this is not hot

Click the thumbnail above and you will see a scan of an article that I came across in one of my pity reads through The Press-Telegram. Open it in another window then read the following:

The Long Beach Press-Telegram continues to depress me. In these tight-budget times and holiday mopefests, is it so much to ask for a local style columnist with long grey hair and a penchant for Hawaiian shirts (that probably smells like Morrisey and Steven Segal) to not take up 700 words detailing how nude he and an ambiguous other person were when they were scheming of ways to get some stray lint out of the bottom of the lint trap? The man pictured to the right of his monstrous wall of horribly-written squabber talks about how “the abesnce of clothes tightens up your range in looking for things” and repeatedly gives me scarring mental images of him “hopping mad and naked at the same time” brainstorming about tangental magnet inventions in the shower. When he finally does finally put on clothes, it’s to discover that all along they had a rubber grabber like the one my grandpa has because he can’t reach for things anymore; a device that saved their big, stressful, naked day. It is because of this nude experience (nudesperience) that Tim Grobaty–a man officially on my slap list–wants to tell the world that his Christmas gift idea number one for 2008 is (drumroll, pleasseeeee……) “A 24-INCH FLEXIBLE CLAW GRABBER PICK UP TOOL WITH RELEASE PLUNGER” FOR ONLY $2.24 AT TRUE VALUE HARDWARE!!!!!!@!#@#!@#))!

…

For the love of fuck, Tim, you could have recommended pointless, unthoughtful gifts paragraphs ago! Next time, please skip the part about how you didn’t have clothes on and get to the point: you’re a cheap fucking friend. For more Grobaty word antics, check out this gem published on the inside front cover of The Press Telegram a few weeks ago (as before, open in new window). Just don’t think too long about how much that first sentence contradicts itself or you’ll never get to the part about milkshakes named after famous people and how “Jesus Week” inspires him to upload carols to his ipod.

And in case there is another living being reading this blog besides me, this is a notice that I am going to take some time off of posting for the holidays and try and finish some projects. Try not to miss me to much.

so, george bush and his entourage walk into a war zone…

I’m not sure how the rest of the joke goes, but it ends with our president getting wailed with a nice dress shoe by an Iraqi reporter during a press conference while on a goodwill trip to the Middle East in an attempt to restore his historical legacy as the worst president ever.

Since this is breaking news and shit (MSNBC interrupted its afternoon screening of WITNESS TO JONESTOWN to tell me) you can read the story until the amazing footage hits the internet. But, let me just commend the president for not only having the biggest ball-filled cowboy boots this side of a Texas rodeo for even considering a trip to the Middle East five weeks prior to passing the torch to the most aniticipated presidency in recent times (hint: they like you less than we do), but also for his impeccable dodging reflexes. Bush must have known something was about to go down because he was out of the line of shoe-fire before the belligerant reporter could yell “here’s a kiss from the Iraqi people, you dog” and I can’t figure out if the quick reaction time is a leftover from boot camp or he’s just grown accustomed to the press conference peltings. Either way, it was hilarious to watch the perpetual dear-in-headlights nonchalantly hide behind a lectern while being bombarded with two size 10 leather dress shoes.

UPDATE: THE VIDEO!!!!!

He barely even flinched!

Oh what a wonderful winter day in California!

destination procrastination

While those at UCLA only have a weekend to buffer between the end of instruction and the first day of finals, USC insists on giving us two extra “study days,” apparently crucial to my success on a test I will never be prepared for.

But as far as I can tell, everyone has already checked out. My classes are empty, notetaking has ceased and visions of sugarplums seem to be dancing in everyone’s head. So what are we really supposed to do with those two extra days?

In my years of ignoring responsibility and trying to postpone the inevitable, I have become a master of finding things to do instead of writing essays and opening textbooks. And nowhere is this more useful than the four-day weekend before finals week.

Coming off of one of the laziest, inverted sleep pattern-filled Thanksgiving breaks on record, giving me extra time off will not promote healthy study habits. It will just give me more hours of daylight to get a head start on the list I created for winter break leisure. After three months of school-induced chaos, I don’t quite yet deserve a break, but I’ll take any opportunity to pretend I do!

Here’s a minor list of things everyone should try and do in those extra days, half for the sake of the California winter and half for the sake of procrastination:

• Go to the beach! Venice, Laguna, Manhattan, Long. Whatever! Especially if you’re flying back home to the Midwest for the holidays, you should soak up the California coastline in December. Better yet, get a hotel room on the beach. Rates are cheap and tourists are non-existent. Last year, I got an early-December poolside sunburn at the Hyatt in Huntington Beach and as I peeled off the dead skin into funny shapes, I laughed at New York’s snowy streets.

• Disneyland is the ultimate way to waste a day. Living anywhere near Orange County allows you to blow $300 on an annual pass (use it three times and it pays for itself!), but if you can only afford one day at the happiest place on Earth, it should be in December. The Haunted Mansion is redone with a Nightmare Before Christmas theme and the Christmas parade—which replaces the boring Summer one—is glitzier than a night at the Oscars. After Santa goes backstage and the carolers stop singing on Main Street, fake snow shoots from the rooftops near City Hall and everyone is awed as it disintegrates on the ground. Ahh, California holidays.

• Find your favorite restaurant patio and—go ahead—eat that meal outside. We might be famous for our scantily-clad Summers, but there is no exquisite sin greater than people watching the Los Angeles winterfolk. Try Urth on Melrose, Swingers on Beverly or Birds on Franklin. Even if it’s (for some weird reason) cold outside, make the busboy turn on those butane heaters and enjoy the open air. Hey, at least it’s not sleeting!

• Use the crisp air of December to catch a sweet view of the city from a vantage point of your choosing. Summer means heat and heat means that our ever-present smog hangs low over our heads like a blank page the night before your final paper is due. But winter! The cold air after a cold night (or, even better, cold rain) is like kryptonite for smog (or maybe it just blends in with the marine layer?). Either way, if you drive Mulholland from Cahuenga to Malibu and pull off on any street with a cool name and you’ll come face to face with a city you never knew existed. Last winter, I waited until the day after a major storm to hike to the top of Runyon Canyon and from my outlook in the Hollywood Hills—no exaggeration—I could see the buildings of downtown Long Beach, the greenery on Palos Verdes and the distinct shape of Catalina Island. It was like God Photoshopped reality and downloaded the .jpg to my eyes.

In a land of no real seasons, it’s important to enjoy the one we have. Happy days off!