"California Love".
"Say It Ain't So".
"Bad Reputation".
"Last Goodbye".
"Interstate Love Song".
"Loser".
"Don't Speak".
There is a short list of awesome, awesome songs.
And not a one of them in the top 25.
The nineties is probably going to end up the most important decade in my life. 11 to 21. Kool-Aid to Jell-O shots. Girls are icky to I wish a girl would get me icky. Bush the Elder to Fun Time Bubba. By the time this decade was over I had transformed from wide-eyed babyfaced optimist to binge-drinking babyfaced cynic. Did the music change me? No, it was evolution, baby. But did the music come with me and mark pivotal moments in my life?
As we used to say in my youth I pray to keep (yeah, didn't make it either): for sure.
XXV) Beastie Boys, "Sabotage" (94)
Oh, by the way, just in case you were wondering: Best. Video. EVER. The New Yorkers got away from the even-now-ahead-of-it's-time Paul's Boutique and the back-to-roots Check Your Head by--melding the two styles in a way that reminded everyone of the impact of Licensed To Ill.
Best part of a great song: The building guitar before AdRock lets out the word "I" as a five-second breakout.
XXIV) Snoop Dogg, "Gin & Juice" (93)
By the time Doggystyle came out, it was going to be a mortal lock you were going to be hearing it all year long. At your prom, at the game, at the mall, at your friend's house. Didn't matter. Between this and "Who Am I? (What's My Name?)", it's a reminder Suge used to be feared more for wallet size than his gangsta ways. So good, it'd take 10 years and some scrawny kid from Virginia barely doing anything for Calvin to do any better.
Best parts: Three key phrases to sum it all up: "G's up, ho's down while you motherfuckers bounce to this", "I don't love you ho's, I'm out the door", and the closing "BIATCH!"
XXIII) Big Punisher feat. Joe, "Still Not A Player" (98)
Sometimes choruses are just the weak support for strong bridges. And sometimes the chorus is a perfect summation of a song. This song, however, is a perfect summation of a lifestyle. Everybody may look back on Chris Rios' life and wonder how a man the size of a Starbucks got pussy--'cause the man 'could flow.
Best part: "I regulate every shade of the ass." Not there yet. But someday.
XXII) Nine Inch Nails, "Closer" (94)
On the Mt. Rushmore of All Time Creepy Fucking Songs right next to "Every Breath You Take" and "Possession", this is Reznor summarized: broken, twisted, creepy, psychosexual, minimalist, dirty, outcast, godless, and frightening--and yet, there's still something about him that makes you empathize, especially when you're a 15-year-old boy. Probably the part in you where you're all those things, except you can't turn it into art as he did and Mark Romanek did with the SCENE MISSING video. I remember hearing this song on the radio and just assuming I was going to get arrested for listening to this.
Best part: "You let me penetrate you". He didn't just say what I think he did, did he!?
XXI) U2, "One" (91)
I wonder why Bono thinks he's God. Maybe it's because he cuts right to the whole "Why are we here?" in the opening three questions of the song, and then homages Bob Marley. Maybe it's because they had the foresight to say get to carry each other instead of have to. As usual, U2 trades off the basics of humanity with the muck and shit of relationships. Or the basics of the muck and shit of relationships with the muck and shit of religion. Or...
Best part: "Love is a temple, love's a higher law". You don't get this when you're 12. And you might not when you're 42. But somewhere in the middle, you start to understand it.
XX) Notorious B.I.G., "Hypnotize" (97)
You know how good this song is? It got played during the funeral procession. And the immediate response was dancing. This is the song our kids are going to be rolling their eyes to when their old folks come out to the dance floor and attempt to recapture their youth. Herb Alpert gets his props here, and it gives a young kid in the Cardinals system a hell of an idea.
Best part: Quite possibly the best five opening seconds in hip-hop history. Your head ain't nodding, I don't know ya.
XIX) Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, "T.R.O.Y. (They Reminisce Over You)" (92)
Probably the least-known song on the list, and it's a goddamn shame fifteen times over. A man's life, told in less than five minutes to a beat so stand alone and unique nobody's had the balls to dare sample it and go over it themselves. The last one got played at a funeral procession, and this one comes from the result of another one--jazzy enough to keep the olders, but hip-hop at it's realest for the young folk.
Best part: The horn sample coming in at the beginning, one of the most singular recognizable notes in hip-hop history.
XVIII) Warren G. & Nate Dogg, "Regulate" (94)
Because nothing says West Coast Death Row gangsta hip-hop like...Michael McDonald?! This would begin a continuing phenomenon where Nate Dogg sings a hook and the song goes double plat, and give the other 2 guys in 213 the spotlight if only for a summer in which this song played on every station. Even the country ones.
Best part: The fourth verses between them, because nothing says friendship like postponing ho-banging to unload a couple clips into people fucking with your people.
XVII) Skee-Lo, "I Wish" (95)
This song isn't so much a corny one-hit wonder as the story of my life in the last millennium. A lot of people write songs I like; a very select few write songs I feel I would be writing myself. And as a side bonus, the first way I indirectly found Buffalo Springfield's "For What It's Worth".
Best part: For me, the whole damn thing. Stupid short parents.
XVI) R.E.M., "Everybody Hurts" (92)
Before I knew what a DiStiple was, before I'd heard "Radio Free Europe", before I'd seen them in '03, this song was just a warm blanket of support. I wasn't one of the people who's lives was saved by this song; I gotta settle for the rung right below that.
Best part: The violins.
XV) Ice Cube, "It Was A Good Day" (92)
The godfather of "Regulate" for the slice-of-life-in-LA over a minimal beat, and Ice Cube's biggest departure from the rest of his catalog at the time (NWA, the immortal dis song "No Vaseline). How big a lasting impact did this song have on me? Did you see the title of the post before this? All right then.
Best part: Obviously, "I didn't even have to use my A.K.", the one slice of normal Cube in the song, and one of the most unlikely catchphrases of my youth was born.
XIV) Outkast, "Rosa Parks" (98)
Longtime readers will reference this as the song playing when I made the Cristal post last year. And for damn good reason. The Blender that inspired me to do this listed "B.O.B." as the second-best song since 1979, claiming it was the history of black music in five minutes. Which is all well and good, except a) this beat "B.O.B." by an album b) this is better than "B.O.B." c) about a miunte shorter and still covers the same ground and d) the title and chorus references one of the most important black events in history, leaving aside the music aspects. Oh, and there is the little matter of e)
Best part: You don't say the harmonica solo, I stab you.
XIII) Green Day, "When I Come Around" (94)
Oh, sure, Joey and Dee Dee may've been rolling over in their yet-to-be-made graves, but the reason punk music connected in the first place was it shook up a bunch of disaffected alienated people by hitting them right in the ventricles. And when you're a 15-year-old boy, it's all disaffection and alienation. It doesn't get better with age all the time, but especially when you're 15. As American Idiot provided the soundtrack to me being 26 in this country at this time, so Dookie did to me being 16 and trying to survive high school (a process that to all seems impossible until it's actually happened, and you know some of your teachers could give Presodent Squinty a run for his Confederate money.
Best part: All four verses.
XII) Radiohead, "Creep" (93)
They would spend the rest of their careers running as far away from this song as they could muster. No knock against the transendence to follow, but why? I just thought it was another song, and then all of a sudden that fuzz feedback came in--chugga! CHUGGA!--and I was like, "Oh, my God, that's the best thing I've ever heard in my fucking life!" I've never known Flea to lie to me, I'll say that much.
Best part: chugga! CHUGGA!
XI) Nirvana, "Lithium" (91)
Some of these songs are awesome but didn't make it to the autobiography list for a myriad of reasons. And vice versa. This song, one of the doomed middle children singles from the best album of the decade, sure isn't one. And Kurt throwing himself into the drum stand at the video provides another excellent metaphor for high school. It's also telling a lot that when he said "I'm not going to crack", nobody believed him, and not just in the song way--I see a crazy blur of cocaine and arms, an awesome second album when everbody wanted the Second Coming...
Best part: Plug in, turn up, sit down, shut up.
TEN) Notorious B.I.G., "Juicy" (94)
Back-to-back Autobios! I think what he missed out on when he wrote one of the most immortal opening couplets in hip-hop was how his story was going to continue manifesting itself through newer MCs wherever they happened to be from. And every rapper coming up now has their "I used to be on the block, now I fuck K.D. Aubert on the regular" song in their opening album, and you know what? No two of them combined get within the same time zone of this.
Best parts: "If you don't know, now you know, nigga", and the last half of the third verse which alongside the opening minute of the "Flava In Your Ear" remix would make Big a top 5 all-timer off of those 90 seconds alone.
NINE) R.E.M., "Losing My Religion" (91)
When you have a crush on somebody, and you think that they understand that but you're not sure, and you're dropping all kinds of hints, and you're not sure, and then you drop a hint the size of Idaho. And they've responded in a way that's confused you... Again, add pop quizzes, Clearasil, and bad cafeteria food--exactly.
Best parts: I got a fever, and the only cure is more MANDOLIN, especially at the end; "Oh, no, I've said too much", because we've all been there at least twice and at least once have screwed over a friend that way.
EIGHT) Mazzy Star, "Fade Into You" (94)
What do you do with a torch song that's sung so lowly it barely illuminates, a country song that breaks down routinely, and a piano stutter that surges up and dies in 3 seconds? If you're me, you wish you'd lost your virginity to it, and you give a band that got swallowed up in the tide of Everything Grunge a couple extra seconds to their 15 minutes of fame.
Best part: "I think it's strange you never knew" at the end, with instruments starting to drop out, is like a tuning fork to the heart.
SEVEN) The Verve, "Bittersweet Symphony" (97)
Somewhere in heaven, Rod Sterling gave a wry laugh. Imagine if you will, a band of boys from the wrong side of the tracks who keep coming apart only to find they're the only things keeping themselves together. A band determined to give success one more try. A band who then unleashes an operatic, beautiful song that goes to #1 around the world and finally puts them on the map as the Next Big Thing--until the 8-second bell sample is challenged by a larger band with actual lawyers, who win 100% of the profits off of the song and sell it off to advertisers within the year. The band breaks up, and you never hear from any of them again. But for almost six minutes, for one man's graduating year, a group of blokes found themselves #1 with a bullet--charttoppers in The Twilight Zone.
Best part: The entirety.
SIX) Digital Underground, "The Humpty Dance" (90)
Okay, for the last time, just so everybody's clear: the best old-school song ever. Groucho who?
Best part: Did anybody think I wasn't putting "I once got busy in a Burger King bathroom"? Good.
FIVE) Rage Against The Machine, "Bulls On Parade" (96)
It's funny most people my age use "The Downward Spiral" to refer to their HS years, because my mother always called it my rage against the machine. # of times she'd listened to their songs: 0. # of times I came walking in playing one of their songs: roughly 32,271. This would make 13k, easy. We all kept looking for the next Public Enemy in hip-hop--we just shouldn't been looking in hip-hop. I still maintain that if they weren't so militant they could've been one of the best funk bands ever. And seeing Tom Morello play his guitar like a turntable for the first time--holy shit.
Best part: bow wow chicka bow wow chicka chicka chicka bow wow chicka bow wow chicka chicka chicka
FOUR) R.E.M., "Man On The Moon" (92)
Mott the Whattle? Who the fuck is Andy Kaufman? Why is he wrestling and goofing on Elvis? And thus, Automatic For the People gets my attention and holds onto it...well, let's just say ever since. Pop before it became a dirty word, and the sort of wink-and-a-nudge cynicsm that would become my m.o. not only before I got that way, but even knew what an m.o. was or what it stood for.
Best part: "Here's a little legend for the never-believer yeah yeah yeah yeah Here's a little ghost for the offering yeah yeah yeah yeah".
THREE) Dr. Dre & Snoop Doggy Dogg, "Nuthin' But A G Thang" (92)
In the span of about 9 months--November 1991 to August 1992--two songs change everything for everybody forever. The other one gets #1, as everybody would expect. The N.W.A. menance, slightly cleaned up with a little bit of George Clinton to ride in and out on. And that guy next to Dre who couldn't look at the camera, which just made you pay more attention to his style, which was so laid-back it was like you were high just looking at him (which would eventually happen). Last occurence of a crowd losing their shit the s e c o n d the needle dropped on this track: Saturday night. 'Nuff said.
Best part: BAYYYYYYYYYYYYYBAYYYYYYYYYYYY!
TWO) Oasis, "Wonderwall" (95)
The question must be asked: if I hadn't tried to slit my wrists to this, would it be #1? The answer, is no. But only because of the force of the #1. Once upon a time, this song drove me to tears because of its beauty. And then it'd drive me to tears because of the painful memories it caused, a horrible 28-car pileup of misguided first love, race relations, spring formals, careening hormones, a crisis of faith and increasing isolation. Once I got over those things as much as one could, I began remembering why I fell in love with the damn thing to begin with: simple guitar structure, insistent but not overlying drums, and the fact that you can fall again, but the first love always stays with you. How come? Because maybe, they're going to be the ones that save you.
Best part: Liam's stand-alone opening verse.
ONE) Nirvana, "Smells Like Teen Spirit" (91)
The answer is 3:46. The question: what time was it when everything I ever knew got knocked on its fucking ass? I went to my old friend Mike Hammond's house. Mike is the gateway to me finding rock and roll, and grunge. We waited for the SNES to fire up, and he started playing this on cassette (you hear me, you punk kids! CASSETTE!) , and [insert Hiroshima footage here]. My head was moving before any part of my rational mind had reacted; by the time THE Guitar Riff was over and that long-haired guy who's face I was convinced was never going to be exposed to the world came in beating the drums like they owed him money, I knew this was talking to me, had a vice on my balls. I didn't know what Kurt was saying (and for the first couple of weeks would get him and Krist confused), and it didn't matter. It was 1991. I was 12. Hell, I'd been raised on Marvin & the Reverend. But with 9 years of the decade to come, this five-minute look into what was to come put the #1 far, far out of reach.
Best part: You want to talk about "Teen Spirit"? How about the chorus? More specifically, how about "I feel stupid and contagious"--what the hell else is there to life at that age?
9/20/05
9/18/05
They Was Watchin Yo! MTV Raps, What's The Haps On The Craps?
As I head into work today, wondering what I will consume to cover the lunch portion of my full shift, I notice there's a new Subway in the vicinity of the building. I knew of it, but hadn't gone, and do so. Six inch roast beef only $3.49 today'll work. I note on the way out they're open 9 to 4 on Saturdays. A 19-hour day. At first, I think of the downside: who's going to come from On Broadway down to behind the stadium for a footlong Philly cheesesteak? But then I realize the economic upside--the fact that they can may attract people. Look at how the pizza places turn into the 8th through 10th most populous cities in the county at 2!
On to work.
Which is work--with seven events eventually going on during the course of the day (you read that correctly--the benefits/curses of having an 8-block building) I get off light with the last major day of the one meeting on the west side of the building. A woman I helped out Thursday is happy to see me, and gives me a compressed T-shirt for something or other; I still don't know what, I haven't busted the plastic. It's a perfect cube. I marvel at the cubeness of it for a good two minutes after she's gone. Subways open till 4 in the morning and cubed shirts. What an age we live in.
The most evil of my bosses lets me out two hours early. Everything on the east was covered, and while I could've stayed nothing to do lets me out easily. I change into club attire, since it's Saturday and I expected to be across the street and off at 10:30. With the extra time? I decide to reward myself. I go up to Ghiardelli's, order a sundae, and sit right on the main street--5th Avenue--in the Gaslamp Quarter on a Saturday night with a game in town. And the fudge IS on the bottom, and lends a nice texture contrast to the chocolate chip ice cream. I eat joyously and babewatch between spoonfuls. Good times.
After that happens, I go down to the Gaslamp Strip Club where they know by sight, if not by name, and visit my favorite DJ. I tell him about Vegas, 54, and DJ P. He looks both awed and depressed he missed out by the time I'm done talking to him. As I get set to hit Henry's he announces he has something for me. The last time I was there we'd been talking about Rakim being the best MC not to die with shrapnel in him, and he announces he's gone to some people.
This is a journey into sound.
A journey which along the way will bring to you new color, new dimension, new value...
The Coldcut remix of "Paid In Full", a seven-minute epic that even now ranks amongst the best remixes of all-time begins. As we begin to execute a six-step handshake, something happens.
Namely, the fiancee from the bachelorette party hears the Indian woman start singing, and hops up on a table and begins dancing. I know she's got soul. I stop at Step 4 to get his attention, and she dances for about 4 minutes. Did I slip a dollar bill down the front of her shirt? Of course not. What sort of heathen do you think runs this place?
Don't go looking for contradictory footage, neither, 'cause it ain't there.
Now I go to Henry's. I start comparing my library of Fresh Prince-era steps with some other guys, and all of a sudden I see a cute brunette. This happens on the semireg so I don't even think about it hard, until she turns towards me and I see her whole face. This cute brunette--this is a cute brunette I know. From where, though, and in what capacity?
High school.
And the bar down the road, the day before Thanksgiving in '03. (It's very easy to remember a date like that considering it's rarity and the fact it was the last time vomit was induced--that'll teach me to mix drinks.)
So Illusion recognizes me, and we get to talking about the last time, and she, too, is stunned by the fact I go out to the clubs alone sometimes. I have no idea why this is so jarring: my friends are vestigal organs in this case. It'd be nice, but at the same time they're not wholly necessary for me to have fun. And Ivan & Aaron, I totally threw you under the bus about Studio 54, too. IKIR--I Keeps It REAL! Besides, I say, once I start doing the Running Man, that's when all the honeys come running and I don't need them.
She thinks I'm kidding.
During "Ice Ice Baby" (no, really) she finds out I'm not.
She talks to the people who she came with, but once "Pass That Dutch" comes on, she ditches the guy she's with (a move that both stroked my ego and empathy glands) and practically bounds over to me. After an half hour of dancing, she announces she has to go. I get her number, and she gets me promising I'll come swing by her work by the old school at some point, and it won't be another damn two years we don't see or contact each other. Another Latina I went to high school with in my graduating class. If I had the money to have a psychiatrist, they'd have an absolute field day. We'll see on the dating front, though it would really help chase away the demons if she wasn't pathologically jealous and insane, though.
Jo mentions she's met the drummer from the Killers, which is unassailably cool. I probably would've ruined such a moment by declaring that I had soul, but I'm not a soldier.
The Padres, who were down 0-5 and to their last out, somehow win in the 13th and the place goes batshit during "You Shook Me All Night Long".
So that lets me get back to Ryan, who I was dancing with before Illusion. Ryan goes to SDSU, looks like Sarah Silverman, moves like a Kelli apprentice, and actually remembered the Ed Lover dance. I know she said she goes to Henry's a fair amount, but it's then I'm going to have to get her number because during one of my excursions to the bar we got seperated and couldn't find each other after. Just as well--a note to Aaron with the bad luck he's gotten hit with this week declaring that if he was having girl problems I feel bad for him, son, I got 98 problems... probably would've had him lobbing a Molotov through the plate glass on my left.
I go down the block for recuperative pizza afterwards, and then back to Fumari for recuperative hot chocolate after that. It helps sober me up, and I plow through a good portion of Small Town. I get back to the homebase, and when the cabbie says "Have a good night" in earnest, I tell him it's already happened.
And that's before I find out the laundry's done, all good-smelling and folded. I wanted to throw in my jeans, but I had no idea it was going to happen.
And I sit in this chair, and I realize for all the tens of things wrong with my life, it's a day like toyesterday that makes me rerealize there're hundreds of things right with it.
All right, 5 a.m. Time to go to bed--after all, I've got football to watch in a matter of hours!
This post is brought to you BAH: "Say Hello, Wave Goodbye" as covered by David Gray
On to work.
Which is work--with seven events eventually going on during the course of the day (you read that correctly--the benefits/curses of having an 8-block building) I get off light with the last major day of the one meeting on the west side of the building. A woman I helped out Thursday is happy to see me, and gives me a compressed T-shirt for something or other; I still don't know what, I haven't busted the plastic. It's a perfect cube. I marvel at the cubeness of it for a good two minutes after she's gone. Subways open till 4 in the morning and cubed shirts. What an age we live in.
The most evil of my bosses lets me out two hours early. Everything on the east was covered, and while I could've stayed nothing to do lets me out easily. I change into club attire, since it's Saturday and I expected to be across the street and off at 10:30. With the extra time? I decide to reward myself. I go up to Ghiardelli's, order a sundae, and sit right on the main street--5th Avenue--in the Gaslamp Quarter on a Saturday night with a game in town. And the fudge IS on the bottom, and lends a nice texture contrast to the chocolate chip ice cream. I eat joyously and babewatch between spoonfuls. Good times.
After that happens, I go down to the Gaslamp Strip Club where they know by sight, if not by name, and visit my favorite DJ. I tell him about Vegas, 54, and DJ P. He looks both awed and depressed he missed out by the time I'm done talking to him. As I get set to hit Henry's he announces he has something for me. The last time I was there we'd been talking about Rakim being the best MC not to die with shrapnel in him, and he announces he's gone to some people.
This is a journey into sound.
A journey which along the way will bring to you new color, new dimension, new value...
The Coldcut remix of "Paid In Full", a seven-minute epic that even now ranks amongst the best remixes of all-time begins. As we begin to execute a six-step handshake, something happens.
Namely, the fiancee from the bachelorette party hears the Indian woman start singing, and hops up on a table and begins dancing. I know she's got soul. I stop at Step 4 to get his attention, and she dances for about 4 minutes. Did I slip a dollar bill down the front of her shirt? Of course not. What sort of heathen do you think runs this place?
Don't go looking for contradictory footage, neither, 'cause it ain't there.
Now I go to Henry's. I start comparing my library of Fresh Prince-era steps with some other guys, and all of a sudden I see a cute brunette. This happens on the semireg so I don't even think about it hard, until she turns towards me and I see her whole face. This cute brunette--this is a cute brunette I know. From where, though, and in what capacity?
High school.
And the bar down the road, the day before Thanksgiving in '03. (It's very easy to remember a date like that considering it's rarity and the fact it was the last time vomit was induced--that'll teach me to mix drinks.)
So Illusion recognizes me, and we get to talking about the last time, and she, too, is stunned by the fact I go out to the clubs alone sometimes. I have no idea why this is so jarring: my friends are vestigal organs in this case. It'd be nice, but at the same time they're not wholly necessary for me to have fun. And Ivan & Aaron, I totally threw you under the bus about Studio 54, too. IKIR--I Keeps It REAL! Besides, I say, once I start doing the Running Man, that's when all the honeys come running and I don't need them.
She thinks I'm kidding.
During "Ice Ice Baby" (no, really) she finds out I'm not.
She talks to the people who she came with, but once "Pass That Dutch" comes on, she ditches the guy she's with (a move that both stroked my ego and empathy glands) and practically bounds over to me. After an half hour of dancing, she announces she has to go. I get her number, and she gets me promising I'll come swing by her work by the old school at some point, and it won't be another damn two years we don't see or contact each other. Another Latina I went to high school with in my graduating class. If I had the money to have a psychiatrist, they'd have an absolute field day. We'll see on the dating front, though it would really help chase away the demons if she wasn't pathologically jealous and insane, though.
Jo mentions she's met the drummer from the Killers, which is unassailably cool. I probably would've ruined such a moment by declaring that I had soul, but I'm not a soldier.
The Padres, who were down 0-5 and to their last out, somehow win in the 13th and the place goes batshit during "You Shook Me All Night Long".
So that lets me get back to Ryan, who I was dancing with before Illusion. Ryan goes to SDSU, looks like Sarah Silverman, moves like a Kelli apprentice, and actually remembered the Ed Lover dance. I know she said she goes to Henry's a fair amount, but it's then I'm going to have to get her number because during one of my excursions to the bar we got seperated and couldn't find each other after. Just as well--a note to Aaron with the bad luck he's gotten hit with this week declaring that if he was having girl problems I feel bad for him, son, I got 98 problems... probably would've had him lobbing a Molotov through the plate glass on my left.
I go down the block for recuperative pizza afterwards, and then back to Fumari for recuperative hot chocolate after that. It helps sober me up, and I plow through a good portion of Small Town. I get back to the homebase, and when the cabbie says "Have a good night" in earnest, I tell him it's already happened.
And that's before I find out the laundry's done, all good-smelling and folded. I wanted to throw in my jeans, but I had no idea it was going to happen.
And I sit in this chair, and I realize for all the tens of things wrong with my life, it's a day like toyesterday that makes me rerealize there're hundreds of things right with it.
All right, 5 a.m. Time to go to bed--after all, I've got football to watch in a matter of hours!
This post is brought to you BAH: "Say Hello, Wave Goodbye" as covered by David Gray
9/17/05
KWBR
DESPERATELY WANTING:
"I Ain't Heard Of That" (9)
"Disco Inferno" (11--debuted on the late January countdown)
"Feel Good Inc." (14)
"Cool" (15)
15) Hot Hot Heat, "Middle Of Nowhere" (debut)
14) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin All Over The World" (10)
13) All-American Rejects, "Dirty Little Secret" (debut)
12) Ying Yang Twins feat. Pitbull, "Shake" (8)
11) Nine Inch Nails, "Only" (13)*
10) the Killers, "All These Things That I've Done" (6)
09) Green Day, "Wake Me Up When September Ends" (debut)
08) Black Eyed Peas, "My Humps" (debut)
07) the White Stripes, "My Doorbell" (12)*
06) Fall Out Boy, "Sugar, We're Going Down" (7)*
05) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep, "Outta Control (remix)" (5)*
04) David Banner, "Play" (4)*
03) Pussycat Dolls feat. Busta Rhymes, "Don't Cha" (3)
02) Coldplay, "Fix You" (2)
01) Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx, "Gold Digger" (1) [1m]
This post brought to you BAH: "Queer" by Garbage
"I Ain't Heard Of That" (9)
"Disco Inferno" (11--debuted on the late January countdown)
"Feel Good Inc." (14)
"Cool" (15)
15) Hot Hot Heat, "Middle Of Nowhere" (debut)
14) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin All Over The World" (10)
13) All-American Rejects, "Dirty Little Secret" (debut)
12) Ying Yang Twins feat. Pitbull, "Shake" (8)
11) Nine Inch Nails, "Only" (13)*
10) the Killers, "All These Things That I've Done" (6)
09) Green Day, "Wake Me Up When September Ends" (debut)
08) Black Eyed Peas, "My Humps" (debut)
07) the White Stripes, "My Doorbell" (12)*
06) Fall Out Boy, "Sugar, We're Going Down" (7)*
05) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep, "Outta Control (remix)" (5)*
04) David Banner, "Play" (4)*
03) Pussycat Dolls feat. Busta Rhymes, "Don't Cha" (3)
02) Coldplay, "Fix You" (2)
01) Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx, "Gold Digger" (1) [1m]
This post brought to you BAH: "Queer" by Garbage
9/16/05
Jessica & the Albaettes: September '05
BUT TINA GOT A BIG OL' BUTT, SO I'M LEAVING YOU:
Ali Landry (33), Teri Hatcher (40)
40) Maria Menounos (36)
39) Leeann Tweeden (re-entry)
38) Pam Anderson (39)
37) Kitana Baker (17)
36) Mya (25)
35) Rebecca Romijn (27)
34) Kelly Hu (re-entry)
33) Jessica Simpson (38)
32) Lacey Chabert (26)
31) Monica Bellucci (29)
30) Alyssa Milano (32)
29) Elizabeth Hurley (35)
28) Esther Baxter (34)
27) Nikki Cox (23)
26) Jessica Biel (28)
25) K.D. Aubert (37)
24) Katherine Heigl (18)
23) Adriana Lima (16)
22) Kristanna Loken (21)
21) Sarah Shahi (24)
20) Jennifer Walcott (30)
19) Carmen Electra (12)
18) Shannon Elizabeth (15)
17) Halle Berry (22)
16) Beyonce (14)
15) Rachel Bilson (31)
14) Kim Smith (19)
13) Summer Altice (20)
12) Sofia Vergara (13)
11) Josie Maran (5)
10) Vida Guerra (9)
9) Jennifer Love Hewitt (8)
8) Salma Hayek (7)
7) Shakira (11)
6) Stacy Keibler (10)
5) Brooke Burke (6)
4) Eva Longoria (3)
3) Angelina Jolie (2)
2) Trish Stratus (4)
1) What's-her-face in the swimming movie in a couple weeks (1)
This post is brought to you BAH: "She Just Happened" by the Mighty Mighty Bosstones
Ali Landry (33), Teri Hatcher (40)
40) Maria Menounos (36)
39) Leeann Tweeden (re-entry)
38) Pam Anderson (39)
37) Kitana Baker (17)
36) Mya (25)
35) Rebecca Romijn (27)
34) Kelly Hu (re-entry)
33) Jessica Simpson (38)
32) Lacey Chabert (26)
31) Monica Bellucci (29)
30) Alyssa Milano (32)
29) Elizabeth Hurley (35)
28) Esther Baxter (34)
27) Nikki Cox (23)
26) Jessica Biel (28)
25) K.D. Aubert (37)
24) Katherine Heigl (18)
23) Adriana Lima (16)
22) Kristanna Loken (21)
21) Sarah Shahi (24)
20) Jennifer Walcott (30)
19) Carmen Electra (12)
18) Shannon Elizabeth (15)
17) Halle Berry (22)
16) Beyonce (14)
15) Rachel Bilson (31)
14) Kim Smith (19)
13) Summer Altice (20)
12) Sofia Vergara (13)
11) Josie Maran (5)
10) Vida Guerra (9)
9) Jennifer Love Hewitt (8)
8) Salma Hayek (7)
7) Shakira (11)
6) Stacy Keibler (10)
5) Brooke Burke (6)
4) Eva Longoria (3)
3) Angelina Jolie (2)
2) Trish Stratus (4)
1) What's-her-face in the swimming movie in a couple weeks (1)
This post is brought to you BAH: "She Just Happened" by the Mighty Mighty Bosstones
9/14/05
Dear Sports Guy,
Okay, the WNBA sucks, it's true. But you have to understand, it's the one thing keeping my family together. Let me explain. My mother, who somehow in in 1970 didn't find herself participating in a women's basketball league, is an addict. She drives to Sparks games two and a half hours away on the regular and takes half-days to do so with the rest of the family. (I have better things to do, like watch Mean Girls and pretend I'm not. Pants optional. I've said too much.)
The thing is, she knows who the backup power forward for the Sparks is and when she stares at Sue Bird, it's because she's thrown it into traffic. This is the same woman who looked at my Ramones shirt and asked "Is that a band?", the same woman who asked during my stay in Vegas last month if I was visiting Studio 51 (after being surprised my friends and I got a hotel room; she assumed in the middle of August we were going to sleep in a car as part of some experiment to know what a rotisserie chicken felt like) and got upset when I admitted I was walking the Strip drunk (drunk ONLY!).
So it comes down to this, Bill: there's either a WNBA or a corpse in this house within a month of it shutting down. And considering my mom's the one who was a Black Panther (because all that rage had to go somewhere when the Detroit Shock had yet to exist), I don't like my odds.
I'm just saying, is all.
This post brought to you BAH: "Ace Of Spades" by Motorhead
9/8/05
And Every Sunday, St. John Facenda Looks Down On Us From Heaven
After seeing Rob's picks, I passed out. Then I drank. Now I write!
NFC EAST:
(1)Philly, who the fuck cares
This division is the equivalent of four girls walking into a club where the prettiest one's a 10 and the other 3 combined add up to 10.
NFC NORRIS:
(3)Minnesota, (5)Detroit, Green Bay, Chicago
Detroit, of course, is completely dependent on Dan's Bumbling Nephew to actually show up this year. Once that occurs, he's got more weapons than the Ministry Of Idiocy found in Iraq. And...nobody say this part too loud...but Chicago may do better than Green Bay this year.
NFC DIRTY:
(2)Atlanta, (6)Carolina, Tampa Bay, NOSA
¡VIVA LA RON MEXICO! Carolina should've been in the wild-card anyway last year. As for the Saints, Katrina's a horrible tragedy. They weren't going to be that good anyway AND you add Biggest Natural Disaster In US History? No thanks.
NFC EAST:
(1)Philly, who the fuck cares
This division is the equivalent of four girls walking into a club where the prettiest one's a 10 and the other 3 combined add up to 10.
NFC NORRIS:
(3)Minnesota, (5)Detroit, Green Bay, Chicago
Detroit, of course, is completely dependent on Dan's Bumbling Nephew to actually show up this year. Once that occurs, he's got more weapons than the Ministry Of Idiocy found in Iraq. And...nobody say this part too loud...but Chicago may do better than Green Bay this year.
NFC DIRTY:
(2)Atlanta, (6)Carolina, Tampa Bay, NOSA
¡VIVA LA RON MEXICO! Carolina should've been in the wild-card anyway last year. As for the Saints, Katrina's a horrible tragedy. They weren't going to be that good anyway AND you add Biggest Natural Disaster In US History? No thanks.
NFC WEST:
(4)Arizona, St. Louis, Seattle, San Francisco
So here are my choices: pick a franchise with one of the most inept ownership cabals in history--or pick Arizona. Pick a team that actually drove a starting receiver to drink--or pick Mike Martz. Lethal injection/the chair/tossing a salad/firing squad.
AFC EAST:
(1)New England, Buffalo, Jets, Miami
I feel sorry for Buffalo and the Jets. If they were in the NFC they'd have conference championship potential. But here they're just a really cute barrista walking into the Playboy Mansion. I mean, you fine and everything, but holy shit is that Jennifer Walcott?!
AFC DIRTY:
(2)Indianapolis, (6)Jacksonville, Houston, Tennessee
I really wanted to put Houston in at the 2 spot. But I can't go with Carr over Leftwich.
AFC NORRIS:
(4)Pittsburgh, (5)Baltimore, Cincinnati, Cleveland
Why the hell shouldn't they be the Norris, too? Would YOU like to fuck with Ray Lewis? Yeah, I didn't think so. Those Steeler/Raven games are about as close as I'll ever get to enjoying soccer.
AFC WEST:
(3)San Diego SUPER CHARGERS, Kansas City, Denver, Oakland
Rob picked Denver. DENVER. Mike Shanahan Jake Plummer Denver. Get what Descartes eloquently called le fuck outta here with that merde. Over/under on the Moss/Collins sideline fistfight: week 11. Over/under on Collins going off the wagon: Channukah.
WILD CARD
Minnesota > Carolina and Detroit > Arizona
San Diego > Jacksonville and Baltimore > Pittsburgh
DIVISIONALS
Atlanta > Minnesota, Philadelphia > Detroit
Indianapolis > San Diego, New England > Baltimore
CONFERENCES
Atlanta > Philadelphia
New England > Indianapolis
THE FOURTIETH ANNUAL SUPER BOWL
New England 31, Atlanta 9.
9/5/05
Bush An Idiot. No, The Other Bush. No, The Other OTHER Bush.
By E&P Staff
Published: September 05, 2005 7:25 PM ET updated 8:00 PM
NEW YORK
Accompanying her husband, former President George H.W.Bush, on a tour of hurricane relief centers in Houston, Barbara Bush said today, referring to the poor who had lost everything back home and evacuated, "This is working very well for them."
The former First Lady's remarks were aired this evening on National Public Radio's "Marketplace" program.
She was part of a group in Houston today at the Astrodome that included her husband and former President Bill Clinton, who were chosen by her son, the current president, to head fundraising efforts for the recovery. Sen. Hilary Clinton and Sen. Barack Obama were also present.
In a segment at the top of the show on the surge of evacuees to the Texas city, Barbara Bush said: "Almost
everyone I’ve talked to says we're going to move to Houston."
Then she added: "What I’m hearing which is sort of scary is they all want to stay in Texas. Everyone is so overwhelmed by the hospitality.
"And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this--this (she
chuckles slightly) is working very well for them."
Published: September 05, 2005 7:25 PM ET updated 8:00 PM
NEW YORK
Accompanying her husband, former President George H.W.Bush, on a tour of hurricane relief centers in Houston, Barbara Bush said today, referring to the poor who had lost everything back home and evacuated, "This is working very well for them."
The former First Lady's remarks were aired this evening on National Public Radio's "Marketplace" program.
She was part of a group in Houston today at the Astrodome that included her husband and former President Bill Clinton, who were chosen by her son, the current president, to head fundraising efforts for the recovery. Sen. Hilary Clinton and Sen. Barack Obama were also present.
In a segment at the top of the show on the surge of evacuees to the Texas city, Barbara Bush said: "Almost
everyone I’ve talked to says we're going to move to Houston."
Then she added: "What I’m hearing which is sort of scary is they all want to stay in Texas. Everyone is so overwhelmed by the hospitality.
"And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this--this (she
chuckles slightly) is working very well for them."
9/4/05
Today...
...eat free chocolate.
...stay in shape by walking through building multiple times.
...enhance new friendships.
...ogle.
...ogle harder.
...ogle so hard you think it's going to come out your ears.
...drink free soda.
...bowl 85.
...hate yourself.
...bowl 140.
...feel better.
...after the third frame in the third game, hit nothing but spares and strikes.
...bowl turkey.
...horrify friends with the celebratory vigorous humping, ass-slapping, hair-pulling, post-coital cigarette fucking of the lane. You promised, after all, and it's only your second turkey.
...bowl 171 for a new record.
...chest thump.
...horrify same friend with the Aristocrats joke. If only they'd let you add the blind three-legged dog who had an orgasm and the force of the orgasm knocked the dog over, they would've laughed.
...sleep.
Yeah.
ADDENDUM: ...wonder what that itching is.
SUPER ADDENDUM: ...repost the best post ever, http://stevegilliard.blogspot.com/2005/09/we-told-you-so.html.
And I quote:
A note to our conservative friends:
WE TOLD YOU SO
Ever wonder why New Yorkers detest George Bush?
Because we experienced his incompetence up close and person. We knew this guy was full of shit, absolutely full of fucking shit, after they started to play games with the funding and gave Wyoming terrorism money. We knew he was an assclown then.
We thought DC 9/11 was a comedy, because the Bush we saw hid in AF One like the scared bitch that he is.
But did you listen?
Fuck no. Until last week, Ann Coulter was calling New Yorkers cowards for not endorsing Bush's folly in Iraq.
We have been screaming for two years that Bush and his team sucked. That they had no clue. They sent soldiers to be wounded in Iraq without armored anything. And you idiots cheered him on from the safety of your keyboards. We told you he was fucking up Iraq. But no, we supported Saddam, we were racist, we blamed America.
You say this isn't about politics? Fuck you, this IS politics, real time, real life politics, where the insanity of all your ideas are exposed to the world for the fraud that they are. Tax cuts kill. Ask the relatives of the dead of the Gulf Coast.
Well, motherfuckers, the alligators are feasting on the dead and there isn't an Iraqi in sight. And Bush is trying to gladhand his way through a mess which has stunned FOX reporters. I mean, Shepard Smith is calling Fox's talking heads liars ON THE AIR.
CNN rips Bush in print and online after nearly five years of sleep.
Instead of hearing what we had to say about Bush, you called John Kerry a coward, mocked Max Cleland, blamed everything but herpes on Bill Clinton. You enabled Bush into this mess and now you're shocked?
Now, Fox can be outraged, now, Wash Times and Union Leader call Bush weak? Well, his coward ass disappeared in 2001. But you rather blame Michael Moore for that.
He can't even explain the Iraq war to a grieving mother.
So what did you do?
Write the most vile things about her and her dead son. Attacked her patriotism and her honesty.
Well, motherfuckers, and that means you, fat ass Goldberg and your master, Rich Lowry, PNAC Bitch Beinart, the racist wannabe white Malkin and the little fucktards at LGF, Bareback Andy and "Diversity" Instacracker, all you backstabbing, fag hating uncle tom ministers, you can see Dear Leader in action. America's largest port is gone, maybe forever, gas is $5+ a gallon and FEMA is coming. Whores come faster with old men than FEMA is getting to NOLA.
How did your wartime President react? Like Chiang Kai-Shek when the Yellow River flooded in 1944, with corrupt indifference.
Bush, the man your fever dreams built into the next Winston Churchill when he is really the live action Chauncey Gardiner, has failed to everyone, in plain sight, without question. Rick Perry is trying to save his ass, but it ain't working. NOLA looks like ANGOLA and that ain't flying.
Say 9/11 changed everything now, motherfuckers. Ooops, 9/11, 9/11. 9/11. Doesn't work anymore? Gee, maybe the sea of alligator MRE's once known as the citizens of New Orleans has something to do with that. Now you can shut the fuck up about 9/11. Bush just proved what would happen with another 9/11. Dead Americans as far as the nose can smell.
Drunken Chris Hitchens muttered some nonsense about blacks having it so good here. The poor man needs to stay in his bottle or go to Betty Ford before someone beats his treasonous ass stupid. Islamofascism means what, now motherfucker? Shove Islamofascism up your well travelled ass. The most dangerous thing to average Americans is not some mullah in Iraq, not even Osama Bin Laden, but George Bush. If he doesn't get you killed in Iraq, he'll fuck up saving your city so it turns into Escape from New Orleans. Armed junkies roaming the streets, looking for a fix, robbing and looting like Serb paramilitaries and about as sober.
George Bush's ineptitude has killed far more Americans than Osama could have dreamed of.
Some of you still try to see the clothes on the Dauphin, but he's as naked as Peter North around Jenna Jameson. Bush fucked up so bad, FOX turned on him like a rabid dog.
You can't hide behind racism forever. Bush fucked up, Bush is a weak, callous leader and the world knows this like it knows few other things. And all the stolen TV's in the world cannot hide that.
This post is brought to you BAH: "Murder Incorporated" (go figure) by Bruce & the E Street Band
...stay in shape by walking through building multiple times.
...enhance new friendships.
...ogle.
...ogle harder.
...ogle so hard you think it's going to come out your ears.
...drink free soda.
...bowl 85.
...hate yourself.
...bowl 140.
...feel better.
...after the third frame in the third game, hit nothing but spares and strikes.
...bowl turkey.
...horrify friends with the celebratory vigorous humping, ass-slapping, hair-pulling, post-coital cigarette fucking of the lane. You promised, after all, and it's only your second turkey.
...bowl 171 for a new record.
...chest thump.
...horrify same friend with the Aristocrats joke. If only they'd let you add the blind three-legged dog who had an orgasm and the force of the orgasm knocked the dog over, they would've laughed.
...sleep.
Yeah.
ADDENDUM: ...wonder what that itching is.
SUPER ADDENDUM: ...repost the best post ever, http://stevegilliard.blogspot.com/2005/09/we-told-you-so.html.
And I quote:
A note to our conservative friends:
WE TOLD YOU SO
Ever wonder why New Yorkers detest George Bush?
Because we experienced his incompetence up close and person. We knew this guy was full of shit, absolutely full of fucking shit, after they started to play games with the funding and gave Wyoming terrorism money. We knew he was an assclown then.
We thought DC 9/11 was a comedy, because the Bush we saw hid in AF One like the scared bitch that he is.
But did you listen?
Fuck no. Until last week, Ann Coulter was calling New Yorkers cowards for not endorsing Bush's folly in Iraq.
We have been screaming for two years that Bush and his team sucked. That they had no clue. They sent soldiers to be wounded in Iraq without armored anything. And you idiots cheered him on from the safety of your keyboards. We told you he was fucking up Iraq. But no, we supported Saddam, we were racist, we blamed America.
You say this isn't about politics? Fuck you, this IS politics, real time, real life politics, where the insanity of all your ideas are exposed to the world for the fraud that they are. Tax cuts kill. Ask the relatives of the dead of the Gulf Coast.
Well, motherfuckers, the alligators are feasting on the dead and there isn't an Iraqi in sight. And Bush is trying to gladhand his way through a mess which has stunned FOX reporters. I mean, Shepard Smith is calling Fox's talking heads liars ON THE AIR.
CNN rips Bush in print and online after nearly five years of sleep.
Instead of hearing what we had to say about Bush, you called John Kerry a coward, mocked Max Cleland, blamed everything but herpes on Bill Clinton. You enabled Bush into this mess and now you're shocked?
Now, Fox can be outraged, now, Wash Times and Union Leader call Bush weak? Well, his coward ass disappeared in 2001. But you rather blame Michael Moore for that.
He can't even explain the Iraq war to a grieving mother.
So what did you do?
Write the most vile things about her and her dead son. Attacked her patriotism and her honesty.
Well, motherfuckers, and that means you, fat ass Goldberg and your master, Rich Lowry, PNAC Bitch Beinart, the racist wannabe white Malkin and the little fucktards at LGF, Bareback Andy and "Diversity" Instacracker, all you backstabbing, fag hating uncle tom ministers, you can see Dear Leader in action. America's largest port is gone, maybe forever, gas is $5+ a gallon and FEMA is coming. Whores come faster with old men than FEMA is getting to NOLA.
How did your wartime President react? Like Chiang Kai-Shek when the Yellow River flooded in 1944, with corrupt indifference.
Bush, the man your fever dreams built into the next Winston Churchill when he is really the live action Chauncey Gardiner, has failed to everyone, in plain sight, without question. Rick Perry is trying to save his ass, but it ain't working. NOLA looks like ANGOLA and that ain't flying.
Say 9/11 changed everything now, motherfuckers. Ooops, 9/11, 9/11. 9/11. Doesn't work anymore? Gee, maybe the sea of alligator MRE's once known as the citizens of New Orleans has something to do with that. Now you can shut the fuck up about 9/11. Bush just proved what would happen with another 9/11. Dead Americans as far as the nose can smell.
Drunken Chris Hitchens muttered some nonsense about blacks having it so good here. The poor man needs to stay in his bottle or go to Betty Ford before someone beats his treasonous ass stupid. Islamofascism means what, now motherfucker? Shove Islamofascism up your well travelled ass. The most dangerous thing to average Americans is not some mullah in Iraq, not even Osama Bin Laden, but George Bush. If he doesn't get you killed in Iraq, he'll fuck up saving your city so it turns into Escape from New Orleans. Armed junkies roaming the streets, looking for a fix, robbing and looting like Serb paramilitaries and about as sober.
George Bush's ineptitude has killed far more Americans than Osama could have dreamed of.
Some of you still try to see the clothes on the Dauphin, but he's as naked as Peter North around Jenna Jameson. Bush fucked up so bad, FOX turned on him like a rabid dog.
You can't hide behind racism forever. Bush fucked up, Bush is a weak, callous leader and the world knows this like it knows few other things. And all the stolen TV's in the world cannot hide that.
This post is brought to you BAH: "Murder Incorporated" (go figure) by Bruce & the E Street Band
9/3/05
Los Aristocrates y KWBR: The Playlist
****.
Evil Bob Saget is the shit. We need to get Full House back on the air, but on HBO. Taylor Negron gets the line of the movie, and it's got nothing to do with the most horrifying joke ever told. Wendy Liebman's hot. Is she Sarah Silverman hot? Who can say? This movie's so funny, the following things are all funny: Andy Dick, Gilbert Gottfried, and a mime.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
QUALITY CONTROL:
"Go" (5)
"Futures" (6)
"Girl" (11)
15) Gwen Stefani, "Cool" (debut)
14) Gorillaz, "Feel Good Inc." (re-entry)
13) Nine Inch Nails, "Only" (14)
12) the White Stripes, "My Doorbell" (debut)
11) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (15)
10) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin All Over The World" (12)
09) Slim Thug feat. Pharrell, "I Ain't Heard Of That" (13)*
08) Ying Yang Twins feat. Pitbull, "Shake" (10)*
07) Fall Out Boy, "Sugar, We're Going Down" (8)*
06) the Killers, "All These Things That I've Done" (4)
05) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep, "Outta Control (remix)" (9)*
04) David Banner, "Play" (8)*
03) Pussycat Dolls feat. Busta Rhymes, "Don't Ya" (2)
02) Coldplay, "Fix You" (1)
01) Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx, "Gold Digger" (3) [2w]
This post brought to you BAH: "Bound For The Floor" by Local H
Evil Bob Saget is the shit. We need to get Full House back on the air, but on HBO. Taylor Negron gets the line of the movie, and it's got nothing to do with the most horrifying joke ever told. Wendy Liebman's hot. Is she Sarah Silverman hot? Who can say? This movie's so funny, the following things are all funny: Andy Dick, Gilbert Gottfried, and a mime.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
QUALITY CONTROL:
"Go" (5)
"Futures" (6)
"Girl" (11)
15) Gwen Stefani, "Cool" (debut)
14) Gorillaz, "Feel Good Inc." (re-entry)
13) Nine Inch Nails, "Only" (14)
12) the White Stripes, "My Doorbell" (debut)
11) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (15)
10) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin All Over The World" (12)
09) Slim Thug feat. Pharrell, "I Ain't Heard Of That" (13)*
08) Ying Yang Twins feat. Pitbull, "Shake" (10)*
07) Fall Out Boy, "Sugar, We're Going Down" (8)*
06) the Killers, "All These Things That I've Done" (4)
05) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep, "Outta Control (remix)" (9)*
04) David Banner, "Play" (8)*
03) Pussycat Dolls feat. Busta Rhymes, "Don't Ya" (2)
02) Coldplay, "Fix You" (1)
01) Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx, "Gold Digger" (3) [2w]
This post brought to you BAH: "Bound For The Floor" by Local H
9/2/05
The Friday State Of The Webmaster Address
I think all the obvious Katrina stuff's been said and by wiser folk than I. It's so Bushy I want to get in there with a Juan Deere and Brazilian that mother. So, let's put that horribleness aside for all both seconds possible...
ALBA: Payday.
BUSH: Smallest one ever. Ever ever. I just made my first down payment on a latte.
ALBA: Paying off most of the bank debt incurred from the Best Restaurant EVER.
BUSH: What I owe is mostly their service charges.
ALBA: Paying off the cell bill, the vast majority of it, tomorrow. It's a wonder they haven't cut me off. Or my thumbs, for that matter.
BUSH: Late with the rent.
ALBA: With two actual checks this month, by the time of the first I should be six-o-clock straight.
BUSH: Working only twice in three weeks, not entirely by choice.
ALBA: The good people at Borders. Unless they don't hire me. In which case they're dirty pigfucking finks. Finks, the lot of them!
ALBA: Back to school party at the Bitter End Sunday night. What do I like most? No charge? Schoolgirl outfits? Cheerleader outfits? It's a virtual tie and DOWN the stretch they come!
ALBA: ASR coming back to town this month, which'll be fun and might provide me with hook-up opportunities. 2 years, and still I have the SDCC Dream of hooking up with a hot girl who has to fly out the next night. Somehow...somewhere...somedaaaaayyyyyy...
ALBA: Possibly blending the tradition of Labor Day barbecueing with some TNL. I see your hamburger and raise you a Corona!
ALBA: From The Only Blog That Matters right now: Bush is here, bless his squirrely heart. I know, I promised I was going to bypass it. Sorry.
BUSH: It's September already?! Labor Day is MONDAY?! What the fuck happened?!
ALBA: Say Anything, even if it did almost make me cry for the first time in four years three times. I don't care, I've said it before, will do so again: only terrorists don't get at least a little choked up when Lloyd puts the radio over his head with "In Your Eyes". Are you a terrorist? Don't you have a heart?! All right then, stop mocking me. I'm not even really wanting to cry, it's dusty in here. Fucking...miniature ruler!
BUSH: Who's booking Celebrity Poker Showdown? That title is a third misleading; I'm getting excited by the preacher dad from 7th Heaven, for crying out Jessica Marie? You mean to tell me after Stealth went straight to airlines Jessica Biel's schedule was packed to the brim? H B O help a brother out.
This post is brought to you BAH: "Talking In Your Sleep" by the Romantics
ALBA: Payday.
BUSH: Smallest one ever. Ever ever. I just made my first down payment on a latte.
ALBA: Paying off most of the bank debt incurred from the Best Restaurant EVER.
BUSH: What I owe is mostly their service charges.
ALBA: Paying off the cell bill, the vast majority of it, tomorrow. It's a wonder they haven't cut me off. Or my thumbs, for that matter.
BUSH: Late with the rent.
ALBA: With two actual checks this month, by the time of the first I should be six-o-clock straight.
BUSH: Working only twice in three weeks, not entirely by choice.
ALBA: The good people at Borders. Unless they don't hire me. In which case they're dirty pigfucking finks. Finks, the lot of them!
ALBA: Back to school party at the Bitter End Sunday night. What do I like most? No charge? Schoolgirl outfits? Cheerleader outfits? It's a virtual tie and DOWN the stretch they come!
ALBA: ASR coming back to town this month, which'll be fun and might provide me with hook-up opportunities. 2 years, and still I have the SDCC Dream of hooking up with a hot girl who has to fly out the next night. Somehow...somewhere...somedaaaaayyyyyy...
ALBA: Possibly blending the tradition of Labor Day barbecueing with some TNL. I see your hamburger and raise you a Corona!
ALBA: From The Only Blog That Matters right now: Bush is here, bless his squirrely heart. I know, I promised I was going to bypass it. Sorry.
BUSH: It's September already?! Labor Day is MONDAY?! What the fuck happened?!
ALBA: Say Anything, even if it did almost make me cry for the first time in four years three times. I don't care, I've said it before, will do so again: only terrorists don't get at least a little choked up when Lloyd puts the radio over his head with "In Your Eyes". Are you a terrorist? Don't you have a heart?! All right then, stop mocking me. I'm not even really wanting to cry, it's dusty in here. Fucking...miniature ruler!
BUSH: Who's booking Celebrity Poker Showdown? That title is a third misleading; I'm getting excited by the preacher dad from 7th Heaven, for crying out Jessica Marie? You mean to tell me after Stealth went straight to airlines Jessica Biel's schedule was packed to the brim? H B O help a brother out.
This post is brought to you BAH: "Talking In Your Sleep" by the Romantics
9/1/05
8/23/05
Sinergy
ADDENDUM: Aaron's Photobucket is the hookup. Pictures AND words; will technology never cease?
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It's the franchise, boy, I'm shinin' now...
--John Cena, "The Time Is Now"
It's been a while since I sat in this chair, in a blacked out room where this monitor I'm seeing my words on is the only light on in the joint. I feel oddly sleepy, and my body is more sore than anybody who believed Vince wasn't going to hold a grudge over Matt's head like the Sword of Damocles. Just the effort of leaning makes me groan out loud. The next couple weeks are going to be enamel-to-teeth tight.
But would I do it all again?
I better go back to the beginning and find out.
FRIDAY
If God is a DJ, life is a dance floor...
--Pink, "God Is A DJ"
So it's Friday afternoon. I'm buzzing hard and I haven't touched a drop of the sauce in days. My birthday is my birthday, and that's all well and good. Christmas lost its cache with me some years ago. I haven't been to Sin City in 10 years and not since I was legal. The plan is simple and yet faced with a deluge of possible problems: I want to make this the most fun I have all year. The. End.
Going into this alone would obviously leave me dead within hours, so along with are two of my best friends and better angels, Aaron & Ivan. I am relying on them to save me from myself when such a time comes. Whole paycheck out, off to the airport, plane go up, plane land safe.
Staying in the MGM Grand, and it took longer to cover from McCarron to there to check in. Friday traffic is bad everywhere; cabbies upping their fares with alleged shortcuts will make it worse, though I do amuse him with a couple "Viva Las Vegas" couplets and some of "Danke Shoen". We get asked for the first time if we have any reason for being here: 'cause Expedia's the hookup, holla if ya hear me. The MGM Grand is a class act, and if you think it's unusual I used the term class act, we pass a nice sized black and white picture of the Chairman of the Board Frankie S himself as we come to and from the escalators. Inside, Sofia Loren in her heyday and Bela Lugosi. Two beds, working TV, a completely out-of-place Bible, and a good view of the southernmost tip of the Strip. Excalibur, New Yorkx2, Rio in the distance and the Palms. None of these things capture our attention as much as the bathroom--not just because we're boys. Marble floors. Marble. I'm literally afraid to drip on the thing, and then something new captures our attention. The wall of the shower is marble except for this one square that has a big giant ugly metal bar in the middle. Why the fuck is this thing here--
--and that's when you realize your profanity's answered your question. It is easily conceivable, if one were of such a mind and so fortunate, that they could have their paramour hang on to the bar while they engage in intercourse under the shower.
The MGM Grand's thought of everything!
Bags handled, ESPN Zone for dinner (wasn't horrible, wasn't spectacular, no, Craig Kilborn was not my bartender), and back to the room.
I had intended to go to Studio 54 because I'm me and me not going to one of the best clubs in the world is like expecting mercy from a hungry pit bull while you hold a pack of ground meat. What surprises me is that Aaron & Ivan are also in; Ivan's virtual state of marriage and Aaron's almost-Footlooseian refusal to dance keeps me from hanging out with them a lot when it comes to the club. But we all change--I actually iron for the first time, no less. Downstairs, through the lobby.
No line.
No cover. (Remember that later.)
Was I suspicious? God, yes. Was I going to get all "Hey, wouldn't you rather take my money?"
...
Anyway, 54's nice. Plenty of disco retro sweetness early in the evening. Two-leveled, and plenty of seats, bars, and space. The dance floor's on the bottom floor and you almost walk right into it when you enter. It gets proceedingly packed. They head upstairs and why yes somehow I have found myself in the middle of the dance floor around a ludicrously hot blonde and some of her friends. They cheer me on from upstairs. People rappel from the upper level down, hanging from moons and a man and a woman doing a spectacular act with chains while hanging from the ceiling. Glitter falls seemingly on the hour. There's some acrobatics I capture on Natalie, and the thump keeps thumping.
And around 1, right as Ivan & Aaron remove themselves from the proceedings (AB, I was trying to get the blonde for you, I swear on a stack of Alba mags), 54 goes from the Best Club I've Ever Been In to The Best Club I've Ever Been In, Period, Underline, Exclamation Fucking Point!
DJ P does this. He opens for Snoop Dogg on Saturday but since that's in the evening and this is just barely morning he decides he'd rather open up a spot in my heart, my ears, and my head for the rest of the decade.
He played "Tipsy". Over Spandau Ballet's "True."
He played "Shout". Yes, by Tears For Fears. But Biggie's "Hypnotize" in the Brit's place.
He played "Africa". Yes, by Toto. Nobody moved. He put "Change The Game" over it.
He played "Jack And Diane". Except with the lyrics to "Planet Rock".
He played, in sequential order--prepare yourself--"Whole Lotta Love", "Back In Black" interspliced with "99 Problems", "Crazy Train", and "Let's Go".
That wasn't the highlight of the night. No, really.
The backbeat of "Eye Of The Tiger"...with the words for "Hollaback Girl".
I love all music, and I only stop for drinks and cuties. But on four seperate occassions when only the luckiest DJs get one, I actually stop and look at the booth. Is this happening? Am I actually listening to "Sad But True" with "In Da Club"? Is this only the second time in my short life, and the first back-to-front, that the Beastie's "Hey Ladies" comingles with "Ladies Night" by Kool and the Gang?
Needless to say, his shit is harder to get than Howard Hughes in daylight. That's why they've invented eBay. Find something, buy it, clear your schedule and listen. I--me--do not have the words to describe this. It was a mindfuck of the highest order, and if it'd been a concert it would be brawling with A Tribe Called Quest from last year for #1. Without speech.
That takes me to about 3 a.m., because that's as much as I can handle without my heart exploding. I find out the guys are still up and we hit the Strip. It's nice and cold, by which I mean "about 80 but the warm breeze is gone". We wander around aimlessly, because this is what happens when guys don't have rules. We get all the way up to the Wynn and tire out. We want to take the tram back. Got to wait until 6. It's 5:15. My offhand "we should stay up to see the sun rise" comment is up there with me taunting Suge Knight at this point. We can still bisect some of the distance and go to Bally's to catch the monorail.
We make it.
5:40.
Monrail begins operations at 7.
So it is. We make the 2...5...19...274 mile walk back to the MGM Grand as the sun breaks through, and it's really a sight to see other than the fact we're all about to fall over and die. We cap off at the Walgreen's down the block: I get a chocolate iced cream filled and a chocomilk.
Bed time is 6:45.
SATURDAY
Been dazed and confused for so long, it ain't true...
--Led Zeppelin, "Dazed And Confused"
As to be expected when one goes to sleep around 7 in the morning, it makes you sort of want to stay passed the fuck out until about the crack of 3.
We end up having breakfast around 5.
That sentence is never, e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eVER going to get old. Everything's a little off in the in-between time after that and going back to MGM, because I order a yard-long margarita. Cost less than 3 beers in the club, that's for sure. I drink contentedly, as more and more tequila gets in the closer I get to the bottom.
There's such a severe disorientation when you wake up smack dab in the middle of the day, especially given the nights that we had. That and the fact my blood type switches over to Sauza. Even at dinner, I have to have it between my legs and slurp it up (filth!) because to put it on the table keeps me from drinking it. I debate whether I want to go to Rain or not (I choose 54 again after the Mother-of-Holy-Fuck that'd happened) and the guys decide to go chop it up at the poker tables. The same poker tables right across from Studio 54.
It's night and day.
The line goes out, down to the entrance doors, and the same way in reverse on the other side of the doors up almost to the poker tables. Paid cover, waited an hour. A lot of the same music from last night. I move towards the floor. I run into a hot brunette named Jen, who introduces me to her friends Portia and Mona. It's going pretty well: we're all dancing and not really self-conscious, just out having fun and marvelling at the floor show when it happens. The music switches into the late 80s and early 90s groove, and into "Everybody Dance Now".
Everybody does. I wait and watch. And then I jump in with the Running Man.
Why? Because everybody loves the Running Man. Just typing Running Man makes me smile.
And it appears this is the move that tips the evening in my favor, as we all decide to break. They go upstairs, I hit the bathroom and follow them up after that drink in hand. Yes, I have heard I'm a good dancer. Yes, I came alone--my friends went to the poker tables. You're from San Diego, too? Get the fuck outta here! Everybody drinks. I hang out with them (and get hit on by a guy, but we won't count that) for the rest of the night, and hand them VIP passes to Tabu, another ultra lounge in the MGM grand on my way out around 3:30. (Luckily enough with the long wait in line, I got some for us guys too.) Inexplicably, I'm starting to crash, and the memories of the Strip Death March that was getting underway a day ago aren't far off.
Beginning to sober up, but upbeat, I close out a 12-hour day.
SUNDAY
They got that Southern cookin' that got them fellas lookin'...
--Ciara, "Oh"
We gon to elope to Mexico
Called up my mama said "I'm in love with this stripper, yo"...
--Wyclef, "Perfect Gentlemen"
Up around 1 this time around, and watch the Chargers actually slap around the Rams for a little bit. Like Las Vegas wanted to adopt the Cardinals as their team; nobody likes the Cardinals before this year maybe.
Off to Denny's, which takes too goddamn long to serve us and I skip out on getting an Oreo sundae I'm so disgusted. We had planned to go to the Hard Rock pool (should've, as it turned out, but hours earlier) but since it's so far off the path, we opt to hit our pool.
Pleasantly, it's only 3½ deep so I can't drown to death. I grab an inner tube and swim around the lagoon area. The MGM pool is like a bootleg Grotto and there are a few cute girls around, but as I feel both heated and cooled, the words of a wise Virginian come to mind: celebrate we will, 'cause life is short but sweet for certain. Sure, I can't always keep myself from running into some of the other occupants or hitting the walls, and I don't have a swimming technique down per se, but it just felt perfect. It was almost as relaxing as the Yard-Long Liver Destroyer Saturday, and sort of helped me work off the excess I'd built up. That's my diet plan: eat what you want, then dance for long periods of time like there's nobody watching.
Earlier on, Ivan had beaten us up to the punch and since he was doing well last night went back down to the poker room. While we were at the pool he chilled at the room, and he decides to head back down after I shower. I don't have a set plan because I'm thinking about Tabu later. Aaron's been scared off, and the buy-ins are too much for me with what I have planned for later on, so I'm out. We decide we'll root Ivan on, as I yell out "Terible! Terible!" and give off a mariachi yell. At least twice, then I figure between him texting us the pit bosses might think we're telling him his cards are terrible instead of referencing one of his poker nicknames and run the lot of us. Ivan gets a couple hands of luck but otherwise his small-stackedness keeps him from comping us all to Emeril's.
We go to Quizno's and mock Ivan for getting wheat bread that turns out darker than I am, and sure enough he starts feeling ill within half an hour. I get Amanda on the phone, who is staying at the MGM this weekend to come. How fortuitous for the both of us, as I'm almost positive I would've impregnated her at some point if we'd been in the same Vegas hotel at the same time. As Aaron & I bicker about which one of us would be making the drunken mistake (and I mean that in the best way possible, Amanda!) Ivan cops out, and we go downstairs. It's about 10:30 because we stop to watch the end of My Cousin Vinny. I'd told Jen & Mona around 10 to 10:30.
We wait.
More waiting.
That guy with a goatee--that's Tom Jones!
WHO!?
TOM JONES!?
WHO!?
Damn it, I just don't care who it is as long as the last name is Jones, do I? Anyway, we wait an hour and they don't show up.
It is at this moment I'd like to thank them.
Because Aaron's Plan B--taken from some sarcastic comments I'd made earlier in the week--is "What better day than Sunday to hit a strip club?" We taunt Ivan from downstairs until he coalesces to come down.
Sadly for us, or luckily depending on how hard we want to chase a life history of heart problems, we have to ditch our cameras.
Outside. We can take a cab.
Or, for $20, we can take a limo.
So, we're riding along in the limo when the driver mentions that despite what the doorguy said, we're going to Sapphire's.
Which, it should be noted on my taxes next year, is a restaurant. I have the receipts and the satisfied meal feeling and everything.
"Yeah," she says through the partition, "it's the biggest strip club in the world."
I make the Chandler Bing this-cannot-be face. And yes...
"In the world?"
"In the world."
We get there--by the way, a stone's throw behind Circus Circus...why?....why!?-- and I'm thinking I have exactly enough for a round of fun. We get a table about a row away from the floor and begin to sit down. We all get non-alcoholic beverages on the round I end up buying (Aaron a teetotaler, Ivan abstaining).
This is the point where you want to get the squeamish and holy out of the room and onto a lesser blog. G'head.
So a stripper sidles up to me (sidles, nice) and starts talking to me. But I have had this dream in mind since the trip first took birth and it's this: Aaron gets a lapdance before I do anything. Why? Because a lot of it's the fact he's my friend, and the rest of it is he's just a big nice guy and the dichotomy of suddenly having a woman getting naked on his person would just amuse me too much to not watch. Sure enough, as I talk, he comes back, and the cute black girl starts on him. Then a brunette starts on me.
The affirmative action programs get more strenuous by the day.
We get our lapdances and it's pretty good--well, Aaron didn't like his so much but I think what happened next and the fact it just sprung on him when he got out of the bathroom about 10 minutes into the trip sort of has coloured his view. I was perfectly satisified.
And about broke.
But that all flies out the window, along with the concept of linear time as it relates to a person having a past and a future, when Kelli (I changed that to an I so as to disguise her real name) alights next to us.
It must be said partially in vain and partially to explain that our table combined is younger than some of the guys in there. A lot of the old guys are up by the stage, and we're sort of lying back in the cut, obviously appreciative but not ostentacious. We're all pretty-decent looking, with the exception of me--that's right, I said it, I'm hotter than the Strip at 3 p.m. So in retrospect it seems a pretty obvious choice, but at the time we didn't realize we were about to make ourselves a new friend.
Figuring with the sort of live-one-die-fast-leave-a-beautiful-highly-marketable-corpse mentality I usually have steroided up by the fact I'm in Vegas, cream and cleared by me being in the World's Largest Strip Club, I decide we only have one chance to use the psuedonyms we've been working on all week. So I become Ron Mexico, Ivan turns into Raoul, and Aaron into...I want to say Steve. We all hail from San Obispo as part of a church group here to examine the level of depravity in such a house of sin.
Stripper: "Getting a lapdance isn't a sin."
Me: "Let us pray."
But we end up talking and talking, and eventually I end up going with our real names and our real story. I just wanted to be somebody else for a while. And that's about when it happens. We're sitting there talking about her being from Georgia, and me having relations with Georgia Tech connections, and up comes the waitress. Should I keep my tab open and throw a lapdance on there?
Sure.
But I have to be in for $60. Three lapdances. Way over budget. I know this.
I mean, I have a mid-140s I.Q.! I cook, I write so well I've won awards, I speak some Spanish, I know a little something about the power and the struggle and the love and the glory that is American history. I'm a connoisseur of fine music and books.
But I look at Kelli with the I and I can't see the future, hard. I have a dim sense of overage charges and cell bills. But so very dim. Kelli's really pretty; I think if I'm remembering earlier correctly Aaron said she had a Cameron Diazy thing going on. I'm sure if not, he'll correct me.
What happens?
Three guys. Three lapdances.
You only live once, I say to myself.
Things degenerate quickly and markedly from that, as Ivan and I have started drinking. I, being me, have decided things will go Aaron-Ivan-me lapdance wise. A greedier man would've gotten his first; a smarter man knows he gets the best stuff last. Aaron somehow gets the "Sexual Healing" update which is quite nice, as Marvin would've made me cry and/or try to elope. Ivan gets his dance and I watch absent-mindedly diverting between that and the stage. You have to keep in mind, this is why I didn't party weeks beforehand--the sense of delayed gratification to prolong the actual moment. You can't appreciate a good meal unless you've been starving, et al.
I got "American Idiot", incongrously. (We actually heard "Beverly Hills", "Du Hast" (no really), and "D'Yer Maker earlier.)
Here are things I thought about:
Baseball
Football
Chewbacca
Barney
London bombings
9/11
It was the most surreal moment of my life. I felt like I was living it and somehow watching it on HBO. What to say? What to do? How much can I touch (damn this town and the no-touch rule)? Wow, it's dark in here. I'll take it. How much is the rent? I'm not drooling on them, am I? Should I have quit smiling when she shoved me in there? Should I be trying conversation? Shouldn't I've taken Chris Elliot's advice and flogged the dolphin before this? Dear holy GOD, how is she that flexible?!
She gets her legs around her head. And my head. She wasn't facing me.
And I being me, choose this moment to snake my hand through and grab my Heineken and have a pull. THERE'S your fucking commercial, you crazy Dutch bastards.
So Kelli laughs and once she's done takes the one empty seat at the table as we wait for my card to come back. We're being oddly witty and funny, I think mostly to detract from the fact that you could've fried an egg off our heads. I know this is going to be my Most Rock Star Moment of the year. It's all going according to plan. So we actually talk about Ivan's relationship and how it shouldn't be affected by this, how hip-hop makes better stripping music (yes, that was my end of the conversation), how good she smells, her remarkable boob job (seriously, one of the best I've ever seen, would've raised pre-flop they were real...) and then she drops a new nickname on Ivan when I admit I wasn't sure how much grazing my hand could do:
Kelli: I mean, he tweaked my nipples hard before I started on you...
Me (turning to Ivan, aghast): You did WHAT?!
Now, I did catch a little bit of it at the end. I had made a "tuning in the station" joke that she laughed at right away, but I had no idea that the better angels of my nature could in fact be corrupted by my nature.
I think his stomach's all right now.
Eventually, we get her her money. And then Ivan pulls out his credit card. Kelli goes for another round. This is a one of the rare sequels that doesn't suck. I was hoping for a good song, and I get "Don't Ya". She loves it too.
These pants are going into a ziplock bag.
This shirt is going into a ziplock bag.
We're both singing along. In response to the chorus, before I can even stop myself (let's blame the firewater), I say I don't have a girlfriend. But when she looks up at me and says "Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?" my response is an immediate, heartfelt "GOD, yes."
And for being a good boy, it's Aaron who buys the next round.
It's this damn town, it gets e v e r y b o d y.
I can no longer listen to "Oh" without taking me to a special place smelling of citrus and triple-ply soft to the touch, but it's a tradeoff I'll suffer through. We talk a bit about Ciara and I throw down the Atlanta sign. "Georgia peaches", she says.
Georgia peaches.
Me: Before you start, I'd just like to say something. I'm RICK JAMES, BITCH! All right, go ahead.
Kelli (laughing): I love that sketch! Just don't do anything to mess up our couch.
Ivan (drunk, immediately): FUCK yo couch, nigga!
This is what I've learned with this weekend:
1) Therapy is bullshit. A yard of tequila? A good swim in the light of day? A lapdance? If it doesn't make you feel a little bit better about yourself when they're done, you might as well off yourself. Worse comes to worse, take 3 lapdances and call me in the morning.
2) I want Kelli, but in someone else's body with the same range of flexibility. And isn't that what I should want, a girl I can talk hip-hop to who's titties I can play with? Someone I can goof around with and slap her ass like I've caught her stealing from the cookie jar?
Oh, the last part: she kept shaking it at me. I didn't want to hurt her after what Ivan did, I knew her boobs were sensitive. And there are the peaches, begging to be sampled. What am I supposed to do, deny her a little fun with work? Out of the corner of my eye during the "Stairway" solo I find Aaron looking at me as if he's never seen me before.
After my crisis of faith, I found/find myself believing heaven is a state of mind rather than a final destination. And all I know is listening to Jazze pop the bottles 'cause we've got another hit, hit, hit as I swatted Kelli's ass and she salt shakered that baby at me, surrounded by my friends--that, to me, was heaven.
But we have to check out at 11. And it's 20 to 3.
Two and a half hours, gone.
I mention that if we don't leave here now, we're never going to get out. That's bad somehow, I just don't know how. My card gets eaten by the system or just says "Goddamnit, enough!" and Aaron covers my tab and we stagger out into the night.
Sleep didn't come easily. Just kept thinking about it. Just kept thinking about it.
This morning...yesterday morning at the checkout. No Spectravision. No movies. No room service. No extra charges.
The woman behind the counter says "You didn't do anything!"
And I just laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
4-Card Straight and Pinchy: we're taking Amanda to see Kelli next year.
Vegas, baby?
Damn right, Vegas, baby.
This post brought to you BAH: "Cannonball" by the Breeders
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It's the franchise, boy, I'm shinin' now...
--John Cena, "The Time Is Now"
It's been a while since I sat in this chair, in a blacked out room where this monitor I'm seeing my words on is the only light on in the joint. I feel oddly sleepy, and my body is more sore than anybody who believed Vince wasn't going to hold a grudge over Matt's head like the Sword of Damocles. Just the effort of leaning makes me groan out loud. The next couple weeks are going to be enamel-to-teeth tight.
But would I do it all again?
I better go back to the beginning and find out.
FRIDAY
If God is a DJ, life is a dance floor...
--Pink, "God Is A DJ"
So it's Friday afternoon. I'm buzzing hard and I haven't touched a drop of the sauce in days. My birthday is my birthday, and that's all well and good. Christmas lost its cache with me some years ago. I haven't been to Sin City in 10 years and not since I was legal. The plan is simple and yet faced with a deluge of possible problems: I want to make this the most fun I have all year. The. End.
Going into this alone would obviously leave me dead within hours, so along with are two of my best friends and better angels, Aaron & Ivan. I am relying on them to save me from myself when such a time comes. Whole paycheck out, off to the airport, plane go up, plane land safe.
Staying in the MGM Grand, and it took longer to cover from McCarron to there to check in. Friday traffic is bad everywhere; cabbies upping their fares with alleged shortcuts will make it worse, though I do amuse him with a couple "Viva Las Vegas" couplets and some of "Danke Shoen". We get asked for the first time if we have any reason for being here: 'cause Expedia's the hookup, holla if ya hear me. The MGM Grand is a class act, and if you think it's unusual I used the term class act, we pass a nice sized black and white picture of the Chairman of the Board Frankie S himself as we come to and from the escalators. Inside, Sofia Loren in her heyday and Bela Lugosi. Two beds, working TV, a completely out-of-place Bible, and a good view of the southernmost tip of the Strip. Excalibur, New Yorkx2, Rio in the distance and the Palms. None of these things capture our attention as much as the bathroom--not just because we're boys. Marble floors. Marble. I'm literally afraid to drip on the thing, and then something new captures our attention. The wall of the shower is marble except for this one square that has a big giant ugly metal bar in the middle. Why the fuck is this thing here--
--and that's when you realize your profanity's answered your question. It is easily conceivable, if one were of such a mind and so fortunate, that they could have their paramour hang on to the bar while they engage in intercourse under the shower.
The MGM Grand's thought of everything!
Bags handled, ESPN Zone for dinner (wasn't horrible, wasn't spectacular, no, Craig Kilborn was not my bartender), and back to the room.
I had intended to go to Studio 54 because I'm me and me not going to one of the best clubs in the world is like expecting mercy from a hungry pit bull while you hold a pack of ground meat. What surprises me is that Aaron & Ivan are also in; Ivan's virtual state of marriage and Aaron's almost-Footlooseian refusal to dance keeps me from hanging out with them a lot when it comes to the club. But we all change--I actually iron for the first time, no less. Downstairs, through the lobby.
No line.
No cover. (Remember that later.)
Was I suspicious? God, yes. Was I going to get all "Hey, wouldn't you rather take my money?"
...
Anyway, 54's nice. Plenty of disco retro sweetness early in the evening. Two-leveled, and plenty of seats, bars, and space. The dance floor's on the bottom floor and you almost walk right into it when you enter. It gets proceedingly packed. They head upstairs and why yes somehow I have found myself in the middle of the dance floor around a ludicrously hot blonde and some of her friends. They cheer me on from upstairs. People rappel from the upper level down, hanging from moons and a man and a woman doing a spectacular act with chains while hanging from the ceiling. Glitter falls seemingly on the hour. There's some acrobatics I capture on Natalie, and the thump keeps thumping.
And around 1, right as Ivan & Aaron remove themselves from the proceedings (AB, I was trying to get the blonde for you, I swear on a stack of Alba mags), 54 goes from the Best Club I've Ever Been In to The Best Club I've Ever Been In, Period, Underline, Exclamation Fucking Point!
DJ P does this. He opens for Snoop Dogg on Saturday but since that's in the evening and this is just barely morning he decides he'd rather open up a spot in my heart, my ears, and my head for the rest of the decade.
He played "Tipsy". Over Spandau Ballet's "True."
He played "Shout". Yes, by Tears For Fears. But Biggie's "Hypnotize" in the Brit's place.
He played "Africa". Yes, by Toto. Nobody moved. He put "Change The Game" over it.
He played "Jack And Diane". Except with the lyrics to "Planet Rock".
He played, in sequential order--prepare yourself--"Whole Lotta Love", "Back In Black" interspliced with "99 Problems", "Crazy Train", and "Let's Go".
That wasn't the highlight of the night. No, really.
The backbeat of "Eye Of The Tiger"...with the words for "Hollaback Girl".
I love all music, and I only stop for drinks and cuties. But on four seperate occassions when only the luckiest DJs get one, I actually stop and look at the booth. Is this happening? Am I actually listening to "Sad But True" with "In Da Club"? Is this only the second time in my short life, and the first back-to-front, that the Beastie's "Hey Ladies" comingles with "Ladies Night" by Kool and the Gang?
Needless to say, his shit is harder to get than Howard Hughes in daylight. That's why they've invented eBay. Find something, buy it, clear your schedule and listen. I--me--do not have the words to describe this. It was a mindfuck of the highest order, and if it'd been a concert it would be brawling with A Tribe Called Quest from last year for #1. Without speech.
That takes me to about 3 a.m., because that's as much as I can handle without my heart exploding. I find out the guys are still up and we hit the Strip. It's nice and cold, by which I mean "about 80 but the warm breeze is gone". We wander around aimlessly, because this is what happens when guys don't have rules. We get all the way up to the Wynn and tire out. We want to take the tram back. Got to wait until 6. It's 5:15. My offhand "we should stay up to see the sun rise" comment is up there with me taunting Suge Knight at this point. We can still bisect some of the distance and go to Bally's to catch the monorail.
We make it.
5:40.
Monrail begins operations at 7.
So it is. We make the 2...5...19...274 mile walk back to the MGM Grand as the sun breaks through, and it's really a sight to see other than the fact we're all about to fall over and die. We cap off at the Walgreen's down the block: I get a chocolate iced cream filled and a chocomilk.
Bed time is 6:45.
SATURDAY
Been dazed and confused for so long, it ain't true...
--Led Zeppelin, "Dazed And Confused"
As to be expected when one goes to sleep around 7 in the morning, it makes you sort of want to stay passed the fuck out until about the crack of 3.
We end up having breakfast around 5.
That sentence is never, e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eVER going to get old. Everything's a little off in the in-between time after that and going back to MGM, because I order a yard-long margarita. Cost less than 3 beers in the club, that's for sure. I drink contentedly, as more and more tequila gets in the closer I get to the bottom.
There's such a severe disorientation when you wake up smack dab in the middle of the day, especially given the nights that we had. That and the fact my blood type switches over to Sauza. Even at dinner, I have to have it between my legs and slurp it up (filth!) because to put it on the table keeps me from drinking it. I debate whether I want to go to Rain or not (I choose 54 again after the Mother-of-Holy-Fuck that'd happened) and the guys decide to go chop it up at the poker tables. The same poker tables right across from Studio 54.
It's night and day.
The line goes out, down to the entrance doors, and the same way in reverse on the other side of the doors up almost to the poker tables. Paid cover, waited an hour. A lot of the same music from last night. I move towards the floor. I run into a hot brunette named Jen, who introduces me to her friends Portia and Mona. It's going pretty well: we're all dancing and not really self-conscious, just out having fun and marvelling at the floor show when it happens. The music switches into the late 80s and early 90s groove, and into "Everybody Dance Now".
Everybody does. I wait and watch. And then I jump in with the Running Man.
Why? Because everybody loves the Running Man. Just typing Running Man makes me smile.
And it appears this is the move that tips the evening in my favor, as we all decide to break. They go upstairs, I hit the bathroom and follow them up after that drink in hand. Yes, I have heard I'm a good dancer. Yes, I came alone--my friends went to the poker tables. You're from San Diego, too? Get the fuck outta here! Everybody drinks. I hang out with them (and get hit on by a guy, but we won't count that) for the rest of the night, and hand them VIP passes to Tabu, another ultra lounge in the MGM grand on my way out around 3:30. (Luckily enough with the long wait in line, I got some for us guys too.) Inexplicably, I'm starting to crash, and the memories of the Strip Death March that was getting underway a day ago aren't far off.
Beginning to sober up, but upbeat, I close out a 12-hour day.
SUNDAY
They got that Southern cookin' that got them fellas lookin'...
--Ciara, "Oh"
We gon to elope to Mexico
Called up my mama said "I'm in love with this stripper, yo"...
--Wyclef, "Perfect Gentlemen"
Up around 1 this time around, and watch the Chargers actually slap around the Rams for a little bit. Like Las Vegas wanted to adopt the Cardinals as their team; nobody likes the Cardinals before this year maybe.
Off to Denny's, which takes too goddamn long to serve us and I skip out on getting an Oreo sundae I'm so disgusted. We had planned to go to the Hard Rock pool (should've, as it turned out, but hours earlier) but since it's so far off the path, we opt to hit our pool.
Pleasantly, it's only 3½ deep so I can't drown to death. I grab an inner tube and swim around the lagoon area. The MGM pool is like a bootleg Grotto and there are a few cute girls around, but as I feel both heated and cooled, the words of a wise Virginian come to mind: celebrate we will, 'cause life is short but sweet for certain. Sure, I can't always keep myself from running into some of the other occupants or hitting the walls, and I don't have a swimming technique down per se, but it just felt perfect. It was almost as relaxing as the Yard-Long Liver Destroyer Saturday, and sort of helped me work off the excess I'd built up. That's my diet plan: eat what you want, then dance for long periods of time like there's nobody watching.
Earlier on, Ivan had beaten us up to the punch and since he was doing well last night went back down to the poker room. While we were at the pool he chilled at the room, and he decides to head back down after I shower. I don't have a set plan because I'm thinking about Tabu later. Aaron's been scared off, and the buy-ins are too much for me with what I have planned for later on, so I'm out. We decide we'll root Ivan on, as I yell out "Terible! Terible!" and give off a mariachi yell. At least twice, then I figure between him texting us the pit bosses might think we're telling him his cards are terrible instead of referencing one of his poker nicknames and run the lot of us. Ivan gets a couple hands of luck but otherwise his small-stackedness keeps him from comping us all to Emeril's.
We go to Quizno's and mock Ivan for getting wheat bread that turns out darker than I am, and sure enough he starts feeling ill within half an hour. I get Amanda on the phone, who is staying at the MGM this weekend to come. How fortuitous for the both of us, as I'm almost positive I would've impregnated her at some point if we'd been in the same Vegas hotel at the same time. As Aaron & I bicker about which one of us would be making the drunken mistake (and I mean that in the best way possible, Amanda!) Ivan cops out, and we go downstairs. It's about 10:30 because we stop to watch the end of My Cousin Vinny. I'd told Jen & Mona around 10 to 10:30.
We wait.
More waiting.
That guy with a goatee--that's Tom Jones!
WHO!?
TOM JONES!?
WHO!?
Damn it, I just don't care who it is as long as the last name is Jones, do I? Anyway, we wait an hour and they don't show up.
It is at this moment I'd like to thank them.
Because Aaron's Plan B--taken from some sarcastic comments I'd made earlier in the week--is "What better day than Sunday to hit a strip club?" We taunt Ivan from downstairs until he coalesces to come down.
Sadly for us, or luckily depending on how hard we want to chase a life history of heart problems, we have to ditch our cameras.
Outside. We can take a cab.
Or, for $20, we can take a limo.
So, we're riding along in the limo when the driver mentions that despite what the doorguy said, we're going to Sapphire's.
Which, it should be noted on my taxes next year, is a restaurant. I have the receipts and the satisfied meal feeling and everything.
"Yeah," she says through the partition, "it's the biggest strip club in the world."
I make the Chandler Bing this-cannot-be face. And yes...
"In the world?"
"In the world."
We get there--by the way, a stone's throw behind Circus Circus...why?....why!?-- and I'm thinking I have exactly enough for a round of fun. We get a table about a row away from the floor and begin to sit down. We all get non-alcoholic beverages on the round I end up buying (Aaron a teetotaler, Ivan abstaining).
This is the point where you want to get the squeamish and holy out of the room and onto a lesser blog. G'head.
So a stripper sidles up to me (sidles, nice) and starts talking to me. But I have had this dream in mind since the trip first took birth and it's this: Aaron gets a lapdance before I do anything. Why? Because a lot of it's the fact he's my friend, and the rest of it is he's just a big nice guy and the dichotomy of suddenly having a woman getting naked on his person would just amuse me too much to not watch. Sure enough, as I talk, he comes back, and the cute black girl starts on him. Then a brunette starts on me.
The affirmative action programs get more strenuous by the day.
We get our lapdances and it's pretty good--well, Aaron didn't like his so much but I think what happened next and the fact it just sprung on him when he got out of the bathroom about 10 minutes into the trip sort of has coloured his view. I was perfectly satisified.
And about broke.
But that all flies out the window, along with the concept of linear time as it relates to a person having a past and a future, when Kelli (I changed that to an I so as to disguise her real name) alights next to us.
It must be said partially in vain and partially to explain that our table combined is younger than some of the guys in there. A lot of the old guys are up by the stage, and we're sort of lying back in the cut, obviously appreciative but not ostentacious. We're all pretty-decent looking, with the exception of me--that's right, I said it, I'm hotter than the Strip at 3 p.m. So in retrospect it seems a pretty obvious choice, but at the time we didn't realize we were about to make ourselves a new friend.
Figuring with the sort of live-one-die-fast-leave-a-beautiful-highly-marketable-corpse mentality I usually have steroided up by the fact I'm in Vegas, cream and cleared by me being in the World's Largest Strip Club, I decide we only have one chance to use the psuedonyms we've been working on all week. So I become Ron Mexico, Ivan turns into Raoul, and Aaron into...I want to say Steve. We all hail from San Obispo as part of a church group here to examine the level of depravity in such a house of sin.
Stripper: "Getting a lapdance isn't a sin."
Me: "Let us pray."
But we end up talking and talking, and eventually I end up going with our real names and our real story. I just wanted to be somebody else for a while. And that's about when it happens. We're sitting there talking about her being from Georgia, and me having relations with Georgia Tech connections, and up comes the waitress. Should I keep my tab open and throw a lapdance on there?
Sure.
But I have to be in for $60. Three lapdances. Way over budget. I know this.
I mean, I have a mid-140s I.Q.! I cook, I write so well I've won awards, I speak some Spanish, I know a little something about the power and the struggle and the love and the glory that is American history. I'm a connoisseur of fine music and books.
But I look at Kelli with the I and I can't see the future, hard. I have a dim sense of overage charges and cell bills. But so very dim. Kelli's really pretty; I think if I'm remembering earlier correctly Aaron said she had a Cameron Diazy thing going on. I'm sure if not, he'll correct me.
What happens?
Three guys. Three lapdances.
You only live once, I say to myself.
Things degenerate quickly and markedly from that, as Ivan and I have started drinking. I, being me, have decided things will go Aaron-Ivan-me lapdance wise. A greedier man would've gotten his first; a smarter man knows he gets the best stuff last. Aaron somehow gets the "Sexual Healing" update which is quite nice, as Marvin would've made me cry and/or try to elope. Ivan gets his dance and I watch absent-mindedly diverting between that and the stage. You have to keep in mind, this is why I didn't party weeks beforehand--the sense of delayed gratification to prolong the actual moment. You can't appreciate a good meal unless you've been starving, et al.
I got "American Idiot", incongrously. (We actually heard "Beverly Hills", "Du Hast" (no really), and "D'Yer Maker earlier.)
Here are things I thought about:
Baseball
Football
Chewbacca
Barney
London bombings
9/11
It was the most surreal moment of my life. I felt like I was living it and somehow watching it on HBO. What to say? What to do? How much can I touch (damn this town and the no-touch rule)? Wow, it's dark in here. I'll take it. How much is the rent? I'm not drooling on them, am I? Should I have quit smiling when she shoved me in there? Should I be trying conversation? Shouldn't I've taken Chris Elliot's advice and flogged the dolphin before this? Dear holy GOD, how is she that flexible?!
She gets her legs around her head. And my head. She wasn't facing me.
And I being me, choose this moment to snake my hand through and grab my Heineken and have a pull. THERE'S your fucking commercial, you crazy Dutch bastards.
So Kelli laughs and once she's done takes the one empty seat at the table as we wait for my card to come back. We're being oddly witty and funny, I think mostly to detract from the fact that you could've fried an egg off our heads. I know this is going to be my Most Rock Star Moment of the year. It's all going according to plan. So we actually talk about Ivan's relationship and how it shouldn't be affected by this, how hip-hop makes better stripping music (yes, that was my end of the conversation), how good she smells, her remarkable boob job (seriously, one of the best I've ever seen, would've raised pre-flop they were real...) and then she drops a new nickname on Ivan when I admit I wasn't sure how much grazing my hand could do:
Kelli: I mean, he tweaked my nipples hard before I started on you...
Me (turning to Ivan, aghast): You did WHAT?!
Now, I did catch a little bit of it at the end. I had made a "tuning in the station" joke that she laughed at right away, but I had no idea that the better angels of my nature could in fact be corrupted by my nature.
I think his stomach's all right now.
Eventually, we get her her money. And then Ivan pulls out his credit card. Kelli goes for another round. This is a one of the rare sequels that doesn't suck. I was hoping for a good song, and I get "Don't Ya". She loves it too.
These pants are going into a ziplock bag.
This shirt is going into a ziplock bag.
We're both singing along. In response to the chorus, before I can even stop myself (let's blame the firewater), I say I don't have a girlfriend. But when she looks up at me and says "Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?" my response is an immediate, heartfelt "GOD, yes."
And for being a good boy, it's Aaron who buys the next round.
It's this damn town, it gets e v e r y b o d y.
I can no longer listen to "Oh" without taking me to a special place smelling of citrus and triple-ply soft to the touch, but it's a tradeoff I'll suffer through. We talk a bit about Ciara and I throw down the Atlanta sign. "Georgia peaches", she says.
Georgia peaches.
Me: Before you start, I'd just like to say something. I'm RICK JAMES, BITCH! All right, go ahead.
Kelli (laughing): I love that sketch! Just don't do anything to mess up our couch.
Ivan (drunk, immediately): FUCK yo couch, nigga!
This is what I've learned with this weekend:
1) Therapy is bullshit. A yard of tequila? A good swim in the light of day? A lapdance? If it doesn't make you feel a little bit better about yourself when they're done, you might as well off yourself. Worse comes to worse, take 3 lapdances and call me in the morning.
2) I want Kelli, but in someone else's body with the same range of flexibility. And isn't that what I should want, a girl I can talk hip-hop to who's titties I can play with? Someone I can goof around with and slap her ass like I've caught her stealing from the cookie jar?
Oh, the last part: she kept shaking it at me. I didn't want to hurt her after what Ivan did, I knew her boobs were sensitive. And there are the peaches, begging to be sampled. What am I supposed to do, deny her a little fun with work? Out of the corner of my eye during the "Stairway" solo I find Aaron looking at me as if he's never seen me before.
After my crisis of faith, I found/find myself believing heaven is a state of mind rather than a final destination. And all I know is listening to Jazze pop the bottles 'cause we've got another hit, hit, hit as I swatted Kelli's ass and she salt shakered that baby at me, surrounded by my friends--that, to me, was heaven.
But we have to check out at 11. And it's 20 to 3.
Two and a half hours, gone.
I mention that if we don't leave here now, we're never going to get out. That's bad somehow, I just don't know how. My card gets eaten by the system or just says "Goddamnit, enough!" and Aaron covers my tab and we stagger out into the night.
Sleep didn't come easily. Just kept thinking about it. Just kept thinking about it.
This morning...yesterday morning at the checkout. No Spectravision. No movies. No room service. No extra charges.
The woman behind the counter says "You didn't do anything!"
And I just laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
4-Card Straight and Pinchy: we're taking Amanda to see Kelli next year.
Vegas, baby?
Damn right, Vegas, baby.
This post brought to you BAH: "Cannonball" by the Breeders
8/19/05
KWBR: the Playlist
ROADHOUSE BLUES:
"We Belong Together (remix)" (7)
"BYOB" (9)
"Best Of You" (10)
"Hollaback Girl" (13)
15) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (14)
14) Nine Inch Nails, "Only" (12)
13) Slim Thug feat. Pharrell, "I Ain't Heard Of That" (debut)
12) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin' All Over The World" (11)
11) Beck, "Girl" (6)
10) Ying Yang Twins feat. Pitbull, "Shake" (debut)
09) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep, "Outta Control (remix)" (15)*
08) David Banner, "Play" (debut)
07) Fall Out Boy, "Sugar, We're Going Down" (8)*
06) Jimmy Eat World, "Futures" (3)
05) Common, "Go" (5)
04) the Killers, "All These Things That I've Done" (4)*
03) Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx, "Gold Digger" (debut)
02) Pussycat Girls feat. Busta Rhymes, "Don't Ya" (2)*
01) Coldplay, "Fix You" (1) [2m]
This post brought to you BAH:
Hello, it's me
I'm not at home
If you'd like to reach me
Leave me alone
--"A Change Would Do You Good", Sheryl Crow
"We Belong Together (remix)" (7)
"BYOB" (9)
"Best Of You" (10)
"Hollaback Girl" (13)
15) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (14)
14) Nine Inch Nails, "Only" (12)
13) Slim Thug feat. Pharrell, "I Ain't Heard Of That" (debut)
12) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin' All Over The World" (11)
11) Beck, "Girl" (6)
10) Ying Yang Twins feat. Pitbull, "Shake" (debut)
09) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep, "Outta Control (remix)" (15)*
08) David Banner, "Play" (debut)
07) Fall Out Boy, "Sugar, We're Going Down" (8)*
06) Jimmy Eat World, "Futures" (3)
05) Common, "Go" (5)
04) the Killers, "All These Things That I've Done" (4)*
03) Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx, "Gold Digger" (debut)
02) Pussycat Girls feat. Busta Rhymes, "Don't Ya" (2)*
01) Coldplay, "Fix You" (1) [2m]
This post brought to you BAH:
Hello, it's me
I'm not at home
If you'd like to reach me
Leave me alone
--"A Change Would Do You Good", Sheryl Crow
8/17/05
"Have You Ever Held A Man's Life In Your Hands?"
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
8/16/05
Jessica And The Albaettes: August '05
IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S ME. I LOVE YOU, BUT I'M NOT IN LOVE WITH YOU. OH, THIS IS SO HARD...:
Kate Beckinsale (37), Christina Milian (38--Nick Cannon? Nick Cannon? Bitch, why don't you just fuck J.J.?), Kelly Hu (39), Leeann Tweeden (40)
40) Teri Hatcher (re-entry)
39) Pam Anderson (33)
38) Jessica Simpson (debut)
37) K.D. Aubert (debut)
36) Maria Menounous (30)
35) Elizabeth Hurley (29)
34) Esther Baxter (34)
33) Ali Landry (36)
32) Alyssa Milano (24)
31) Rachel Bilson (20)
30) Jennifer Walcott (32)
29) Monica Bellucci (28)
28) Jessica Biel (26)
27) Rebecca Romijn (16)
26) Lacey Chabert (25)
25) Mya (31)
24) Sarah Shahi (35)
23) Nikki Cox (27)
22) Halle Berry (23)
21) Kristanna Loken (17)
20) Summer Altice (debut)
19) Kim Smith (22)
18) Katherine Heigl (18)
17) Kitana Baker (21)
16) Adriana Lima (8)
15) Shannon Elizabeth (19)
14) Beyonce (14)
13) Sofia Vergara (15)
12) Carmen Electra (12)
11) Shakira (11)
10) Stacy Keibler (13)
09) Vida Guerra (10)
08) Jennifer Love Hewitt (9)
07) Salma Hayek (7)
06) Brooke Burke (6)
05) Josie Maran (5)
04) Trish Stratus (3)
03) Eva Longoria (4)
02) Angelina Jolie (2)
01) What's-her-face....Jessica...Alba, is it? Sure. (1)
This post brought to you BAH: "Shake Ya Ass" by Mystikal (no, really)
Kate Beckinsale (37), Christina Milian (38--Nick Cannon? Nick Cannon? Bitch, why don't you just fuck J.J.?), Kelly Hu (39), Leeann Tweeden (40)
40) Teri Hatcher (re-entry)
39) Pam Anderson (33)
38) Jessica Simpson (debut)
37) K.D. Aubert (debut)
36) Maria Menounous (30)
35) Elizabeth Hurley (29)
34) Esther Baxter (34)
33) Ali Landry (36)
32) Alyssa Milano (24)
31) Rachel Bilson (20)
30) Jennifer Walcott (32)
29) Monica Bellucci (28)
28) Jessica Biel (26)
27) Rebecca Romijn (16)
26) Lacey Chabert (25)
25) Mya (31)
24) Sarah Shahi (35)
23) Nikki Cox (27)
22) Halle Berry (23)
21) Kristanna Loken (17)
20) Summer Altice (debut)
19) Kim Smith (22)
18) Katherine Heigl (18)
17) Kitana Baker (21)
16) Adriana Lima (8)
15) Shannon Elizabeth (19)
14) Beyonce (14)
13) Sofia Vergara (15)
12) Carmen Electra (12)
11) Shakira (11)
10) Stacy Keibler (13)
09) Vida Guerra (10)
08) Jennifer Love Hewitt (9)
07) Salma Hayek (7)
06) Brooke Burke (6)
05) Josie Maran (5)
04) Trish Stratus (3)
03) Eva Longoria (4)
02) Angelina Jolie (2)
01) What's-her-face....Jessica...Alba, is it? Sure. (1)
This post brought to you BAH: "Shake Ya Ass" by Mystikal (no, really)
8/14/05
If You Want My Want My Want My Autobiography...
So after work tonight, Aaron & I went to a local Mexican eatery. What's better than a local Mexican eatery? A Mexican eatery playing "Let's Stay Together".
What's better than that?
A Mexican eatery playing "Let's Stay Together" with two hot brunettes in it.
What's better than that?
Them singing along.
I, of course, have been singing along since I set foot in the joint. We catch each other's eyes a few times and laugh but don't stop singing. The song ends and now I'm suddenly in the mood for the Reverend. "Let's Stay Together"'ll do that. The jukebox is over by them, so I roll over and hit it up. I hear the cute one in the Bryn Mawr baby-blue hoodie go "I know this guy's going to put on something good" and without looking up, I go "I'll be honest--I'm just going to put on some more Al Green." So I pick, pick, pick and go sit down.
"Here I Am (Come And Take Me)" is also loved. But it's when I--based off the fact I caught them dancing a little bit--begin to hear my second choice that the evening gets a little more fun.
"Bootylicious". So they try to get Aaron to dance, which is funny on so many levels, but then I am dared. I had decided I was going to have to move. They were of the belief I was not sufficiently prepared for their toast condiment, but in reality it was they who were caught off-guard by my marmalade substitute! They admit they were going to play this earlier but had decided against it. Sadly, they quasi-wrangle out the door before they get "Brick House" dedicated to them, but needless to say I will be keeping a closer eye out at my Benihana's, just in case.
So Aaron & I discuss my kevorka, and in a little while the topic of discussion via something that just came up via his blog is something I visited in the early days of the blog, back when it was Another Step Closer To Rollerball: if you were making an autobiographical CD, what 16 songs would you put on there? Aaron being Aaron (and having a seven-song head start in his head just off the past 48 hours) made a list. So did I.
If it was 18 I'd put Sade's "No Ordinary Love" on there. And I got rid of "Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, so per the rules I have one more replacement option before Sunday's over. But here, in song alphabetical order, is my CD:
This post is brought to you BAH: "Salt Shaker" live by the Ying Yang Twins & Lil' Jon
What's better than that?
A Mexican eatery playing "Let's Stay Together" with two hot brunettes in it.
What's better than that?
Them singing along.
I, of course, have been singing along since I set foot in the joint. We catch each other's eyes a few times and laugh but don't stop singing. The song ends and now I'm suddenly in the mood for the Reverend. "Let's Stay Together"'ll do that. The jukebox is over by them, so I roll over and hit it up. I hear the cute one in the Bryn Mawr baby-blue hoodie go "I know this guy's going to put on something good" and without looking up, I go "I'll be honest--I'm just going to put on some more Al Green." So I pick, pick, pick and go sit down.
"Here I Am (Come And Take Me)" is also loved. But it's when I--based off the fact I caught them dancing a little bit--begin to hear my second choice that the evening gets a little more fun.
"Bootylicious". So they try to get Aaron to dance, which is funny on so many levels, but then I am dared. I had decided I was going to have to move. They were of the belief I was not sufficiently prepared for their toast condiment, but in reality it was they who were caught off-guard by my marmalade substitute! They admit they were going to play this earlier but had decided against it. Sadly, they quasi-wrangle out the door before they get "Brick House" dedicated to them, but needless to say I will be keeping a closer eye out at my Benihana's, just in case.
So Aaron & I discuss my kevorka, and in a little while the topic of discussion via something that just came up via his blog is something I visited in the early days of the blog, back when it was Another Step Closer To Rollerball: if you were making an autobiographical CD, what 16 songs would you put on there? Aaron being Aaron (and having a seven-song head start in his head just off the past 48 hours) made a list. So did I.
If it was 18 I'd put Sade's "No Ordinary Love" on there. And I got rid of "Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, so per the rules I have one more replacement option before Sunday's over. But here, in song alphabetical order, is my CD:
- Back In Black - AC/DC
- The Boys Of Summer - Don Henley
- Crimson & Clover - Tommy James & the Shondells (though nothing against the Joan Jett cover)
- Don't Worry Baby - the Beach Boys
- Fight the Power - Public Enemy
- Five O' Clock World - the Vogues
- Flashlight - Parliament/Funkadelic
- Here I Am (Come And Take Me) - Al Green
- Juicy - Notorious B.I.G.
- Lithium - Nirvana
- Louie Louie - the Kingsmen!
- Man On the Moon - R.E.M.
- Once In A Lifetime - Talking Heads
- Sexual Healing - Marvin Gaye
- Should I Stay Or Should I Go? - the Clash
- Voodoo Child (Slight Return) - Jimi Hendrix
This post is brought to you BAH: "Salt Shaker" live by the Ying Yang Twins & Lil' Jon
8/12/05
State Of The Friday Address
+: 6 days, 19 hours, 6 minutes...
+: Preppy white girls singing "Get Low". That will never become unfunny.
-: I'm so close to being broke because of Vegas. Verizon is cawlin' me, as Lil' Jon would say. See, all they have to do is let me go to Vegas, clean up, and then get their money, but noooooooooooooo...
+: Raquel Gibson. And all my Alba clone jokes have finally been born! It's alive! ALIVE!
+: KMB coming back to blog, since that joke reminded me.
-: Everybody in the CSSA league who let Rob pick Harrison and Manning. It just happened last year, you dumbasses! Not only did it just happen last year, it happened ALL THE TIME!
+: Finally going over at pokerrom.com, turning 1k into about 6k last night. Nothing like making a Queen-high straight on the river to bust 3 people at once. Well, one thing.
+: My new clock. Simple yet a little pretty with the teal circle.
-: Missing my first time at Del Mar. I would go, Danny, but work pays and creditors know where I live. Bet on a black horse that seems to hate everybody else for me!
-: There's no more Radio Shack 3 blocks away from my house! I wanted to buy this adapter so I could take my old-ass TV and be able to play DVDs on it, but I guess not.
+: Aaron loaning me the Donnie Darko and first season Scrubs DVDs, one of which may go missing somehow magically in a way I know not.
This post brought to you BAH: "Harder To Breathe" by Maroon 5
+: Preppy white girls singing "Get Low". That will never become unfunny.
-: I'm so close to being broke because of Vegas. Verizon is cawlin' me, as Lil' Jon would say. See, all they have to do is let me go to Vegas, clean up, and then get their money, but noooooooooooooo...
+: Raquel Gibson. And all my Alba clone jokes have finally been born! It's alive! ALIVE!
+: KMB coming back to blog, since that joke reminded me.
-: Everybody in the CSSA league who let Rob pick Harrison and Manning. It just happened last year, you dumbasses! Not only did it just happen last year, it happened ALL THE TIME!
+: Finally going over at pokerrom.com, turning 1k into about 6k last night. Nothing like making a Queen-high straight on the river to bust 3 people at once. Well, one thing.
+: My new clock. Simple yet a little pretty with the teal circle.
-: Missing my first time at Del Mar. I would go, Danny, but work pays and creditors know where I live. Bet on a black horse that seems to hate everybody else for me!
-: There's no more Radio Shack 3 blocks away from my house! I wanted to buy this adapter so I could take my old-ass TV and be able to play DVDs on it, but I guess not.
+: Aaron loaning me the Donnie Darko and first season Scrubs DVDs, one of which may go missing somehow magically in a way I know not.
This post brought to you BAH: "Harder To Breathe" by Maroon 5
8/11/05
It's Getting Better All The Time (?)
Another Poker Night. Everything changes--people. Nothing changes--my game gets better and I lose a small amount of cash.
Tonight it was mostly Aaron's friends. An earlier start than usual, and we six were underway. Three hours later, it was over. Ironically enough on WPT Night, the cash game ended up breaking like a tournament.
My folds continue to get better. Mostly. I actually uttered the Jean-Robert Bellangian phrase "This is a great fucking laydown"--once with A/J and another time with pocket Jacks--and they both turned out to be great fucking laydowns. Anyway, things were going decently, until a point was reached after a couple eliminations I ended up all-in against Ivan.
Up against pocket Jacks with my 10/A.
Jack hits on the flop.
King on the turn.
And....queen on the river. Turn the bass up to 11 and start pumping "How We Do", I hit Broadway like Cats. Sadly, that is the highlight of the night, and it barely got me back up to the $10 buy-in at that. People get bounced. Six. Five. Ivan's out in fourth.
Down to three, and I'm horribly short-stacked, and get bounced. Then Aaron & his friend play head-to-head, and that's it. I make $5 for the third place finish, which bolsters me a little bit along with my improving play. I can only hope to an extent that the improvements pay off when we get down to doing the do in seven days and 14 hourish as they have in my dreams. Until such a point is reached I got to hope my online game improves, and keep solace in the quiet improvements that hopefully will lead to monster payoffs with more cash on the line.
Even though she's nowhere near WKIRGB, HAPPY BIRTHDAY LESLIE!
ADDENDUM: 20 minutes, two buy-ins. Lost with a Jack-high flush to a King-high flush and lost a full-house to a better full house. Fuck you, pokerroom.com.
This post is brought to you BAH: "Start Me Up" by the Stones
Tonight it was mostly Aaron's friends. An earlier start than usual, and we six were underway. Three hours later, it was over. Ironically enough on WPT Night, the cash game ended up breaking like a tournament.
My folds continue to get better. Mostly. I actually uttered the Jean-Robert Bellangian phrase "This is a great fucking laydown"--once with A/J and another time with pocket Jacks--and they both turned out to be great fucking laydowns. Anyway, things were going decently, until a point was reached after a couple eliminations I ended up all-in against Ivan.
Up against pocket Jacks with my 10/A.
Jack hits on the flop.
King on the turn.
And....queen on the river. Turn the bass up to 11 and start pumping "How We Do", I hit Broadway like Cats. Sadly, that is the highlight of the night, and it barely got me back up to the $10 buy-in at that. People get bounced. Six. Five. Ivan's out in fourth.
Down to three, and I'm horribly short-stacked, and get bounced. Then Aaron & his friend play head-to-head, and that's it. I make $5 for the third place finish, which bolsters me a little bit along with my improving play. I can only hope to an extent that the improvements pay off when we get down to doing the do in seven days and 14 hourish as they have in my dreams. Until such a point is reached I got to hope my online game improves, and keep solace in the quiet improvements that hopefully will lead to monster payoffs with more cash on the line.
Even though she's nowhere near WKIRGB, HAPPY BIRTHDAY LESLIE!
ADDENDUM: 20 minutes, two buy-ins. Lost with a Jack-high flush to a King-high flush and lost a full-house to a better full house. Fuck you, pokerroom.com.
This post is brought to you BAH: "Start Me Up" by the Stones
8/10/05
Where Surveys Go To DIE Get Filled
Whoop, here it is, thoughtcha knew...
This post brought to you BAH: boredom, and "I Walk The Line" as covered by Los Lonely Boys
This post brought to you BAH: boredom, and "I Walk The Line" as covered by Los Lonely Boys
8/8/05
It's Official: Jessica Alba Is Having The BEST YEAR EVER!
200 pictures.
And now, some poetry I have specifically written for the occassion.
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to god
This post is brought to you BAH: my #2, "Don't Ya" by the Pussycat Dolls feat. Busta Rhymes
And now, some poetry I have specifically written for the occassion.
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to god
This post is brought to you BAH: my #2, "Don't Ya" by the Pussycat Dolls feat. Busta Rhymes
8/6/05
KWBR: The Playlist
ROAD TO NOWHERE:
"Feel Good Inc" (10)
"Oh" (11)
"Blue Orchid" (12)
"Wait" (13)
"Just A Lil' Bit" (15)
15) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep, "Outta Control (remix)" (debut)
14) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (6)
13) Gwen Stefani, "Hollaback Girl" (3)
12) Nine Inch Nails, "Only" (debut)
11) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin' All Over The Wold" (7)
10) Foo Fighters, "Best Of You" (8)
09) System Of A Down, "BYOB" (9)*
08) Fall Out Boy, "Sugar, We're Going Down" (debut)
07) Mariah Carey feat. the Lox, "We Belong Together (remix)" (5)
06) Beck, "Girl" (14)*
05) Common, "Go" (2)
04) the Killers, "All These Things That I've Done" (debut)
03) Jimmy Eat World, "Futures" (4)*
02) Pussycat Dolls feat. Busta Rhymes, "Don't Ya" (debut)
01) Coldplay, "Fix You" (1) [6w]
This post is brought to you BAH: "the Last Song" by the All-American Rejects
"Feel Good Inc" (10)
"Oh" (11)
"Blue Orchid" (12)
"Wait" (13)
"Just A Lil' Bit" (15)
15) 50 Cent feat. Mobb Deep, "Outta Control (remix)" (debut)
14) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (6)
13) Gwen Stefani, "Hollaback Girl" (3)
12) Nine Inch Nails, "Only" (debut)
11) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin' All Over The Wold" (7)
10) Foo Fighters, "Best Of You" (8)
09) System Of A Down, "BYOB" (9)*
08) Fall Out Boy, "Sugar, We're Going Down" (debut)
07) Mariah Carey feat. the Lox, "We Belong Together (remix)" (5)
06) Beck, "Girl" (14)*
05) Common, "Go" (2)
04) the Killers, "All These Things That I've Done" (debut)
03) Jimmy Eat World, "Futures" (4)*
02) Pussycat Dolls feat. Busta Rhymes, "Don't Ya" (debut)
01) Coldplay, "Fix You" (1) [6w]
This post is brought to you BAH: "the Last Song" by the All-American Rejects
8/5/05
Craps And Handshakes
KISSES: For the fancy-ass belt buckle with the scrolling marquee--I will pause here so you can go back and read that--I'm to get from Hong Kong. They say 8-10 business days so I got to jump on paying quick so I can have it in Vegas. Once again, the Prince of Bling strikes the club!
PIMPSLAPS: The United States Postal Service, as apparently the MO for the Fantastic 4 poster is still in transit or got lost or something, and then asked "Is Japan different than Hong Kong?" when I tried to send out an MO for the belt buckle just now. I still haven't figured out the nicest way to say "Congratulations, you're a fucking moron."
PIMPSLAPS: I got to figure out a way to get this 20 to Hong Kong in the next 28 hours.
KISSES: Payday!
PIMPSLAPS: Overdraft charges!
KISSES: Two weeks and 40 minutes. The bird takes off. Mother. Fucking. VEGAS, BABAY!
PIMPSLAPS: Most of life. This is boring as monkey (™ Heat Man Enterprises, CEO Michael Renner, Esq.) waiting around for the Lost Weekend to begin.
PIMPSLAPS: I'm gonna miss SummerSlam, and I was quite looking forward to Matt Hardy catching Edge with a business end of an 18-wheeler.
KISSES: Poker Night sometime before we go. Truly an oasis. Even when it goes bad it's good, and when it goes great it's awesome.
PIMPSLAPS: Gardening. Construction. Car alarms. Shut the fuck up, the lot of you.
KISSES: Public Enemy's Greatest Hits. Even Aaron recognizes, and he's, like, Anaheim white. Heh.
KISSES: New season of Celebrity Poker Showdown! About fucking time, man.
PIMPSLAPS: Starting...about 3 hours after we land in Vegas. Bah.
KISSES: The way Peter Krause died on Six Feet Under has set a new threshold in 2005 for describing how good the sex was. "....and then I was all narm--narm--narm--"
This post brought to you BAH: "Save It For Later" as covered by Harvey Danger
PIMPSLAPS: The United States Postal Service, as apparently the MO for the Fantastic 4 poster is still in transit or got lost or something, and then asked "Is Japan different than Hong Kong?" when I tried to send out an MO for the belt buckle just now. I still haven't figured out the nicest way to say "Congratulations, you're a fucking moron."
PIMPSLAPS: I got to figure out a way to get this 20 to Hong Kong in the next 28 hours.
KISSES: Payday!
PIMPSLAPS: Overdraft charges!
KISSES: Two weeks and 40 minutes. The bird takes off. Mother. Fucking. VEGAS, BABAY!
PIMPSLAPS: Most of life. This is boring as monkey (™ Heat Man Enterprises, CEO Michael Renner, Esq.) waiting around for the Lost Weekend to begin.
PIMPSLAPS: I'm gonna miss SummerSlam, and I was quite looking forward to Matt Hardy catching Edge with a business end of an 18-wheeler.
KISSES: Poker Night sometime before we go. Truly an oasis. Even when it goes bad it's good, and when it goes great it's awesome.
PIMPSLAPS: Gardening. Construction. Car alarms. Shut the fuck up, the lot of you.
KISSES: Public Enemy's Greatest Hits. Even Aaron recognizes, and he's, like, Anaheim white. Heh.
KISSES: New season of Celebrity Poker Showdown! About fucking time, man.
PIMPSLAPS: Starting...about 3 hours after we land in Vegas. Bah.
KISSES: The way Peter Krause died on Six Feet Under has set a new threshold in 2005 for describing how good the sex was. "....and then I was all narm--narm--narm--"
This post brought to you BAH: "Save It For Later" as covered by Harvey Danger
8/3/05
It's Only Seventeen
- TEN YEARS AGO: About to start junior year of high school. Highly impressionable. Good boy.
- FIVE YEARS AGO: About to start junior year of college. Pretty cynical. Less good boy. Adjusting to the taste of adult beverages.
- THIS TIME LAST YEAR: Working for the Man. Had just gotten my friend Danny back in my life after a 12-year absence. Starting to make the Gaslamp Quarter and the party scene therein my home away from home.
- YESTERDAY: All my troubles seemed so far away....oh, wait. Uhh...watched some of the Chris Benoit DVD, did some writing, watched the local WSOP circuit event with Jesus winning with the quad Aces, talked about maybe having a poker night on Saturday with Aaron, watched Rescue Me, did some more writing.
- TODAY: Is the greatest day I've ever known...wait, no. Woke up at the crack of 11:30, watched the Garden State DVD with the Braff/Portman commentary, found out Chappelle's Show was dead (CHARLIE MURPHY! :( ), did this, and after that...*shrug*
- TOMORROW: Fuck if I know.
- FIVE SNACKS I ENJOY: Reese's Big Cups (mmm...gigantic peanut butter cups), salad with Italian dressing, Swiss Cake rolls, chips & salsa, carrot sticks.
- FIVE BANDS/SINGERS WHOSE CATALOGUES WITH WHICH I'M VERY FAMILIAR: Al Green, Led Zeppelin, Red Hot Chili Peppers, R.E.M., Nirvana. Yes, I just listed my five favorites of all time. Screw you.
- FIVE THINGS I WOULD DO WITH $100 MILLION: Get the fuck up out of here and live downtown or by the beach, donate $5 million to the local Boys & Girls club, buy my parents and brother a house on the other side of town, start a publishing house, take all my friends out for a good dinner and a club without them lifting a finger while riding between spots in a Hummer limo.
- FIVE LOCATIONS I'D LIKE TO RUN AWAY TO: Vegas (soon, my precious, soon), New York, Miami, Ibiza, Jessica Alba's shower
- FIVE BAD HABITS: Arrogance, sloth, lust, gluttony, greed
- FIVE THINGS I LIKE DOING: playing poker, writing, eating good food, bullshitting with my best friends, and shaking what my momma gave me.
- FIVE TV SHOWS I LIKE: Scrubs, 24, Arrested Development, Celebrity Poker Showdown, and Rescue Me
- FAMOUS PEOPLE I'D LIKE TO MEET: David Letterman, Jessica Alba, Kevin Smith (actually talk to in depth instead of the quick run-in from '03), Michael Wilbon, Tony Kornheiser, Jay-Z
- BIGGEST JOYS AT THE MOMENT: The prospective Vegas trip. The nice weather here. When the writing feels more like court stenography than dragging the Stone of Shame. The new Alba beach pics. Getting better at poker. The reaction the Running Man gets in the club.
- FAVORITE TOYS: The hearts of impressionable young girls. Oh, wait, I'm filling this out and not my friends. GameCube, the computer, Natalie my cell, the unbelievably superflous remote to my radio.
- FIVE PEOPLE WHO SHOULD ANSWER THIS: Rob, Aaron, Jen, Matt, and Jamie.
This post brought to you BAH: "Toxic" by Britney Spears (no, really)
8/1/05
Fun At Work
So, I'm trying to decide what was more so: the picture of the guy who looked like a suicide bomber London-style who in the recent past had been taking pictures of the building or the off-duty officer who said that coat check where I was working was the place he was most scared of someone sneaking in a bomb.
Good times.
This post brought to you BAH: "Best Of Me (Part 2)" by Mya & Jay-Z
Good times.
This post brought to you BAH: "Best Of Me (Part 2)" by Mya & Jay-Z
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