Tickle My Kittens

Coldplay was in town last night. I went with two friends to see them, and I suspect that the four of you who’ve read this blog before already know my opinion of Chris Martin’s songwriting abilities (hell, we update so infrequently that you could probably scroll down to see what I wrote two months ago).

Anyway, I went into the concert with very low expectations.  I listened to their first two albums all day yesterday, just willing them to please play something decent from before 2005 (OK, so they played ‘Yellow’ and not ‘High Speed’ but at least I didn’t have to hear too much from X&Y). So, anyway, the three of us agreed to meet at the Green Turtle beforehand to grab some drinks.

We had a few drinks and tried to enjoy ourselves while 6,000 of our closest friends all of a sudden crammed into the bar too. I mean, the Green Turtle is serviceable, but I couldn’t really get why it was completely full of sweaty, loud humans when so many other bars are around the corner (and I doubt it was the Miller Lite “Special” — $3.50/bottle. What a steal!).

It wasn’t until we got into the Verizon Center that I found out why everyone showed up all at once…there was a bomb threat at the Verizon Center!

OK, OK, I know what you’re thinking. How could that be, when we’re all at the Green Turtle? Shouldn’t we have heard sirens? What about policemenpeople? Well, yes, we heard them, and we saw them. But, it wasn’t like they came into the bar to clear us out, so it couldn’t be a problem with the stadium, right?

Wrong. From what I heard afterward, the arena was evacuated, but they didn’t evacuate the bar, which was, you know, still a part of the Verizon Center. Thanks, DC. Leave the drinkers to die in a heap of alcohol soaked flames.

Had the suspicious package exploded outside of Clyde’s (which is where I heard it was), I would have died with a Miller Lite in my hand. In retrospect, I also realize I could have died clutching more embarrassing items. But, thankfully, it was not a real bomb.

So, fast forward to the concert. Santogold was a great opener (well, second act. I missed the first opening act, since I was too busy drinking booze and not getting evacuated), but she didn’t get the respect she deserved from the audience. Get with the program, DC. She’ll be a big deal soon. Get on the bandwagon now.

Coldplay played for about 80 minutes, and they opened with a couple of tracks from their newest album, which was fine. It appears that they desperately want to be U2 after U2 kicks the bucket, and that’s OK. There are times where you just need to see a good laser light show, and Coldplay didn’t disappoint in that regard.

What was  disappointing was the fact that they played for 80 minutes, including the encore. When U2 was there in 2005, I think they played for 2.5 hours, so if they want to be known as a real stadium band, they’d better pick up the slack here and learn some stamina (that’s what she said).

Still, they ended the show with “Death and All His Friends,” which is a pretty phenomenal track (and the highlight of their newest album). As you know, Coldplay caters to an older, sensitive crowd, and waaaaay up at section 403, we were surrounded by the over 35 crowd, minus a few teenagers behind us who equated Coldplay’s appeal to Harry Potter, which may be more astute than they realized. The over 35 crowd and Under 17 crowd both love Coldplay and Harry Potter, but for vastly different reasons.  I was caught somewhere in the middle, probably like most rational people who don’t obsess over either HP or Coldplay, and the things I liked about Coldplay and stadium shows were there (laser light shows, beer, and spectacle), while the things I didn’t like (Chris Martin being “awww-gosh” and self-depricating–dude, get a new schtic, the X&Y album, and Coldplay’s stupid 19th Century battlefield outfits) were there in spades as well.

At the end of it, I was impressed with the production but still annoyed with how “light” the whole experience was. It was polished but sort of soulless, the same way a brand new kitchen looks, with shiny appliances and counter tops, but just waiting for someone to get in there and make a mess and come out with something really memorable.

So, in essence, Chris Martin isn’t a 5th grader (as I mentioned in an earlier post). I take that back. The dude is a robot who exhibits some of humanity’s most annoying traits — excessive self deprecation, too many guffaws, and too few reasons to consider them to be a legitimate rock tour de force.

I just realized that I talked myself away from my original thought, “Coldplay doesn’t suck that much,” to “Chris Martin is a robot.” So, ignore the headline. Coldplay kind of sucks after all.

I can’t take credit for this, but it’s priceless. Thanks to Lawyers, Guns and Money and Wonkette.

New Interwebs quote of the year:

“I am aware of all Internet Traditions.”

I am going to spend the work day designing a t-shirt and submit it to Threadless.

OK, the new Coldplay album came out on Tuesday. The thing we all know about Coldplay is that everyone in the band seems to be pretty affable. Nice guys. And they’re not afraid to say they rip off other bands. Honestly, who doesn’t rip someone else off at some point, right? But they can put everyone to sleep. I-Bankers on three-day coke binges use X&Y to relax before heading into work the next day. You know, though, sometimes you need that. Coldplay is the new Enya in this regard.

What really bothers me about Coldplay is how insultingly simple the lyrics are. Here is a bit from “42,” off the new album:

Those who are dead are not dead
They’re just living my head
And since I fell for that spell
I am living there as well
Oh…

Time is so short and I’m sure
There must be something more

Those who are dead are not dead
They’re just living my head oh…
And since I fell for that spell
I am living there as well oh…

At least he didn’t end with “I am living in a well” or “I was given a big, gold bell” or “Is it raining outside? I can’t tell.” It’s ironic that Coldplay is a band that caters to the older, “sensitive adult” crowd, but the lyrics were probably written in crayon on the back of a Trapper Keeper.

Here is a poem I wrote when I was in 5th grade — I’m sure you can see my talent:

I walked through the garden
And I saw a bench
On it was an old cheeseburger
It gave off quite a stench.

Add in some soaring piano and that shit goes platinum.

i quit my job yesterday. going in, i was afraid it was going to go as poorly with my future former boss as it did with my current former boss back in 2006, but he was pretty cool with it. he told me he wished me well and the he hoped we’d keep in touch. he even tried to give me a big hug (how about a handshake instead, big boy?). he mentioned how highly he thought of me as his subordinate and was sorry to see me go.

i felt really good about leaving things on a positive note when i left his office yesterday. it was when i came in this morning that i saw this. apparently, my office farting was not as covert as i had thought?

(thanks to passiveaggressivenotes.com)

Hello, friends. We here at TMK decided to follow Bad at Life to the bar for the past few months, thus ignoring our call to post meaningless diatribes for other bored semi-professionals. I’ve finally sobered up, left BAL’s couch, and showered, so now might as well be the time to lose my blogging virginity again (still waiting for that to happen in real life).

On a flight back to DC earlier this week, I read a review in GQ for Everyday Drinking. Obviously this is a book that would appeal to me (as well as a few other drunks at TMK), since I start every morning with a glass of warm gin and some beer-battered donuts. Anyway, Everyday Drinking is a compilation of three smaller works by Sir Kingsley Amis, and in it, he argues for drinking (and got paid to do so, the lucky bastard). The book is full of hilarious and insightful nuggets of advice, ranging from hosting a party to battling hangovers (BAL can certainly learn a thing or two about that). Some highlights:

* While hosting a party and preparing a gin and tonic for a guest, put the tonic and the ice and a thick slice of lemon in first and pour on them a thimbleful of gin–over the back of a spoon–so it will linger near the surface and give a strong-tasting first sip, which is the one that counts.

* Drinking a beer with a piece of lime in it is “an exit application from the human race.” This also applies to Zimas and Jolly Ranchers as well. Nice knowing you, Token Female.

* Anyone like Harvey Wallbangers? I know, this isn’t 1975, but: Another Italian liqueur, Galliano, has gained a good deal of ground over the last few years, not as a drink on its own but as a constituent of the famous, or infamous, cocktail, the Harvey Wallbanger, named after some reeling idiot in California.

* To battle a hangover, draw a hot bath, sit in the bathtub, and then immediately stand up to take a hot shower (repeat as necessary). However, “do not do this unless you are quite sure your heart and the rest of you will stand it. I would find it most disagreeable to be accused of precipitating your death, especially in court.” Better keep the heart healthy and stay away from those all-you-can-eat bacon buckets at Wonderland, as well.

The book is hilarious and insightful (and includes an introduction by fellow drunk Christopher Hitchens). I may be biased, but the book is especially good because Amis references gin the most out of any spirit. I always knew I could spot a good drunk.

I really miss the days when spam e-mails were things like “Viagra 70% off Discount” or “Cheap replica watches 4 SALE!” I even miss those Nigerian money scams. Those days are gone.

I first noticed something was awry when I logged into my work computer a few weeks ago and saw e-mails coming to me from me. I e-mail myself files between my work and home computers all the time, so I thought that, in addition to the e-mails from Dr. Cialis from Freehomepharmacy.com, maybe there was some sort of freaky coincidence there. It still looked like spam, so no big deal.

Because I work in the media industry I also receive a lot of e-mails for books and DVDs on sale. One of the most recent ones was for a “Buy 3 get 7 free DVD EXTR4V4G4NZ4″ from 347dvds.net. Still clearly not within the realm of reasonable e-mails but a little more targeted than the typical drug e-mails.

It was just this morning that I realized how smart spam has become. Like HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey, my spam now has self-actualized. No longer do I get scattershot messages. My spam is out to get me, and somehow, it knows what I’m thinking about before I even log in! I have been talking with friends about making a trip to Vegas in March, and we just decided yesterday to book the hotel. So, I log into my e-mail this morning, and what do I see? “Vegas Big Hand Blackjack Tournament” e-mails. Three of them.

I can only imagine what will come next…Dr. Cialis will be waiting for me outside my office with a replica watch on his wrist and a stack of DVDs in his hands. Then he will challenge me to blackjack, and if I lose, the world will explode. Wait, when do I double down? I’m sure I’ll get an e-mail about that tomorrow…

Welcome to the first in what will most likely be a one-part series called “Are you for real?”

Some stories are too crazy to make up, and this is one of them.

We have a mouse problem in the office. A couple of mice have been seen on desks, in the kitchen, in the hallways, in desk drawers, etc.

The mice are just smart enough to avoid the traps our building’s manager set for them, so a few of my coworkers still see mouse shit on their desks, in their drawers, and on their keyboards every once in a while. It’s a minor inconvenience for them I’m sure, and in an attempt to ward off more mice, our office instituted a “Do Not Eat At Your Desks Anymore” policy, as well as a “Do Not Leave Food Anywhere Anymore” policy. Both signs have been posted in our kitchen.

Still a minor inconvenience for most of us, I think. There is one coworker, however, who is sick of the mouse problem. So sick, in fact, that she came up with the perfect solution to get rid of the mice forever.

As a rat owner, she knows that rats eat mice. This was news to me (and probably the rest of the world), mostly because I thought they came from the same line of rodent ancestry. It sounds eerily similar to eating your third cousin at a family reunion, but perhaps rats are willing to cross lines that we normally aren’t. Maybe mice look like delicacies next to pieces of garbage and food scraps…although, anyone hungry enough to take used food off of plates at The Ugly Mug on St. Patrick’s Day may be willing to eat mice too. Maybe mice are just that good.

Anyway, to keep mice out of her home, my coworker takes a wet paper towel and wipes down the rats. She then takes the wet paper towel and wipes down her baseboards with the rat smell. The rat goo on the baseboards is like kryptonite to the mice, she says. They’ll be so scared of the rats that they’ll go to another floor in the building (preferably the second floor. I hate those guys).

She is SO sure of this that she brought her rat towels into the office and wiped down the entire area around her desk. Then, she took out more rat towels from her bag, wiped down the walls around her neighbor’s desk, as well as the baseboards and the door frame. No one around her said anything like, “Hey, stop. That’s creepy” or “seriously, what the hell are you doing?” Instead, her method was passed around the building like a cooking recipe.

So, while it looks like the mice are indeed avoiding their area, no one else seems to notice or care that the entire floor smells like rats. The fact that there some people over here who prefer the smell of rats to the sight of mice is unfathomable to me. I’ve only seen a mouse once during this entire debacle, and it was running AWAY from me, not towards my food. We can’t escape the rat smell and yet people are OK with this. Also, doesn’t it make sense that if rats pick up on a rat scent, they’d come upstairs to see what’s going on? It seems to me that there could be an upgrade from a mouse problem to a rat problem any day now. People are idiots. Freaky idiots.

Some of you may not know this, but two protests occurred on Saturday. One was an anti-war march and the other was an anti-anti-war march directly across the street. To catch up on the weekend’s action, head here.

One highlight from the anti-anti-war protest came from Buzz Patterson, who said, “Congress, quit playing games with our troops. Terrorists, we will find you and kill you. And to our troops, we’re here for you, and we support you.” Buzz and Cindy Sheehan, both protest veterans, made appearances along with thousands of not very famous and not very busy protesters at each respective rally.

I think there are many of us who a.) don’t like the war, and b.) don’t like seeing Americans, and most likely humans in general, get killed. However, what I don’t understand is why one would choose to protest the government on a Saturday. What day other than Friday gets less news attention? Saturday. If you were like me, you were probably watching football, or perhaps you were eating a delicious bagel from Bagels and Baguettes and enjoying the perfect weather outside. Basically, chances are you were doing anything you could to NOT do work related activities on Saturday.

This is exactly why protests on Saturdays are ridiculous and a waste of time. I don’t disagree with those who want to try to make a difference, even if they’re idiots and/or wrong. But people who have been around a protest or two, like both Buzz and Cindy, probably should have realized that Congress isn’t in session on a Saturday. Instead, the protesters probably were seeing families in fanny packs, stonewashed jeans, and plastic visors. Kids are crying, parents are sick of their kids crying, and no one wants to go to the Smithsonian museums for the third day in a row. That’s the kind of environment people see in DC on a Saturday. Where are the Congress(wo)men? Not at the Capitol.

Yet, thousands of people came into DC to protest the war (or to protest the anti-war), even when no one of note was around. In fact, our elected officials probably weren’t even walking BY the Capitol, let alone being on the steps of it or at their offices around the corner. The protests, then, were reduced to a social call, where people hung around other like-minded people. I find it unlikely that any opinions were changed by the protests.

By Monday, when people were actually reading papers on the Metro or listening to NPR, the story wasn’t news anymore. I certainly don’t remember seeing anything in the Post about it. Even if there were coverage of it, the news world moved on by Monday, and the story was pushed back to a column near an ad for Camelot. I hear the lunch buffet is delicious, though.

Protesting on a Saturday is stupid. Protest on a Tuesday, during rush hour, if you want to make some headlines that people will read. Look, the permit for the protest was for 10,000 people anyway, and if 100,000+ people showed up (as some people mentioned on Sunday), then it probably doesn’t matter whether or not you have a permit. If you’re committed to getting arrested, as 190 did on Saturday, then don’t be scared about securing a permit. Just maximize the message so it screws up the rest of the District, if you want to try and actually make a difference. Cindy Sheehan said that now is the time to be assertive, and if you agree with her statement, protesting on a Saturday is probably the exact opposite of what you should be doing.

A lot of people will think you’re an asshole for interrupting a work day, but at least people won’t think you’re an idiot for protesting in front of a bunch of empty, silent buildings.

i think the adage “good things come in small packages” rings true. aside from the usual, low-budget jokes about male packages (full disclosure: i would undoubtedly make the joke at someone else’s expense if this were not my post), i think it’s possible that even as items get smaller, quality won’t be sacrificed by the reduction. from computers to hair styles, sometimes things just are better when they’re smaller.

however, right here and now, i am taking a stand against one small item: the all-in-one cell phone. sure, we all like smaller cell phones. i certainly don’t miss the old Nokia brick from my youth. and, in theory, all the added features like e-mail access and a camera seem to make sense to help you conserve valuable pocket space for keys, a wallet, and if you’re BAL, your hardpack of Virginia Slims.

with cell phone manufacturers packing more features into each tiny piece of hardware, it appears the sky is the limit for what cell phones can do. except for one thing: play music. have you ever heard the sound coming out of the built-in cell phone speakers? it’s like listening to static through a megaphone. in three words: really fucking annoying. sean kingston jokes aside, it’s so bad that i struggle to distinguish the music from the white noise.

in the last month, i’ve seen at least one person every day listening to music on their cell phones sans headphones. and for extended periods of time. why is this a good idea? aside from annoying every other person in the vicinity, the output sounds terrible and they’re probably experiencing severe hearing loss. it’s like sticking your ear next to the fire alarm during a fire drill.

the more important question, though, is why someone would CHOOSE to listen to this phone’s horrifying sound. i’ve been several feet away from people who rock out to their cell phones in public and they almost made my ears bleed. clearly if i can pick up on how bad the sound is, the owner should be able to as well. which leads me to suspect that it’s an attempt to just be an asshole in public, because the sound is on par with a crying baby. biologically, we just can’t ignore any sound that irritating.

at least with the boomboxes of yore i can understand why someone would turn up the volume for Run DMC or Guns N Roses. music sounds better from larger speakers. it would be annoying to hear someone rocking out to something so big and loud on the metro, sure, but at least we’d know why he or she was doing it. the music probably sounds good on it. rich, full bass, crystal clear vocals, etc. annoying but logical.

so, why someone would opt to suffer through the thin, high-pitched squeals from his/her cell phone’s pathetic speakers is both crazy and stupid. they are impressing no one and annoying everyone. i think perhaps it’s time we all brought back the boom box in protest. i’m no audiophile but if my senses are going to be assaulted by someone else’s music, it might as well sound good and do the music justice.

would the scene in Say Anything be the same if Lloyd Dobler were holding a RAZR? and, similarly, would Pump Up the Volume and Breakin’ make any sense without a boom box? i suspect not. so, for god’s sake, if you want to listen to music in public, respect the music and leave your cell phone in your pocket. look back into 80s culture and reach for something that, while annoying, at least sounds good to the rest of us. just leave the rest of the 80s behind.

so token female and i started watching Heroes tonight. as we all know, this was a popular show last season, but i refused to succumb to the hype. the reason (and i can’t speak for her on this, mostly because she watches an ungodly number of shit tv shows) is because i can only handle a few tv shows every season. invariably, i will start watching a number of new tv shows at the beginning of each season, and by episode three, i instinctively trim the fat and get rid of everything i didn’t watch the season before.

for instance, last season, i was intrigued by The Nine on ABC. for everyone but the 20 other viewers out there, it was about this failed bank robbery and how it affected nine strangers. of course it ended up being a terrible show, but i am usually willing to give any veteran of Wings a shot at collecting a check that doesn’t have ‘USA NETWORK RERUN’ in the memo section.

anyway, i saw the first episode and immediately added it to my Tivo as a season pass. big mistake. by the third episode i started deleting every new episode immediately after they were recorded because i knew i would never waste my time with them again. aside from borrowing liberally from Lost’s formula, it devolved into a series of ridiculous plotlines by the second episode with some terrible acting to boot. if they had steven weber on screen alongside tim daly, maybe it could have worked. maybe.

it’s been the same issue with 24 since its first season as well. don’t get me wrong, it’s a fine show. gimmicky? yes. but i imagine its probably compelling to the millions of people who watch it. i made it through six episodes. in fact, i’ve never seen more than seven episodes of any season of 24. maybe i just can’t commit to watching so much chloe. but i try again at the start of every new season because i still want to see why people are compelled to sit there for an hour and watch keifer southerland yell at everything around him.

so, the odds are not favor of Heroes. after watching the pilot i had even less hope. there was one scene where ‘the cheerleader’ (you may recall the nifty slogan, ’save the cheerleader, save the world’ or whatever it was) rushes into burning wreckage to save a man. when she pulls him out, the camera cuts to her dragging him from the wreckage. this highschool cheerleader magically morphs into a very large stuntman with a wig hanging on for dear life atop his head. maybe that’s secretly her magical power?

ANYWAY, i think this is what pisses me off about most TV shows. there always seem to be little things that immediately take me out of the storyline. even if it’s unavoidable, it certainly is an immediate mood killer.

at the end of the day i guess TV shows just have relatively small budgets, which help cause continuity issues. sure, i can see that NBC poured a lot of money into the pilot, but come on, look at that those two photos and tell me they couldn’t have done one more take with the wig at least squarely on his head?? i won’t be able to look at another action scene with the cheerleader again without looking at the hair piece.

at least hire a stuntman or woman with a smaller bodyframe. this guy is probably bigger than the victim he saved, and hunching over like quasimodo doesn’t hide it. my point is that i think there are several things they could do to keep me engrossed in this show.

but maybe this is part of a larger issue. maybe this helps explain why there are those of us who just aren’t great at dating. maybe you go out with a girl, think she’s great, but then all of a sudden she gets out of the car and looks totally different and isn’t the same person.

like in spaceballs, the girl you just made out with now has a beard and can bench press more than you can.

but she could save you from a burning train.

but maybe this also means that there could be a larger truth to the inconsistencies found in TV shows. i’m sure the producers of Heroes would love to think their work has a larger effect on their audience than just entertainment anyway, but are they trying to remind us with these mistakes that there is more to the people we know than just what we see most of the time? are they telling us that we should be okay with seeing these horrifically bizarre and poorly-timed glimpses into the other people around us? or, perhaps i am just trying to find meaning in bad TV shows, just like everyone else.

at any rate, TF just went to sleep. i’m going to start disc 2 and find out. that japanese guy is hilarious. i can’t wait to see what he does next.