Something I like and Something I don’t like, No. 1.

Due to my complete lack of quality blogging lately, I thought I’d start a new series that may or may not continue, aimed at making blogging more frequent, shorter, and sweeter.  So here we go, I’m going to reflect on one thing I like and one thing I don’t like.  And as you have all come to expect, I will do this with wit and pith.  Witty pith, in fact. Pithy wit?

Like : The Muppets.

When you like something just as much in your mid twenties as you did when you were a kid, you know you’ve found something unique and special.  In fact, I might like them even more now.  Never before has a random collection of animals and ridiculously exaggerated humans come together to form something so timeless, classic, and hilarious.  My favorite Muppet?  I don’t even know how to answer that question.  I could name no less then 4.  Gonzo, Animal, Beaker, and of course the Swedish chef.  To put it simply, the Muppets somehow capture all that is right with the world.  Which, coincidentally, is a great segway into….

Dislike : The New York Yankees.

They are the B.P., the Goldman-Sachs, the dark-side of the force, the North Korea, the orc-army of Sauron of professional sports.  Eternally tarnishing the souls of any talented player to sign with them, they somehow manage to maintain control of a veritable all-star team in Major League Baseball, forever poisoning the spirits and goodwill of players I once loved but now have no choice but to despise.  This is a team that hemorrhages as much money as they do arrogance, ruining good playoff series with their over-paid, over-doped, and over-worshiped roster of power hitters and flame throwers.  Baseball is supposed to be a game of finesse, of heavily specialized and scrappy teams competing to out-wit and out-maneuver the other team’s machine.  But baseball and the Yankees are like those pretentious yacht races that billionaires have, only some pissant brought an aircraft carrier.

Laura Marie* Riches Verner, the world awaits your masterpiece.

There are lots of things to complain about once you graduate college, enter the work force, and have to drudgingly start putting up with “real life”.

This post is not about those things, because complaining about the inevitable is a waste of time and energy better spent making steak tacos and learning to catch big air on your snowboard. Besides, what in the world do I have to fear about getting old when there are people like Sean Connery, Harrison Ford, and Tony Horton doing just fine and kicking as much ass as they ever have before, in their 50′s, 60′s, and even 70′s?  Dare I say that my own father has gotten only wiser, happier, more seasoned, and more fit with age.  He is in his 50′s as well, and I would say he’s pretty much a savage taking names in many awesome disciplines, including, but not limited to: law, wine knowledge, baseball, loving his neighbor, history, and running marathons**.

Anyways, this post is about one of the COOLEST things about life after school – getting to see and involve yourself in the awesome artsy and entrepreneurial stuff that your super-creative friends start doing once they have shaken off the oppressive and narrow-minded shackles of school.  The oft-shouted-out Becca takes the best photographs I’ve ever seen.  The multi-talented Jonathan has already recorded an EP that is way, way better then Muse’s latest CD and aptly-titled “The Resistance”, which I have had no trouble resisting at all.  Luke jumped ship to Alaska to serve some of the most neglected and ignored youth in our country.  Africa is a better place today then it was 4 years ago, thanks to my own sister.  And last but not least, the subject of this post, Laura “Alias” Riches, whom I didn’t even know knew what a computer was, started her own custom clothing/otherthingsmadeoutoffabric company on the INTERNET.  It is to her I have placed the following challenge.

—–

From:  John ******* <****.*******@*****.com>

To: Laura ***** ****** ****** <**********@*****.com>

Subject: best messenger bag ever

Hey Laura, so I would LOVE to order a sick messenger/laptop bag.  Nice and simple, doesn’t need pockets or zippers or anything.

I would like one robot, one dinosaur, and one robot dinosaur aka dinosaur-cyborg on it.  Hopefully at least two of them are fighting.  But I want you to be free to be creative too.  I attached some fun photos I like.  Also, it might be cool if the cyborg dinosaur has a bazooka.  Just an idea.  He doesn’t have to.

U rock.

John

—–

From: Laura ***** ****** ****** <**********@*****.com>

To:  John ******* <****.*******@*****.com>

Subject: RE:best messenger bag ever

oh my gosh, i’m really not sure i’ve ever gotten a funnier email in my life. this could take some time for me to do the design. wow. i think my favorite part is, “it might be cool if the cyborg dinasour has a bazooka. just an idea. he doesn’t have to.” i repeat. wow.

—–

From:  John ******* <****.*******@*****.com>

To: Laura ***** ****** ****** <**********@*****.com>

Subject: RE:RE:best messenger bag ever

YES.  Please take as much time as you need to make it AWESOME, even if that means spending an entire YEAR!!!

And please make it with love.

J

—–

Mrs. Verner, the world awaits your masterpiece.

—

* I just assume that every girl has the middle name Marie, because every girl does

** I intentionally left off the prefix “half” from marathon, it just didn’t have as much “zing” to it – you’re welcome Dad

———————————————————

ShoutOut Count – | EA: 1 | MA : 3 | GA : 10 | BB : 15 | CC : 1 | ACa : 1 | GCa : 1 | MCa : 1 | JCa : 1 | JCu : 2 | Dad : 15 | Mom : 10 | Sister : 3 | JF : 3 | JH : 3 | KH : 2 | RH: 1 | SJ : 1 | JM : 1 | LO : 2 | DR : 2 | LR : 8 | CT : 3 | SS : 2 | BW : 3 | TJW : 6

Five Straight Days of Yummy – Steak Tacos : 1, Hunger : 0.

Cooking is rad.  It is like chemistry you can eat.  Plus, cooking is sexier then chemistry.  Sure, intelligence and science-know-how is hot and all, but science followed by steak tacos is even hotter.  Plus, what good are cold-fusion, aspirin, and cloned dinosaurs when you can’t go home and make a good meal?  No good at all I say.  Speaking of aspirin, I have a sad story about aspirin.  Back in high school chemistry class, I had the best lab partner in the world.  She later became of one our valedictorians, and is one of the brightest girls I’ve ever known.  Even though we had no less than 17 valedictorians, she was probably the smartest one.  Her name is Erin (this ShoutOut point, while well deserved, is most likely in vain.  Chances are poor she reads this blog.  I probably won’t tell her I mentioned her either, because she would be embarrassed.  But if any of you know and see Erin walking around, give her a sturdy high-five.).  In one of our labs, we were making aspirin using a bunch of other things that weren’t aspirin, like Bunsen burners, thermometers, beakers, and carbon.  On the day we were supposed to finish the experiment, somehow I let the entire apparatus fall, mixing mercury, water, and another compound that reacts with water.  It wasn’t a pretty sight.  However, my lab partner was a good sport, and we got A’s in the class nevertheless.  But mine was probably thanks to her.

Anyways, feast your eyes on my latest cooking accomplishment.  I made so many I ate them for 5 days straight.  Five delicious, delicious days.

Scrumdidillilyumtious

———————————————————

ShoutOut Count – | EA: 1 | MA : 3 | GA : 10 | BB : 14 | CC : 1 | ACa : 1 | GCa : 1 | MCa : 1 | JCa : 1 | JCu : 2 | Dad : 13 | Mom : 10 | Sister : 2 | JF : 3 | JH : 2 | KH : 2 | RH: 1 | SJ : 1 | JM : 1 | LO : 1 | DR : 2 | LR : 1 | CT : 3 | SS : 2 | BW : 3 | TJW : 6

Smile, You’re on the BBC

As my faithful readers know, the sheer joy of being free from the evil and unscrupulous clutches of graduate school has given this young mortal the long-awaited opportunity to enjoy the finer things in life devoid of both guilt and stress.  I cook (sometimes*).  I’ve learned how to fix my own car like a man.  I hacked my Playstation.  I buy organic food.  I joined Netflix.  I even have a morning routine. I get up at 6:30 am and workout.  That’s right.  This former lazy, crabby, pissant now gets up chipper and early and, barring injury and sickness**, pumps some iron.  With this guy.

After spending an hour attempting to do one wide-grip pull-up, I then follow up with some delicious breakfast while listening to the delightful BBC Global News podcast.  You know, I don’t think I’ve ever used the word “delightful” before.  But something about the BBC just makes me feel like using words like “delightful”, “biscuit”, and “scrumptious”.

But John!! You are an AMERICAN.  What are you doing listening to the BBC?

I’ll give you three reasons.

One.

Two.

Three.

If that didn’t convince you, would you ever, EVER deny yourself from getting news from guys named Reginald Bosanquet and Fergus Nicoll?  I didn’t think so.  And no, I didn’t make those names up.  They are both newscasters for the BBC.  Anyways, I have never been one to write or call radio shows, or really write or call anyone,  but I wanted to show the BBC folks my appreciation for being upstanding, verbose, and mellow newscasters who check their opinion at the door so that I can make up my own mind.  So I figured I’d shoot them a quick email-equivalent-of-a-high-five letting them know that I considered them my chums and that I have a bloody good time listening to them.

To my delight and surprise***, I got a shout out of my own.

On international radio. The following morning.

And they even called my comment “pithy”, which, as you know, is a quality that is synonymous with this blog.

If you are a faithful enough reader that you have come to this post soon after I have finished writing it, you may click the following link, find the “15 Apr 10 AM” podcast, and fast forward to 14:20 to hear.  It should be available for a week or so.

Follow link to real, actual, news here.

The quote was just a snippet from the whole email.  My entire letter to them is found below.  Now if only the BBC had a ShoutOut Count….

—-

To the BBC Global News –

However sad it is that I have to reach across the ocean to get any sort of unbiased news reported with journalistic integrity, I would like to comment that the BBC global podcast is a breath of fresh air in a country whose overtly self-centered news that ignores the outside world is saturated with fear-instilling sensationalism and half-truths.

If I want drama, I can go to the movies.  But if I want facts, I listen to the BBC.  Every morning with my breakfast.

Keep it up.

John

Los Angeles, CA, USA

—-

* I hate to admit this, but I don’t cook as often as I like or this blog may imply.  Pretty much every time I legitimately cook, I blog about it.  Which means…..3 times in the last 2 years.

** Which have been two unwelcome guests to my body as of late

*** So surprising, in fact, that I nearly spit out my delicious Trader Joe’s raisin bran all over my freshly uncleaned kitchen floor

Goodbye L.A…………………SIKE

I take pride in my reflexes.  If myself or anyone around me drops something, chances are pretty good I will snag it.  Many-a-time, back in my barista days, your standard nutritionally uninformed customer would bust out the change for their grande-type-2-diabetes-in-a-cup only to have their change flippantly roll across the counter.  And I, the heroic operator of the cash register*, would swipe that coinage right up as it flew off the counter**.

Unfortunately, it is not with the same reflexes with which I attend to this blog.  It is of the contrary.  Something awe-inspiring, ridiculous, or victorious will happen, and it will only be documented anywhere from one fortnight to seven score later, if EVER.  I would like to rectify this problem with a brief digression.  Last friday, I was at that cool German bar that I saw Jemaine at, and I was asked by my waitress if I would like yet another beer.  Skeptical that I did indeed want another beer, I sighed and asked her what time it was, to which she replied with utter seriousness and urgency,

“Beer Thirty.”

It was so poignant, pithy, and appropriate (qualities which, I am proud to say, are the essence of this blog), that I had no choice but to enjoy another Oktoberfest.  Coincidentally, German Oktoberfest tastes just as good at “Beer:30″ as it does at other times of the day.  Needless to say, my waitress was tipped appropriately.  I have a feeling she had me figured out.  I probably shouldn’t go back.

Ok, the digression is over.  I hope you enjoyed the digression.  But I digress.  N-E-WAYS, I’ve known for quite some time now that I have needed to write a little bit about my depressingly-ironic, and dare I type with fear in my fingers, semi-permanent move BACK to Los Diablos (I almost typed “permanent” there, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it).  It all started just like it was August ’09.  Me and my Subaru, careening down Interstate 5.  Only this time, I was delightfully welcomed by a cop in Redding, who did not hesitate to write me up a ticket for driving “too fast in the rain” (I’m from OREGON and I’m in a SUBARU.  I’m not even driving TOO FAST FOR THE ICE) and greet me with “OOOooohhh coming down from Oregon now you are like a bat outta hell aren’t you!”.  Oh, sorry officer, I believe you mean a bat INTO hell who doesn’t want to waste his time delaying the inevitable.

Anyways I’m back.  With $209 fewer dollars then I thought I’d get here with.

Speaking of hell, I know I talk smack about this place a lot, and some of it is unfair.  It’s only because it is really easy to do, and I’m kind of a bully.  Sorry, Los Angeles.

Things have improved immensely from since I was in grad school a.k.a. torture rack for the brain, in the big red circle labeled “210″. Consider the following.

- I have a decent job programming in the Visual FX industry, which is kinda what I wanted to do in the first place.  Yes, I do have to stare at

traffic

all day, but its a real job in an interesting field that pays real money.  All rare items these days.

- I live near the closest area L.A. has to Portland (“Silverlake”, which is not saying much), in the closest thing L.A. has to Multnomah Village (“Atwater Village”, which is not saying much).  But it’s still better than circle two-ten.

- I am no longer submitting myself to endless torment and gnashing of teeth (homework and studying), but rather I am learning to cook, fix my car, shower, shave, and even work out regularly with Mr. Tony most-absurd-guy-alive Horton.

- Netflix.  Streaming on my new Playstation 3.

- I will soon be able to afford my own piano, AND I HAVE A PLACE TO PUT IT.  I would have gotten it already had my car not needed a new catalytic converter.  Besides, I don’t know why I even need a catalytic converter.  There is so much smog down here already, there is really no point in trying, and there is especially no point in requiring me to spend $1000 so my measly car produces slightly less toxic emissions.  You want to fix smog, L.A.?  Don’t require me to buy a new converter.  Require yourself to build a public transportation system like normal cities.  I recommend the one from the movie Minority Report, with the tube cars that drive up the sides of buildings.  At least that’s the best one I’ve seen.

- I have excuses to buy tools.  Like building things, fixing things, and mounting things.  I just picked up my first socket set at Autozone today.  I want to make a robot, but not a robot that does stupid nerdy things like vacuuming or math, but one that does awesome things like snowboarding and making steak tacos.

So there you have it folks.  I might be back in L.A…….but I also can’t complain.  Stay tuned for more.  My advice to everyone……hurry up and get out of school so you can LIVE.

* Wittingly referred to as “Starbucks Actual” by my fellow BSG loving (and therefore cooler and more socially intelligent) employees

** A feat that, while it did not get me better tips, did improve my self-esteem

Jack Bauer and Chicken Thigh on White Bean Stew

Readers, last year I started a series called “Cooking Victories” that chronicled my epic journey to become a man in the kitchen.  Friends, last Thursday night was a major milestone in this mighty quest.  Not only did I make the most epic dish to date, I did it with my OWN KITCHEN EQUIPMENT.  That’s right.  This guy has a house and a kitchen now.  And his own gear.  Including stainless steel pots, some measuring cups, and THIS :

Yes, its bigger then my head, and that's awesome. Coincidentally, it would also make quick work of my head, which is also awesome.

What is THIS, you say?!   THIS, my faithful and curious reader, is a 8” Shun Chef’s Knife, made by a company based in beautiful Portland, Oregon (anything I can buy/acquire to remind myself of home makes me feel more human and less like the overpopulated cesspool in which I live – this is also why my fridge is always stocked with Widmer).  This company, however, manufactures its knives in Japan, using some indestructible metal called “Damascus Steel”*,  and using the same forging techniques used to make ancient Japanese Swords.  So, now you know why I bought it, and now you know why I suddenly love to cook all the time.

But what good is awesome kitchen gear/weapons if you don’t make great food with it?  It would be like buying an iPhone and not getting that app where you can input the kinds of hard alcohol you have on hand and it tells you the sweet drinks with you can make with them.  A side note – I neither own an iPhone nor have I ever used that app.  I have also never actually heard of that app either, I just assume it exists.  I think it is a safe assumption.  Dad, grab your new-fangled iPhone and search for “drink maker” or something in the app store.  I’m willing to bet good money its there.

Back to food.  I christened all my fantastic gear with perhaps the most ambitious, most glorious dish I have ever made before in my life (which is saying almost nothing, but hey, I’ve never had my own kitchen before).  I had two burners and the oven going AT THE SAME TIME, while I was decapitating all sorts of vegetables with my new weapon like nobody’s business.  It was a sight to behold.  Speaking of vegetables, the recipe called for all sorts of crazy plants I had never heard of.  Things like “Leeks”.  And “Collard Greens”.  And “Carrots”.  But I was determined to succeed.  Thank you, cheerful young Asian women at the supermarket, who told me that yes, those green bulbs I was pointing to were indeed “Leeks”.

Without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you….

....And baby you got a stew goin' !

My gosh did the contents of that bowl taste good. So did the other 6 servings I made.

Chicken Thigh and White-Bean Stew. This was the baseball equivalent of hitting a home run blindfolded.  Why?  I had no idea what I was doing, where I was, or what to look for, but I still did it anyway.  And somehow I totally scored.  When it was all said and finished, I poured a hot steaming bowl of my concoction, curled up in front of the TV, and enjoyed a riveting episode of 24.  Jack Bauer and Chicken Thigh on White-Bean Stew.  I’m not sure it gets any better then that.  Hey, that would be a great title for a self-help book.

Jack Bauer and Chicken Thigh on White-Bean Stew, by John Englund.  That has a nice ring to it.

I not sure exactly what DID make this dish taste this good…….

But it was probably the bacon.

.

.

.

.

.

* I believe this is also known as “Adamantium”

———————————————————

ShoutOut Count – | MA : 3 | GA : 10 | BB : 14 | CC : 1 | ACa : 1 | GCa : 1 | MCa : 1 | JCa : 1 | JCu : 2 | Dad : 13 | Mom : 10 | Sister : 2 | JF : 3 | JH : 2 | KH : 2 | RH: 1 | SJ : 1 | JM : 1 | LO : 1 | DR : 2 | LR : 1 | CT : 3 | SS : 2 | BW : 3 | TJW : 6

Dear Home

To the Canby House, the Canby Community, Multnomah Village, and everyone else that has been a big part of my life here in Portland the last few years -

Hey guys. As many of you know, I will be “moving” semi-permanently to Southern California to be starting a crazy job in Hollywood. I say “moving” because I kind of already live there. I say “semi-permanently” because God knows I do not want to stay down there forever, and if I ever decide to man up and start a family, there is no way in HEEEELLLEEEECK that my kids will be raised near or in Hollywood. I know I have technically been “gone” the last year and a half at school, but I still have been beyond blessed to have found myself home here in Portland frequently and have still felt very connected with all of you. I am writing this because all of you have been a monumentally important and supportive part of my existence for some time now, even (and especially) as I’ve been in school.

So I wanted to thank YOU GUYS, partly because I won’t be coming home as frequently, but mostly because I feel compelled to thank you – as this new chapter in my life begins. When I think of what it means to be in a right relationship with your fellow (wo)man, I think of YOU. When I think of what it means to be wholly accepted and blessed beyond all recognition (B-BAR) through my community I think of YOU. When I think of adventure, of wit, of creativity, of meaning, and of purpose, I think of YOU. Thank you for valuing these things as I have, and I hope you know how unfortunately rare it is for people to be united in understanding that in these intangible things real joy and lasting fulfillment can ACTUALLY be found. And if there is any culture that has a tendency to value the opposite : fulfillment through personal gain, through personal feelings, through personal property, and through personal entertainment; it is where I am going. This is not something I fear or dread, this is simply a fact that even more strengthens my utmost gratitude that I got to be so regularly connected with friends like you on a daily basis.

So keep up it up. Keep in touch. Keep remembering what matters. And keep loving each other. And me please. If you visit you have a free place to stay and I’ll take you to Disneyland!!!

John

The Best of L.A. – Text Message Edition

Folks, 3 semesters, 18 months, 27 credits, countless hundreds of hours of homework later, I have done it.  I have completed my graduate studies and OFFICIALLY have a master’s degree.  Please now refer to me as Master Englund.  Actually, please don’t.  Looking back, I am left with but one thought, one deep and vital cognition of the utmost significance, whose wisdom must be heard far and wide, from the east to the west, and across the vast oceans of the world :

Do not, for all that is sacred, holy, and just, go to grad school under any circumstances.

I am going to leave it right there.  If taking my word for it does not convince you to not go to grad school, please contact me immediately.

Now, if I could be so bold as to change subjects, I would like to begin a series of small and pithy reflections on the best of everything that happened to me in L.A.  This week*, we have the Text Message Edition. As many of your know or figured out from reading this blog, the neighborhood around the University of Southern California leaves something to be desired when it comes to neighborhoods that lack things such as frequent muggings, violent gang activity, inappropriate sexual advances from strangers, and homicides.  Fortunately, the USC Department of Public Safety is so kind as to alert us via text as these infractions happen.  The following is a series of text messages I received in a 3 hour period the night of Wednesday, March 11th, 2009.

8:33 pm – “Trojans Alert: Shots fired @ Budlong and Adams. 1 suspect & weapon in custody.  3 suspects @ large.  LAPD perimeter north of UPC.  Stay inside until further notice.”

Yup, there are now 3 gunman running lose in my neighborhood.  Thanks USC, I think I will stay inside.  I would also like to point out that Budlong and Adams is a mere 4 blocks from my house.

9:47 pm – “Trojans Alert: Search narrowed to Adams-30th-Vermont-Ellendale***.  Stay inside & call 911 for anything suspicious.  1 more suspect in custody, 2 at large.”

Man, those streets look curiously familiar.  Oh yeah, its because I live at 36th and Vermont, and when I’m not at home, I’m at my friends apartment right next to Adams and Ellendale.  What they DIDN’T tell us at this point and then explained further in an email, was that these 3 suspects, one of whom already had a gunshot wound, preceded to STEAL A CAR and then CRASH it into a USC tram, at which point they escaped the car and ran on foot.  Only, the guy who had been shot couldn’t run very fast – hence the ’1 more suspect in custody’ part.

11:01 pm – “Trojans Alert: LAPD incident cleared.  1 suspect dead, 3 in custody.  Detectives in area.  No injury to USC students occurred.”

Yup, they shot and killed a gunman in my neighborhood.  Crazy.

*And by this week, I don’t mean to imply weekly, I mean beginning now and then whenever I feel like it

A letter to the City of Los Angeles, Tax and Permit Division

So I recently got a letter from the City of Los Angeles (since filing my first non-Oregon tax return) claiming that based on their records, “myself or my spouse reported business expenses or received income from a business related activity” and that I am potentially violating the requirement that all individuals obtain a registration certificate and pay the appropriate business taxes.  In addition, they warned me that a Criminal or Civil complaint may be filed by the City Attorney’s office if I choose not to respond.  For those who should not be subject to a business tax, like me, they directed me the reverse side of the application where I could fill out my response.

However, there was no reverse side to the application.  So I wrote this letter instead.

To whom it may concern at the Los Angeles Office of Finance/Tax and Permit Division -

There was no reverse side of this application as described so I am writing this letter on the back instead.  I DO NOT have a business.  I am a grad student.  Any business income reported on my taxes was income generated from playing piano gigs in Portland, OR prior to moving here in August 2008.  I have never, ever played a gig in Los Angeles.  I wish I have.  Do you guys have any parties coming up where you would like to hire a young talented jazz piano player?  If so, let me know.  I would be more than happy to provide entertainment at your event for a modest fee.  A fee that I would surely report on my taxes next year as business income.

I repeat, since moving to Los Angeles in August 2008, I have never made any money doing any kind of business here.  Ever.

John

One year in L.A. – My four celebrity sightings (so far)

Faithful readers, one year ago (plus a few months) I unintelligibly ditched my proud homeland of Portland, OR, replacing it with ugly brown hills, smog, an indescribably absurd amount of traffic, a distinctive lack of good coffee* or beer, and lots of stoic blond girls with enhanced……sunglasses.  But fret not, the word on the street is that if you can make it a year in Los Angeles, you are going to be alright.  And I have made it a year in Los Angeles, and I think I’m going to be alright.  I even, more frequently than not, ENJOY MYSELF.  However, that is definitely not to say that I don’t dream nightly of tall evergreen trees, clean air, old friends, Trail Blazer championships, and shredding powder of the highest quality.  No doubt I will return and settle there someday – and dare I say – some day soon.

To commemorate my sesquicentennial-divided-by-150 of moving here, I would like to do a very SoCal thing and share something with you……All the celebrities I have run into so far.  Aren’t you excited?  Yup, one of the positives or negatives (depending on who you are) of living in L.A. is the inevitable run in with someone either famous, or most probably, infamous.  Here they are, in no particular order.  Wait, it is in a a particular order.  And that order, my good friends, is chronological according to day of sighting.  Oh, and in case you were wondering, celebrities DO NOT get ShoutOut© Points.  Which means you, my esteemed reader, are cooler then them.

*There is one exception to this – Rick Weiche’s clover machine at Cafe Corsa on Figueroa. As good as any coffee I’ve had, pacific northwest or otherwise. If you live here in L.A., tell me and I’ll buy you coffee there. I’m serious. Rick, you rule. Please get better soon!

———————————————————

ShoutOut Count – | MA : 3 | GA : 10 | BB : 14 | CC : 1 | ACa : 1 | GCa : 1 | MCa : 1 | JCa : 1 | JCu : 2 | Dad : 12 | Mom : 10 | Sister : 2 | JF : 3 | JH : 2 | KH : 2 | RH: 1 | SJ : 1 | JM : 1 | LO : 1 | DR : 2 | LR : 1 | CT : 3 | SS : 2 | BW : 3 | TJW : 6 | RW : 2

Dakota Fanning. The story - I was playing softball on the weekend at her high school in Studio City. Turns out, she is on the cheer-leading squad there, who came outside to run on the track around us. In case you were wondering, she is way faster then the other girls. Turns out actresses are FAST.

Jermaine from Flight of the Conchords. The story - I was at the coolest German bar ever, the Lion and the Rose, where you can order beer in a huge glass boot. The rest of the story is history. He walked in and I saw him. End of story.

James Hong. He's the guy that plays the wise old Asian sage in every movie that has a wise and old Asian sage. The story - he was in the audience of a play I went to, "The Scarlet Pimpernel", in which a family friend's niece was starring. It was awesome.

Andrew Robinson. You guys probably don't know who this is, but I sure did. Why? Because I am a huge nerd. He was very surprised I recognized him, and turns out he was one of the friendliest, most gracious guys I've ever met. And if you don't know who this is, he played...

...This guy. On Star Trek - Deep Space 9. He was also the best actor on the show. And he now heads up the Master's in Acting program at USC. Beeeoooooom.

Post-Texas Reflections, Vol. 2 – A Summer of Firsts

As some of you know, I am (disturbingly) now 25 years old – and therefore half way to being mega-old (sorry mom and dad, you are undoubtedly now taking offense to that term – so enjoy these ShoutOut points as consolation).  25 years is a long time, and by now, one would think that I would have seen and done it all – traveled to the far side of the world, commandeered my own galley, hacked into the CIA, built a robot, cloned a dinosaur, built a dinosaur-robot cyborg, you know, awesome things like that.  Things that people simply need to do.  However, as it turned out this summer, there was plenty of adventure opportunity I had simply not experienced.  Even in Texas.

And as you may expect, I met these said adventures head on with extreme prejudice.

Here are a list of some of my “firsts” from summer oh-nine :

TOOL, live at the AT&T Center. They remembered to bring their instruments and laser weapons. In fact, the guy to my left was K.I.A. by that big green death-ray, currently shown carving a hole into the roof of the arena. I was lucky to survive.

1. My First Heavy Metal Concert – It was totally righteous.  Just look at those crazy green lasers.  You know you are at a solid event when hundreds of retina-scorching green lasers are involved.  Just remember – it is all fun and games until someone gets tagged by a laser in the cornea.

2.  My First (and second) Production of Roadkill – R.I.P. foolish gopher and raccoon, whose utter stupidity alone makes a valid case against the Theory of Evolution (of any animal).

Case 1 – Wyoming, middle of the day.  No doubt 2, maybe 3 hours go by on Wyoming highways with ZERO traffic.  Why oh why, Mr. Gophie, did you chose the 0.07 seconds when I (actually, Gregory) was flying by to cross the road?  I imagine, just like the chicken, it was to get to the other side.  Except replace the “other side” with the act of being pathetically, utterly, and almost undetectably pancaked under my Subi’s left-front wheel.  In the car, we felt nothing more then the most minor of bumps.  I will morbidly admit that it was worth the 30 minutes of juvenile giggling that followed.

Case 2 – Oregon, I-84, 3:03am.  Let me tell you, hitting raccoons is not nearly as quick, clean, or cynically enjoyable as running over little gophers.  Why oh why, Mr. Coonie, did you stop and STAND UP in front of my 2 tons of imminent death that was traveling 80 mph?  Didn’t you know that my license plate connecting with your face at that speed would turn your small 13-inch stature into 10 square feet of guts, gore, and fur?  Were you and your raccoon buddies filming a raccoon edition of Final Destination?  If so, do I get credit as an actor?  If so, will I get royalties?  If not, we have a problem.  I have contributed to a feature film against my will, without credit or compensation.  My dad is a lawyer and you will be hearing from him soon.

3.  My First (AND LAST) Chicken-Fried Chicken Sandwich – Three words.  Dis, Gust, Ting.  Even if I thought it tasted good, which a small part of me admittedly did, the layers upon layers of fried and re-fried batter on a piece of a very pathetic excuse for “chicken” ruined it for my mouth, my stomach, my kidneys, my liver, and my cardio-vascular system.  It also ruined it for my chances of not having a massive coronary before the age of 30.

And for some absurd, illogical, and decisively anti-humanitarian reason, the CFC sandwich has now been completely trumped by KFC (who else?).

4.  My First Trip Down a 80-mph Limit Freeway

No doubt the posted speed on I-10 was to prevent anyone from dying from boredom.  Man, no offense El Paso and everything else until you get to San Antonio, but there was sure a whole lotta nothing out there.  Good thing I was legally permitted to attempt to break the sound barrier.  Okay that was an gross exaggeration.

5.  My First Game of Ultimate Frisbee in 110 Degree Weather

Every time I ran 30 yards or threw the frisbee 5 times (or any combination of a total of 5 Frisbee throws or 6-yard dashes) I had to drink 2.4 gallons of water.  Unreal.  It is a crazy sensation gorging yourself mercilessly with Gatorade only to have sweat it all out by the time you get back on the field.  It is like your body itself is evaporating.

6.  My First (and second, and third, and fourth) Dose of Tex-Mex

I will never, ever eat Mexican food in the Pacific Northwest again.

7.  My First (and second) Round of Golf

So I’m a little bit of a freak when it comes to my strong hand.  I am right handed, but I grew up playing baseball throwing right and batting left.  Anything with two hands I naturally do left-handed.  But only two hands.  I swing a bat left handed, I “play”* tennis right-handed.  Going by this formula, golf is a two-handed sport and thus I play it left-handed.  Problem – when I was taught golf this summer, there were no readily available left-handed clubs.  So I was coached, and was coached well, right-handed.  Then a month later, I played round 2 on my own left-handed.  Though it went pretty well, playing left-handed after learning right-handed unfortunately did some kind of reverse-voodoo on my new found skills, and when I hit the driving range in Boise on the way home I looked like a jerk trying to hit a parakeet with a broken bazooka.  This was after getting completely p-w-n-e-d at mini-golf by some fruit who never played golf in his life.

How embarrassing.

8.  My First Contribution to a Legitimate Hip-Hop Beat Production

Laid down the tracks, mixed and produced in under 2 hours in the fellow’s studio.  Awesome guy.  Hope to work with him again.  Listen to his stuff, he’s the real deal.  Hopefully he will be coming soon to a hip-hop record label near you.

Owned. It looks just as sexy in the snow, doesn't it?

9.  My First 2000+ mile Road Trip

Over the course of this summer I carved a SICK right triangle into the United States with my trusty Subaru (LA -> San Antonio -> Portland -> LA).  And let me tell you, driving the hypotenuse took a HELLA long time.  And while I’m on the subject of long road trips…

10.  The Triumphant Self-Aggrandizement of Uboomtu (Another First)

Location : Boise, ID.  Event : The long-time-coming brief union of yours truly and the author of this blog’s next of kin**.  More often than not, her blog qualitatively and quantitatively trumps even the mighty Uboomtu.  Hopefully that means I’m the one who actually has a life.  My gut tells me that this is somehow not true.

By the way, for those of you who have never been to Idaho, Boise is way cooler then you think it is.  But its not any cooler then you now think it might be, having just read the previous sentence.  Thanks for the beers, Jana Jana***.

*’Play’ is in quotes because calling what I do on a tennis court playing is a flagrant misuse of the word play, which implies me doing something skillfully for fun.  So let’s say ping pong instead, because I am proud of my ping-pong skills.

**As of right now, this behemoth of a blog has 7,441 hits.  Uboomtu has 2,867.  This discrepancy needs to end.  To all my readers : START CLICKING.  On my blog, that is.

***Yup, that’s a well-earned double ShoutOut.  One per beer.  In the words of Stuart Scott, “Booya!”

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ShoutOut Count – | MA : 3 | GA : 10 | BB : 14 | CC : 1 | ACa : 1 | GCa : 1 | MCa : 1 | JCa : 1 | JCu : 2 | Dad : 12 | Mom : 10 | Sister : 2 | JF : 3 | JH : 2 | KH : 2 | RH: 1 | SJ : 1 | JM : 1 | LO : 1 | DR : 2 | LR : 1 | CT : 3 | SS : 2 | BW : 3 | TJW : 6

Post-Texas Reflections, Vol. 1 : My Four Favorite Texas Bumper Stickers

“If you can read this, then you WEREN’T ABORTED – so go thank your mom!”

“Keep San Antonio Lame”

“You can’t spell Jerusalem without USA”

and finally…..

Please stop asking me how to score ShoutOut Points (©), I have already addressed this on purpose

Ever since the indisputably ingenious invention of the ShoutOut Point, I have had numerous requests for them.  If you are simply asking me to mention you in my blog, you neither understand the concept of the ShoutOut point, nor have you read this post, published intentionally to address the inevitable soliciting from my faithful readers and admirers for ShoutOut Points following the epic moment of their inception.  I would expect my readers to have some more dignity.  Therefore, Coby Cagle, stop asking me for them and start doing something awesome.  Begging is so unbecoming of someone of your creative wit and drive.  Consider the one I just gave you a freebie, and I encourage you to read my aforementioned post* and start your adventure full of blog-worthy feats of strength, wit, and courage right now.

And I will be there, writing about them with the same delicious pith and candor that the entire Internet itself has become so accustomed to being wholly enriched by, that the very absence of this blog would leave but a purposeless and splintered digital web of intellectual chaos, dementia, and half truths.

*I recommend #8.  For anyone else that would like to attempt #8, I am currently located at N 29 ° 27′ 50.2″, W 98 ° 29′ 21.9″.

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Shoutout Count – | MA : 3 | GA : 8 | BB : 14 | CC : 1 | ACa : 1 | GCa : 1 | MCa : 1 | JCa : 1 | JCu : 2 | Dad : 10 | Mom : 9 | Sister : 2 | JF : 1 | JH : 2 | KH : 2 | RH: 1 | SJ : 1 | JM : 1 | LO : 1 | DR : 2 | LR : 1 | CT : 3 | SS : 2 | BW : 3 | TJW : 6

Misfortune Cookies

So, I was at a Pei-Wei Asian restaurant in San Antonio having lunch with some friendly high schooler’s from the church I’m working at, and after eating something called “Thai Dynamite”, I joined everyone in the post-Chinese food chain dinner ritual of opening your fortune cookie.  And I got to thinking.  How funny would it be if a small percentage of the fortune cookies didn’t contain the usual cliche-ambiguously-uplifting-message, and instead contained something like these :

“The fate of the entire human race is now in your hands”

“You have become death, the destroyer of worlds”

“The eternal fate of your soul depends on what you eat tomorrow for breakfast”

“There is one person at your table that is currently planning your demise”

Now that would be rad.

Who do you keep in your buckets?

It is a sad and simple truth about human nature.

It is a problem of pride, of selfishness, of sin, and most people don’t even realize when they are doing it.  Myself included.  How do you categorize your fellow man?  Your friend?  Your family member?  The fact of the matter is this.  Chances are tragically good that you are putting the people you know in a bucket.  You may have lots of different buckets, but I bet there are two big ones that everyone falls into.  The first bucket has the label “People that are useful to me”. People whose relationship or association is good for your career, your image, or your fractured feeling of self-worth.  People who make you feel smart, people who make you feel justified, and people who make you look and feel good.  Chances are also good that you always treat these people well while they are supplying you with your product.  You show them respect, you show them grace, and you laugh at their jokes. You buy them coffee, you treat them to a beer, you let them into your life, you give them slots of your valuable time.

So what happens when these people disappoint you?  When they break your trust?  When they cease to fulfill their purpose that you have unconsciously given them?

They go in the other bucket, which, as you may guess, is labeled “People that are not useful to me”. What happens to those people?  They are suddenly absent from your thoughts, your prayers, and your time.  They get ignored.  They don’t get their calls returned.  Why?  Because suddenly, their absence in your life has suddenly become more convenient, more useful, or just plain makes you feel better.

This is not an easy thing to be aware of, and much less admit.  Or write about.  But we have done it to our best friend.  We have done it to strangers that we interact with.  We have done it to our roommate.

And we are probably doing it to someone right now.

This is not how God sees us, our friends, or our enemies.  How vital, how vast, how deep is the love of God?  And where would we be without it?  I argue that the answer to this is the situation that I have described.  It is a difficult and very uncomfortable thing to ponder – that perhaps we have deeply selfish reasons for ignoring those we chose to ignore, and far less than sincere reasons for loving the people we claim to love.  But the suffering and repercussions of our failure to treat others with the uncompromising love of God are rampent in our broken world and in our broken relationships.

So what bucket are the people you know in?  Where have you put your parents?  Your boss?  Your coworker?  The guy who serves your coffee?  The guy who sleeps on the park bench near your house?

Relationships are precious.  I believe they are the most precious thing we have here on earth.  Forget about your agenda and your goals and take care of them.  Sometimes that means being generous, and sometimes that means confrontation.  Sometimes it means awkwardness, difficulty, or pain.  It always means effort and deliberation.  Be gentle.  Our relationships are in our lives for a reason.  Your friends will hurt and disappoint you.  Over and over.  You will hurt them.  Over and over.  The answer is in God’s grace and love.  Ask and it will be given.  You’ll feel like a million bucks.  This is not a call to be tolerant.  It is a call to love.  Take care of your neighbor.  Maybe even the ones that hurt you.  Jesus loved those, and loved them passionately, who betrayed and killed them.  Take a minute and grasp how absolutely crazy that is.  Don’t acknowledge it, imagine it.

What absolute freedom, peace, and purpose there is in asking God to help you grant yourself permission to truly love someone despite _____ . Fill in the blank accordingly.