Man, Holidays Not Associated With Jesus or Pilgrims Are Lameeee

It seems like every non-religious/patriotic based holiday these days end up being kind of a downer for the ol' Spence-meister*. Even a holiday that seems infallible for a imbibing type fella like me seems to be a little less fun this year, for mainly two reasons.

Let's start with how I woke up. I couldn't hear very well out of my left ear. This had been happening regularly, actually, but it went away pretty quickly. The general consensus of the Amateur Board of Physicians of America that I've been consulting with is that I probably just need my ear rinsed by a doctor with their fancy doctor tools.

Me being me, I put that shit off until I couldn't hear well for a day and a half. I plan on seeing a doctor tomorrow, so I'll go two days without hearing much from good ol' left-ear. Imagine if you shoved a really effective ear plug in your ear, then for good measure, covered it with your hand as well. That's how I feel. Kinda weird.

So, not a good way to start things off, but nonetheless, I powered through the day. As you may remember from the last time I blogged, I am now an intern, so I went to said internship, and was (quite benevolently) allowed to leave early, which gave me time to venture to the delightfully dive-y sports bar right next door that I had been eyeing since I arrived here.

I thought to get a Guinness, because, you know, I'm a walking stereotype, but plans changed when I saw they had domestic beer food-colored to be green. That's even more gravy for the stereotype sect, and I had yet to have a green beer ever, because last St. Patty's (my first legal one, if you're keeping track) the Irish pub I was at didn't think to do that, not sure why (trying to be classy? I don't know; either way, their bad).

I digress though. Green beer. Me--tired, weird ear, but excited because green beer! I'm only having one because I have to drive home and I've been up for far too long, but I wanted to celebrate what is nominally one of the more fun holidays.

This is where shit goes wrong.

It starts with a pretty girl. I'll call straight talk on this one; I don't think I've ever been approached by a random pretty girl in a place where alcohol is. Me being tired and down one functioning ear, not to mentioned still very sunburned from being out in the sun all day two days prior, I am decidedly out of my element when this happens, more so than I'd usually be out of my element.

But, in my head, I'm like, maybe this will be cool. I'm not a terrible looking dude, and my shoulders are slightly broader due to me diligently exercising specifically my shoulders. Perhaps I've become a magnet to the opposite sex in the past three weeks.

I start getting nervous, but in an excited way. She finally sets her green beer down on the opposite side of the counter where I am sitting by myself.

"Are you Mark Zuckerberg?"

Shit. I don't even know how to respond in a clever way, because I woke up 14 hours ago, and had been in the office for 12. My brain was so excited about the green beer that it was too focused on that. I'm a sucker for novelty.

"No, I'm not," I try to stammer out with a chuckle.

"No, you areeeee. I loved you in The Social Network." She informs me.

But this is confusing. Am I Mark Zuckerberg, or Jesse Eisenberg at this point? Which is the lesser of two evils? Is this decidedly blonde woman an anti-Semite? Again, can't process this all, because, green beer.

We talk for a little more, she explains she's been drinking green beer all night and is just messing around. She introduces me to her brother from a distance, who looks drunk and ornery and very quickly shoots out at me, "Hey, that's my baby sister" with an ominous tone.

All the while, I can't hear shit. I tell her this was my first green beer ever and I was very excited about it.

"Ever?!" She asks. I nod yes.

"So, you're like, what, 22 and a half?"

"Like, 22 and a quarter, I think."

What followed was an "oh my goshhhhh" look, and a quick farewell.

"It was nice meeting you; you were a good sport," I barely hear her say. She goes back to her table.

I finish the rest of my beer, sitting again on my own. I start to think about watching more of "The Trailer Park Bo--" WAIT A SECOND. What was that look? Was I too young for her or something? Was she hitting on me? Holy shit, that would be awesome! Maybe I'm awesome!

But then again, if I was a surrogate for Jesse Eisenberg or Mark Zuckerberg (both?), maybe that wasn't the most flattering come-on that could happen.

So then I just went home and watched "The Trailer Park Boys," had a Guinness (Extra Stout!), and pondered over whether I should work on improving my posture.

It was a weird night I felt like sharing. Happy Friday, everyone. I'll spare you all a Rebecca Black joke here.

*Oh God, I just typed that. I should probably edit it out when I'm done writing all of this.

What A Ride

Well, of course it would be anticlimactic, me missing my first blog of the year.

I was shaving and thought, ah shit; it's 11:54 and I forgot to blog. Not even a cool coming of age story involving some manic pixie dream girl*

But there is a good reason I forgot. You see, I started the morning in San Diego as an unemployed loafer trying to be productive by at least writing once a day. By the end of the day, I was in Los Angeles as an intern, and am now prepping to be so I can wake up at the earliest time I've woken up since well over a year ago.

As it is mostly a full time gig for a while, the update schedule for this blog will switch from "once a day" to "whenever I have something good to write about." I'm not sure when this will happen, but let's assume it'll be this weekend.

Until then, thanks for putting up with the narcissism on my part for thinking people were interested in the most mundane things I had to say every day for about 71 days. Knowing there are people who will indulge this means that I keep good company, and the world is probably a mostly swell place, all things considered. Well, all things considered, maybe not, but take the good when you can get it, I guess. You probably know what I'm getting at.

*I assume most of you read the AV Club and understand this reference. If you don't, you should look it up, cuz it means you'll probably start reading the AV Club, because it's neat.

Losing

Alright, I suck, because I put off writing once again. But that's not important because I watched The Losers just now, and boy oh boy, is that one a treat.

Depending on whether or not you hate yourself, that is.

I kid, I kid.  But I also don't.

I oftentimes spend a lot of time thinking about films like this more than movies I just flat out like, because I find what I call "bad cinema" a little more interesting from an analytical standpoint. And The Losers is chock full of bad cinema.

Is it entertaining? I dono, kinda, not really. Are there a lot of explosions? Fuck yeah. Does it make effectively post-modern use of Journey's "Don't Stop Believing?" Absolutely it did.

If you're drunk, bored and watching HBO, are under the age of 16, in your twenties and haven't read a book since junior year of high school, it's definitely an enjoyable movie. But that's a lot of circumstance.
If you watch it as a 22 year old unemployed former film student who watched a lot of student films desperately striving to be "cool," not good, you kind of get annoyed.

But it's an interesting case study in bad cinema, because it uses every play in the bad action playbook. EVERY ONE. Hyper saturated overblown handheld cinematography, gratuitously long and mostly unnecessary sex scene, bad comic relief, strong silent type, scenery chewing bad guy played by a pretty good actor who is mostly underutilized but was obviously a character they were banking on to be popular... I could keep going, but I gotta go take a shower.

Anyway, I would recommend it if you're not a snob, or if you're a snob who thinks it's more fun to scoff at bad shit than talk about why Black Swan's adherence to the melodramatic style of ballet was brilliant, or something.

Remember What I Said the Title for Today's Post Was? I Lied.

My previously planned post is derailed by the fact that today is Mardi Gras, a holiday I've never celebrated as a result of being either underage, not an old school Catholic, or resistant to French culture*. But today, my mind isn't working well enough to pay tribute to something that was a pretty big deal in my insular home life, so I'll call a brevity day today as a result of a holiday. One that I fully intend to kind of celebrate this year.

That is to say, if at one point tonight I'm at a bar, and some girl shows everyone her boobs for beads, I'll probably not look away or anything. Not gonna not see some boobies and say "Nope! No Mardi Gras for me!"

You now realize, after that one paragraph, why I didn't try to write anything serious today.

*Totally joking, kind of.

Canonized

I'm going to tell you this flat out: I bought a really fancy DSLR camera today, and I'm not posting any photos, because I'm lazy today and didn't figure out how to put them on my computer. Also, I had too much fun, you know, taking pictures. Deal with it. And by deal with it, I mean wait until tomorrow.

I bought a Canon 7D for two reasons: 1) I wanted to take nice photos of the towering star pine that is a landmark of my home that will be dismantled tomorrow and 2) I never wanted to have to buy a Mini-DV tape whenever I wanted to make something. Check and check. I hope I become more productive as a result.

To further help productivity, I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind today. Holy gosh, I forgot how good of a movie that is. I forgot about how much I kind of liked it as a 10th grader eating Applebees to-go by myself while my friends were at their Winter Formal (it's cool, I was totally having a great time and don't need girls or socializing to be happy, so I told myself), but now how much I really like it as a 22 year-old who respects cinematic craft and sad-sack characters who can't make eye contact with women he hasn't met*. I'll probably write about it some time in the future with a little more depth. It deserves to be not glossed over, as it's one of the few films in recent history that really did something different. Cool stuff.

Anyway, tune in tomorrow for a very special blog: "Goodbye, Star Pine." Very special, in that I really like that title.

*Hey, me too, Jim Carrey! (Quick disclaimer: This is mostly a joke)

Big Prelude Sunday

Tomorrow, I'm going to make the largest (somewhat) recreational purchase of my adult life. As such, I've been quite distracted today. Nonetheless, here's a good point that should be made every once in a while:

Edgar Wright is a very good filmmaker. I say this as I watch Hot Fuzz and type without looking at the screen. Only an obsessive film nerd such as myself would ever really notice how good he is, but it's worth noting that his films have trivia tracks on the DVDs, which would help give someone a better clue as to how awesome he packs things into his movies.

I can't say enough good things about him, but for now, this will suffice. I'll see you tomorrow, journal-bloggy-thingy.

My Allegiances are Shifting

I oftentimes say weird and repetitive things to myself in an attempt to be clever. One I do at lot is, "Growing up means ________" followed by a self deprecating joke or something, or an honest observation.

One I came up with this week in that format was, "Growing up means developing crushes on women like Bonnie Hunt."

She was in the film I Want Someone to Eat Cheese With for a total of about fifteen minutes, and was quite possibly the most appealing woman I've seen on film in quite some time. But, still, it's weird to be attracted to a woman in her late forties that is by no means an age-defying beauty. That sounds wrong/bad, but I mean it in a good way.

But the thing is it's weird that I was attracted to her more than someone like that brunette girl from "Glee." I guess the shift to personality and likability over general hotness and stuff. It's weird, is all I'm saying.

But then again, I watched part of Doomsday in between napping and thinking almost constantly, good God Rhona Mitra is super hot. So maybe I'm not totally grown up.

I'm late to the game on this but...

Look at this.  Look at this baby.



It's adorable, yes. I watched this video and thought, shit, I should have a kid soon! Maybe he'll* be as awesome as that thing! I have never had that thought before in my entire life until then, which is a weird sign of me growing up I guess, which I'll go into more tomorrow.

But think about how weird technology is. That baby has been viewed six million times. Six million. I imagine at eight months, I probably would have been viewed by maybe a thousand or so, and I wasn't nearly as adorable as that baby, as I was probably asleep or doing less entertaining things than perpetually laughing at torn-up paper.

Six million people. Imagine if they get paid even cents per view; that eight-month old could pay for college. And more so, when that kid is in college, he'll have been viewed exponentially more than most human beings may be in their entire life.

Also, Charlie Sheen is apparently going to get paid tons of money to twitter.

All I'm saying is, the internet is crazy.

*I never imagine having a daughter in hypothetical situations, which means the joke will probably be on me if I have a kid, statistics be damned, forces in the world will conspire against me to defy stats and give me a daughter, I just know it.

Devastating Thursday

Without much thought, I determined my evening would be spent the way most of my Thursdays are--watching NBC's comedy lineup, minus "Perfect Couples" (due to a refusal to watch Olivia Munn*) and "Outsourced" (how do people not find that show kind of offensive? I guess because people don't watch it?). The problem was that the episodes tonight were not new. More so, they were all episodes of "The Office," which is honestly the one I can take or leave at this point.

I know the blame should be on me for not checking earlier in the day to see if the episodes were in fact new, that a lot of the reason I'm probably hanging out by myself playing video games for the night, but I spent a good half hour being mad at my television, an inanimate object.

Then I started thinking that the problem wasn't the TV, but the fact that I'm socially inept. But see, that's what's so great about TV, is that they make the socially inept part of a club of people who laugh together, learn together, and understand things socially because TV has a good way of subtly explaining things to people.

We're all a little bit of Abed ("Community" character, if you didn't get the reference, please stop reading and watch all of the show right now), and without a new lineup, I'm forced to realize I might be doing something wrong in terms of being a functioning human.

But then I realize I have video games and the first season of "Community" on DVD. So all's well. I'll stave off becoming well-adjusted for the next time there isn't anything new on, and the paintball episode gets boring (probably never).

*I begrudgingly watch some of her "Daily Show" bits, with me guffawing at her lack of sense of humor.

Notes From Wednesday

Nothing big to write about, also got sidetracked during the day. Here's some random thoughts.

I've been contemplating buying a DSLR camera for a long while. They're those digital cameras that real serious-like photographers use, but with technology getting better, they also have the capability to record some stunningly awesome hi-def video, real neat shallow depth-of-field type stuff that I won't go into for fear of losing your interest (if I haven't already). This was important today because I went through the mental process of contemplating selling my Panasonic DVX, the outdated (yet still quite pretty in terms of image) video camera I first bought with my own money after saving up my money from working at a movie theater for around a year. It has sentimental value for those reasons, but I rarely use it. Still, I feel like it's a good token of the few times I've worked hard to buy something I really wanted. It's still the most expensive thing I've ever purchased on my own.

As you can tell, I already talked myself into keeping it, for two reasons. The aforementioned sentimental value, and the fact that every day I don't sell it, it's value decreases exponentially. But, really, it's mostly just because I love the damn thing so much, and I think about the good times I had just messing around with it and my friends on the few projects I did with it in high school.

This made me realize two things: 1) I am a packrat, and 2) I'm obsessively nostalgic. I'm not sure either of these are good things, though I'd like to think nostalgia, if viewed as a vice, is probably a better one than, I don't know, being a dick.

Also, I saw The King's Speech last night. If I had seen it sooner, I could have predicted its Oscar win ahead of time.

Not because of the fact that the Weinsteins are good at buying their Oscars (I guess they are, according to people who know these things), or that the movie was in fact one of the best pictures of the year (it totally is, though not sure it's the best but this is neither the place nor time to rant about Oscars).

It's the only film in the best picture categories that have corgis in it.

No one can resist corgis.

Here's a video of a corgi playing around a dock. It's wearing a doggie life preserver.



If you can resist that, I assume you've lost use of your soul, and you probably shouldn't be reading my blog or watching movies. You should go on a vision quest and find your spirit animal or something. Not sure how one really goes about regaining a soul.

And Now For Something Completely Different

You guys all know I get really bored a lot of the time. But only my friend Grant knows that I spend a lot of my time being bored listening to samples of guitar effects, amps, and guitars in general. These things are endlessly entertaining, not so much for the pleasure of hearing the actual effects, but for how completely goofy the music often sounds. There's a term called guitar wanking, which, if you've ever been in Guitar Center, you've probably heard. That's about what happens on these equipment samples.

And if you're really lucky, Johnny DeMarco is the guy playing the samples and talking about them.



It's really goofy stuff, and obviously not indicative of any type of music that is actually popular in the world outside of people who really dig guitar virtuosity (of which there are few, and most of them only listen to Paul Gilbert and these clips).

Anyway, I mess around on guitar a lot when I'm bored of listening to other people play in a wank-tastic fashion during effect samples, which is already a result of boredom. So I'm doubly bored when I start playing guitar, which means I get sidetracked a lot.

I know, who would expect me to get sidetracked? I have such a straightforward blog that never goes on tangents.

Today I tried to record a surf rock-style song, but got too annoyed at my laptop microphone's inability to make things sound good. I was also bored, so my attention span was short, so I stopped trying to get it right.

The problem is, though, that I decided I as going to post a bit of music on this here blog. I figured it'd be a time to live up to the title of my blog in forcing myself to do things I relaly don't like.

And I hate showing any music I think of to anyone.

Alas, I still lost this round for the most part, because my combination of perfectionism/short attention span made me give up. But I decided I was still gonna do something musical for the blog. So I decided I would just try to emulate some of the wankiest-wanking I could think of.

I took a stock loop from garage band, laid down a rhythm that is my best approximation of something I might hear on Smooth Jazz 98.1, and then solo'd with all of the wanktitutde I could muster.

All in all, it took about 30 minutes, and I thought it was douche-y enough for me to share without feeling self-conscious about. It's supposed to be kind of bad, which means I still didn't totally do something I like, putting creative work I actually care about out for anyone to see, but I'm taking baby steps by showing the internets that I play music a lot.

Anyways, here's The Jazz Wank, as I hastily named it. Please God don't judge me. Or do, be brutal, I think it'd supposed to be made fun of for you to enjoy it.

  Thejazzwank by CA Condor PAS