagus was gross. Also, I guess I could live down there near Mission Bay.

3,750 packs later

About 20 years ago, I smoked a cigarette for the first time. It made me dizzy and I felt like my heart was going to come out of my chest. So I had another one. That one was much better.


Then I had about 75,000 more, give or take. Some of them were great (like the first one after every Thanksgiving dinner - sublime) and some of them were just there. Along the way, sometimes I smoked a pack or more a day; sometimes I didn't smoke at all (like most Sundays, for the past few years, anyway). I quit yesterday. It had been coming for a while. It bothers Super Hot Irish Girlfriend (who, incidentally, I was surprised to learn didn't smoke when we met, since it seems like an Irish thing), plus I understand it's bad for you. I always knew I had to quit sometime, and it just seems like there's no point in putting it off any more.


I'm on the patch. So far, it's not bad, but I didn't expect it to be bad yet. I usually smoke less than 10 a day - that's considered a "light" smoker - so I haven't really had any bad cravings yet. I'm sure they'll be along directly. It'll be really tough the first time I have a beer, I'm sure.


So, thanks, Camel Filters, Marlboro Reds, Marlboro Lights (yes, I really did smoke sorority sticks for a while), Bel Airs (very, very briefly), and Parliaments. You were great.