Davy and Bunny

I said, "I'm a child of the eighties."
She said, "Baby, that's okay, see,
'cause I am a child of the 1980's too."

I said, "Lady, you must be crazy
'cause I don't think you were a baby
all that way way, way way back in '82."

And she said, "Davy, you drive me crazy,
with your baby 'way-way, way-way'
Like it was really way, way back in '82."

But she said, "Maybe, ya know, just maybe
One day, Davy, we'll have a baby
And he can look back on the year 2002."

And I said, "Bunny, the skies are sunny,
when we talk about the past and the future too."

So last night's celebration for the Young Cocksman's birthday went pretty well and was a good, drunken time, despite an unusually low turn-out. Liquid cocaine was my posion of choice, but what else is new? And Strange, I don't care if the bars make it with Sprite, I make it with Coke. If the bars jumped off a bridge would you? Speaking of Strange, I vaguely remember him taking some pictures so hopefully I can get those up sometime soon. Oh, and special thanks go out to Leslie for always being the life of the party.

So anyway, I've decided to actually pay to get my hair cut for once. As part of gearing up for that conversion to judaism that I told that Jewish girl in my telecom class I was gonna do, I have, in recent years, developed something of a reputation as a cheapskate. By and large, I think this is a bum rap, as is that rather bizzare rumor that I will only date girls who have big boobs. The truth is I just don't like to spend money on myself. It seems wasteful, just like boobs that are bigger than one handful. Share the wealth, folks, ya know what I'm saying?

So, anyway, the other day, like clockwork it's 4:00 am and I decide to break out the ole hair-cutting kit. But I decide, why not take this opportunity to learn proper haircutting techniques? After all, I've got all these neat attachments and I don't have a clue what they do. So, I popped in the instructional video. I don't know who's idea it was to include this thing with the kit as it shows just how awful looking haircuts using this kit are. And, keep in mind, these are the ones the producers thought merited being shown off. But I guess by the time you're watching the video, you already own the product, so they can reveal what you've really gotten yourself into. The only thing missing was an evil cackle:"Welcome to the exciting world of the Conair Home Haircutting Kit.... Mwah-ha-ha-ha!" All the people getting their hair cut look absolutely terrified of clipper, and, having seen the ultimate results, I can tell they had good reason to be. So that and the fact that no where in the video does it provide instructions on how to operate this device successfully on yourself and led me to believe that this is a task that is best left up to knowledgeable professionals. That's why I'm going to seek out those half-trained cosmotology students over at the union.

Oh and I've added two more blogs to my links page. It's a small world, after all.

Well, I missed making a post yesterday but I mysteriously ended up very tired suddenly and came home and went to sleep at about 10:30. Otherwise it was a good day, and depending on how you figure the numbers, I came out it $5-$10 ahead, instead of the theoretical $55 I was down at one point. With that kind of positive cash-flow, maybe my future holds a spicy chicken sandwich.

I'll tell ya someone who's not getting any spicy chicken anytime soon, unless they serve those in jail these days. Well, technically he's not in jail, but the overzealous authorities in Port St. Lucie, Florida did arrest an 11-year old child for changing grades in his teacher's electronic grade book. You know, I haven't been alive for too long, but even I can remember a time when an offense like that would warrant, oh I don't know, detention and a call home to the parents. Maybe suspension/expulsion if this wasn't a first-time offense, but to remand him to the authorities and arrest him? What's the world coming to? Next thing you know high school students won't be able to brandish 8-inch razor-sharp utility knives in the classroom.

And in other end-of-the-world news, The Rand Corporation--you know, the one that tells the US government what to think of things--aparantly believes that it would be best not to tell the public if an extinction-level asteroid was on-course for an impact with Earth. Because, naturally, people wouldn't want to the additional burdon of getting to say goodbye to all the people that are near and dear to them. Personally, I think when life as we know it is going to blink out of exsistence, it's okay to stop worrying that Circuit City might get looted. That's just my opinion.

Man, I can't even watch the news anymore without thinking that World War III is about to break out. If the unclassifed answer is that North Korea could nuke the west coast, I dread hearing what the classified information is. And lets not forget that "I'll do a pre-emptive strike if I have to" rhetoric coming from Kim Jong Il these days. How both of those things can be true and Saddam not look like anything more than a bush-league NRA-type zealot is beyond me.

On the other hand, if that concientious objector thing doesn't work out I'm definitely going to Canada.

So today I broke two compraratively long-standing streaks for me. The first is that I skipped class for the first time this semester, after 30 days of continual attendence. This sets a new record for me; last semester I went only 28 before skipping my first time. The other streak I broke was that, after two weeks of not buying groceries to save money, I gave in and went to Marsh. In retrospect, I could have lasted longer: my Ramen noodle cache is still going pretty strong. But last night in a fit of desperation, I ate a frozen pizza that belongs to my roommate. So I felt like I should pay him back, and while I was at it, I might as well get some more orange juice, etc.

And now for something completely different: my old UCLA roomate and prono prankster Bryan Lui informs me that this biography I wrote about him for one of his classes sophomore year is still up. It's pretty hilarious when you remember that--other than the date of his birth and the fact that he's in Sigma Nu--absolutely none of it is true, including the exsistence of Bryan's twin brother David. "David" was one of the more brilliant strokes of genius I've ever encountered. Bryan doctored up all these photos of him with his twin brother and printed them out on photo paper so they looked like family snapshots. David, the story went, did not go to UCLA like Bryan and I, but he would visit often. Then, if a girl saw Bryan and wanted to pester him, he'd just say, "I'm David" and she'd go away. I guess these girls never wondered why David hung out with me when his brother wasn't around. Anyway, David was all part of this imaginary life Bryan and I concocted for him to claim to lead. It's pretty funny stuff, but maybe you had to have been there. Check it out.

For lack of anything better to do, I give you my top 5 Albums of 2002, which is no small task as 2002 has been a very fertle time for music. Not neccessarily in any order:

2002 gave us Avril Lavigne-- who's not really all that bad-- and she's had some popularity being marketed as young and vivacious, etc. Well, that's fine for selling a lot of records, but if you really want to listen to music that is light, infectious, thoughtful, occasionally rockin', and always shimmering with youthful energy and optimisim, look no further than 20-year old Ben Kweller's Sha Sha. This is one of those albums that after a listen or two becomes essential to any self-respecting rock-and-roll fan's collection. To that end, if anyone can help me lay hands on Freak Out It's Ben Kweller or anything by Radish, I'd be much obliged. Did I mention Ben Kweller is from Texas?

When I first listened to Emimem Show, I thought that it wasn't quite the brilliant masterpeice that Marshall Mathers LP was, but as I listened to it more and more, it started to develop a brilliance of its own. If Marshall Mathers was about the heavy cost of fame, then (paradoxically) Eminem Show was a trip through the inner-world of man himself; all his darkest feelings are displayed with the kind of honesty that most artists fear. Just listen to "Cleaning out My Closet" once and you'll hear more frothing anger than if you listened to the entire cataloges of angst poseurs like Fred Durst and his ilk. The album's conclusion, in which Eminem finds solace in an us-against-the-world alliance with his daughter is jaw-dropping in its unflinching portrayal of a certain kind of mad love. That this is one of the best albums of the year is almost secondary to the unrivaled amount of copies this thing sold; Eminem Show is definitely the most important album of 2002.

The other most important album of the year. There was a breif time after September 11th, 2001 when it seemed as though the emotional fabric of our nation was changing, that we were all gonna put aside our differences, greive together and pull each other up. That cultural spirit may have faded, but Springsteen tried to bring it back on The Rising. His efforts were so successful, he even nabbed the cover of Time magazine. Not that the Boss needed that theme to qualify this album for the history books; the reunion with the E-Street band would have taken care of that by all by itself. Musically, the album is like nothing else; it superficially resembles a Springsteen show, with 100% of his energy going into every note and every word on every song. The title track may be one of the best rock anthems of all time, and I hope that I become wealthy enough to afford Springsteen tickets someday so I can hear it in an arena.

This album sounds like heartbreak-- subtle, nuanced, delicate heartbreak. Don't avoid this album because you haven't liked Beck before; as always, he re-invents his sound. "Paper Tiger" and "Lost Cause" are my favorite tracks, but there's no weak spots on this disc. Sea Change easily qualifies for a spot on the All Time Top 5 Breakup Albums list, which is no small feat.

I don't know much about dance music, but I can tell this album is a masterpeice. The fidelity of the production is so crisp that you get the feeling that every note, every lyric, and every beat is placed in just the right place to make you get up and move. Everyone heard "Can't Get You Out Of My Head" when it was released as a single, I'm sure most people assumed it was flawless pop by mere conincidence or something. Not so: the whole album is similar in the infectous department, yet all the songs remain distinct. I like the title track and "Fragile."

Here's a little quote from an AIM conversation that I think is absurd, but which may well make many of you go, "Finally, someone told him."

Nathan Proud: I think every time we talk, I keep thinking you're gay.
Nathan Proud: I sure hope not.
Nathan Proud: you aren't, right?
Darkblue21: You really think that?
Darkblue21: I'm not gay at all
Nathan Proud: good, good
Nathan Proud: you know, just sometimes your wording isn't the best
Darkblue21: Wow! I didn't realize it was that bad.
Nathan Proud: hehe
Nathan Proud: at times, man, yeah

Ouch! I mean, not only was I just accused of being gay, but the accusation was coming from a man who uses the phrase "hehe." So you know I must have been putting out a serious gay vibe.

Just to set the record -- pardon the pun-- straight, gay people and I have had a long and storied history, but it has never included me being gay.

In fact, other than my infamous hat-trick, my only direct dealings with the gay community have been (A) being propositioned by a gay gay and tactfully turning him down, (B) having a gay guy come out to me as a rehearsal for coming out to his parents, (C) going to West Hollywood to watch a parade, and (D) having my roomate (unbeknownst to me) tape some gay porn to the bottom of my travel bags and the soles of my shoes, so that, as I was walking through our nation's airport system, I would appear to not only be gay, but a gay lunatic. Sorta like Tom Cruise.