he's related to you, he's related to you... he is dying to meet you

WARNING!!!!
Portions of this blog post may contain content or language that is indecent, obscene, insensitive, or irrational. Reader Discretion is advised.

I went to a wedding with Karen yesterday. It was kind of unusual because it was in a theatre rather than a church or an outdoor setting. I actually thought for a second that I had misunderstood the invitation, and I was being taken to a play about a wedding. Or that it was an elaborate ruse on all of us, and it wasn't a wedding at all. The reception was in the same building, so we didn't even have to take ten steps to get to the beer. Dinner followed. It was pretty good. It didn't even occur to me until I ate all of it that all of it was vegetarian. Except for the grouper. I enjoyed it.
This was one of those situations where I didn't know anyone involved with the wedding, and I only knew a few of the guests. I had plenty of people I could talk to, so is wasn't overly uncomfortable or anything like that, but it's just strange to be there as someone outside that circle. I had a good time, though. Except for one thing. As many of you dear and loyal readers know, I don't do the "dancing" thing. I just don't. It isn't that I'm morally or ethically opposed to it, or anything like that. I just don't dance. Not at weddings, not at bat mitzvahs, not when I'm a contestant on Solid Gold, not in a box, not with a fox. I do not like dancing. Somehow, though, at functions like that, you may has well say that you like to strangle puppies and drown kitty cats as say that you don't like dancing. You get treated like a fucking apple pie, baseball and mom-hater. Added to that, everyone tries to force you to do something you've repeatedly said you don't like. Why is this? If you're a vegetarian, your meat-eating friends don't tie you down and force raw meat down your gullet. If you know that your friend doesn't do drugs, you don't force him to do blow with you. You just accept their "no" as an answer. Dancing, though, is different. I don't understand why. Help me understand this. People refuse to take "no I prefer not to" as an answer.
Anyway, I was tricked into slow dancing, which I still have a dislike for, but I did it anyway.
When I headed into this wedding, I opted not to tote my camera along. Frankly, I knew only a small handful of the people there, and I've only known them a few weeks. It sounds harsh, but the reality of it is that they're not my friends. I only bring this up because even when I go to weddings of people I've been friends with for 10 or more years, I take very few pictures. So I thought it would just be a bit of a burden, carrying it around all night and not using it at all. HOWEVER, I really wished that I had brought it for the sake of making this post funnier. There were four celebrity look-alikes at the wedding. One was Erik Cole of the Carolina Hurricanes. One was Chan "Cat Power" Marshall, and then there was this married couple. Both of them (yes, even the lady) looked like Russell Crowe. You don't need a photo to know who he is. Then, actually, the more I thought of it, the more I decided that the woman looked like a lovechild of Russell Crowe and Joan Cusack. And now that I think of it, Joan Cusack does look kinda like Russell Crowe with boobs. You be the judge.


Crowe ........ Cusack


Today as I was heading home, I nearly forgot that I told Amanda I would help her with some moving. So I went to help her shove some crud in the storage facility she's renting, then over to her boyfriend's apartment. Sorry..... THEIR apartment. I didn't stay long, though. Just long enough to catch up for a few minutes, then home.

It turned out to be a really good thing that I didn't stay at Karen's an extra night. When I got home, I couldn't find Marty. I looked high and I looked low. No sign of her. I knew she didn't get out, so she had to be somewhere. Then I heard some muffled crying. Turns out, she had gotten into one of my closets unbeknownst to me on Sunday morning. I guess when I was getting my suit and other stuff out. I just shut the closet door like always, but she was freakin' IN there. For almost two days. No food, no water, no litter box. I feel like a bad daddy. I don't know how it happened, but it did, and it's nobody's fault but mine. Scared the crap out of me, but she seems to be okay. And surprisingly, the closet doesn't reek of cat urine. I suppose since she didn't have anything to eat or drink, she didn't need to use the bathroom. Weird thing is, she doesn't even seem mad.

I'm sure there's more stuff that I wanted/meant to post about, but I'm kinda tired for now.

Now playing:

Sigur Ros ( )

look around, around...the second drummer drowned

The other day, I watched Moonlight Mile. That day that I was so freakin tired. After my little nap.
Anyway, I really liked this movie. I don't remember hearing a thing about it when it came out in 2002, but I kept threatening to rent it from the Netflix. I did, and it finally hit the top of my queue. Jake Gyllenhaal, Dustin Hoffman, Susan Sarandon deliver fine performances, but I think the best comes from Ellen Pompeo, who is a relative newcomer.
Without giving away too much, I'll just say that it's really about dealing with loss, and finding one's self in the process. I know that sounds kinda cheesy, but it's a damn fine movie. If you haven't seen it, you should. One sort of strange thing is that although Gyllenhaal's character is the focal point of the story (it's loosely based on an event in the writer/director's life), he has very little dialog compared to the other characters.

Last night I went out to a neighborhood bar with Dr. Awesome. I haven't seen him in a couple of weeks, and he freakin' lives right across the street from me. That's kinda sad. I'm not seeing much of anyone these days. Not even Amanda. I think I've seen her maybe twice in the last three months. I did stop by her house the other day, but it was the day that I was all cranky and tired. She was in the midst of packing her crud so she can move again. I was Mr. Anti-social, so not a whole lot was said that day. But I did get some bread from her. When I went with her to Buffalo and Niagara, she took me to this bakery she loves, and she stocked up on loaves of bread. Now, y'all just don't understand. This isn't just bread. It's really really good. Apparently, the thing to do whenever she goes up there is to buy like forty million loaves and freeze them for later use. So she bought a ton when she just went back up there. I now have two one and a half loaves of Di Camillo bread. You don't even have to make a sandwich, or put anything on it. It's really tasty straight out of the sack. If you find yourself in the town of Niagara Falls NY, you should stop by there and get some tasty fresh baked bread.

I guess working nights sort of takes away from the ability to hang out with people. Not that I dislike my workplace. I'm just pointing out one of the downfalls. Eventually, I'll get myself in a different situation, but I'm gonna hang for a while.

I apologize for the scatterbrain-edness of this post.
Now playing:

The Shins Chutes Too Narrow

another moment of silence

It is with deep sorrow that the staff of Red and black is the new black and red request a moment of silence for yet another fallen friend. Thurl Ravenscroft, the longtime voice of Tony the Tiger has died of prostate cancer at the age of 91. Ravenscroft was also the voice of many Disney characters and sung the famous "You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch" song.
Cereal bowls across America will never be the same without him.

if gwen stefani was a rich girl

That damned StatCounter is a strange and beautiful thing.
Somebody in Uruguay found this site by doing a Google search for "I hate Jeff Buckley". I know I used these exact words, but I was doing it to make a point.
We would like to reiterate the official Red and black is the new black and red stance. It is that Jeff Buckley is god.
More later.

just say if i'm way out of line. i don't need telling twice

The management of Red and black is the new black and red would like to apologize for the inconvenience caused its readers. Our staff has been especially lazy these days, and hasn't come up with any good material. Those responsible for the lack of material have been sacked. Again, we apologize for the lack of recent posts and the resultant inconvenience it has caused. We now return to our regularly scheduled post, which will be aired in its entirety.


Okay. I'm confused about a couple of things, and I need some help from you, dear loyal readers.

1. One of the Spaniards at work does something really strange. At first I thought I was jumping to a wrong conclusion, but I made a conscious effort to observe him in the act of doing this thing. I asked him about it, but I think he was confused by my question. Anyway... He puts his Coca-Cola in a pint glass, and goes into the microwave with it. For about a minute. All the time. Every day, a couple of times a day. Some of you might be familiar with this practice and may be able to shed some light on it. Please help if you can.
2. There's this commercial on the television. A Sony commercial. For some super high-tech digital video/still hybrid camera. In the commercial, there's a young couple who are showing off their new house to a woman who is presumably the mother of the girl. The place is a hell-hole. Apparently, there's a horrible stench coming from somewhere, and there's a big ass raccoon roaming around inside the house. They're all non-chalant about the whole thing, because the crème de la crème is a fantastically decorated nursery for the baby they evidently haven't told the mother about. The mother says "So, who's the father?". A little joke, yes. But what I don't get is .... What is Sony trying to tell us? I guess the point is that it's okay to have a fucking dive of a house with a giant rabid rodent and unbelievable stench, and a mother who more or less calls you a whore (even if it is a joke) as long as the baby's room is nice, and you have their new product to document the whole thing.

Today was a fun day. I was surprised by Karen, who drove from Durham to bring me lunch. It wasn't a complete surprise, like when she pleasantly surprised me by being at my house when I got off work last Tuesday, but I only knew about it a few minutes before she would get there. For those of you joining us late, or not scoring along at home, Karen lives a good 45 minutes away, so it takes a lot of effort to pull the surprise visit. We ate lunch and hung out for a couple of hours before I had to take off for work. Work was a damn joke. Really dead.
I felt kind of bad because I feel like I let Karen down the other day. I stayed with her on Sunday night, and although we didn't really talk about it, she figured I would stay Monday night as well, which is what I've done a couple of times. I didn't do it though, because I was really cranky and anti-social, so I decided to go home. I had slept really poorly the night before, and I was really really out of it. As soon as I got home, I sat down and actually fell asleep for a few hours. Early in the evening. I usually try to avoid naps because they make me feel horrible and throw off my sleeping, but I really needed it. Exactly what I needed. I felt better, and I was able to sleep normally at my normal sleep time.
Today, we were watching Sylvia, but we weren't able to watch the end of it. I know it got some unfavorable reviews, and it got an especially bad review from a friend of mine who is a big fan of Sylvia Plath. However, I was kind of liking it, so TiVo-ed the hell out of it for later viewing. I'm not even a Gwyneth Paltrow fan. Actually, I usually abhor her, but I thought she was doing a fine job. I'm anxious to see the remainder of the movie, but it'll have to wait.

Now playing:

Sonna We Sing LoudSing Soft Tonight

so i got drunk and looked at the empire state building. it was no bigger than a nickel

I realize that what I'm about to say is tantamount to saying "I ♥ Adolf Hitler and Satan" or "I hate Jeff Buckley"¹, but I'll go ahead and say it anyway. I would suggest that you sit down first, and that you think of the things you like about me. Here goes...

I don't give a flying monkey's ass about Star Wars, and I'm happy with that.


Okay. The needle just scratched across the record, and the room has gone dead silent. Except for the crickets.
It's true, though. I really don't like Star Wars. When I was young, I liked them (Episodes 4-6), but when I watched "Star Wars" again before the release of Episode 1, I realized that I just didn't like it. I did, by the way, go see Episode 1, and I was not in heaven. I had no interest in seeing Episode 2, nor the highly anticipated Episode 3. I found myself in the Tajmah Teeter Wednesday night close to midnight. Adjacent to the Teeter is the freakin' multiplex where they were doing the midnight opening. When I saw the scores of people, the line wrapped around the building and meandering through the parking lot, I felt damn good about not being into that. Surprisingly, I didn't see a single person dressed in costume, but they were still out there jockeying for position. I was glad that I didn't have any interest in sitting in the crowded theater until 3 in the morning, breathing in the stench of nerd funk©. Aside from all that not wanting to be in discomfort, it still remains true that I just don't like Star Wars. So I won't just wait until later, as many of you will happily be doing.

Now playing:

henry's dress bust 'em green

¹ It should be made clear that the management of Red and Black is The New Black and Red generally does not give merit to the Hitler-Satan duo, but that it gives its unwavering support of the late Jeff Buckley.

and yes, it does involve shaking your ass

Here's the thing about my new place of employment.
There's a whole slew of Mexicans (henceforth referred to as Spaniards in honor of Christian) who speak very little English. Actually, like many people I've worked with in the past who claim no hablo inglés or je ne parle pas l'anglais, they speak just fine. Not as well as you or I do, but they do fine.
Sometimes, I'm the only English speaker in the kitchen, and I speak only muy pequeño español, there's sometimes a bit of trouble communicating. It wouldn't be so bad, except for the fact that I'm still learning how to get stuff done around there. But the wonderful thing is that compared to all of these guys, I'm super-gargantuan man. Those of you who know me know that I'm of very average build, but these guys are all about 5'4" on a good day, so I'm huge in contrast to them. Either way, on those days when I'm the only English-speaker, it's really refreshing when one of the servers or the manager or somebody else breezes through the kitchen and I get to have a thirty second conversation in English.
In his book Kitchen Confidential, Anthony Bourdain implores the reader (who is presumably a chef, or someone who aspires to be) to LEARN SPANISH. It isn't just the dishwasher anymore, and it isn't just in cities where the Hispanic population is huge. The workforce in kitchens is becoming more and more Hispanic everywhere you go. My place of work is a prime example. Some of these guys are really good cooks, and I have very little way to communicate with them. It's kind of funny, because they speak more English than I speak Spanish, but none of us speaks the other's tongue well enough to have dialog. Instead, we just sound like cavemen. I really should heed Mr Bourdain's advice if I want to remain in this business for a while. Actually, that's sort of up in the air, but I'm in it for the time being.

Anyway, one of the Spaniards was playing a CD today. Some sort of Spanish mix. I don't know what it was, but some of it was really good. There was some decent electronic stuff, something that sounded really indie, and something that reminded me a lot of Heavenly. I was kind of enjoying the mix, but just as I was starting to get into it, it was over, and someone put the radio on.

The Bulls game the other day was a good time. Actually, it costs less to get a good seat there than it does to get a good seat here in Greensboro. Our team is just an A team, while the bulls are AAA. I was pretty stoked about being able to sit really close to the field for $6. The drawback was that it was a Monday afternoon game, and I guess they didn't order enough beer to stock up for the weekend plus the early Monday game. They ended up running out of a lot of stuff. Oh well.

Oh.... Turns out the new landlord here isn't going to jack up the rent. That's a good thing. He's already done some landscaping to improve the house (maybe it'll cut down on the bugs), and has promised to do more. So I'm happy about that.

Cable guy's coming tomorrow morning. Some of my channels come in really REALLY fuzzy, and I shouldn't have to live that way. I have the fanciest cable available, and it looks like crud. Only on some channels, though. Anyway, you all know how the cable company works. They have two different windows available. The only one that would work for me was the one where they might come at 7:00 am. Yikes.

If anybody knows any good jokes in Spanish, I'd like to hear them. I need to find a way to get in good with the Spaniards (other than being taller than they are).

Now playing:

StereolabDots and Loops

cover me with spots, black and red dots until i'm crowding up your visual field

Last night, since I had shit else to do, I watched The Day After Tomorrow, which I have from Netflix. As far as popcorn movies go, it was pretty good. You know... lots of cool visual stuff, but not much to write home about from a story line or acting standpoint

Dear mom,
Today I watched "The Day After Tomorrow", and the acting was pretty lame, but it was visually pretty cool. Well, I had better go now.
Love,
Your son, David

See what I mean?

Seriously, I don't have much to post about today. I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'm finally going to get another chance to go to a Durham Bulls game. They have a one o'clock game today. Karen and I are both off on Mondays, so we're going. Woo-hoo.

Now playing:

Take Me Home--A Tribute to John Denver

Red and Black FAQ

I took a page out of Bears Will Attack's book and I made a FAQ page that can be accessed here. Enjoy.

as they ricochet around the room, they remind me of your starry eyes

Crap!

For the second time since I've lived in this apartment, the house has been sold. The first time, it was a really seamless transition. You don't even think about the stuff that has to go down in order for that transition to be so seamless. In this house, for example, the landlord pays for the water and the gas for the hot water. I haven't met the man who owns the house now, but he dropped the ball on getting the gas switched over to his name. I have water, but no hot water. That means that I obviously can't take a shower. At least not a hot one. Since I haven't met the man, it took some work to get a hold of him to raise hell about this. I had to call the previous owner, who gave me the number of the real estate agent, who contacted him for me, who had one of his lackeys call me back. I explained that there isn't hot water and that we need it on with a quickness. "Oh, yeah.... I guess that slipped our mind" he said. "Yeah, well that doesn't get me a hot shower when I need one. If you remedy the problem today, I won't be overly upset", I said. "Okay, well, uhhh... we'll give you a heads up phone call about this later". Knowing the way utilities people are, I'm fearful that the folks at Piedmont Natural Gas won't be able to get it done for a couple of days. Grrrrrrrr. This is hardly a way for this guy to start off as landlord. Now is really not a good time for me to have trouble with this. Or maybe it is. Maybe I should move somewhere. Somewhere out of this town, perhaps.

Had I remembered to wager $5000 on Giacomo for the Kentucky Derby, I'd be sitting on over a quarter of a million dollars, and this wouldn't be an issue at all. Oh, wait! I'm not the kind of person who has $5000 to waste. I forgot.

I'm really going to enjoy this cold shower before work today. I know you're all envious, but you're going to have to try to contain it.

Now playing:

The Mountain Goats All Hail West Texas