Archive for the ‘Music’ category


May 1, 2007

Quickly, and I’m not sure why this is at all news, but here is what is probably a redundant, self-serving post featuring Jackie, Sully, KtL (Sully’s far more photogenic lady friend), and plates of Mexican food. A few weeks ago, we went to Don Antonio’s because it was a seemingly normal Mexican restaurant on the west side that happened to be frequented by Spencer from The Hills, also known as Sully’s favorite television personality, well, ever.

This time we went to El Coyote on Beverly, partly because it’s been on (I think) Newlyweds, possibly The Hills, who really knows. Mainly, it earned its stripes serving Big Daddy Eisner when he’s out on the town. That’s a good enough endorsement for me. I’ll be back tomorrow, although I’m sure K-Town has his doubts.

To his credit, Sully went into the meal refusing to order any item with an overblown adjective (super, colossal, huge, mega, etc.). It should be noted, however, that he didn’t vow not to give a retarded, vaguely climactic glance at his combo meal once it arrived.

It should also be noted that we were all understandably excited when the waiter brought over a side of guac that nobody ordered with their meal (and we didn’t get charged). KtL was strictly business, swooping in a chip before Sully even had a chance to compose himself. She was anxious, he was rattled. Cute couple.

I got a plate of red and yellow. It’s actually a chicken enchilada and taco (side plate) combo with beans and rice, but honestly, there’s a very good chance I’d order a menu item if it were simply called “A Plate of Random Red and Yellow Sauces and Cheeses with Accompanying Delicious Accessories.” Some might say I’m a slut for Mexican food. I say that some use the word “slut” a little too loosely.

With the way Sully’s hair has been behaving lately, I’m inclined to believe that he’s secretly auditioning to play keyboards for a wedding band. I hear the whole curly shag and semi-mullet plays well in Nevada, but you’re in the show now, Sully, pretend like you’ve been here before.

I’ve been running more, so my huge head is only giant now, so that’s good. Also, I feel that I have a five-star left nipple, and I’m not afraid to let the world know about it.

That’s all of them. The lead singer of Modest Mouse is wearing a funny-looking hat on Letterman right now, so I’m going to go watch.


11:54 PM

March 28, 2007

Update: I look normal again. Well, more normal than I did two days ago when I rented out space above my upper lip to a group of unorganized, yet scrappy, determined hairs.

In other news, the new Wilco album can only be described as “better than the Black Eyed Peas.” That, of course, is a misleading review because “better than the Black Eyed Peas” only describes every other band, musician, songwriter, performer, artist, studio player, bandleader, background singer, and at least half of the UC Santa Cruz marching band (although I’m really not sure that such a collective exists).

I like Wilco.

Tuesday Post

March 6, 2007

• I like the new Limbeck album. The instruments are fun and right now I’m listening to a guitar solo. I’m not nearly as picky and elitist as I used to be with music. If it sounds good, I’m for it. I think this album comes out in early April and I’ll be forking over 12 bucks or so for it.

• I’m sweating right now. It’s March and it’s 83 degrees in Los Angeles. I could go for an Icee, not your corproate, multi-flavored Slurpee. Red and blue, those are the only two flavors that matter. Period.

• I’m trying to figure out if I’ll go to the first round of the Pac-10 Tournament Thursday. I was going back and forth because I don’t know whether or not I’ll be able to move down if I get cheap tickets. The thing that may push me over the edge, though, is the fact that Arizona will be dressed like a figure skating quintuplet.

• I’ve been shotgunning Heroes for the past few days to catch up. I don’t really know why I’m in such a hurry, it’s good (Hiro is one of the better characters on TV), but for whatever reason, doesn’t compel me to plow through it as anxiously as other shows have (read: Arrested Development and sighhhh, Veronica Mars).

• Fuck – my archenemy, back sweat, is back.

• I’m reading Seven Seconds or Less, a book by a Sports Illustrated writer who spent last season with the Suns. The minute detail in which he details the Suns beating the Lakers in the first round of the playoffs is both oddly interesting and depressing. If nothing else, I’ve learned that, so far, the Suns trainers and coaches are far more interesting than the players.

• A few more weeks until my all-beef Super Dodger Dog. I’m undecided on whether or not I’ll go with the garlic fries. I always regret it afterwords, but I need those one or two orders at the beginning of the season to reremind myself that they’re not that necessary of a side order to have a good meal at Chavez Ravine.

• I almost forgot about my promised Chuck Woolery post. It’ll be my next.


February 11, 2007

I have absolutely no vested interest in the Grammy’s (I turned tonight’s off after realizing that nothing was actually happening and I wanted to watch the 24 I missed last week), but any award ceremony that is considered to be more legitimate than the World Music Awards or the People’s Choice Awards that gives the Black Eyed Peas an award is now considered officially fraudulent.

The Black Eyed Peas are everything that’s wrong with popular music, hip-hop, and as far as I’m concerned, America.

When I heard “My Humps” on the radio for the first time, I thought it was a gag song from a hacky Top 40 DJ. I’m still not 100% sure it isn’t, actually.

One more thing: It looks like Fergie has plastic surgeons shoot off mini-rockets with strings tied to her face. Hopefully she has some sort of punch card that she’s using to build up to a free lift. I’m terrified to look at her for more than three seconds at a time.