Your San Francisco Giants Season Preview

IT IS FINALLY FUCKING HERE. We are done fucking around with Jeff Suppan and talking about cutting Barry Zito and all that other bullshit. Now it is time to return to AT&T park with thousands of fools who never saw a game before last year, at least until they get into a long losing streak in July and go "Hey, this game is boring" and go back to watching WWE or working on their lawns or whatever. Let's take a look at the season.

3/31 @ LAD Motherfucking opening day. Somehow ESPN fucked this up because the Yankees or Red Sox aren't involved in their special Pre Opening Day Extravanaganza. Crack News Team Matier and Ross over at the Chronicle warn us that if you're traveling to LA for the game, don't reach into the bullpen and grab the cap off a Dodger pitcher's head like this fucking douchebag did or you'll get in big trouble. Like, WTF dude? Anyway, I will be at a bar at an undisclosed location watching this with my Trusted Associates.

4/11 LAD Magnet Schedule Day. First game I'm going to this year. I am ALL ABOUT Magnet Schedule Day. I missed it last year because we were out of town and I was kinda heartbroken.

4/28 @ PIT This game starts at 9:35 a.m. our time? Really? Sounds like a good excuse to take a day off work and get bloodies at Clooney's for the game. Oh, you know what might be fun? We should go to Sutter Station instead and laugh at the proletariat as we sip our cocktails on a Thursday morning. GET BENT SUCKERS!!!

5/20-23 OAK The Bay Bridge Series is fun but it's also kind of a pain in the ass because there are a bunch of A's fans running around and you know what A's fans like to do more than anything? Tell you about how they're real fans you're just a bunch of wine-sipping snobs even though every time I go to an A's game there are about 5,000 people there and most of them are talking through the whole game and smoking meth in the seats and yammering about $1 hot dogs so you know what? This thing about A's fans being quote real fans unquote? Is horseshit.

6/6 WAS Here's where we separate the wheat from the chaff. Monday night in June against the fucking NATIONALS. OK, big boy, are you a fan or are you just here to wear a Panda hat? Get your ass out here on a freezing Monday night in June and we'll talk.

7/4 SD July 4 games are fun, and this one starts, oddly, at 2:05, although I kinda like that start time because you can go to brunch late-ish and still make it in plenty of time. So, yes to 2:05 games.

7/15 NYM I'm going to this game too.

Ask me about my Miracle Weight-Loss Secret!

8/23-31 SD, HOU, CHC August has a 10-game homestand (8/1-10) and this 9-game homestand. By now, we'll have an idea of where the Giants are headed this year. The Cubs series (8/29-31) could be huge. Or maybe not! What do I look like, a psychic? OK, there will also be a massive earthquake on August 10. There you go.

9/28 COL There are only 12 home games in September, so get your tickets now. We close with a homestand against Colorado that could either be electrifying or a complete charade. You know what? I'm going to go ahead and call it now. Playoffs at the least, and probably make it to the NLCS. If they repeat, I am naming my first son Cody Buster Panda Freak. Unless somebody else has already taken that.

An open letter to United Airlines, the Focus of Evil in the Modern World

Dear United Airlines,

Good morning! I hate to tear you away from your conference with Satan and his Army of the Night (morning seminar: "Goodness and Light in the World: How United Can Help Destroy It"), but I have just a couple of small notes on the recent trip I took on your airline. Constructive criticism, right!

Here's the Executive Summary: I contracted with you to take me from San Francisco to Tucson and back, and YOU FAILED TO DO EITHER ONE CORRECTLY. You'd think, just by SHEER CHANCE ALONE, you'd get one of them right, wouldn't you? NOPE. You actually had to TRY to fail this miserably at the task which you ADVERTISE YOURSELF AS BEING ABLE TO DO SUCCESSFULLY.

Let’s recap and see if we can figure out what went wrong:

PHASE ONE: SAN FRANCISCO TO TUCSON, VIA LOS ANGELES, THURSDAY, MARCH 24.

So The Wife and I are going to a little town outside Tucson to see my Mom, who for some reason decided to live there. Anyway, we’re supposed to leave SFO at 6:30, change planes in LA, and get to Tucson around 10:30 pm. Long layover in LA but whatever. That gives us 2 1/2 days there, coming back on Sunday.

It’s raining at SFO, and we’re about an hour delayed. Oddly, one of your minions says the delay is occasioned by “bringing in another plane from Seattle,” which doesn’t sound weather-related at all, unless the Seattle plane is a Magical Weather-Resistant Plane that can fly through the most violent storm without incident. Anyway, we all get on, very late now, and fly to LAX. We land there at 9:15. Guess what? Our flight from LAX to Tucson is scheduled to leave LAX promptly at 9:15. Now THAT flight, of course, left with Germanic precision, at 9:15:00, one minute before The Wife and I arrive at the gate. GUESS YOU CAN LEAVE ON TIME WHEN IT HELPS FUCK ME OVER HUH?

Well, that’s life. Let’s go to the Service Counter and get our hotel voucher and we’ll leave tomorrow morning. What’s that, United? You won’t pay for a hotel, because the delay was weather-related? The Magical Weather Plane wasn’t the cause? Oh, that’s great. So far, we’re out $90 for a hotel in LA, plus a $80 bar tab at said hotel that I also blame you for, United. But little did we know, the worst – much, much, much worse – is yet to come.

The next day, mirabile dictu, we get on an 11:50 am flight on standby and make it to Tucson. We weren’t vaporized by acid and the plane didn’t explode in midair, so POINT TO YOU, UNITED. YOU GET A GOLD STAR STICKER IN YOUR STICKER BOOK FOR THIS FLIGHT.

So we see Mom blah blah blah that’s a whole other blog post coming soon.

PHASE TWO: TUCSON TO SAN FRANCISCO, VIA LOS ANGELES (SUPPOSEDLY), SUNDAY, MARCH 27.

Sunday was a gorgeous day in the Greater Tucson Area. Bright sunshine, low 70s. Perfect day to travel! UNLESS YOU’RE ON UNITED AIRLINES IN WHICH CASE THIS DAY IS A BLACK AND HORRIFYING SCENE OF HUMAN MISERY AND DEBASEMENT.

Just as we arrive at the Tucson airport at 11:30 a.m. for our 1:30 p.m. flight to LAX, I receive a robocall on my phone. "YOUR FLIGHT," the robotic voice of one of United’s Archdemons Who United Chairman Glenn Tilton Keeps When Needed to Unleash Hell on United Customers informed me, "HAS BEEN CANCELLED." The culprit? Oh, it’s that tricky “weather” again! For some reason, EVERY OTHER AIRLINE has developed the capability of flying in the rain, but Ultra-Cautious United has a different approach: “A stiff breeze? A fine mist? DANGER DANGER GROUND ALL PLANES!!!! IT’S NOT SAFE!!!! WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!!!!!!!”

UPDATE: Wait, The Wife just reminded me that this flight was cancelled due to the ever-mysterious "mechanical problems," not "weather." So I was wrong to blame United's inability to fly a plane in a light fog. I should have blamed United's inability to manage to have aplane mechanically able to fly a short flight you've known about for months in advance.

United Customer Service Agent #3442. How may I help you?

So we make our way to the counter, where two United Agents await. Here we arrive at a bright spot in the story, for we chose wisely. Our guy, John Something, immediately went to work trying to get us home. The Tall Bald Guy with a Moustache next to him took a different approach. When the girl next to us asked for help getting back to LA, he said “SORRY!!! NOTHING I CAN DO!!! SEE YOU TOMORROW MORNING!!” She left weeping. Meanwhile, John Something tapped and tapped and developed a solution: We would fly USAir from Tucson to Phoenix, then USAir from Phoenix to Santa Barbara, then United from Santa Barbara to SFO. We’d be home at 8:30 that night, earlier than the original itinerary! Sold! THANKS JOHN SOMETHING!! Off we go.

I have to admit, hubris took over and in Phoenix we were positively giddy. We’d made it! Sure, we were conducting our own Personal Tour of Western Airports, but we were going to get home! I mean, USAir was taking care of shit, and United only had to do one thing: Get us from Santa Barbara to SFO! Even stupid, incompetent, hateful, evil United could get ONE THING RIGHT that day, right?

What do you think?

20 minutes before boarding time for the ON-TIME, TOTALLY PROFESSIONAL, NON-WEATHER-AVERSE USAir flight to Santa Barbara, RING RING RING. It’s one of United Chairman Glenn Tilton’s Demons calling again!!! OH NO!!!! YOUR FLIGHT, Tilton’s Pet Demon says, HAS BEEN CANCELLED.

Jesus Fucking Christ. NOW IT IS WAR, UNITED AIRLINES. Here is a list of people who HATE UNITED AIRLINES:

1. Jesus
2. Mother Theresa
3. TK and The Wife
4. All Good and True People of the World

So I get on the phone to the United Call Center, located in Strange Accentia, Somewhereland. I don’t even know what I said. My eyes had rolled back in my head and I was frothing at the mouth. Mothers were directing their children away from me. I asked to speak to a supervisor. I might have been speaking in Latin at some point. All I know is, at the end, United agreed to refund the entire ticket price and we were at the Southwest counter, buying the last two seats on a flight from Phoenix to Vegas to SFO. Which was a little delayed, BUT NOT CANCELLED LIKE UNITED DOES EVERY TIME.

We’ll see if the refund shows up on my credit card. So far, nothing.

So in closing, United, good show. You almost beat me. Cancelling that flight from Santa Barbara to SFO was a masterstroke. That would have broken many lesser men. Well-played, Glenn Tilton. Somehow we made it. Slink back to your Evil Lair and try again.

Please, please, please, refund my money like you said you would. Next time I’m in Chicago, we’ll go out for Virgin’s Blood and the Flesh of Your Enemies.

Your pal,

TK

I am going to Arizona

I should be there around 10:30 tonight.

"Are you going to spring training, TK? That's totally rad!!!!"

No. I am not going to spring training. Yes, that would be totally rad, but that is not why I'm going to Arizona. Normally I would be loath to contribute financially in any way to that Godforsaken Tea Party paradise, but unfortunately my Mom lives there and I ran out of reasons why I couldn't come visit her. So off we go. That lunatic already has our days planned out to the minute and I assure you that little or no relaxation is on the sched.

ANYWAY. At least it's in the 70's during the day and NOT FUCKING RAINING. I don't know whether or not I'll be blogging, but I'm sure I'll be dropping my usual bon mots via Twitter. Have a good weekend.

Why the Barry Bonds perjury trial is a complete waste of your money

As you may have heard, especially if you live in the Bay Area[*], former San Francisco Giant and all-time Major League Baseball home run leader Barry Lamar Bonds is on trial for lying to a federal grand jury about whether or not he used steroids. Contrary to what you might think, he's not on trial for actually using steroids, he's on trial for saying he didn't when he did.

Let's start out by assuming two basic premises are true:

1. Barry Bonds knowingly used steroids while he was a baseball player; and
2. Barry Bonds lied to a federal grand jury when he said otherwise.

Now, if we accept those things are true, what should the federal government do about it? What they've decided to do is to use your money (and mine, and Barry Bonds', presumably) to empanel and inconvenience 12 citizens and conduct a jury trial at some (probably not inconsequential) expense. I am more than willing to agree that people emphatically should not lie to grand juries while under oath, but is this prosecution really the way we want to spend our money?

Yes, Barry Bonds once looked like this.

I mean, I guess it SENDS A MESSAGE that you won't get away with lying under oath, so that's great, but (1) how many people are ever put in the position of needing to lie under oath, and (2) is this trial going to convince them not to, if their ass is on the line? "Well, I really want to lie and deny my part in that multinational cocaine-smuggling conspiracy, but I don't want what happened to Barry to happen to me, so I guess I'll admit it.") We can all agree that it would be best if people told the truth ton grand juries, and that Barry should suffer some consequence for not doing so, BUT BUT BUT prosecutors routinely pick and choose what crimes to prosecute and what crimes to let go.

Whether you like it or not, some other criminal is currently not getting prosecuted in federal court while Barry is. Does it make sense? I mean, the feds could be going after the investment bankers who conspired with bond rating agencies to award AAA ratings to mortgage-backed securities that the I-bankers and ratings agencies both knew were about as valuable as a used Scratcher, but instead we get this.

Here's the Real Story: The vast majority of people in Barry's position would reach some kind of plea deal and this would never go trial, because the government has essentially unlimited resources in the context of a given criminal case and 99.9% of the citizenry does not. Ergo, they can't afford to go to trial, and they make some kind of deal. But Barry DOES HAVE, essentially, unlimited resources, and nothing better to do, so he CAN go to trial. And the government doesn't have to dismiss the case - I mean, they get paid to do this - and before long you have a dick-size contest between the defense attorney and the prosecutor and before you know it we have the spectacle of 12 hapless citizens being forced to listen to testimony about the size of Barry Bonds' testicles as part of the government's effort to get him sentenced to spend a few months in his mansion. YAY JUSTICE!!!

And then the prosecutor can go off and write his book "Busting Barry's Balls: How I Brought Down the Home Run King" and Barry can go back to being a jerk and we will forget the whole thing.

ONE FINAL NOTE: Yes, I am a Giants fan, if not a particularly huge Barry Bonds fan. I happen to STRONGLY DISLIKE Roger Clemens, but I think his upcoming prosecution for lying to Congress about whether he used steroids is just as stupid. He should be prosecuted for naming his kids Koby, Kory, Kacy, and Kody, if anything.

[*] Does it bug you when people use the word "Bay" to refer to the "Bay Area"? Like, when someone says "She's back in the Bay," I always picture the person at the bottom of the Bay, struggling for breath underwater.

Are the Top 3 songs in America destroying our nation's youth? An investigation.

Listening to my local right-wing radio station the other day, as is my want, I was alarmed to hear that (1) "gangsta rap" is probably responsible for the nation's decline, and it's a wonder that "anyone graduates from community college, let alone real college," and (2) that the top 3 songs in the US right now are so filthy they "can't even be played on the radio."

INTEREST PIQUED.

Now, normally my relationship with any music on the Billboard Top 10 is like the US's relationship with Central America: I'm vaguely aware of it, but I certainly don't want to interact with it in any way. Thus, having no idea what songs might be the Top 3 in America right now, I set off to find them and hopefully enjoy some disgusting, perverted lyrics.

DISAPPOINTMENT FOLLOWED.

The #1 song in America right now, according to the Billboard Hot 100, is "Born This Way" by Lady Gaga. I think I knew this was a song, but I've never heard it before, so I listened to it. It's kind of a terrible ripoff of "Express Yourself," by Madonna, but if you think this is so filthy it can't be played on the radio, you probably think Cap'n Crunch commercials are debased, sickening documents of a declining civilization. I think it's about gay animals accepting themselves ("It doesn't matter if you love him, or capital H-I-M/Just put your paws up/'Cause you were born this way, baby"), and if you have a problem with gay animals, you spend too much time alone.

NEXT: "Fuck You" by Cee Lo. OK, you're right about this one. Are they playing the "Forget You" version on the radio? Cause if they are, (1) that's lame, and (2) IN YOUR FACE, Right-Wing Radio Person! Also, I love this song.

NUMBA THREE: Something called "E.T." by Katy Perry. Also never heard this, so I checked it out. Apart from being SO AWFUL IT'S DIFFICULT TO LISTEN TO, I don't hear anything that would preclude it from being on the radio. Even with the memorably terrible lyric "Infect me with your love." Ewwww pass.

Oh wait, I think I see what's going on here - there's a version of the song with Kanye rapping and I guess parts of that are pretty filthy. I mean, if you think "I'm trying to bathe my ape in your Milky Way" is filthy and not just WEIRD.

(Also, this is so precious: Some YouTube commenter says "cant we all just keep our thoughts to ourselves and enjoy this song?" FIRST TIME ON THE INTERNET HUH?)

Results: Inconclusive.

Lyric Deconstruction: "Friday"

Rebecca Black, 2011

(Yeah, Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah-Ark)
Oo-ooh-ooh, hoo yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah-ah-ah
Yeah-ah-ah
Yeah-ah-ah
Yeah-ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah



By now you know the story. Dead-eyed teen becomes YouTube sensation through her existentially sad, Auto-tuned pop confection. But why is this the "Worst Song Ever" when something like Britney Spears' "Hold It Against Me" is just terrible? What did Rebecca Black do to deserve this?

Seven a.m., waking up in the morning
Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs
Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal
Seein' everything, the time is goin'
Tickin' on and on, everybody's rushin'
Gotta get down to the bus stop
Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends (My friends)

The problem, perhaps, is this: when we listen to pop music, we want to be transported. We want to hear about happiness, fun, romance. You know what's not fun to hear about? Someone else's morning routine. But that's the genius of this song! It's elevating the mundane to the level of the sublime. Of course you gotta have your bowl! Who among us doesn't? Of course you gotta catch your bus! Me too, Rebecca. Me too.

Kickin' in the front seat
Sittin' in the back seat
Gotta make my mind up
Which seat can I take?

You take the back seat:

In an analysis of frontal collision data from 1980-91, researchers Donald Huelke and Charles Compton of the U-M Transportation Research Institute found that, when comparing front-seat occupants and rear-seat passengers—both belted and unrestrained—in the same crash, those in the back seat more often than not sustain less severe injuries than those in the front seat.

It's Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
Gettin' down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend
Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Lookin' forward to the weekend

Fun fun fun! Who could argue with that? Unfortunately - and I think I'm getting at the root of the problem, to the extent there is a problem, with this song - Rebecca's flat affect and mercilessly compressed vocals don't suggest "Fun fun fun" so much as "My overbearing stage Mom is forcing me to do this send help I don't want this." Soembody should slow down the video and see if she's sending a Morse Code message with eye blinks.

7:45, we're drivin' on the highway
Cruisin' so fast, I want time to fly
Fun, fun, think about fun
You know what it is I got this, you got this
My friend is by my right, ay
I got this, you got this
Now you know it

That's right, Rebecca. Fun, fun, think about fun. Don't think about the endless mall performances you're going to be required to do or how sad this whole endeavor seems to even the most casual observer. Think about fun. You got this.

[Chorus]

Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday
Today i-is Friday, Friday (Partyin')
We-we-we so excited
We so excited
We gonna have a ball today
Tomorrow is Saturday
And Sunday comes after ... wards
I don't want this weekend to end

There are some other days, too. Moonday? Wershday? Something like that. I can't remember. It's not fun fun fun.

Hey, time for a break with our Creepily Older Rapper!

R-B, Rebecca Black
So chillin' in the front seat (In the front seat)
In the back seat (In the back seat)
I'm drivin', cruisin' (Yeah, yeah)
Fast lanes, switchin' lanes
Wit' a car up on my side (Woo!)
(C'mon) Passin' by is a school bus in front of me
Makes tick tock, tick tock, wanna scream
Check my time, it's Friday, it's a weekend
We gonna have fun, c'mon, c'mon, y'all

WHOA. Passing the school bus makes you wanna scream, huh? Stay tuned for our next hit, "Megan's Law Is Such a Drag."

[Chorus x 2]

By the end, you're just praying to die.

The Bachelor Finale: I'm Ready for My Happy Ending

So, friends, we have finally arrived at the South African end to our Journey together and we will begin by meeting Brad’s family, which consists of a twin brother named Chad (PAUSE MOMENTARILY – that’s right, Brad and Chad. Oh, Absent Dad, you have quite the sense of humor. You can continue to torture your kids even while away), a Mom who looks like Paula Deen with a bad haircut and a little brother, Wes, who doesn’t look like anyone and is either adopted from some Plump White Kid Adoption Agency or has Ugly Dad instead of Absent Dad. There are, of course, stick-thin sun-blasted Texas wives to go along with the bros, oddly named “Dylan” (or “Dillon,” I suppose) and “Prima,” which are also the names of someone’s cats. Brad greets his family by weeping like an Italian grandmother and it’s really a bit much.

Here comes Chantal to meet the family. Chantal is coming on WAY TOO STRONG and is all ME ME ME I HOPE HE PICKS ME with her bright red chest like it’s some kind of mating plumage and her shiny shiny hair. Mom thinks she’s “precious,” which is Southern for “cute and dumb.” Everyone seems to like Chantal but they’re clearly a little scared of her RELENTLESS INTENSITY and girlfriend just needs to dial it down a notch.

Next day. Time for Lifetime Emily to meet everyone. She brings flowers but forgot her illegitimate child. There is a Very Awkward Moment when Fleshy Wes wants to know where the Baby Daddy is and everyone acts weird and I’m starting to think he’s actually in Witness Protection and then Lifetime recounts the Legend of Racecar Rickie. Wes finds this a “shocking and sad story” but honestly it’s a little played at this point.

(Let me break here to note that I was recently furnished with a copy of In Touch magazine, via which I learned that Lifetime Emily is not exactly the virginal princess she seems, and instead runs through NASCAR drivers like she’s on her own circuit, if you know what I mean, and also is maybe not that fascinated by Little Rickie and also is a bit of a gold-digger. The More You Know.)

So let’s just cut to the chase: The Fam loves Lifetime because (1) she’s a Mom, and the Cat-Named Wives like that and (2) she’s Southern. Lifetime tells Mom that Brad’s an “angel” and this makes Mom all teary. Lifetime knows how to talk to a Southern Mom.

OK, next day. Last date with Chantal. They’re going Shark Diving! Chantal must sense that she’s in trouble because she comes out with her wetsuit unzipped to her crotch but she may as well leave the cage because she’s basically dead in the water at this point. The sharks are all “whatever” and no one gets killed. That night, Brad pops by Chantal’s suite and she’s all “Look! I drew this map of all the places ABC sent us!” and frankly it looks like something Little Rickie could have drawn and Brad’s all “Oh, that’s nice, you stayed in the lines and everything” and then takes off but not before calling her “Channie” which kinda bugs. She is toast and it is clear at this point.

Date with Lifetime Emily. Hopefully they’re going Tiger Wrestling or this just isn’t fair. Oh, helicopter ride! This is bullshit. They sit on a cliff and she says he can’t watch football any more or drink beer at 6 o’clock and obviously she’s never been to Texas. Same deal that night with the suite visit and ABC realizes they have to wring some drama out of this so they have Brad go “I’m ready to be a father” and Lifetime goes “No you’re not” and he says :”Yes I am” and she goes “No you’re not” and then he gets all sweaty and takes off and from what I read, Brad, you’re not going to have to worry about seeing Little Rickie all that much.

We somehow have to fill two hours, so we’re treated to some scenes of the chicks writing in their faux journals and Chantal’s all “I’m ready for my happy ending” but I hate to break this to you Chantal, your happy ending will include you, a limo, and a box of Krispy Kremes. Lifetime, meanwhile, is writing Dale Jr. to tell him she can still see him but he best keep it on the DL.

It’s time. Brad’s off to The Proposal and HOLY FUCK IS HE WEARING A LEATHER SUIT?


OK, it’s time. Chantal’s first and just so nobody is taken unawares, she’s wearing a black dress and Lifetime’s wearing white. Brad does some blah blah blah and you know it’s coming and BOOM Chantal you are a Space Rocket being launched to Planet Dumped. Perhaps your gobs of money will console you. Here’s The Wife, brightsiding the situation: “You made it to the Top 2! That’s good!” True. True.

Time for Lifetime to collect the hardware. Brad blurbles something about wanting to marry her and she says yes. I wonder if Lil Rickie will like New Daddy.

Hey, we have almost a full bottle of wine left so let’s watch After the Final Rose and then kill ourselves. Wow, that is one ugly studio audience they’ve assembled. It looks like they just picked up a Wal-Mart and shook it out into a TV studio. Chantal comes out and cries like always but then we learn she’s got a New Thing Going! He must love her constantly sobbing about Brad. Emily comes out and DAMN she looks pretty good and we learn that things have not been progressing smoothly in Brad and Emily Land, I know SHOCKER. She won’t even marry him right now on this show! What kind of a fucked up bitch won’t get impulse-married in front of an Ugly Live Studio Audience!?! What is this, Iran? Chris Harrison wants to know “What makes a successful Bachelor relationship?” Functional retardation and hair gel, Chris. See you guys next time.

UPDATE!!!!! OH HEY GUESS WHAT I just realized. This blog is 3 years old today. 3 years of sarcasm, boiling rage, ill-informed opinion, TV dating show recaps, and lots of drinking. I owe it all to you guys, the deeply disturbed people who read this. I wish we could all run away together and start our own civilization but instead let's just not do that.

I'm going to totally plug a local business here

Friday night The Wife and I went to Limon Rotisserie on South Van Ness and it was fucking great. We split half a roasted chicken (more than enough for 2 unless one or both of you is morbidly obese), which comes with two sides. We got the rice, which was rice, and sauteed vegetables which appeared to be varieties of long bean and was also delicious.

Also got a lomito saltado app, which we probably didn't need and which was a little tough, but I don't want to dwell on that because the chicken was fucking excellent, like perfectly crispy outside and falling-off-the-bone tender inside. The Wife had a sangria and I had two glasses of wine and the whole thing was $45 before tip, no joke. I thought they left something off but nope.

The only problem arose when the three girls at the table next to us wanted us to take their picture and we tried multiple times with 2 different cameras and nobody could make the flash work. But we saw them outside trying their little scam on someone waiting for dinner and he couldn't make the flash work either and we were kinda relieved that it wasn't just us.

What else can I tell you? Service was fine. Looked like a long wait but we had a res. I'll go back in a fucking heartbeat.

(I didn't get comped anything to write this or anything, but if you're reading this, Limon Rotisserie, I will take some free shit any time.)

TK's Earthquake Tips

Doesn't it seem like there are more earthquakes than usual these days? Maybe it just seems that way, but already in 2011 we've had 7.0 or higher quakes in Argentina, Chile, Pakistan, China, and 2 in Japan, counting the one today. And the one today was fucking HUGE.

Like any Normal Person, it makes me think we're due. With that in mind, let's go over a few things you'll need to know when the Next Big One hits here:

BEFORE THE QUAKE

- Make sure you have your earthquake supplies ready. That should include a long roll of gauze that you can wrap around your head to heighten the "badly wounded" effect. Also, a bottle of vodka is a good idea. You'll need a radio of some kind. Get a combination CD/radio player with Biggie's "Life After Death" pre-loaded because that will be good Post-Disaster music.

- If you don't have a pet, consider getting one. Besides being a fun companion, a pet is a self-contained food supply. Also, a long-haired cat's pelt can make an effective small blanket. Don't bother with gerbils or other small rodents. You can't make it work, calorie-wise.

- Prepare an Earthquake Plan. This should include a location where you'll meet up with your friends and family (DO NOT PICK THE 500 CLUB I ALREADY PICKED THAT AND WE ALL NEED TO HAVE OUR OWN PLACE) and one person designated to liveblog the whole thing.

DURING THE QUAKE

PANIC. Also, try and get some video on your phone. BONUS if it's of a shaking bookcase with shit falling out.

AFTER THE QUAKE

- The first thing you should do is try and figure out who your Leader will be in the Post-Apocalyptic Nightmare that you now inhabit. Try to gravitate towards people wearing animal skins and carrying guns. The Leader should be charismatic but also quietly assured and have a spiritual side that he doesn't reveal, except maybe in one scene with Mila Kunis.

- You will need to rebuild the shattered world, so be the first to loot a nearby hardware store.

- Try to stay out of the Rivers of Blood. God knows what weird diseases those people had.

- Now is a good time to slaughter and eat your dog. Save the haunches for yourself.

By following a few simple tips like these, you can greatly increase your chances of surviving and even enjoying the Monster Earthquake That Is Sure to Devastate Our Area.

Have a nice weekend!

Yes, they still have launch parties

I didn't know they still had Launch Parties! You know, when some kind of Internet-related company gets a lot of money and has nothing to spend it on so they rent out a big space and hire bartenders and invite their friends from college to show them how successful they are! There used to be a lot of them Back in the Day but then people figured out that if your business model was "get big enough to sell to Google" that really wasn't a revenue-generating idea and no one would give money to ShirtTail or MeFace or SporkYou any more.

But TA-DA!!! I guess it didn't go away, because right there last night was a Totally Authentic Launch Party. This company rented out a large building and had bartenders and free Evan Williams and Irony (the wine, not the literary technique - launch parties tend to be earnest and irony-free, sadly) and whatever else and a live karaoke band, the Amazing Embarrassonic and a trampoline.

I have a couple of observations:

- One of the first guys to sing with the live karaoke band did some kind of genius post-punk version of "99 Red Balloons." The intro started off all nice and quiet and then he gripped the mic and literally SHRIEKED "YOU AND I AND A LITTLE TOY SHOP BUY A BAG OF BALLOONS WITH THE MONEY WE'VE GOT SET THEM FREE AT THE BREAK OF DAWN TIL ONE BY ONE THEY WERE GONE." People were staring at him like WTF but I knew he was operating on a whole other level that we can't comprehend. It was fucking magical and I'm glad I was there to see it.

- Another note on the band: They have a list of like 500 songs, but I'll bet you anything that they play the same 50 at every gig. You got your "I Will Survive" and your "Mandy" and so forth that everybody does. I doubt they break out "Motor Away" by Guided by Voices that much and HOLY SHIT I DIDN'T SEE THEY KNEW A GUIDED BY VOICES SONG I TOTALLY WOULD HAVE DONE THAT.

- I met Daisy, which was pretty cool because I've only seen her on the Internet. I'm still not sure what she was doing there. I could barely hear her. I kind of fucked up because when we were done talking I hugged her and I think I remember now that she said she hates being hugged.

She's actually really nice in person. Sorry I'm ruining your cred, D.

- I'm still not 100% sure what the product being launched actually does. I am 100% sure that some girls wear skintight minidresses to launch parties.

The Bachelor: The Women Tell All. And Then Pile on Michelle.

“The Bachelor: The Women Tell All” is a ritual of public humiliation in which the women who are not one of the Final 2 in the running to be Brad’s TV Wife are heavily made-up and herded onto a soundstage so they can berate one another. It’s horrifying but also fascinating because it confirms what we suspected about these women: they’re much smarter and meaner than they pretended not to be on the show.

BUT FIRST we are treated to scenes of some kind of Bachelor reunion parties in New York and LA. These parties are apparently designed to lure contestants into signing contracts while drunk to appear on the execrable “Bachelor Pad” and also to get Frog Prince Kasey laid. (Which, BTW, I read somewhere he was dating Vienna. That’s a match made in the Ninth Circle of some Reality Hell.)

Anyway, then we’re treated to a recap of supposedly controversial moments on the show and then we go back to live and everyone starts piling on Michelle. Thuis apparently makes for good TV, since Michelle has been cast as the villain this year but maybe she was just sarcastic. I could see that being a problem with this crowd. I’m not sure sarcasm registers. Jackie calls her a “spider,” because Jackie just learned the word “spider” and wants to use it. Also, Madison the Vampire Girl has suddenly developed a personality.

After a commercial break and an opportunity for every single girl to say the phrase “here for the right reasons,” it’s time for Michelle to sit down with Chris Harrison. Chris says it’s “hard to explain until you’re in y’all’s heels.” WAIT WHAT. What’s with the “y’alls,” Chris Harrison? Oh, wait, he’s from Dallas so I guess he can get away with that. Everyone is being very mean to Michelle. “Look at me. I can’t even breathe,” she says. For some reason, this generates applause in the audience. Stacey the bartender says Michelle should have put her child first! That’s very mean! Britt thinks everyone hates Michelle because she’s “ridiculously gorgeous.” WHOA BRITT. That’s a different show.

Now we have segments on a few of the chicks. Nanny Ashley’s dream is to be a great wife and mother. Nanny Ashley, I remind you, is 26 years old. She needs to read Jezebel or a book or something. Dentist Ashley now has brown hair and opines that it was a “defense mechanism” that kept her from TV love. Would that everyone was equipped with such a mechanism. Then she goes into Manic Giggly Mode and we all lose interest again.

Brad comes out and we see some tape of him and Chris visiting a preschool in South Africa and bestowing a hot water heater on them and the whole thing is so staged it’s borderline uncomfortable but I guess a good water heater is a good water heater. The only other thing of interest is an outtake reel they show and WOW HOLY SHIT Brad actually DOES have a personality, they’ve just edited any trace of it out this season. For most of the show he’s been 20 bpm above cadaver stage but on the outtake reel he’s like Robin Williams after an 8-ball. Who knew!

Next week is the finale and then we can move past this together, thank God.

Is this ridiculous? This seems ridiculous.

As part of my ongoing quest to try and figure out whether it's Me or Everybody Else, I present to you my latest quandary (which I happened to Twitter about yesterday): The Case of the Annoyingly Intrusive Garage Neighbor and Her Ridiculous Request.

Regular followers are already familiar with Annoying Garage Neighbor, as I have written before about her taking up the parking spaces in front of my house that aren't even in front of her garage. Maybe she figured out that was a total dick move, because now she only monopolizes one of the spaces full-time instead of two. Anyway.

(Basic story: She started renting the garage but instead of parking a car there she hangs out there sometimes and does God knows what. Sometimes there's hammering and loud music.)

ANYWAY, yesterday The Wife and I are coming out of our house on the way to go see "The Adjustment Bureau" (not bad, but might as well wait for DVD) and Annoying Neighbor is out there and she's all "Do you guys have a wireless network?" And she had just been interrupting my enjoyment of a 48 Hours Mystery on TLC bumping her shitty disco music so I was already irritated at having to interact w/ her. I go, "Yeah," and we're heading down the stairs and she goes "I was wondering if I could get on your network so I could work on some homework while I'm over here."

First of all, I don't know what kind of "homework" she does or why she can't do it in her own fucking house, but anyway, here's the point:

Isn't that a bizarrely intrusive request to make of someone you don't really know? I mean, really? Why don't I just give you the passwords to my bank account and email and you can just feel free to browse through those any time you want? Or maybe you'll just go Single White Female on us and change our password and lock us out of the network. Anyway, it's fucking weird, isn't it? I can't fathom asking someone I don't know something like that.

So I didn't really know how to react to this insane request and mumbled something about how it's a secure network and she goes "Well, I assume everyone has a secure network." Well OK then Miss Thing! You assumed right! I don't remember exactly what I said because the whole situation was so weird and now growing oddly confrontational and I was already going away to my Happy Place instead of staying focused so the only other thing I remember was her saying something about how she'd give us some money and I was like walking away and going "I don't think so," and then I said "Thanks," for some reason but I was already halfway down the block.

I don't know. Maybe this is totally normal and you'd gladly let the Parking Space Manipulator next door glom on to your wi-fi, but I really don't want someone strolling through my Personal Shit, someone I don't even know. Is that ridiculous?

(Then I couldn't really enjoy "The Adjustment Bureau" 100% because I was thinking about this whole weird interaction. Also, I hate going to movies on opening weekend. It's always too crowded and there are people wandering in 5 minutes after the start time and bumping around trying to find a place to sit and the whole thing's just annoying.)

ANYWAY.

UPDATE!!!!!!!!: Leslie might be in the running for Comment of the Year Award:

But you can’t because there is some garage-renting pop tart streaming episodes of Gossip Girl while she hammers away at some sort of Trojan Horse Armageddon Machine intended to exact revenge on her ex-boyfriend. Is a crumpled up ten dollar bill that smells like Clinique Happy at the end of the month going to satisfy you?

The next time you want to be this funny, Leslie, why don't you do it on your own goddam blog and stop making me look lame by comparison? OKAY????

Also, Chester has some intriguing technical ideas that are so far beyond the realm of what I'm capable of that they might as well involve building a rocket ship from household cleaning products or doing open heart surgery. But thanks, Chester! Oh, and FYI, it's not my garage; it's the garage immediately next door. We share a common wall, sort of.

Today's Top 5

1. Sorry I Missed Your Party

Thanks to Squid Pro Quo for planting this little gem in her links list or I never would have known about it. Hilarious.

2. He Who Shall Not Be Named

You know who I'm talking about. He made this week WINNING, but I'm already sick of his quotes pasted on New Yorker cartoons and kittens. He has done the Full Cycle faster than anyone in human history, from the 36-hour porn party to an article entitled "Three Ways of Looking at Charlie Sheen" in record time.

(That article, humorously, contains such sentences as "He exists in what one might call a 'problem space' that is singular, novel and largely incommunicable.")

3. This:

“Martha’s cheerful kitchen, accented with bowls of fresh fruit and stainless steel appliances, has a motherfucking human skull sitting on a scale.”

Prison changes a person.

(Courtesy Roboshark, hman, and God knows who else, I can't trace Tumblr links back that far.)

4. Lundberg Santa Fe Barbeque Rice Chips



They're gluten-free. Like I could give a shit.

5. Ask A Man With A Russian Accent Trying To Convince You To Go To An Ecstasy Party

Dear Man With A Russian Accent Trying To Convince You To Go To An Ecstasy Party,

My next-door neighbor has something of an in-house menagerie. Between his three dogs and several tropical birds, things can get pretty noisy. I very much believe in "live and let live," but sometimes late at night and early in the morning, the squawking and barking can just get to be too much. What is a firm but neighborly way to let him know that his pets are causing me distress?

—Going Wild In Washington

Dear Going Wild,

Look, what is problem? You meet me, you meet Sergei, we are all friends now. Wait, hang on…please! Another drink for my new friend! Anyway, like I say, is one hour maximum drive only. I take you in my car, no problem. Is BMW five-series. We take pills on way, you feel very, very good when we arrive. Like on fire, but nice. You know? Vanya is also my friend, he is very good DJ. He is spinning best house music and we will dance all night. Best music, best pills, best girls, best champagne, everything the best. We go now, okay?

Hard-hitting Chronicle columnist tackles the Sheen story; readers yawn

Oh good! Semi-retarded[*] Chronicle columnist Debra Saunders has decided to weigh in on the Charlie Sheen thing. Last seen penning a hard-hitting interview with the Governor's dog, let's see what fresh insight that bomb-thrower Saunders brings to the Sheen story:

This week Charlie Sheen owns network news. No wonder Americans hate the media.

In a rush for ratings, TV news shows have been clamoring for sit-downs. The goal, of course, is to get Sheen to say something nutty that makes news. But no one wants to look like a vulture, so from their high horse, interviewers try to prod the bad boy to admit that he needs help.

Frauds. They're not bottom-feeders; they dress up the package with a redeeming angle. Like: Is Charlie Sheen bipolar?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, Debra, hold the phone for a second because you are BLOWING MY MIND. TV shows are motivated by ratings? Holy fuck, you just blew all my illusions about the entertainment business out of the water. Here I am thinking that they're all ars gratia artis and you're telling me it's ABOUT MONEY? Fuck, thank God Debra Sunders is here to clear the scales from my eyes. "Frauds." PULITZER ON LINE TWO, DEBRA.

Also, Americans don't "hate the media." Americans fucking LOVE the media. Sure, different people like different aspects of "the media" but to make a blanket statement like that is ridiculous. If Americans "hated the media," you and Charlie Sheen both would be out of a job. For one of the two of you, that would be a good thing.

If Sheen doesn't kill himself, you know the script: The arrest, the rehab, the contrite I'm-an-addict comeback interview, another drop-dead gorgeous wife, a new baby, a new series starring a character who is Charlie Sheen without the child support and cocaine. Big box office.

The Romans made gladiators kill each other in the circus for their entertainment. For their viewing pleasure, Americans pump up celebrities, who then misbehave in public, so that we can feel superior to them. The Romans demanded blood. Americans go for shame.

More incisive commentary from Debra's thoughtful pen! So let me get this straight. You're saying that Americans enjoy watching celebrities fall? No shit!?

I'm not surprised Saunders decided to write about Charlie Sheen. It sells papers! Oh, whoops, isn't that what Saunders was decrying earlier? Never mind. Anyway, it's fine to write about it, but recycling all the same fucking tired commentary that's been said 1000 times only fills up column inches and bores the fuck out of the rest of us. If you can't think of something original to say, just leave it the fuck alone, OK?

[*] I'm not supposed to say "retarded" any more. It'll take some time. Bear with me.

The Bachelor: It’s a very large land full of some very exotic wild animals.

Nearing the Dramatic Conclusion now, and we have found ourselves in South Africa. I hope the wedding is there too! Then they can get t-shirts made that say “We Apar-Tied the Knot in South Africa!” Let’s get started with a bunch of filler. Greatest Moments of Chantal Crying. Ashley worrying because she is a normal person and gets upset that her pretend boyfriend is dating other people. Blah blah blah.

Time for some dating, South African-style! Here comes Chantal. Ohhh, girlfriend’s been stress-eating. Not a good time to hit the Sizzler, sweetie! They’re off on a safari. Not the shooting endangered animals kind, sadly. No, the look-at-the-heavily-sedated-lions kind. Brad sees a giraffe: “This is his home.” Very good, Brad! Now, what does the cow say? They have a little picnic by the river while a hippopotamus malevolently stares at them. Little do they know that this is the most dangerous animal they’ve encountered all day. For real! They start kissing as the hippo stalks them. Well, as much as a hippo can stalk anything, I guess.

Dinner and a long talk about how Important and Serious marriage is. Hey, since that last one didn’t work out, Chantal, how about marrying someone you’ve gone on 5 dates with on TV? That should be a mortal lock for Marriage Success. Chris Harrison sends a little note along and wants to know if they want to hook up in the Fantasy Suite. Chantal is on that like lion on a wildebeest. They go check it out and it’s a big open treehouse kind of thing. Like a lazy susan for predators. Anything that can climb a tree can feast on Chantal’s innards. They probably get it on but I don’t want to think about it.

Next up: Lifetime Emily. Brad picks her up on an elephant, which is the safari equivalent of a Hummer limo but doesn’t come with champagne. They cruise around for a while and then stop for a Meaningful Talk. Brad’s been thinking about Little Rickie “a lot.” CREEPY! Then they make out a little.

Dinner. All these dates are the same. They talk about feelings and whatever and then it’s time to find out if Lifetime is DTF. She says she wants to set a good example for her daughter but, what the fuck, let’s get down. Hope Little Rickie’s not watching! “Now, Little Rickie, when a man and a woman are on a reality dating show and they are provided a free room, then it’s OK to get freakay because Jesus doesn’t look at Africa.”

Ashley time! She’s her typical field-mouse-on-Adderall level of twitchiness. Helicopter ride! But Ash is scared. She has some kind of helicopophobia. Fuck, by this time, Brad could probably FLY the fucking thing, he’s been on so many goddam helicopters. Anyway, the crew sedates her or something and she gets on and they fly off to “God’s Window” which I thought was a kind of LSD but is actually a Kodak Picture Spot in Africa. Brad notes that “it’s a very large land full of some very exotic wild animals.” Guess he’s got his Topic Sentence for his How I Spent My Vacation report all done! They have a picnic and talk about where they might live. She says maybe Southern Maine. Maybe no fucking way, Ashley!

Dinner time! Ashley tells him she can bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan but Brad’s not buying it. He seems more in the market for a Stay At Home Whatever than a Highly Driven Dentist. This is not going well. They head back to the Fantasy Suite and sit awkwardly next to each other. This date needs more drinking or some ecstasy or something. That usually works.

OK, let’s get this shit done. Following a content-free Pre-Rose confab with Chris Harrison, it’s time to cut someone. I think we all know what’s going to happen here. Brad goes down to the Chick Elimination Platform and tells Ash to come with him. They go back behind the hotel and one of the safari guys shoots her in the head and they sell her hide to poachers. Not really, she just gets dumped and put into the Range Rover of Tears, which is subbing for the Limo of Tears because we’re in Africa. Brad pauses for the Dramatic Head Bow Over the Railing. Since there’s 2 roses and 2 chicks, there’s not a lot of dramatic tension here. So our Final 2 are Lifetime Emily and Filthy Rich Chantal. HMMMMM SHOULD I PICK THE CHICK WHO ALREADY HAS A KID AND IS IN LOVE WITH A DEAD RACECAR DRIVER OR THE SUPER RICH ONE??? HMMMMMM.