What I hope Sylvie will be when she grows up.

Janet Weiss is the most powerful live drummer I've ever personally seen. Her intensity is really insane. Check out this great close-in video of her with Sleater-Kinney in 1999. Power.
I hope Boo will grow up with the kind of self-confidence and positive vibes that these girls exemplify.

And I'm serious. That drumming is nuts.

I'm switching parties

Well, I'm gonna go for it and register as a Republican* like these fine folks:



*uh, no I'm not.

Rockabilly Hot Rockin'!

My good bud Andrew Ladson has just formed a new rockabilly outfit that you all should know about: The Brokedown Playboys. They are period-correct in the fancy dress department, and the musicianship is insane!

Check out the Brokedown Playboys myspace site here.

We're in lurve!

Joseph David is here!

I am cuteness, hear me roar.

We are so happy to announce that Joseph David has arrived and is doing well. He has a full head of fuzzy blond hair and is just a doll. Sylvie loves his "teeny toes." We love all of him!

Carrie and Fred: Sleaterday Night Live?

Carrie Brownstein (formerly of one of my favorite bands, Sleater-Kinney) and Fred Armisen (of SNL fame) have teamed up to make some amusing videos as ThunderAnt.

"The Perfect Song" is probably the most entertaining of the videos up there, and features a cameo of another third of Sleater-Kinney, Corin Tucker. I had the great experience of interviewing both ladies for a Guitar Player cover story a few years ago, and found them both to be utterly cool and charming. Nice to see that they seem to be doing fine post-Sleater-Kinney.

And speaking of Sleater-Kinney, at Sleater-Kinney.net, you can download live versions of every single song they ever played for free. Very cool!

Good soccer news

First, my game report:

1 goal, 2 assists. Schweet.

Now, in the Premiership, Fulham has somehow managed to win its last four out of five to stay one spot above relegation to the English second division. This means I'll get to see McBride, Dempsey, Keller, and the gang on TV next season. Yes!

Also, Sporting de Gijón, the only Asturian side in the running for promotion to la Primera in Spain, are in third place with six weeks to go...hang in there dudes!!!!

ASCII JESUS

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Guy Ritchie + Soccer = Awesomeatude

Guy Ritchie, who directed a couple of my favorite movies, Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch, has just put out an ad for Nike Soccer that, for lack of better terminology, simply kicks ass.

Fabregas celebrates with you on your goal
The "mini-movie" is in first-person perspective and takes the viewer on a whirlwind tour of scoring for a small-time club, being signed to and playing for Arsenal, and, finally, playing in a Dutch National Team game versus Portugal.

Ibrahimović mocks your attempt at marking him after scoring on your sorry ass
What makes this commercial so compelling is the on-the-pitch action of real-life European soccer stars such as Arsenal player Cesc Fabregas, Man U. players Wayne Rooney and Cristiano Ronaldo, Inter Milan players Marco Materazzi and Zlatan Ibrahimović, Barça players Ronaldihno and Rafael Márquez (the Barça game is on the Internet-only longer version of the commercial) and Dutch National side players Ruud Van Nistelrooy and Wesley Sneijder, among others.

Materazzi gives you the one-handed definition of "man marking"
The action scenes are very well-done and give you a good sense of how brutal it must be to play at that level. When Materazzi stiff-arms "you" in the face (see photo above), you can almost feel it, and when "you" score the pick-up pass in front of goal from Fabregas, the exhilaration is undeniable. The killer soundtrack from the Eagles of Death Metal propels the action perfectly.

Sneijder intones one last word of encouragement prior to your free kick
This type of commercial should be incredibly cheesy, I understand that. And maybe if you are not a soccer addict you will get a eau d'fromage. But for me (and I suspect legions of die-hard fans just like me), it really resonates. And it works—I had to hit up the Nikesoccer web site to watch it again (and, I confess, again and again).

Great visit from a dear friend

On Tuesday, one of my good friends, Helen, came to visit us. She's in DC for a convention and gamely made the trek all the way up the Red Line from Ballston to have dinner with Jenny, Sylvia, and me. I met Helen when I was studying abroad in Salamanca, way back in 1991. Who would figure that a West Virginia kid and a California girl would have so much in common?


Since that time, we have stayed in touch via letters, much too infrequent visits, and, these days, email. Regardless of the geographic distance between us, we have remained close friends. She now works for the Lance Armstrong Foundation in Austin, doing some immensely important work (work that includes hobnobbing with Lance and Hillary Clinton), is happy married to a great guy, and is as fantastic to be around as ever.

She has surmounted some seriously daunting obstacles in her life, and even survived a near plane-crash a year ago. Still, she always beams with enthusiasm and zest for living. I can honestly say that she's one of the most inspirational people I've been lucky enough to know. (Plus, Sylvia thought she was super cool from the minute she walked in the door—the killer Austin tee-shirt Helen brought her was a great icebreaker!)

We were all sad that she wasn't able to spend more time with us, and hope to make a trip to Austin when the baby gets ready to travel.

Why Americans Are Overweight

Here's a perfect example of the kind of food logic rife in America:



From The Consumerist.

Soccer is teh cool

I am obsessed with soccer, I think. It's pretty much all I watch on TV lately (other than Good Eats), thanks to a DVR and massive helpings of GolTV, Fox Soccer Channel, ESPN2, and, occasionally, ABC.

I also play every Sunday with a bunch of other soccer-obsessed over-30s in a pickup game on small goals. I usually score a couple times per game (I'm a winger/forward), and this week I scored my team's only two goals: one was a sweet knee-in from a high cross into the box, the other was a simple pickup on a breakaway pass that got through the defense.

When I get home from a game, Sylvie always asks how many goals I scored. If the answer is two, she says "you forgot one." She's my number one coach and motivator, as you can tell....

I'm working on my self-confidence on the ball and trying (in vain, as of yet) to make myself drive to the goal instead of shooting from too far out. It's difficult to keep your composure with defenders trying to catch up to you, as you can imagine, but I'm convinced that I can do it.

I used to only play defense, but decided a few years back to quit pussy-footing around and take charge of my game. Since then, I've only played up front and am now a terrible defender. :-)

There is no real point to this post, other than the fact that I love soccer and wanted to brag about scoring goals. Yes, I am lame. Sue me.

Wow! Can you believe a customer-driven corp.?

In my inbox:

"April 23, 2008

Dear Bolt Customers:

When we began service last month with free WiFi service, many of you (particularly Mac users) had just one request--remove the security key login requirement! Well, we're happy to announce that the key is no longer required on board.

Boltbus remains committed to provide service that is responsive to the needs of its customers, and we hope everyone will now be able to enjoy free WiFi service en route.

Boltbus Customer Service"

It's nice to see a company being run by a team that actually listens to its customers!

BoltBus...the only way to fly.

My Boo

I lurve her.
Photo by Mommy

Clinton...Obama....meh.

Try as I may, I just cannot get jazzed about this election cycle.

I personally don't like either of the Democratic candidates. Both are substantially unpalatable to a significant portion of the electorate, and to call either of them a slam dunk would be laughable.

It is no small feat that the Democrats have successfully found two candidates that have a serious chance of losing to a Republican after eight horrible, truly disastrous years of Republican rule in the White House. This election was un-losable. Yet, we've found a way to make it interesting. Our party is a collective freaking basket-case.

Hillbilly

This weekend, while in NYC with Jason and Dabney, Dabney and I were comparing our rural upbrings (I'm from West Virginia, she's from Arkansas) when the subject of strip mining came up. I related to her and to Jason my belief that the country simply would not tolerate the wholesale destruction occurring in Appalachia were it being subjected upon New England.

Can you imagine the uproar if the headlines read "Vermont forests dynamited for coal baron profit" or "Annual N.E. foliage pilgrimage threatened by mining destruction"? The press would go, in a word, batshit.

So why doesn't anyone take notice of the 700,000 acres of Appalachian mountains that have been literally rendered to dust by this barbaric practice? The answer, I believe, is because it's happening not to upper-middle class New Englanders, but to dumb ol' hillbillies.

The term "hillbilly" has been used for centuries to debase and dehumanize rural mountain people, the the great benefit of those who would make a handsome profit from the region's natural resources. Dismissive and offensive, the term connotes a subhuman class of people who are simply undeserving of sympathy or human dignity. Images of Snuffy Smith and the Beverly Hillbillies or my [irony]favorite movie[/irony], Deliverance, reinforce an outdated and unfair stereotype that outsiders are unfortunately all too eager to believe.

I can't tell you the countless "West Virginia jokes" I've endured since moving from my home state. While no one would have the audacity to walk up to an African-American and start spouting "Uncle Remus" jokes, it seems to be perfectly acceptable in our society to ask a West Virginian if he married his sister or has all of his natural teeth. It's especially prevalent in Appalachian border states like Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania, and the Carolinas, but I heard them all too frequently during my time in California as well.

But the real problem with the general acceptance of the hillbilly stereotype is not the obviously offensiveness of the term, but that it gives people a perceived moral "out" in terms of being able to look away while a small, but inordinately powerful, industry systematically obliterates the lives and quality of life of an entire class of people.

After all, it's just the dumb ol' hillbillies' ground water being fouled by toxic sludge.

It's just the dumb ol' hillbillies' towns being flooded by deforestation and valley fills.

It's just the dumb ol' hillbillies' livelihoods being taken away.

It's just the hillbillies. Who cares?

The Big Apple: Bitten.

Well, the trip to NYC went fabu. I boarded the BoltBus at the curb outside the Metro Center Metro station, took up my Uker-like front row seat, and instantly connected to the Internet to begin my trip. The bus was brand new and very shiny. The bathroom had a non-smelly chemtoilet, so you could pee en route. The bus left seven minutes late, but took exactly four hours (as planned) to get to NYC, where we disembarked around the corner from Penn Station. For $20 roundtrip, you can't beat it!

I then hoofed it about eight blocks to Chelsea where Jason and his lovely girlfriend Dabney (see photo below) were waiting at Jason's subleased apartment. It was a typical NYC studio apartment, which meant that it was...cozy. But it was also very convenient! Chelsea is a neighborhood I hadn't visited on my prior trips to the city, and it was really eclectic and cute, kind of what you like to think the Village used to be like.


We first went down to the New Museum ("Hell Yes!"), which is an architectural novelty, even in NY, as it is shaped like six boxes stacked one atop the others and clad in expanded aluminum. We got in free, since Dabney is a curator for a well-known New England women's college, which is nice. The artwork was suitably weird and cool.

After the museum, we went out to eat at the Mercer Kitchen (Yum! Pork chops...goooood.).

Later we headed down to the Lower East Side (my new favorite 'hood in NYC) and were deemed cool enough to be admitted by the leatherclad bouncer to The Back Room. In an "only in New York" moment, we approached the unmarked gate to the unmarked, hidden tunnel leading to the unmarked, hidden entrance to the unmarked, hidden bar and were stopped by a mean-looking bouncer who needed to scope out our coolness quotient before letting us inside. A guy next to us was judged unfit due to his use of flip-flops, but we made the cut. We're so cool.

After The Back Room, we went in search of live music, and found it at one of my NY haunts, The Living Room. This place is great because the crowd is over 30, the bands are always eclectic and good (we caught an improv band doing cover tunes with a Siberian throat singer...crazy!), and there is no cover charge to enter.

The next morning we groggily made it down to Washington Square Park and my my good friend Jane for breakfast down in Alphabet City. After some eggs, French toast, and plenty of coffee, Jane updated us on her new passion: kickball league (which started later that day).

The last leg of my whirlwind tour took the whole gang down to see a gallery that Dabney knew about where back in 1977 an artist named Walter De Maria filled an entire 3,600 square-foot flat with soil. Weird, yet strangely calming (see how calm we were afterwards in the photo below). That said, Jason and I also had an overwhelming urge to grab the fire hose and some seeds to perform some "performance art" of our own. :-)


I reluctantly trudged down to Chinatown, where my return leg BoltBus was patiently waiting to take me back to D.C. I was sad to be leaving my friends yet also very excited about seeing my Boo and Jenny (+S.T.B.®) again. It was only a day away but I really miss them!


The trip back to Washington was just as comfy as the ride up to NYC, but I (nor any other Mac users) could log on to the Internet due to a WEP 128 password problem (the router on the first leg of the trip was not pw protected). I hope that BoltBus either gets rid of the password altogether (why even have it on a moving bus?) or can figure out a Mac friendly solution before my next trip.

All in all, it was a fantastic day and a half trip. A big thanks to Jason and Dabney for putting me up and showing me the town and also to Jane for dragging herself all the way down Manhattan to come play with us! You all are awesome!

NYC weekend TK

I'm going up to NYC this weekend to visit my buddy, Jason (see photo on right), and meet his girlfriend. Looking forward to telling her every embarrassing story that I can recollect on the bus trip up there.

Jason and I met while studying in Spain back in '91, and have been BFFs since then...OMGWTFLOL. We lived together on Capitol Hill back in '93-95 and I followed him to San Francisco when I returned from Spain (different trip) in '96. It's been a while since we've been able to hang out, so I'm looking forward to seeing him.

The bus I'm taking is pretty cool. It's a Greyhound offshoot called BoltBus that operates between DC--->NYC--->Boston and is dirt cheap. My ticket came to $20 roundtrip (I think they are doing $1 trips, too, but I couldn't score one of those), which is pretty cool, considering that the bus has free Wi-Fi access and outlets for your computer so you can surf the Net on the road. I'll report back on Monday with my review.

Hope to meet up with my S.F.-turned-NYC galpal Jane, too (see photo on right).We're going to get breakfast on Sunday morning if all goes to plan. Jane and I worked together in San Francisco and wine-partied together in Oakland. It will also be great to hang out with her again! Looks to be a good trip....

New facelift for the blog!

We needed some graphically designed logo goodness, so here it is! (Look up, silly, it's right there!)

You can also now subscribe to feeds so you'll know when we post updates. Just click on the RSS feeds to the right---------->

Bed drama and, finally, success!

Hard to believe, but Sylvie is now officially a "big girl" who sleeps in her very own real bed. Since we knew that the crib would be needed by the S.T.B.® (sibling to be), we thought it better to get Boo into her new digs sooner rather than later.

We didn't want to get her a toddler bed and have to outfit it with a bunch of sheets that would become obsolete all too soon, so we opted for a twin that she can grow into. Being the IKEA freakazoids that we are, we picked out what looked to be a trés cool, über-modern design that we knew she liked from a quick romp at the store and both Jenny and I dug, design-wise. So I lugged it home and put it together, with all the trials and tribulations that putting anything from IKEA together entails.

And it looked, as the California kids say, "hella cool." Turns out though that, in person, it was also "hella sharp." Like, box-o'-steak-knives sharp. Here it is:


See, very cool. But...every single edge was seemingly lying in wait for the smooth skin of our baby's noggin to come crashing in for impact. Crap. Took it apart. Lugged it back. Gahhhhhh!

Undaunted by lower back pain and mental distress, we picked out a nicer, gentler, more rounded and less deadly bed for our Boo. I give you—Tromsö:


So far, only one busted lip from the railing (knock on wood). She likes it so much she's already sleeping through the night without getting up! (KNOCK ON WOOD KNOCK ON WOOD X infinity)