Best.

In a world where tragic injustices and mass-scale wrongdoings are commonplace, at least one thing has been set right: I now have a t-shirt that says "Viva Tacos." While no photo can do the shirt justice, and sometimes I have a hard time looking normal in photographs, check this thing out:



So much the best thing in my closet right now.

Best After Party

Once the party began thinning out on Friday night the real party got rolling when we started passing my mustache around.

Here we see my mustache being used properly (my costume wasn't "Dictator on his Cell Phone", I just kept getting calls whenever cameras were out):



And here's mustache craziness run amuck:





It should be noted that Karisa's costume already included a mustache, but one just wasn't good enough for her:







You may not believe it, but that's the end of my week-long weekend roundup.

Best Lazy Saturday Afternoon of Adventure

So, the next morning after the party (meaning: around noon on Saturday) Karisa came over to start the day off by making us some super amazing vanilla cinnamon butter and brown sugar and pecan (or was it some other nut) french toast that she apparently learned to make in Hungry School. (That's my breakfast she's holding)



Some pictures turn out good:



Some pictures turn out perfect:



A little Harlem roughhousing:



If you couldn't tell already, after breakfast we made our way up through Harlem to the Cloisters. This is me and "the Cloisters":


Andrew is known for his animal statue imitations:



All that cloistering wore us out, so it was off to the Burger Joint for some hamburgering. The Burger Joint is the bomb dot com.



After this we all went home for early evening naps and then went to the spinning restaurant and well, we all know how that went.

Best Rumor Come True

So there really is a 60 GB color iPod that carries photos too, just like all the websites said there'd be. It weighs in at $600, hmm. My 20 is all filled up, but I'm still going to do my best to wait and see what's available in 2006.

AlsoI don't know how much I really care about U2, but this is still pretty cool--read about the online U2 Boxed Set, a deal's a deal, man.

Best of the Rest of the Revelers

More Dictator Party photos. Because everyone deserves their Dictator Party Props.

I can't believe this is the only picture I took of Larry Bird.


The Super Villain (she posed that way in every single picture), the News Reporter, and the Spelling Bee Champ.


News Reporter gets the story from the High School Coach on the big game.


There were two Scoundrels at the party, and when two Scoundrels run into each other, lots of really disrespectful stuff happens. Like mustache abuse.


And shoelace pranks.


The Burglar and the Cheerleader (yes, her nose says "Brigham").


One can't grasp the true perfection of the 50's House Wife (who just baked cookies) costume until they understand the outerwear involved.


Jedi Knight with Tennis Player in background. Real fake Katana action abounds.


The way-too creepy Vampire with a Cowlick and Robin Hood who can't see well.


Yo-Yo Champ does the durn thang.

Best Excerpt from an Email Received Today

How ethical is it for me to post excerpts from emails from friends without their permission? Hmm. Probably not very. But what if they're funny? I'm sure that makes it okay. Here's some choice lines from a choice email I just got.

Last night I watched the first half of "Spotless Heart," what's it called, "Clear Heart for an Endless Mind," "Queer Eye for the Spotless Guy"... dang it, my brain is not working right now.   Last night I watched the first half of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" (I literally had to Google search to figure out what I was talking about).  Anyways, that movie is so great (or at least the first half of it is) because about every five minutes it cuts to a scene where he's with his ex-girlfriend, and they're talking, and he says something completely condescending and offensive and she gets all mad. The prime example is when she tells him she wishes he would talk more because she wants more communication between them, and he says, "Talking constantly doesn't necessarily mean you're communicating a lot." And then of course she gets all offended. Man, I just completely related to every one of those conversations.

Please, everyone, don't stop emailing me just because I did this (especially you, Source.) Notice how anonymously I treated my source?

Best Childhood Dream Gone "ehh"

Keeping with the week's theme (which is: a review of the weekend's activities told completely out of order) Saturday night Andrew, Karisa, Sariah and I went to . . . okay, how exactly do I say this? We went to the rotating restaurant on top of the Marriott Marquis at Times Square. I know. Your first reaction: How Awesome. But here's the truth of the matter. It pains me to have any complaints about actually going to a rotating restaurant (sort of a lifelong dream of my own and I'm sure I'm not alone in that) but I can name a few things that weren't so great about the place . . . mostly everything. The theme of business up there seems to be "well, now that we've got you all the way up here (50+ stories above New York) what are you going to do if the service is pretty bad and the food all probably came from Costco?" [At least we had had Burger Joint for lunch] Also, and I can't believe how much this makes me sound like my mother, but the whole slowly revolving nature of the revolving restaurant (a lap an hour, pretty much) made me a little, uhm, motion sick? But on the plus side, there's nothing quite like rocketing up (and then down) the Marquis' enormous atrium (somesay the biggest in the world) in their great glass elevators, that's an experience that makes the rest of the experience worth it . . . pretty much.

I would have never guessed I'd have anything negative to say about a spinning restaurant. I've grown up into my Uncle Frank. At least the company was off the charts and the letdown of the place kept the quips coming all too quickly. I think the best indication of how the visit went is that only two photos were taken. Two killer photos.


Here Sariah points out that her Costco delicacy was topped with an "S." At first we thought it was probably an "s" for Sariah (naturally) but it turns out it probably stood for something else, something a little more negative.


Money makes the world (and the restaurant) go round.

UPDATE Culled from her comment, I don't want anyone to miss how perfectly Sariah summed up our Marquis visit: The highlight was when the waitress pointed the Empire State building out to us--then we knew we were really somewhere special. Or sassy. Or stupendous. Or. . . Exactly. Our waitress pointed out the Empire State Building to us, this pretty much settles that the spinning restaurant is used to out-of-town dupes and we had really lowered the bar for ourselves by going so high up in the air.

Best Weekend of Too Much Content

Old Roommate Andrew came out to New York for the weekend. Too much adventuring ensued. As I have lots of law to attend to this week, proper blogging could be a long time coming. But here are a few photos from the Dictatorial Costume Party to indicate where we'll be headed. (What's a Dictatorial Costume Party? A costume party where you're told what to wear. And since I was throwin the party, I was dictating the costumes. Stern, yet fair. Look out for Dictatorial Costume Parties to replace 80s Proms as the hot theme party for 2005)

First off, the Dictator, the Super Villain (Soup-er Villain), and the 1950's Housewife.



Now, here's Jason valiantly defending his choice to be a yellow Ninja Turtle. Notice scoundrel-ly lurking in background.



Punky Brewster and Jem:



Snow White and the Tennis Pro:



Events that Need to Be Accounted For: Peep, Prada, French Toast, Washington Heights Harvest Festival, Cloisters, Burger Joint, Successful Spinning Restaurant Fiasco, and Fake Mustaches. Lots and lots of Fake Mustaches.

Best Reason to Check Friendster?

Dude. Friendster just told me its Pete's birthday. Happy Birthday, Pete. I didn't know Friendster would do that. (For those of you wondering how Friendster told me, Pete has appeared at the top of my list of friends with a pink cake icon by his picture . . . wait, maybe Friendster is just telling me that Pete has eaten some cake?)

Best Evidence that I'm About to Fandango

As if I needed a reason to be any more excited to see The Incredibles as soon as it opens (Nov. 5, yo.), it's now official: the
first trailer for Episode III will be attached to it, just as I had hoped it would be. (Rewind three years to 2001: I'm in San Francisco with Andrew and Andrea, heavily insinuating we should go see the just-opened Monsters, Inc. because the Attack of the Clones trailer is playing with it.) So, how soon can I pre-order my tickets?

And no, I don't belong to Hyperspace and I won't be watching the trailer on my computer the night before. If I'm super strong, I won't watch it on TV either, I'll try (so hard) to hold out for the big screen.

Be advised that before the Incredibles comes out I'll be posting a treatise on the main reason to be excited for the Incredibles: its ties with the creator of the best animated movie there is, the Iron Giant.

Best Near Avoidance of Celebrity

I narrowly evaded running into Uma Thurman yet again on my way to and from work tonight as she was filming (still) her movie Prime (this would be my 3rd Prime run in) across the street at the B Bar. I was feeling pretty cocky, thinking I had pulled a fast one on her (and famous people in general) except Kanye West nearly ran into me as he dashed across Broadway to go into Atrium just as it was closing. It was a timely encounter with Mr. West, because I'm finally tired of listening to the College Dropout. You had a good run, College Dropout.

Update I stole this picture from a site that stole it from a site who probably stole it from another site. It'll serve to answer the question some readers have asked me, "Who's Kanye West?" and for those that know who he is, it'll serve for a chuckle.



(Kanye would be on the one on the right, smarty.)

Wait a second, what?

I had to find out from the Onion(right column) that Jacques Derrida died over a week ago? I blame this entirely on law school, not having friends who are totally into philosophy anymore, and the fact that I didn't even think to investigate why the Film Forum was playing the Derrida documentary from a couple years ago this weekend. And I never even had the decency to finish Limited Inc.

How About a Little Weekend Wrap-up?

Does that sound okay?

Friday In the late afternoon I discovered I was torn between celebrating Ramadan in the East Village or going to see the Faint at Webster Hall. When a Faint ticket fell into my lap, the Faint won out. Sorry, Ramadan. But anyway, in the late afternoon I looked for jeans at Barney's (wait. what in the world did I just share with the entire world?) Then I ate dinner at Zocalo, the Mexican restaurant in the Grand Central Food Court. And you know what? It was among the least disgusting Mexican dinners I've ever had in New York. I'm not kidding. Either I was really starving, or those were some 1/2 decent tamales.

Next, the Faint. They were performing as part of the CMJ Music Marathon, a lot of other Saddle Creek bands played before them, but I only caught the Good Life. They weren't so bad. If I were to write a real review of the Faint's show, this is how it would start:

There's nothing wrong with you if you've never heard of the Faint, but had you been to their show Friday night at Webster Hall, you'd swear they were the biggest rock band on the planet.

Seriously. The audience acted like it was the Rolling Stones on stage and the Faint gave it right back. Big, loud sound benefiting greatly from Webster Hall's dance-party soundsystem (so. much. bass.) Video projections synchronized with every song (that would've been the highlight of the show for me were I still in High School.) Each song they played was distinct and memorable and the crowd freaked out over every number as if the band was playing their latest #1 single. I'm sorry I ever doubted them. I'll see the Faint again.

Then, outside, we noticed it had become cold. I drank an Old Brooklyn Root Beer and a Speedo Water (so Speedo makes water now?). The guy at the store carded me for the root beer. Seriously. We wound up on St. Marks because there were visitors amongst us and I rode home on the bus alone, thinking about hungry, eyeless zombies in cowboy outfits.

Saturday I feel Saturday was a complete waste. I woke up early and worked all day long on school stuff and not school stuff, too. I was busy all day getting things done and I completely wasted an opportunity to sit around all day. It wasn't until 10'ish, when I went to see Dr. Strangelove at the Film Forum, that I finally put my Saturday to good use. It was wild watching that movie and realizing that there were people in the audience who had never seen it before to whom all the jokes were new and surprising. Also, outside the theater I saw my third Bentley Continental Coupe. It was silver and it was a sight to behold and some stupid kid was driving it.

Sunday For dinner I made chipotle chicken salad with nappa cabbage and other vegetables for Laura and Patricia, because it was about time I had them over. I should've used more peppers, though. And it's impossible to find real tortillas in my neighborhood, everyone just sells enormous flour tortillas made with sun dried tomatoes or whatever. Stupid West Villagers.

UPDATE Forgot to mention this. When the Youngs came over they took pictures of themselves.

Best Souvenir Ever

For a second, lets try to forget that overwrought review of the Cramps and my trip to DC and focus on what really matters, my great "new" record player. Finally, I'm caught up with the cool kids.

Closed:


Open:


I know, I know. It's a beauty. Now all I need to do is get some records. Muchas gracias, Shane.

Best Conflicted Concert Review

First of all, I didn't take this picture. It's not even from the concert that I went to. And yes, I realize it's too big.

So, finally, I'm getting around to writing about my DC trip last weekend. Ostensibly, my trip to DC was for several purposes, most revolving around the Holmes family: 1) To pick up a record player Shane had promised me, 2) To talk with Jen, because I like talking with Jen, 3) To meet their new kid, Oliver, and to continue getting to know Ainsley, and (this is a non-Holmes itinerary item) 4) To improve my relationship with Keri Holyoak from "Friend of Keri's sister" to "Friend of Keri." (Regarding these first four items, let me just say "mission accomplished", and that the photographic evidence of my success can be found at the bottom of this post.)

But why, of all the weekends available for me to run down to DC, did I pick this one for my trip? (Listen to me talking like every weekend I have is open for adventuring). Because the Cramps were playing DC, and seeing the Cramps with Shane in DC is just the right thing to do. Or I thought it was the right thing to do when I went down there. (I must insert this bit of information here: Before seeing the Cramps in DC, I had tried, and failed, to see them no less than 4 times before, my most recent failure being that I got to the club and watched the show be cancelled before my very eyes [my other inabilities to get to Cramps shows had to do with silly little things like not wanting to drive down to Orange County or being on chemotherapy] but had that Cramps show not been cancelled as I stood there, wanting my Cramps show, I'd enver have met a fellow called Evan Rocker and, believe me, that's a story in itself.) I'm sort of of two minds about my whole Cramps DC show experience, as I'll try to relate here.

Had I not actually made it to the Cramps concert, but wanted to pretend I had, my review of the show would go a little something like this: "Generally speaking, liking a certain band doesn't make you cool. Just because you bought a Franz Ferdinand T-shirt before they were selling them at Urban Outfitters doesn't necessarily make you any cooler than a kid in a Slayer t-shirt. However, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that there are certain bands that aren't just definitely cool bands (or artists) themselves, but it actually makes you undoubtedly a cool person for liking them--it just reflects such good taste and commitment to a higher standard of awesome that there's no denying it, you're cool just for liking them. What bands might I be talking about? Here's a few to start with: Einsturzende Neubauten, Le Tigre, Johnny Cash, John Coltrane. No one can honestly say to someone "You just like Johnny Cash because he's cool" because that's so beside the point, Johnny Cash is, was, and always will be as cool as a musician can be and it doesn't matter if 500 million people have a photo of him flippin' off the camera or no one does at all, Cash is cool whether or not you're on board and that's all there is to it. I think that these bands that are perfect in their coolness all draw their strength from the fact that they do not waiver in theit commitment to some underlying principle of their art--be it banging on metal if you're Einsturzende Neubauten or banging political pop if you're Le Tigre (Note: I'm not nearly cool enough to be a full on Le Tigre fan. Just want to clear that up).

Well, one band that's definitely on this a priori list of cool is the Cramps, the world's premiere psychobilly band. What is the unwaivering principle that bolts down their cool? I'd say its a commitment to being around forever and playing the music Buddy Holly would've played, were he some sort of deviant backwoods rockabilly zombie. The Cramps, like William S. Burroughs was, are a monster, an abominable coupling of undeniable talent (of some sort) with unquestionably questionable tastes and just like it seemed like the old junky wouldn't ever die, the notion that the Cramps (who got their start in the late 70s) are touring always evokes the response "You mean they're still around?" It's one thing to sing rock n roll zombie songs as a young band, another thing altogether to sing as a band where everyone is looking like they might be more than half way to being actual zombies.

My fictional review would've gone on to describe the Cramps show in DC as the most primally cool thing I'd ever witnessed, but my real life Cramps review goes like this:

The Cramps are old and the cramps are creepy, but not as old and as creepy as their fans and now, as a fellow who is growing older (creepier? I don't know, you tell me) by the day, I must really ask myself if I want to be counted amongst their ranks. Already I think the answer is "yes", but only through a loose connection to the band, mostly because the Cramps logo is SO cool.

Oh man, this post is getting so long and I can't even tell if you like reading it or not. I'm going to cut to the chase:

The show was a little too much for me. I don't like being crushed between portly middle-aged men wearing saggy laytex and punks with mohawks that could take out my eye. I had always imagined that the Cramps lead singer, Lux Interior, would be viciously cool and strung out--it turns out that most of the time he acts like a cross between Gollum and the gay neighbor from some 70s sitcom. And he talks about ancient Egypt too much. Lux's stage presence is so over the top that it's easy to forget there's anyone else on stage--mostly because the guitarist, Poison Ivy, just stands there and scowls (I had thought, coming into the concert, that Poison Ivy kept it cool at all times, turns out she keeps it bored looking and scowly) and their bassist, something of a real-life rockabilly Frankenstein doesn't move much either. But I've got to give mad props to the band's current drummer (they've had lots of drummers, so I have no idea what this guy's name is) dude looked just like an old Sun Records studio musician, I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out he really was one. He had one job during the concert, to play the same beat the entire thing, and he did it quite well.

I'm going to wrap this up, I've rambled so much it's embarassing. A serious problem with the concert, and this may be the key problem: the band played so many songs that I had never ever heard before or couldn't recognize at all--and I like to think I know a lot of their songs, the end result was I eventually lost interest in hearing songs I didn't know and watching Lux act weirder than he needed to (so much talking). I had expected them to just play all their hits from "A Date with Elvis", but I was wrong. At the end of the show, I just felt I was out too late with too weird a bunch of people and that either the Cramps didn't live up to the mythological image of them I had had, or that I didn't live up to the image of what they really were. It wasn't a case of something not living up to my expectations, more like my expectations not living up to some thing.

But Anyway Want to see some pictures? Here's Shane and Ainsley, Jen and Oliver, then me when I couldn't get into the Masonic Temple Sunday afternoon (I had been told it was "better than Disneyland"), and then Keri Holyoak, not getting into the Masonic Temple either.

Best Visit to the West Side (or "The Most Thumbnails Ever")

Saturday morning so many Mormons came out to see the Angel Moroni statue up close before it was put up on the new Manhattan Temple. Wait, I probably need to explain that sentence to readers who either aren't Mormon or are Mormon but don't live in New York City. A temple (consider it "super church", or a cathedral as opposed to a church, that sort of distinction, more or less) was opened in Manhattan during the summer. Most temples have a golden statue of the Angel Moroni on top, and now the New York temple has one too. The hoisting of the statue was a complete non-event in that the people at church were like "Hey, want to see the statue before it goes up on the building?" and hundreds of people were like, "Yeah, that sounds fun." So now, when you walk by the Temple (at Columbus [or is it Broadway?] and, I don't know, 60-something [across from Lincoln Center, more or less]) and look up at the angel on top of the spire, you can be all, "Hey, I watched that go up."

When I got there I took some pictures of the statue before getting in line for an upclose view like everyone else.



Then I got up close and had my picture taken a few times (by Mala) and then took Mala's picture because, hey, she earned it. (Also, I take full responsibility for the lack of flash in these photos.)




Then I saw this girl, and she looked really familiar, and at first I thought it was someone famous, but then I realized it was "just" Ashlee Cook, who used to be my neighbor in Provo. (Oddly enough, she lives in DC now. Just wait for my next post if you don't know why that's odd.) As you can see in that third photo, I'm something like more than a foot taller than Ashlee, but I take full responsibility for that. Fun Fact: Around the apartment in Provo we used to call Ashlee "A-Dot." I don't know why. But it was a good nickname.



Ashlee was visiting Rebecca (perhaps you remember her from the spelling bee) and I had a few pictures with Rebecca. In this first one, I thought Rebecca was making a crazy face, too. And in the next one, I thought I'd try to be really serious.



Then I crossed the street to get a good view of the angel going up, and there I saw a totally awesome old man. And I saw Laura Young (that's Cedric pointing). And my classmate, Chris Moon, with his wife. And we all watched the angel go up.



Once all the excitement died down, I went to get some breakfast a Starbucks with Bryant. Bryant had a bagel and a juice. I had a rootbeer and a bagel. Because I had a big day ahead of me. (Stay tuned, yo.)