March 31, 2008


Posted in los dodgers at 1:21 pm by squishy



This is where I’m so, so happy I work with baseball nuts who wholeheartedly condone my listening to the game at work. Too bad they root for the Cubs, Yankees and BoSox. I’ll take what I can get.

Edited to add:

Class act. I’m referring to the man on the right, of course. His hands are MASSIVE. The baseball looks like a damn ping pong ball.

He must’ve been a sight to see 50 years ago. I can’t imagine a better treat than watching Sandy Koufax pitch.

Photos: ICHC (recycled, but today, I could care less!), Los Angeles Times/Allen J. Schaben x2, Los Angeles Times/Rick Loomis


there is a center for internet addiction. i should look into it

Posted in miscellany at 9:45 am by squishy

As I watch those tremendously unappealing Carl’s Jr. commercials for their chili burger (which looks like dog food on its runny way out of the sucker of a dog that ingested it), I can find out that the fastfood chain is owned by the company that also owns Long John Silver’s, Taco Bell and KFC. Apparently there was an urban legend that claimed that the chicken that was Kentucky fried was a genetically modified bird that lacked feathers, beaks or feet (you know, to better our harvesting efficiency, my dear). A footless, beakless chicken? WTF, dude, at least make your urban legends believable.

And as I watch the trailer for 88 Minutes*, in the matter of seconds, I can find out that Al Pacino is probably shorter than I am (he is listed at a very generous 5’7″). Same goes for Tom Cruise, who is also listed at a short 5’7″. And Dustin Hoffman… who’s listed as being 5’6.75″ and a supporter of Nader, who appeared in an episode of Sesame Street, which has been on the air since 1969, the year in which the halfpenny ceased to be legal tender in the UK, which can also stand for the University of Kentucky, the University of Kansas, l’Université Kongo, Univerzita Karlova or the University of Khartoum, which is… oh fuck it.

* This movie, unfortunately, has a >75% chance of sucking. Has Al Pacino been in a respectable movie these days? He’s been in some good ones like Insomnia (loved), Angels in America (would probably love if I saw it), and Ocean’s 13 (liked enough) in this millennium, but they’ve been overshadowed by the likes S1m0ne, Gigli, and questionable tans and bad dye jobs. I still love you, Michael Corleone. I hope you guest on 30 Rock, Ugly Betty or Pushing Daisies as Jack Donaghy’s old roommate, the object of Marc’s affection or Ned’s batshit crazy uncle who ends up wooing both of Chuck’s aunts respectively. Or something.

The Internet is a beautiful, beautiful thing. I shall get a smartphone so that one day, we shall be inseparable and if the need ever arises, I can access you from a cave in Afghanistan** alongside a rather haggard Osama who’s exhausted from my refusal to simply be quiet and stop spewing incessant nonsense. Sorry in advance.

** Or is it Pakistan?  Who knows where that man is vacationing these days.

Photo: ICHC

March 30, 2008

that’s one thing i can check off my list of things i never thought i’d see

Posted in compulsive listmaking, wtf? at 12:18 am by squishy

I saw a testicular camel toe in the wild today.

That is all.

March 26, 2008

QTiM III – john mayer edition

Posted in mpthrees at 2:11 pm by squishy

If there can be such a thing as a self-respecting John Mayer fan, I am one.

I guess it isn’t terribly accurate to say this is by John Mayer; it’s actually the John Mayer Trio, which includes Steve Jordan (bass) and Pino Palladino (drums). The live album as a whole feels like his most recent studio release, Continuum, but with lengthy instrumental solos that could pass as improvisational. The bulk of the CD is comprised of previous material and a few covers (including Jimi Hendrix and Ray Charles), but this clip is excerpted from new, original stuff… or so I think.

John Mayer Trio -Try!

Same disclaimer applies.

March 25, 2008

i tried to think of a title, but i’m drawing a blank

Posted in miscellany at 3:48 am by squishy

I guess it’s only fair that I warn you that this is not like the other posts. Like others, it is lengthy, pointless and completely gratuitous, but it is not particularly light hearted, considering the fact that it was triggered by the constant, relentless coverage of the 5th anniversary of the Iraq invasion.

* * *

The World Trade Center came down as I was suffering through what seemed like weeks of freshman orientation. The first few days were amazing, but by the 6th day or so, I no longer gave a shit. When news first broke, it sounded so surreal, so much like a horribly tasteless joke. And then we saw the infinite loop of video footage (“Oh my god! Oh my god!”) on 8 consecutive channels. You know you watch too many movies when the first time you saw that now-infamous clip, you can name 5 other scenes with planes flying into buildings. In contrast to the Hollywood slickness of computer graphics and stylized realism, the grainy video seemed so cheap in comparison. I guess it’s easier to cope if you trivialize. I certainly tried to do so. All I really remember is feeling numb.

I didn’t know anyone in Manhattan, and no one I actually knew would be affected. Along with millions of others, I had yet to fully assess the degree and magnitude of this attack.

* * *

Crisis has a distinct effect on group dynamics. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard hundreds of people crying, but if you have, you’d agree with me that it is something you hope you never experience again. I had contemplated going to my bare dorm room that still reeked of fresh paint, to my suitcases that had yet to be unpacked, but in retrospect, being alone would’ve been a terrible idea. I already felt isolated enough.

I remember clutching a skinny 18 year old boy from Connecticut whose name and face I have long forgotten, who was sobbing in shock and terror and homesickness and god knows what else. I felt an obligation to shed tears, but I was too anxious and petrified to do much else but sit, slack-jawed, while patting a stranger on the back.

I wonder where he is and what he’s doing now.

* * *

While I was enjoying my newfound freedom, sleeping through classes, Red Bulling my way through midterms, and testing the boundaries of my alcoholic tolerance and intestinal fortitude, I was vaguely aware of what the fuck Bush was doing. People seemed to like what he was doing. People seemed to be comforted by what he was saying. I was too busy, too absorbed with my own little life to pay enough attention. The daily college paper had features on each alumni that lost his/her life in the attack. I made sure I got a copy each morning, not because of these articles, but because I needed the crossword to keep me awake in class. I was in college. It was almost easy to forget what had happened in September, 2001. What did I know?

* * *

Nine eleven was George’s carte blanche, and soon, he forged ahead with the invasion of Iraq in March, 2003. By this time, I was on spring break painting houses and planting trees for Habitat for Humanity in the south. We spent the morning and afternoons trying to change the world, the evenings being entertained by the charming older volunteers (who could be our grandparents), and the nights watching news coverage of Operation Iraqi Freedom. There were about 15 of us. We didn’t know each other before the trip; perhaps that made it easier to talk politics without offending each other. One of the guys, a fourth year history major, insisted on watching Fox News (“It’s fair and unbiased!”). I think someone pelted him with mud caked shoes. That might’ve been me.

I didn’t and still don’t know enough about the war. But very few of us could’ve known it would become a bloated, aimless fuckfest of a disaster.

Then a year later, four Blackwater contractors were killed in Fallujah. Their bodies were burned, dragged through the streets and hung on a bridge spanning the Euphrates for public display. Someone had the foresight to videotape the killings. Media outlets prefaced photographic and video evidence with feigned agony in deciding whether or not to air the footage. The families of the four slain men sued Blackwater USA; Blackwater countersued for $10 million. Both lawsuits are outstanding.

* * *

My first presidential election was in 2004. I voted for John Edwards. And then I voted for John Kerry. I was working a double shift – the night and graveyard doozy – that Tuesday in November, and my boss had agreed to let me divide my breaks into 10 minute chunks so I could check on CNN’s coverage of the election. Every time I checked back, another state would turn red. It looked like America was hemorrhaging from the inside out.

* * *

In the four years in between, a lot has happened, but little has changed. Four thousand American soldiers have died. According to the controversial and much maligned Lancet study, over 650,000 Iraqi civilians have died. There have been multiple personnel casualties in Bush’s government. And the War still wages on.

Bush is as lame as a duck can be, whatever the hell that means. Due to, among other things, his misleading reasons for going to war, responses to the 2003 Iran earthquake and the 2004 Indian tsunami and Hurricane Katrina, the US attorney dismissal kerfuffle, the outing of Valerie Plame Wilson, questionable political appointments (greatest hits include: Attorney General Alberto Gonzalez, FEMA Director Michael Brown, and Supreme Court nominee Harriet Miers), support for the Federal Marriage Amendment and a ban on stem cell research, stubborn insistence on abstinence-only policies, excessive use of signing statements, refusal to disentangle his religion from his politics, and general inability to adapt to new situations, it’s hard for me to not think of his presidency as a relative failure. Whatever achievements he has made are far eclipsed by his downfalls. So it comes as no surprise that his approval ratings are lower than that of genital warts.  I just wonder what took us so goddamn long to come to this consensus.

His name is invoked, quite effectively, to sully the 2008 presidential candidates’ names by association. Foreign politicians have been elected into office, into presidencies, based largely on anti-American platforms.

* * *

My recollection is no doubt flawed and incomprehensive. This is not so much a historical account, but just how I remember the events and how they affected my life.

So what? What now?

So much of my adult life is intertwined with Bush, his administration and his policies. He is one of two presidents I didn’t learn about through textbooks and lectures, and he is the only president I have really known. Soon, it will be someone else. I’ve heard many, many people say any of the three candidates would do a better job. They often don’t finish the phrase because it goes without saying: “… than Bush.” It’s a sad state of affairs when the bar is set so low that one has to make a concerted effort to fail.

* * *

What now?

Here I am, up late enough to watch the BOS/OAK season opener in Tokyo, trying but failing to get 6 hours of sleep before another day at work, and all I can think about is: I wonder what it’s like to be represented by a person you voted into office, and how it feels to be proud of your president.

I’m a fucking fool, but insomnia is a son of a bitch.

March 23, 2008

sunday chore list

Posted in compulsive listmaking at 8:39 pm by squishy

RIP Jason Rae. Hope his wife Corinne Bailey Rae is holding up despite the circumstances.

– try to ignore NCAA basketball
– watch Pierre play his way out of a starting LF/RF job
– bite bullet and get gas for my car so I don’t crap out somewhere on the 405
– swing by Target for shampoo, paper towels and cereal
– do laundry (colors, if it comes down to triaging)
– empty up space on my hard drives (yes, I have multiple)
– look up prices on 1 TB hard drives
– swelter, swelter, swelter

What else can you do on an 85+ degree Sunday afternoon? In MARCH?

Summer, along with muggers, bogey monsters, and usurers, is lurking around the corner. I wouldn’t mind it in the LEAST if it got lost on its way here.

Source: TMZ
Photo: ICHC (it’s been a while.)

March 21, 2008

fuck you, pants! how dare you not stretch enough to fit my menstrual muffin?!

Posted in wtf? at 10:21 pm by squishy

Lauren’s PMS post (that pic is awesome, btw), reminded me. No, that’s lying, actually. Her post happened to coincide1 with my wonky cycle, and my ill-fitting clothing reminded me:

What’s muy unfortunate is that while insurgent clodhopper-wearing hormones do a little jig on your brain, you also retain water. So not only are you pissed, irrational, cramping, constantly leaking, and craving deep-fried chocolate dipped jalapeños, you’re also temporarily fat.

This is when I’m convinced that whoever made people out of divine dough is a misogynist.

1 COINCIDENCE != IRONY. Some people will never understand, and I shall light a candle for your poor, obtuse2 souls.

2 The word obtuse shall forever be linked to ‘The Shawshank Redemption’… “How can you be so obtuse?” *Andy Dufresne stares, dumbstruck yet innocently, unaware of the degree of the short, fat bespectacled warden’s insecurity, as well as the metaphorical buttfuckery3 that will follow*

3 The most popular definition of buttfuck in the urban dictionary: “what happens to you when you use AOL.” Can’t say I disagree.

March 20, 2008

if their goal was to scare me into readjusting my mortgage, it might work

Posted in wtf? at 2:25 pm by squishy

Otherwise, what’s the point? Am I supposed to be aroused or terrified?


I hope these aren’t going to be as persistent as the dancing people ads.

March 19, 2008

things that terrified me as a child

Posted in compulsive listmaking at 12:02 am by squishy

Boy, I was one neurotic kid.

– The government goons in hazmat suits that came after ET.

– Double dutch. Or more specifically, having to time my jump between those two EVIL plastic jump ropes that looked like red and white penne strung together. I remember getting accidentally smacked in the face, and icing the resulting diagonal red welt across my cheek. I was the designated rope-turner until double dutch wasn’t cool anymore.

– Ronald McDonald.

– The tinny ‘music’ that accompanied Tetris for the original Gameboy. To this day, I don’t understand why (and yet I think people who are scared of the X-Files theme song are serious wusses). I always played on mute.

– Canadian geese. Every few weeks, my mom would take us to the lake to dispose of the accumulated bread crust. I loved trying to feed the runts by flinging out crusts as far as I could. And then one aggressive, greedy motherfucker of a goose chased me for a few feet and bit me for bread. If you’re reading this, I hate you. I hope you’re the one that’s always stuck flying at the vertex of your V formation.

– The talking + tape playing Teddy Ruxpin that my ill-informed aunt got me for Christmas.

– Freckles. My neighbor had me convinced that freckles were merely the poo (of males) or egg deposits (of females, since girls don’t poo) of bugs that slept on your face at night. My mother was not fond of this neighbor. To this day, I sleep on my stomach.

March 14, 2008

to make up for my shitty college mascot

Posted in so much for my anonymity at 12:13 am by squishy

Seriously, what kind of school has a color for a mascot? I guess it beats the BANANA SLUG or whatever the hell the Western Kentucky red thingie is supposed to be.

Anyway, I’m going to graduate school at UCLA (the category this post is filed under is especially apt, non?). It was between that or the state school up north with the other ursine mascot, but location (and perhaps common sense) prevailed. To be perfectly honest, a certain baseball team also helped… the scales were long since tipped, though. Thanks to the wonderful Rana for being a makeshift career counselor.

I hope this doesn’t mean I have to start paying attention to college basketball. Or football… :goosebumps:

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