Tuesday, June 30, 2009

My Beatles OBSESSION part 1.


The Beatles. Quite truly the most of the most, and yet, very much so underrated. I know, you think I'm insane for even thinking such a thing, but it is true you know. Pick up a copy of "Live At The BBC" It's sweaty, and it's good.

It's a two disk set of Rock and Friggin' Roll. Listen to it. It's like this underground, sweaty band. You feel like one of the only peeps in the world that has ever heard of this band. Same with Anthology 1 Disk 1. I'm serious. Maybe that's what made them so... tops, so relatable. They made it seem so easy. You always felt that you could form a band called "Manhands" and do it, too, even though you never could. Or maybe that part was just me. Anyway, that's what I've been geeking on recently.

So no, this isn't even CLOSE to the first of the Beatle blog posts I will make, but it may be the most rational. I leave you with that. And this. =) All of these songs are from "Live at the BBC". Good, right?

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Michael Jackson.

Yesterday I would've likely have been making jokes about him, or rolling my eyes. But not today. Not now. I learned through TMZ that Michael Jackson had died about an hour before it was "official" and I found myself praying it wasn't so. I NEVER could've imagined that his death would hit me like a ton of bricks. I grew up with him, like so many others. His was the first poster on my wall. This one.

And this one.

And I was in love with him. And then it wasn't cool to like him anymore. I think I was in 2nd grade and all the 3rd graders made fun of all of us who did. Thriller was the coolest thing I ever heard.

I was in gym when I heard he was set on fire doing that commercial. I had a red, vinyl jacket full of zippers. I was SO cool. I remember in about 4th grade how he "humped" the ground in "The Way You Make Me Feel". Naughty Naughty Michael. 6th grade, Man In The Mirror. By that time I thought he was ridiculous. And all of these memories are so intertwined into who I am.

And now. Now I'm holding back tears.

It's probably how people felt years ago when Elvis died.

Oh, and about that little Beatles' obsession of mine? This is how it started.

Me: "Hey, Mom. Who's that old guy with Michael? Ew."
Mom: "Don't you dare blastpheme in this house again, young lady" (Or something so dramatic).

RIP Michael Jackson. I'm sorry that life got so strange for you. I really mean that with light and love.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Scary movies and the real life no-nos I've learned from hating them.

Disclaimer: I do not own, or really even want to own any of the forthcoming images.

I hate scary movies. I really do. My husband loves them. Considering I hog the lap-top for hours searching out new Beatles' pictures and updating my Twitter/facebook stats or what-ever it is I waste time doing, I have rightly lost control of the tv. Right now, the tv is tuned in on Friday the 13th part 75 or something. It's absolutely ridiculous. "That's the point! It's supposed to be ridiculous!" he spits at me while gripping the throw pillow and cheering the screen. Whatevs.

Anyway, I have an over-active imagination and happen to be scared of a lot of insane and impossible situations. The last thing that I need is a movie planting paranioa seeds in my fertile brain. So I've come up with some rules that I live by so as not to die by the likes of Jason.


I do not camp. It will NEVER happen. Not in the woods. Not at the beach. If you would like to go and hang in a dark scary place with bugs and bears and only a flimsy piece of nylon keeping you from certain death including bone saws, then that's your problem. I will be at the Hilton. (Although, see RULE #2)


I do not enjoy staying in hotels. I do not enjoy sleeping in hotel beds. I don't let my bare feet touch the hotel. Anywhere. What if there are dead hookers under the mattress? What if there are dead ghosts in the tub? I don't know what has happened in any hotel room before I got there. Therefore, I try to go into hotel stays as though there is still a crime scene and I'm wearing a HAZMAT suit. Nast.

The Shining. (Although, I do very much enjoy this movie)


I do not investigate strange noises. That goes for loud knocks in the middle of the night. It NEVER ends well. Ever. I do not hang out by myself in the dark while loud noises are rapping. It's just not my thing.


Oh yeah, no cabins. No camps.


Now, I love all animals, I do. However, if they are foaming at the mouth, back from the dead, or on a mutha effin plane, I do find reason to pause.


Carnivals. I do like carnivals, I admit. They can be fun, they can be like the end of Grease and with singing and dancing and you might even find yourself in a pink car with Travolta flying for some reason. I won a goldfish at a carnival 8 years ago. His name is Nigel. But there is a darker world to the carnival. I think it happens at night. I became aware of this while watching one of my fav movies as a kid. Something Wicked This Way Comes. So here's the deal. Don't ride a merry-go-round backwards, if you have cheated roller coaster death, if you see this:

Then just go. There's no need to stay at creepy carnival.


BE WARY OF JAPAN. Now, Japan looks friggin' awesome. It totally does. However, WTF?!

Some scary crap happens in Japan, apparently. I am absolutely terrified. In fact, mental note, also be wary of S. Korea where this came from.

I know there are more rules that I adhere to involving this crap, but I'm creeped out. So I will leave you all with one more life lesson. If you see this:

Then don't answer the phone. Trust me.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Apartment 9

Once upon a time (2004), a few naive youths rallied together and came up with this. And yes, it IS as awesome as it appears. We shot this in Simi Valley, California in awesome, sweaty August with no fans or air-conditioning. Enjoy.