Just Deserts
For a desert, Palm Desert was pretty damn cold this weekend. We went east yonder, all forty of us, to see Prisoner Tribbiani in Thoroughly Modern Millie. 'Twas the mini-vacation we've been planning for months and I'd say it was well worth it.
The drive was a nice one. Not very long. One-third of the way was my old daily commute to school, which made the trip even easier to stomach. On the way, we passed by a billion wind-powered power generators. They were mesmerizing to look at.
When we got to the theater, we quickly realized the lack of any "coloreds" or "youths" around. We were among the only non-white and non-old people there. It was, to say the least, awkward. The production itself was very good. Prisoner Tribbiani's role steals the show (and arguably makes it). Though Thoroughly Modern Millie is not my favorite show (I like it for the large dance numbers and "window ledge" scene only), knowing someone in the cast is mindboggling. It was especially weird having the cast greet us after the show. Surreal even.
Afterward, all 35 or so of us went to Hometown Buffet to dine with the star. He regaled us with backstage tales and gossip (apparently the actress who plays Millie owns a nice car!). It was a great time. He had to get back to the theater for his evening performance, so we cut a long dinner short. There were those of us who stayed in Palm Desert for the night and we had a freakin' blast at the hotel; listening to RENT tunes all night and playing multiplayer Mario Kart DS! Bitchin'!
Speaking of RENT, I saw it twice on the day it came out. It was really good. There are parts of it that they fully realized and parts that could not hold a candle (no pun intended) to the stage version. But it's awesome to finally have these great songs (and message) immortalized on film. I will of course be buying the Special Edition 14 disc DVD set when it comes out (or however else the DVD market decides to rape us consumers). I'm also very glad that it's creating new Rentheads. The Oblong family loved the movie so much (during the movie, I was very worried that they wouldn't like it at its slow moments) they saw it twice and haven't stopped listening to the soundtrack. It's actually kinda maddening. We'll all go see the stage show when another tour swings by Los Angeles.
Well, after our sleepover in Palm Desert, we went to the Cabazon Outlet stores and bought some shoes. It was a mad house. I was disappointed at the lack of big deals. Then we went home. Hum-dee-dum. It was a busy weekend that went by really fast, but it still felt like I didn't accomplish much. Oh well. Here's to Christmas vacation when Ellvin Kelvin will be back to tear up the town.
And if you want to know who I got for the Secret Santa, keep guessing. I'm not telling a sole (SHOES!). That's poetic!
Panning left,
Ricky Cohen for Buzzline
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Tuesday, November 22, 2005
There's a Pigeon Squashed on the Street. Ew.
(Warning! The following story contains descriptions of horrific gore and, like swimming, should not be attempted (read) until an hour after you have eaten. And no diving allowed. Thank you.)
So yesterday, when walking from the train to the bus in our journey to work, I trailed behind Timotei and his friend (whom we carpooled with) DJ Smiggles. I decided to cut through the street (avoiding the crosswalk) to get to the line for the bus we need. As I approached the end of the line, I saw Timotei and DJ Smiggles pointing behind me at the ground and laughing. So when I entered the line, I noticed that there was a flat out (no pun intended) bird roadkill in the center of the busway.
Now I would consider myself a smart man. I graduated from college with honors. I have a challenging occupation. I enjoy long walks on the beach and Apple Jacks (e-mail me if you're interested ladies). So, I put two and two together. I mean, I'm not stupid. I read books. I solve Jumbles and Sudokus. I am open to the idea of an open relationship (ladies, ladies, please, one at a time). So I was certain that I stepped in it. It was disgusting to just look at. Think of a gray gruel wrapped in a feathery boa, but less attractive. Just the thought of me stepping in that pigeon pancake was enough to make me sweat out of embarrassment, out of disgust, out of panic.
Which foot had dipped in the dodo? I felt it had to be my left foot because it was getting the most slippery from the perspiration. At least I had hoped it was sweat. But for moments, it felt like the buzzard's gizzards were lining the inside of my shoe; bathing my sole.
Thoughts ran through my head. I'd have to of course throw away the shoes or even burn them. A good excuse to buy a new pair. Can I contract worms through this or even worse... The Bird Flu. I have been feeling a bit sickly lately. And I've been farting a lot.
There's something incredibly sad about a bird flattened on a street; more so than other animals. Birds represent all that is free. They fly. They soar. They're majestic with their wings spread.
I entered the bus and sat down next to the others. And with a whimper and a whisper, I asked for confirmation. Did I or didn't I step on the bird? Did I or didn't I want to even know? Man up Rick. Just swallow (pun intended) the truth. And as a harvest moon rose over Cyberland, Timotei said to me the one word I had been longing to hear (but not from you ladies just to be clear): "No."
Apparently I had just barely missed that kaka. That's what they were laughing at. DJ Smiggles said to me that he saw me heading straight for it. "Oh man, he's gonna step on the bird!" And without even a heads up, I missed it. I'm sure it was partly due to my psychic sense. I have an innate awareness of danger. Sort of like a spider sense tingling, but more manly sounding. Ladies dig men who think about the future.
So that was yesterday. Today I was well aware of the bird droppings. Eyes to the ground, I saw the bird up close. It seemed to look more solid; more whole. I could make out more of the head and innards this time. It was because I was staring at a second bird squashed on the street. Disgusting. Both birds became speed bumps for buses. No mere coincidence that two birds were similarly dead within feet of each other. The buses don't drive fast through there. Must be some sort of evil were-car killing pigeons at midnight (I'm into late night movies). Or some fat kid stomping on their brains to death (I'm very robust). Or more scientifically, maybe God's smashing them (I'm a spiritual man). But one thing is certain, my feet sweat and you really didn't need to know that.
Call me at 555-7382 for a good time massaging my bunions,
Ricky
_________________________________________________________________________
(Warning! The following story contains descriptions of horrific gore and, like swimming, should not be attempted (read) until an hour after you have eaten. And no diving allowed. Thank you.)
So yesterday, when walking from the train to the bus in our journey to work, I trailed behind Timotei and his friend (whom we carpooled with) DJ Smiggles. I decided to cut through the street (avoiding the crosswalk) to get to the line for the bus we need. As I approached the end of the line, I saw Timotei and DJ Smiggles pointing behind me at the ground and laughing. So when I entered the line, I noticed that there was a flat out (no pun intended) bird roadkill in the center of the busway.
Now I would consider myself a smart man. I graduated from college with honors. I have a challenging occupation. I enjoy long walks on the beach and Apple Jacks (e-mail me if you're interested ladies). So, I put two and two together. I mean, I'm not stupid. I read books. I solve Jumbles and Sudokus. I am open to the idea of an open relationship (ladies, ladies, please, one at a time). So I was certain that I stepped in it. It was disgusting to just look at. Think of a gray gruel wrapped in a feathery boa, but less attractive. Just the thought of me stepping in that pigeon pancake was enough to make me sweat out of embarrassment, out of disgust, out of panic.
Which foot had dipped in the dodo? I felt it had to be my left foot because it was getting the most slippery from the perspiration. At least I had hoped it was sweat. But for moments, it felt like the buzzard's gizzards were lining the inside of my shoe; bathing my sole.
Thoughts ran through my head. I'd have to of course throw away the shoes or even burn them. A good excuse to buy a new pair. Can I contract worms through this or even worse... The Bird Flu. I have been feeling a bit sickly lately. And I've been farting a lot.
There's something incredibly sad about a bird flattened on a street; more so than other animals. Birds represent all that is free. They fly. They soar. They're majestic with their wings spread.
I entered the bus and sat down next to the others. And with a whimper and a whisper, I asked for confirmation. Did I or didn't I step on the bird? Did I or didn't I want to even know? Man up Rick. Just swallow (pun intended) the truth. And as a harvest moon rose over Cyberland, Timotei said to me the one word I had been longing to hear (but not from you ladies just to be clear): "No."
Apparently I had just barely missed that kaka. That's what they were laughing at. DJ Smiggles said to me that he saw me heading straight for it. "Oh man, he's gonna step on the bird!" And without even a heads up, I missed it. I'm sure it was partly due to my psychic sense. I have an innate awareness of danger. Sort of like a spider sense tingling, but more manly sounding. Ladies dig men who think about the future.
So that was yesterday. Today I was well aware of the bird droppings. Eyes to the ground, I saw the bird up close. It seemed to look more solid; more whole. I could make out more of the head and innards this time. It was because I was staring at a second bird squashed on the street. Disgusting. Both birds became speed bumps for buses. No mere coincidence that two birds were similarly dead within feet of each other. The buses don't drive fast through there. Must be some sort of evil were-car killing pigeons at midnight (I'm into late night movies). Or some fat kid stomping on their brains to death (I'm very robust). Or more scientifically, maybe God's smashing them (I'm a spiritual man). But one thing is certain, my feet sweat and you really didn't need to know that.
Call me at 555-7382 for a good time massaging my bunions,
Ricky
_________________________________________________________________________
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Unsolved Dysentery
Folks, I believe I have witnessed a ghost farting. Yes kids, I truly thought that all my haunting experiences would be frightening, horrific, or even death-inducing, but no dice.
Yesterday, at work, I had gone to the bathroom to take a whiz. As I entered, I immediately heard someone in the far stall cut a big one. Being the gentleman that I am, I held my breath without as much as a grumble and proceeded to the urinals (which are located directly in front of the stall where my gaseous friend was pooping. So, I did my business all the while digging my nose into my shirt as to not smell any unpleasantness and went to the sink to wash up.
Here's where it gets scary. Into the bathroom walks a co-worker who greets me at the sink. We chat it up for about 3 seconds and then he goes to the far stall AND ENTERS IT! No one was in there the entire time.
Needless to say, I ran out of there and headed back to work as normal like nothing had happened. But I'm here to tell you now that when ghosts fart, it does not smell of roses like in the movies and them there books. No sir. It smells of heaven and onions.
My sh** don't stank,
Ricky
_________________________________________________________________________
Folks, I believe I have witnessed a ghost farting. Yes kids, I truly thought that all my haunting experiences would be frightening, horrific, or even death-inducing, but no dice.
Yesterday, at work, I had gone to the bathroom to take a whiz. As I entered, I immediately heard someone in the far stall cut a big one. Being the gentleman that I am, I held my breath without as much as a grumble and proceeded to the urinals (which are located directly in front of the stall where my gaseous friend was pooping. So, I did my business all the while digging my nose into my shirt as to not smell any unpleasantness and went to the sink to wash up.
Here's where it gets scary. Into the bathroom walks a co-worker who greets me at the sink. We chat it up for about 3 seconds and then he goes to the far stall AND ENTERS IT! No one was in there the entire time.
Needless to say, I ran out of there and headed back to work as normal like nothing had happened. But I'm here to tell you now that when ghosts fart, it does not smell of roses like in the movies and them there books. No sir. It smells of heaven and onions.
My sh** don't stank,
Ricky
_________________________________________________________________________
Thursday, November 10, 2005
10 Days Late
Holy mother of all that is holy, I can't believe we're already ten days into November and I haven't blogged this month yet. That's 1/3 of the month gone. I seriously have no idea what happened with the days. They just sort of shot passed me.
Well in those ten days, much has happened. Allow me to list:
- I forgot to mention in my last blog that K-mart, Lethal Lisa, Timotei, and I saw the show Aida in Fullerton. It was pretty good, but way too Elton Johnny at times. Some of the numbers ripped you right out of the Egyptian setting and into some disco club.
- Erico Suave and I went to a VIP Group Planner event to advertise the show Bombay Dreams coming to the Orange County Performing Arts Center. With all this group ticket planning I've been doing, I'm getting some invitations to these special events. Well we went in jeans and found everyone there oldish, whitish, fattish, and uncultured. Bombay Dreams is one of those Indian shows where each song consists of the words Shakalakalakalakalka...kalakala and there are harem hotties grooving to elaborate dance numbers. And when they showed a video of the show to the partiers, they just didn't seem interested at all. Oh well, at least I got hella henna tatted up.
- At work, I just got through a week of hell where I had literally seven tasks to do at the same time. I cannot wait for the Thanksgiving weekend so I can just relax, ya know? We'll be in Palm Desert seeing Prisoner Tribbiani's performance of Thoroughly Modern Millie.
- I'm trying to organize a family Secret Santa event this year. After initial confusing emails, I took a stand and set some rules. If you're part of my family and you still haven't responded, do so soon or else I'll personally gift wrap an ass kicking for you. Humbug.
- I went to the dentist today; the first time since I graduated from college (2 years). I had some black stains on my teeth that I was sure were cavities, but the nice dental hygienist said that it was just a build up of plaque and tartar. Gross, I know. But some bad news, for two years, that build up has been eating away at the bone under my gums. Therefore I'm going to need some major dental work done in the next couple of months.
- But on the brighter side, I bought a new laptop and printer! They're on their way to me now via UPS. It's a nice and shiny new 12" Apple iBook G4. I wanted a laptop to browse the internet while on the commuter train, while at work, while at relatives' houses, and do computer work while on vacation or away from Errol (my iMac G5). The iBook already has a name reserved... Hedwig! So my Harry Potter computer line-up is as follows:
40GB 3rd Gen iPod - Pigwidgeon
17" iMac G5 - Errol
Wireless Keyboard - Skeeter
Wireless Mouse - Scabbers
USB External Drive - BuckBeak
USB Cruzer micro portable flash drive - Lumos
iSight - Mad Eye
Wireless Router - Seeker
iBook - Hedwig
Timotei's 60GB 5th Gen iPod (Black) - Sirius
So yes, I am completely insane.
Playing catch up,
iRicky
_________________________________________________________________________
Holy mother of all that is holy, I can't believe we're already ten days into November and I haven't blogged this month yet. That's 1/3 of the month gone. I seriously have no idea what happened with the days. They just sort of shot passed me.
Well in those ten days, much has happened. Allow me to list:
- I forgot to mention in my last blog that K-mart, Lethal Lisa, Timotei, and I saw the show Aida in Fullerton. It was pretty good, but way too Elton Johnny at times. Some of the numbers ripped you right out of the Egyptian setting and into some disco club.
- Erico Suave and I went to a VIP Group Planner event to advertise the show Bombay Dreams coming to the Orange County Performing Arts Center. With all this group ticket planning I've been doing, I'm getting some invitations to these special events. Well we went in jeans and found everyone there oldish, whitish, fattish, and uncultured. Bombay Dreams is one of those Indian shows where each song consists of the words Shakalakalakalakalka...kalakala and there are harem hotties grooving to elaborate dance numbers. And when they showed a video of the show to the partiers, they just didn't seem interested at all. Oh well, at least I got hella henna tatted up.
- At work, I just got through a week of hell where I had literally seven tasks to do at the same time. I cannot wait for the Thanksgiving weekend so I can just relax, ya know? We'll be in Palm Desert seeing Prisoner Tribbiani's performance of Thoroughly Modern Millie.
- I'm trying to organize a family Secret Santa event this year. After initial confusing emails, I took a stand and set some rules. If you're part of my family and you still haven't responded, do so soon or else I'll personally gift wrap an ass kicking for you. Humbug.
- I went to the dentist today; the first time since I graduated from college (2 years). I had some black stains on my teeth that I was sure were cavities, but the nice dental hygienist said that it was just a build up of plaque and tartar. Gross, I know. But some bad news, for two years, that build up has been eating away at the bone under my gums. Therefore I'm going to need some major dental work done in the next couple of months.
- But on the brighter side, I bought a new laptop and printer! They're on their way to me now via UPS. It's a nice and shiny new 12" Apple iBook G4. I wanted a laptop to browse the internet while on the commuter train, while at work, while at relatives' houses, and do computer work while on vacation or away from Errol (my iMac G5). The iBook already has a name reserved... Hedwig! So my Harry Potter computer line-up is as follows:
40GB 3rd Gen iPod - Pigwidgeon
17" iMac G5 - Errol
Wireless Keyboard - Skeeter
Wireless Mouse - Scabbers
USB External Drive - BuckBeak
USB Cruzer micro portable flash drive - Lumos
iSight - Mad Eye
Wireless Router - Seeker
iBook - Hedwig
Timotei's 60GB 5th Gen iPod (Black) - Sirius
So yes, I am completely insane.
Playing catch up,
iRicky
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