Happy Valentine's Day everyone! It's Name Change Friday!

It's been a while, huh?  Let's see who's changing up.  Nothing says love like a new handle!

Our first Name Changer comes from the Humboldt County Classified Post and I mostly love it because it looks like the HCCP is really going for that gold rush look, even online!

Doesn't that look totally 1849?  Anyway, it appears that Michael Donald Castillo is getting back to his roots and going with the much spicier Miguel Donaldo Castillo.  Ole, Miguel!  I heartily approve.  Why be Michael Donald when you can be Miguel Donaldo?  Michael Donald works the loading dock at the Lucky.  Miguel Donaldo is a mysterious stranger with a cape and an air of danger!  Smart move.

This next one is kind of hard to read, but bear with me because it's SO WORTH IT. I'm not sure what paper it came out of, but the name change is in Butte County, so who knows what the fuck they're up to up there.

I don't know if you can read it, but the present name is "Margaret Dolores (Delores) O'Donnell" and the proposed new name is "Lady Margaret Watts Schneider Vallier Marks O'Donnell."  LADY MARGARET!  Swoon.  This is somebody who is doing it right.  Lady Margaret is not fucking around.

Our last changer is also a bit of a doozy.  It's out of LA.

New Name: Black Kennedy Lincoln.  Drops mic.

Have a great weekend, everybody!  Especially you, Lady Margaret.

Today in Self-Denial News

You know all about Sober January, right? Let's see, I wrote about it in January 2010. It's just like what it sounds like: no booze in January. Kind of a chance to dry out for a bit and get some stuff done and also save some money. You would not BELIEVE how much money you save.

I only made it 9 days in 2009.

Actually, I already know there's a built-in break this year. The Wife had already made plans to attend a "cider tasting" (i.e., alcoholic cider, duh) this Saturday, so in support of her struggle, I might have a couple of drinks on Saturday too. Then we're back on it! I know, that's cheating. MYOB.

Just to make this even more unpleasant, we're also on severe diet restrictions for a while! We're doing a modified "Paleo" diet, which is basically just meat and vegetables and a little bit of fruit. No dairy. No sugar. No wheat, rye, barley, oats, corn, brown rice, soy, peanuts, kidney beans, pinto beans, navy beans and black eyed peas. It's basically supposed to mimic the way our distant ancestors ate, so I'm planning to get the guys together and see if we can run a wooly mammoth off a cliff and then feast on its entrails.

But wait! The Wife is a semi-lapsed Catholic and even no drinking + Paleo isn't enough self-punishment for her, so she's taking up self-flagellation! Not really. She's actually doing a Juice Fast for the next 3 days. Then she'll have to think of some other way to punish herself.

Maybe we'll rent "Jack and Jill." That should take care of self-punishment for a year or so, easy.

Also, the year "Titanic" won Best Picture, "Boogie Nights" wasn't even nominated

I learned yesterday that local alternative newsweekly/predatory ad pricer SF Weekly has something called the "SF Weekly Web Awards." I learned this because everyone in my Twitter feed perked up around the same time yesterday with "OMG I'M NOMINATED FOR AN SF WEEKLY WEB AWARD VOTE FOR ME LOL KTHXBAI"

I was not nominated for an SF Weekly Web Award. Oh great! It's like being picked next to last for kickball in 5th grade all over again.

Let's take a look and see what these awards are all about.

They're broken down into general areas like "News," "Music," "Food," "Art," and the like. Fair enough. Certainly seems reasonable to vote for "Best Local Politics Blogger" or "Best Food Vendor Twitter." I have some issues with "Best Yelper," in that it implies that there can be a "best" in Yelping, but we'll leave that convo for another day and also I don't want to get dragged in to the whole Yelp thing.

(BRIEF DIGRESSION: Before I moved to SF, I had been a music writer for the local alt-weekly in the mid-level City From Whence I Came. So when I got here, I packaged up my clips [there were actual "clips" back then, in the sense that they were on newsprint and clipped with a scissor from the pages of an alt-weekly] and sent them in to SF Weekly with a cover letter offering my not-inconsiderable skills as a music writer. I never heard back. IT STILL BURNS, SF WEEKLY. STILL BURNS.)

(ANOTHER BRIEF DIGRESSION: I can't hold a grudge, though, because SF Weekly published, for years, in the mid-90's, a comic strip by then-unknown [or maybe slightly-known] Dave Eggers and some other guy [Leon? I can't remember] called "Smarter Feller" that was hilarious and is also now impossible to find online. SF Weekly, if you're reading this, do you have all the Smarter Fellers cached somewhere secret that I can access? Do tell.)

So blah blah blah we get past "Best Fashion Blogger" and "Best Local Music Website" that you'd expect in any online voting thing like whatever YAWN seen it a million times, vote for "Bay Bridged" and move on, and then we get to "Only in SF," and this is where I'm thinking SCORE, I GOTTA BE HERE.

I'm not here.

Again, there are the usual boring "Best Local Government Site" (like, really, who gives a shit, no joke) and "Best Neighborhood Blog" (which is fair enough, that's reasonable, although you didn't nominate Civic Center and that kinda sucks) and then this:



"Best Tumblog"? WTF, SF Weekly? Does anyone ever use the term "Tumblog"? I think people just say "Tumblr." Anyway, you know that Tumblr is a blogging platform and not a genre, right? It's like having a Pulitzer Prize category for "Best Word 97 Document." Why isn't there a category for "Best WordPress" or "Best Blogspot"?

(That being said, there are two on that list - Kate's and Jane's - that I read regularly and like a lot. IT AIN'T PERSONAL, GIRLS. THIS DON'T INVOLVE YOU. JUST KEEP ON WALKIN.)

Anyway. Here are some categories you missed, SF Weekly, and my suggested nominee in each:

BEST SUTRO TOWER TIMELAPSE/LOCAL HISTORICAL MAP BLOG

Burrito Justice

(Seriously, though, if you have a local web awards and you haven't nominated Burrito Justice for something, you have gone wrong. It's like having Celebrity Rehab without Steven Adler. It's just not done.)

BEST VERY ANGRY DOLORES PARK COVERAGE

Uptown Almanac

BEST MOSTLY CORRECTLY SPELLED SOMETIMES ANGRY BLOG BY A FRIEND OF MINE

Periqueblend

MOST RIDICULOUSLY USER-UNFRIENDLY LOCAL INSTITUTION WEBSITE

The San Francisco Public Library

(Humorously, as I try it right now, it's not opening at all. CONGRATULATIONS, SFPL.ORG, YOU'VE MANAGED TO FIGURE OUT A WAY TO BLOW EVEN HARDER!!)

I guess it's possible that I wasn't going to get nominated no matter what. I mean, unless there a category for "Angriest Post-Hipster Alcoholic," I don't know where I'd fit in.

ANYWAY, no hard feelings, SF Weekly, and I'll still come to the party and drink your free booze. Can I bring a +1?

Conversation with The Wife about how much football coaches make

The Wife: "So how much would a high school football coach make?"

Me: "Like the coach in Friday Night Lights? Like in a small town, working at a kinda poor school? Like 35, 40 K maybe."

"What about college?"

"Depends on the college."

"Well, like Florida."

"Florida? I don't know, maybe $3 million."[*]

(Incredulous) "THREE MILLION DOLLARS? To be a football coach?"

"Yeah, but it's one of the biggest football schools in the country. At most colleges, it would probably be more like several hundred thousand."

(Musing) "I should get into that. I'm just gonna need to learn what a down is."

[*] As it happens, I was pretty close; Will Muschamp, the new Florida coach, will average about $2.7 million a year. The last coach, Urban Meyer, made about $4 mil a year.

If nothing else, this exchange should prove that you don't need to know much about football to be a huge fan - and I mean HUGE fan - of "Friday Night Lights." Due to a scheduling quirk, you can now buy the whole final season on DVD as it's airing on NBC. She loves peeling off 2 or 3 episodes in a row, unshackled from network control. No ads is nice too.

Mad Men #1: Thanks for the ham!

A bottle of Jameson split 4 ways isn’t that bad, right? Ugh, maybe it was the additional 4 bottles of wine that did it. Fuck, sometimes I feel like all I do is recap television shows. Do you people know about Television Without Pity? You’re gonna shit, I’m not even lying.

We’re back and it’s 1964 and Pete Campbell is still a douche and now Don Draper is a sub! Bet you didn’t see that coming. Show of hands, ladies, who’s picturing DD in a ball gag, vacuuming your house? I mean, once they invented vacuums. And ball gags. Anyway, check out the new SterCoopDraPry offices! Nice, huh? Wait, who’s Sweater Vest? At least he’s drinking Jameson! I like him already. So far, in the first 5 scenes, everyone is drinking. I’m trying to figure out in exactly which year people stopped stumbling around half-drunk 24/7. Did this happen in the 70’s? I know it didn’t happen in the 90’s, because that’s when I started doing it.

Don lives in the Village! Either above the Hong Kong Tailor or Joe the Art of Coffee.

I fucking guarantee you that today, people are taking pictures of this intersection. Whoa, Don’s got a Mexi-Maid! She should force him to do the dishes. He likes that. We see a Montage of Don’s Solo Life and it’s overintentionally depressing. He leaves his TV on 24/7 which is kind of annoying, since TV was boring in 1964. Also, Don’s got hisself a ho. What do you think a good sex/slap combo runs in 1964? Like $3.50 or something like that.

In other news, there’s some kind of ham-buying scam that I couldn’t follow but it also involves Peggy coming over to DD’s with some bro holding a casserole and she’s all “This is my fiance” and he’s all “What?” and Don’s all “Whatever, later LOL.”

FINALLY January Jones shows up. She looks sober! That’s unusual for January Jones, from what I hear. Oh, and PLEASE MORMON MARRY ME AND BE MY SECOND WIFE JANUARY JONES I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. Ew, she married the Cryptkeeper! Gross! Hmmm, Most Awkward Thanksgiving Ever with Cryptkeeper’s Family, and I’m including the one where I stayed upstairs in the guest bedroom and drank Maker’s Mark and cried and wouldn’t come down. Hey wait, is that ANOTHER New Bobby? Fuck, this isn’t One Life to Live where you can just change out the actors every show and no one cares. Oh, maybe it’s the Same Bobby, never mind. Anyway, Cryptkeeper’s Mom is a B-I-T-C-H! Or is that his sister? They’re all about 100 years old, who knows?

Ewwww, are Betty and Cryptkeeper going to do it in the car? G-ross! He’s going to get a hernia or something!

Let’s see what Don’s got for the Jantzen campaign! Oh, it’s terrible. I mean, wow, that is really, really bad. Fuck whether or not it’s too “racy,” it just sucks. Although the chick in the ad looks kinda hot. What? I’m a guy. So the Jantzen folks don’t like it at all, big surprise, and Don throws them out of the office. He a mess. Hopefully Anna Camp will straighten his shit out. Speaking of, can you believe she didn’t bang him? FIRST TIME EVER. No, really, you’d think Jon Hamm wrote the show, the way DD gets laid.

Oh, and to my companions last night: My mistake. It’s Ben Affleck that’s secretly banging Blake Lively, not Jon Hamm. Jon Hamm is banging…oh, anyone he wants to, I imagine.

In honor of SXSW. And then a lengthy digression.

In honor of SXSW, I present to you my very first blog post, 2 years ago, entitled "I'm so sick of SXSW." Enjoy.

Hey, that's an easy way to get out of creating new content! No matter. Sentiment remains the same.

(And please, for the love of God, I beg you, please do not send me notes congratulating me on my "blogaversary" or the like. I remain fundamentally opposed to any cobbled-together words beginning with "blog." Generic called them portmanteau and that word didn't turn out to mean what I thought it meant but after I looked it up our conversation made a lot more sense since it means a cobbled-together word and not a French butler.)

(Speaking of not knowing what words mean, The Sister is kind of famous for this. She thought "teetotaler" meant a troublemaker, so to her, the sentence "Looks like the teetotalers are comng!" was fraught with danger.)

(She also used to use the word "touche" just as a general sort of conversational punctuation, until she found out its proper use. Like someone would say "That's it, I'm out of here" and she would say "Touche.")

(I love The Sister to death and I don't mean to make fun of her. Her little quirks are more endearing than embarrassing.)

So, yeah. I don't want to hear about SXSW. Have a nice weekend. Unless you're at SXSW. Then I hope you miss the Datarock show and have to walk back to your hotel in the rain.

(Also, I'm not changing the Random Flickr Image of the Day today because (1) nobody ever notices it or cares about it anyway, I surmise, and (2) I like the current image a lot.)

My anthropomorphic mop is in love with my Thomas Kinkade statuette

You know those Swiffer ads with the anthropomorphic brooms? That are, like, in love with the housewife? And are kind of borderline creepy because they're stalking her a little? Like this one?


You see her just standing there when he's at the door? She's all "I can't hear you!" Bitch.

This one might even be a little creepier:



Swiffer's on Chatroulette! At least the mop isn't jacking off. Ew.

[SIDE NOTE: Like everyone else with a pulse and an Internet connection, I checked out ChatRoulette. I didn't see even one naked person. What am I doing wrong?]

These ads had kind of the opposite of the desired effect on The Wife (at least, the opposite of what I assume is the desired effect) because she full on felt totally sorry for the broom or the mop or whatever cleaning implement had gotten dumped. So much so that I think she was nursing kind of a secret grudge against Swiffer.

Well, I bet a lot of people felt the same way and the collective discomfort at the plight of the broom and mop trickled up to Swiffer, because the new ads are sort of conciliatory or something! Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a video of them online, but the basic idea is that the Swiffer has found new love with another household object, thus satisfying the possibly competing needs of the hausfrau for Improved Cleaning Technology and the Anthropomorphic Mop for a nonorganic love interest. And then I grew up and started caring about real things.

Tell me what you think about this parking situation

I need to get your opinion on something.

The curb in front of my house is big enough to park 2 cars between the garages on either side of me. A little while ago, some chick rented the garage next door. She's using it as an art studio or something. Anyway, since she rented it, she has pretty much taken over ownership of the 2 street spaces. Her car and 2 scooters are always fucking parked there. ALWAYS. There's street cleaning every 2 weeks and she moves them temporarily for that and then BOOM right back. Like she owns the fucking spaces or something.

I think it's just a dick move. I mean, yeah, of course, I'm not entitled to the parking space in front of my house, but it would still be nice to have a crack at it once in a while. Plus, it's technically illegal to leave your car parked in the same spot for 2 weeks, but I'm not gonna rat her out to DPT or anything.

So what do you think? Is she cool or is she being a dick?

January's Little Joke

And so we have reached that yearly event known as Sober January, which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like and is basically just a chance to clean out the system, so to speak, catch up on our Netflix, save a ton of money and lose some weight. I'm shooting for the rehab-standard 28 days this year. Some prior years have been relatively successful (i.e. solid month) and some not so much, like last year, when The Wife (who was still Super Hot Irish Girlfriend at the time) and I collectively talked each other into breaking down and going to a bar on the 10th. Let's hope for better results this year.

Here are the changes that you, loyal readers, will notice during January:

1. Fewer drinking-related stories. Duh.

2. The blog will be about 20% less funny. I'm sorry, but it's true. I think my posts are consistently funnier when they're written either while slightly buzzed or the morning after drinking. Can't help it, it's true.

So let's hang in there together. You forgive all the movie reviews and talk about my dog, and I'll forgive you for actually having fun this month.

IN OTHER NEWS, this "Tooth Fairy" movie with The Rock has to be an elaborate joke, right? I mean, the commercial looks EXACTLY like the kind of parody commercial they'd do on SNL if he were hosting. There is no way this can be a real movie, right? Right? Please tell me it's not.

Speaking of movie trailers, thanks to Periqueblend for turning me on to The 5 Best Movie Trailer Remixes. Genius:

I'm picturing this blog as a miniseries. Or maybe a feature film. With George Clooney. Or somebody.

Yes, yes, we all know that Hollywood is utterly bereft of ideas and just about any execrable refuse has a chance of being made. But today's news is stunning, even by the very low standards The Show Business has created for itself:

Not only is Texts From Last Night being made into a TV series (on Fox, natch); so is Shit My Dad Says.

Let's take the last one first. SMDS isn't even a website or a blog; it's a fucking Twitter stream. It's like making the ESPN crawl at the bottom of the screen into a series.

(HANG THE FUCK ON, I just got an idea and I have to call my agent. We'll cast Gilbert Gottfried as "PPD RAIN" and Jenn Sterger as the Florida State - Florida score).

Anyway, SMDS makes sense on CBS, where it's apparently found a home, since CBS is watched pretty much exclusively by 72-year-olds, like the eponymous "Dad." Now, I will be the first to admit that the SMDS stream is chuckle-inducing, but you can't just trot Jerry Adler out onto a set and have him read a fucking Twitter stream. Or maybe you can; I don't know. I'm not in TV.

Similarly, I guess, Texts From Last Night, what? It's a collection of made-up 140-character anecdotes about nights frat boys wish they had had. What's the series?

SETH GREEN enters stage left.

SETH GREEN: I thought it was weird that her dad told me to finish and get out after he walked in on us. I like him.

LEAH REMINI: Just caught grandpa beating off in the living room!

(LAUGHTER)

Oh, God, you know what? Now that I see that typed out, it's not so different from any other FOX sitcom.

Hey Intel, sponsor my life list too!

So this chick Maggie (who actually is a friend of a friend, so we're like 2 degrees apart so HI MAGGIE!) writes this blog called Mighty Girl and she's pretty much famous in the blogging world and probably gets about a billion hits a day.

Like a lot of people, I guess, she has a life list of things she wants to do or try or places she wants to go before she dies. Not that she's going to die soon, there just has to be some end point. [SIDE NOTE: If you need help creating your own life list, or getting motivated to do the stuff on it, there is, OF COURSE, Mylifelist.org.]

UNLIKE a lot of other people, Maggie got someone to pay for doing the stuff on her list. Namely Intel. So she's gone to Greece and eaten at the French Laundry and some other stuff, all on Intel's dime.

HEY INTEL!!!! OVER HERE!!!!

Lighting can strike twice. Help me out, Intel, and I guarantee you tens of hits a day from MOTIVATED BUYERS, some of whom can read and/or are sober for part of the day.

Just think, Intel, with your help I can achieve my dreams of:

1. Going target shooting with Subcomandante Marcos.

2. Weekend in L.A. with the Lohan.



3. Going swimming with the sea turtles in the Galapagos.

4. Eating a sea turtle from the Galapagos.

5. Kneecapping Dane Cook.

6. Doing shots at the Ha-Ra with Thomas Pynchon.

7. Breeding a mutant race of Super Dogs who will respond to only my commands and become my Dark Army of the Night.

8. Learning HTML.

That's just off the top of my head! Wait til I really start thinking about this stuff, Intel. So what do you say? Hook us up?

The BART strike is stupid and is going to suck. Also, where do I sign up to be BART management?

So! We're going to have a BART strike! Oh yay.

[For those of you not from around here, BART is a shiny silver people mover that goes all around the Yay Area and even to places I've heard about but never visited, like something called "El Cerrito del Norte." I use it to get to work every day and sometimes to go to Stephen and Jessica's house in Berkeley. Lots of people need it to get from their houses in the East Bay to their jobs in SF.]

From what I can tell, public sentiment is pretty strongly against the union; check out the comments here. And why not? The contract the employees turned down would "freeze wages for four years but provide bonuses in three of those years, change work rules to give bosses more say in employees' job duties, reduce the need for overtime, and require employees to pay more for premium health care."

You can imagine how the employees turning this down goes over with someone who, like me, just took a pay cut, or someone who lost their job entirely. BRIGHT SIDE: If you're unemployed, you won't have to figure out another way to get to work!

So yes, I think it's a mistake and obviously a public relations disaster for the union and is only going to lower people's already-low opinion of unions these days.

But just to be a contrarian, remember this story from a few weeks ago?

As BART careens towards a possible strike, a KTVU Channel 2 News investigation has found the transit district’s management has spent millions of dollars on trips around the world and the nation and lavish meals at extravagant restaurants.

One expert told KTVU that the system's tracking of those expenses is the equivalent of throwing receipts in a cigar box.

I want to be BART management! Check out what they get:

- A $2,700 tab at Gallagher’s Steak House on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, one of the most expensive steakhouses in the nation. The meal was for 10 BART managers – at $270 a meal – and had no itemized receipt, a violation of BART’s official policy.

- A $751.40 bill for some BART employees, directors – and director’s wives – at a Georgetown restaurant dubbed the “power spot of the year.” The Café Milano bill included wine and even cognac, again against BART’s official policy.

- A $699.51 bill at the University Club, also on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. The men’s only organization is akin to San Francisco’s Pacific Union Club, except it is exclusively for invited graduates of Yale University. The meal was said to be a “thank you” to employees of the New York City subway, who gave BART managers a “tour.” Again, no itemized receipt was provided, although as with all the other expenses, BART reimbursed the tab with taxpayer and fare gate money.

So, yeah, I completely agree that the union should have accepted the contract and that most BART employees get a sweet deal and are fools to look a gift horse in the mouth. Just saying that management doesn't look to be exactly blame-free for the BART deficit either.

Moral of the story: everyone sucks. But we knew that.

Friday (uncat.)

- So here's my new favorite blog: DEALBREAKER. Run right over and check it out RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND I COMMAND YOU. Funny shit.

- Also, Spaceships and Kool-Aid. Funny as hell and so very NSFW so don't say I didn't warn you.

- Maybe it's this pheromone body spray I've been using, but motherfuckers continue to get all up in my shit on any otherwise uncrowded train and it's bugging the fuck out of me. I'm standing there yesterday in the little well across the front door of the train and a guy gets on and like wedges himself into the little space behind me when there's a whole empty train in front of both of us. I mean, WTFF???!!??

Eventually he extricated himself and sat down, but really, man. Come the fuck on.

- This is so fucking cool:



- Tonight at Chez TK, our film feature will be The Matchmaker (1997) w/ Janeane Garofalo and Denis Leary, courtesy of The Wife's Netflix queue, not mine, so just shut it. Judging from the comments on IMDB, this is some Citizen Kane-level shit, so I'm psyched.

Let the Oompa Loompa go.

It's a world gone mad. You knew that. Look at this:

Oompa Loompa causes mall chaos

I know what you're saying: "I didn't know Oompa Loompas were real!! Or is that Oompa Loompae?" I know, I got confused too. Here's the scoop:

Wearing the trademark green wig, brown shirt and white overalls, one of Jeff Beacher's Madhouse Oompa Loompas was detained by security guards in Plantation,
Fla., on Friday.

While promoting his upcoming comedy show scheduled for Saturday night at the Seminole Coconut Creek Casino, Donnie Davis was handcuffed and detained for several hours at the mall. He had been laughing and hyping the show in one of the mall's trendy jeans and accessories stores – much to the dismay of mall authorities, it seems.

"They got Donnie and cuffed him," Jeff Beacher, creator of the touring comedy show, tells PEOPLE. "He and several other Oompa Loompas have been promoting the tour, and I guess security finally got fed up with them. It was ridiculous – one of the craziest and funniest things I have ever seen ... Not to mention a little over the top! They are innocent Oompa Loompas!"

Hundreds of Florida shoppers agreed. When the security officer cuffed Davis, they were laughing and screaming: "Let the Oompa Loompa go!"

Ladies and gentlemen, you can fuck with Supreme Court nominees all you want, but I WILL BE GODDAMNED IF I SIT BY AND LET YOU MESS WITH AN OOMPA LOOMPA.

"Let the Oompa Loompa go." Let's all take that to heart.

Why was I reading People online? Because I'm interested in Jon Gosselin's 22-year-old bisexual, party animal girlfriend? True, I do have a keen interest in 22-year-old bisexual girls, but no. In fact, I don't know why. I think I was interested in his Jon's new pad on the Upper West Side. Real estate! Forget sybaritic young lasses. At my age, apartment envy is what gets my blood pumping.

Happy Friday, everyone! Hey, you know what would make American politics more interesting? Rape threats.

It was supposed to be the high point of her speech — to applause from her audience, a leading member of India's ruling Congress Party suggested that a rival leader be raped so she can understand the plight of rape victims.

Surprise, surprise, Rita Bahuguna Joshi! Instead of some Tasty Opponent Rape, you went and got arrested and got your house burned down! Let that be a lesson to you, politicians!

Have a nice weekend. Look out for rampaging Oompa Loompae and rape-threatening Indian politicians!

"Windy" ain't the half of it

I wish I could figure out some way to make this guy's weather page a permanent feature in the column of the blog thing here. It's super cool.

Thanks to Anh Minh for pointing out this coolness.

I suppose everyone (including Anh Minh, incidentally) has now seen the New York Times story about the skateboarders in SF who bought a million-dollar house in Noe Valley and then spent half a million dollars renovating it into their oh-so-achingly hip grownup playhouse with a bathroom that looks like a swimming pool. She's an "interior designer" and he's a "skateboarder" and you tell me where this couple came up with a mil and a half. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Happy Friday, everyone!

Oh, you'll appreciate this. Coming back from walking the dog this morning around 6:50 a.m., I spy with my little eye a chick wearing a slinky little black dress and carrying a pair of black high heels coming out of an apartment building with a dude with messed-up hair and pajama bottoms and a hoodie. The walk of shame never goes away. At least not in this city full of grown-up kids.

Have a good weekend. I've got the usual art show/block party/band practice kind of thing going. We'll talk Monday.

The Sunday of Live Music

The bartender put down a PBR in front of me at 3:15 yesterday afternooon, said "The first one's on the house," and I was off on a Sunday of Live Music.

The first one was on the house because my band was playing yesterday afternoon. I've never played in the afternoon before and it was actually really fun and great and very nice to be done with the whole thing at 7:30 p.m. instead of 12:30 a.m.

ANYWAY, we got a really good reaction. Two people independently said we sounded like Pavement, which is kind of like telling an art student he paints sort of like Picasso. And weird, too, because no one's ever said that before.

We had a good time and sounded good, I guess, and then watched the 2 other bands on the bill and even though it wasn't really the kind of stuff I'd gravitate to, it was fun and interesting and also EAR-SPLITTINGLY LOUD. And these bands were comprised of kids. Like super-young. Definitely the youngest bands we've ever played with or maybe even ever seen. But they were totally cool kids and into what we were doing and didn't call us "gramps" or anything which was nice.

So we left the fetuses around 7:30 and dropped off our gear at the rehearsal space and then I went by the house for about 13 seconds and then went to the Makeout Room to see a friend's band play. And then I was all "Oh, man, I suck," because they had only practiced together like 3 times and this was their first show (and maybe their only show) and they were fucking GREAT. Like, I'd-buy-this-if-it-were-recorded-in-any-form great.

Home around 11 p.m. Feel fine today! Hmmm, maybe I didn't drink enough.

I'm so sick of SXSW

Look! It's a show at SXSW in Austin! Look at us! Aren't we cool!

Yeah.

Listen, I don't know about you, but I am fucking sick of hearing about South by Southwest. You can't turn on your favorite indie/alt/whatever Interwebs news source this week without reading about WHAT! A! FABULOUS! TIME! we're having at SXSW this year. HEY! I just drank a Lone Star with the sweaty guy from Ratatat! Yay! Go me!

I have to admit, it's because I'm sort of insanely jealous. OF COURSE I want to hang out at Emo's with the Redwalls and talk about what possibly could have happened to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. OF COURSE I want to bump into Chuck Klosterman at my Days Inn pool. But I'm not there, obviously.