Today is my last day at Spacely's Sprockets. In T-minus 16 minutes I will forever leave my shackles behind.

No more pushing papers. No more sitting in a cubicle. No more answering phone calls. No more slaving to the man. No more coffee breaks as my only respite.

On to bigger and better things. Conquering the world. Seeing the sights. Relaxing. Maxing. Mai Tais on the beach with a good paperback novel. Taking naps on the couch.

First item on the agenda: beer!

Huzzah!

Labels: Life

We have lost the art of derogatory names. This is probably a good thing, but I've been really interested in the wealth of slurs used in HBO's Deadwood, which we have become hooked on thanks to the ol' c**ksucker himself, Jarvis Pickle. The language is offensive, yes, but it used to portray the old west, in which men were not gentle. (The f-bomb is dropped 43 times in the first episode).

In Carl Swenson's New York Times Magazine article Deadwood - Swearing in the Old West he argues that many of these words were probably not in existence at the time. However, many of those they did use would probably sound like jibberish to us. In fact, many of the slurs included in the show are still confusing, but that doesn't stop me from being intrigued by them.

So, without further ado..

My Top 5 Favorite Derogatory Names From HBO's Hit Series Deadwood

5. Hoople Head

Used most often by the man-you-love-to-hate Al Swearengen. Urban Dictionary defines it as derived from slang "hoople" which means a drunk; a drunkard.

"Give those hoople heads some drinks to calm them down."

4. Dirt Worshippers

Used in reference to Native Americans, supposedly for the reverence of nature.

3. Squareheads

The German orphan is constantly being referred to as that orphan squarehead. Urban Dictionary says it refers to "the common shape in which many Germans heads are shaped. Dominating brow bones and a square jaw are what create this square look."

2. Celestials

Describes the Chinese population of Deadwood based on their reverence, much like the Native Americans, but in regards to cycles of the sun, moon and stars.

1. C**ksucker

No one is immune from this one. Women, children, animals, inanimate objects. Probably rooted in some kind of homophobia, one can use this liberally to fit right in, much like a Junior High student from Nebraska who moves to Los Angeles and starts calling everyone "holmes".

So there you have it. Times may change, but name-calling, while not as interesting in current society, has always been popular. So go and greet your fellow man, you yellow-bellied snake wrestler.

Labels: Etymology

Look to your right. That's what we've been working on this week. Hope you like it.

Labels: Mixtapes, Music

Battles - Race In (mp3)

When Ahdrew was here last week he turned me on to the Battles album Mirrored, which I can not get enough of. It is simply amazing.

The album, but this song in particular, reminds me of my friend Ahdrew. It is intelligent, fun, passionate, interesting, complicated, very very modern, and drums like a manafire.

He is gone now, back to Idaho to spend his time being cute with Esly, and I miss him very much. But when I listen to this I feel like he's here, and that will just have to suffice for the time being.


Love you Drew. Thanks for being a good friend. Rock and Roll.

Labels: Life, Tunesday

Jack White's Southwest Huevos Rancheros Recipe

Six Fresh eggs
2 cans Chunky Guitars
1 cup Patty Page
5 Parts Trumpet
One canned jalapeño pepper, sliced
2 Tbsp Olive oil
Enough Salt to make you salivate
Cilantro

Heat oil in a large cast iron frying pan on medium high heat until it's popping into your eyes.

Fill the whole pan full of trumpets and sauteè for a minute or two. A few might spill out. That's okay. They should be golden brown, clear, strong, and delicious.

Add the guitars and let cook for a few minutes on medium high heat until they're are somewhat mushy and some of the moisture has evaporated. Don't worry if the guitars brown a bit. It will all turn out okay. Trust me. Have I ever led you astray before?

Add the jalapeño pepper. Crack eggs directly into the pan with the cooking sauce. Add salt.

Stir with a spatula to mix everything together. You know what? Add a few more trumpets while you're at it. You should be having a hard time sitting still. Remove from heat when the eggs are cooked to your liking and you start to raise your fist in the air.

Sprinkle with cilantro. Serve. Enjoy.

Conquest - The White Stripes (mp3)

Labels: Tunesday

Once there was a girl named Marsha Stitt. One day she would become Marsha La Vine, but that was a long way off. This happened years before all that, back when Marsha was a small girl living in the country.

Little Marsha loved three things. She loved cookies; she loved books; and she loved staying up late. Her favorite activity combined all three. When her parents went to bed she would stay up late and read under the covers. She was afraid the lights would wake them up (they didn't approve of her late night book-worming).

As she read stories of horses and orphans she would think to herself, "This book is nice, and it sure is pleasant staying up late to read it, but you know what would make this even better? Three cookies."

So she would sneak out to her mother's big fridge (the one that held the dozens upon dozens of pre-made-then-frozen cookies), undo the elaborate and supposedly kid-proof rubber band seal on the plastic bags of cookies, and take exactly three.

Back in her room she would place the cookies one at a time on the opening on top of her bedside lampshade. Within minutes the lightbulb's heat would bake the cookie to near perfection. Then, with cookie in hand (and mouth) she read all through the night. Fueled by delicious homemade cookies, she read the stories that fueled her imagination, until it became too late even for her. Her little eyelids fluttered, and she fell asleep, dreaming of all the wonderful things she would do.

So we're getting ready to bid farewell to our sweet smog blanketed darlin'. We will miss her so, and there are a few things that she has to offer that we haven't yet (or lately) taken advantage of. Thus the List of Things to do in LA Before it's Too Late has been born.

Here's what we've got so far.

• Pinks
• Griffith Observatory
• Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles
• The Library Bar (not really an LA must-see, but I read about it on laist.com and it looked pretty cool)

That's about it so far. There would be more, but we've rocked this city pretty hard. Anybody know of anything we might have missed along the way?

Labels: Life, List of Things to Do in LA Before it's Too Late

I know. I know. It's Wednesday. but let's pretend.

So the plans for NYC are getting more solidified every day. Moving across the country is a scary proposition. We're about to set out in to the unknown - away from all our friends, families, favorite restaurants, bars and hotspots. What's it going to be like when we get there? What if we don't make any new friends? Will we find pizza as good as Casa Bianca? Does anyone there know how to make a decent taco? Where are we going to get tasty onion rings?

All of this will be figured out. It is an exciting move to undertake, and, as Will Oldham helps me remember, there's peace, love, and wonderful things everywhere you look.

Minor Place - Bonnie Prince Billy (mp3)

Labels: Life, Tunesday

I love bad album covers.

For that matter, I love bad albums too.

Mrs. Mills and her invitation to party is as-good-as-guaranteed to be both. She's working hard to make sure the party is a success. The candles are almost burned down to the wick. She has clearly been writing the night away, addressing, stamping, and sealing your personalized invitation. But all that work won't get her down. She is still as happy as a newborn babe. Just the thought of you attending her socially awkward party is music to her ears.

Check out the bad album cover flickr pool. There are some real gems in there. But be forewarned, some of them are not safe for work.

Any favorite bad album covers of yours that aren't included in the mix?

Labels: Music

I'm sorry, but I am just not cut out to work in an office any longer, which is good because my time here is coming to an end. You know why it is no good, this sitting in an office? Because it's boring. I need to have a drum solo break every half an hour. That would be my kind of office. Well, Tom. It's almost 10:30. Time to pull out the electric guitars. Or maybe dance breaks. We all go out into the hall, crank up some James Brown, and just freak out for a minute or so. But no. We get coffee breaks, which are great, don't get me wrong. I mean I love going outside and letting the sun warm my frozen heart for a few minutes, but there's no fire. I need some kind of artistic outlet. You think van Gogh would have survived in an office 40 hours out of his week? No freakin' way man! He would have walked out into the parking lot and shot himself in the chest, which I guess he did anyway, but not as soon as he would have. Not that I'm suicidal, just bored. Bored. Board. Booooooooared. So, what do you say? Let's have a bored meeting. Cause I am the Director of the Bored. I am Bored President, and the first item on the agenda: pacman.

Labels: Life

Last night I dreamed that I was standing at the foot of a giant turn-of-the-century stage in an old wood theatre, waiting for my turn to perform music. Suddenly, I realized that everyone was waiting for me. I had been sitting there reading something from Hemmingway. I took my book, mounted the stage, and began to arrange my equipment. All I had was a damper pedal that was supposedly hooked up to a kick drum sound-effect, some other type of pedal, and an acoustic guitar.

I started playing, but was saddened when I saw that everyone was walking away from the stage (which was easily 2 stories high). Also my microphone kept swinging away from my mouth. I was getting frustrated.

But then I started to sing.

When I sang it was like there were hundreds of me. My voice could duplicate itself like those Tibetan monks, only way, way cooler. I started wailing like Robert Plant, Celine Dion and Roger Daltry combined, but nobody seemed to care. No one was even looking at me. They were all talking amongst themselves. Then I figured it out. It was all in my head. People couldn't hear it they way I was hearing it. They didn't hear the multitude of voices. They only heard one voice, screaming away like a maniac.

I sadly finished my song and headed off stage. Nobody applauded. Nobody congratulated me on my effort. Nobody said anything. Then I woke up.

Labels: Dreams

Tunesday is back. Thanks for waiting.

I am on a giant Led Zeppelin kick this month. Nothing more really needs to be said. This song kills. I feel like I'm hearing it again for the first time. Poolie recently said he loved Lindsay Buckingham and Mick Fleetwood because, when they play, it sounds like two kids who are picking up their instruments and discovering what sounds they can make. I feel the same way about this song.

So why not wash out your ears a bit, and let Jimmy, Robert, and the two Johns remind you what it's all about?

Ramble On - Led Zeppelin (mp3)

Labels: Tunesday

Well, hey there Mr. Cubicle. It's good to be back.

Really?

No, not really.

But it is good to be back in town seeing friends, hanging out, and getting Darren ready for marriage by golfing, drinking a few beers, and eating a giant 3 foot wide pizza.

Now comes the selling, boxing, and eventually driving what's left of all our stuff to our soon-to-be-new home, Gotham City. We're excited to be setting out on this new venture, but are nervous and sad to leave. So give us a call. Hang out with us. Let's make these next two months a whirlwind of good vibes and awesome-ness.

Also, I know all of you missed out on some good meow-related news during our absence, and I would hate to disappoint you, so we have a special treat for you today. Or, should I say, a treat for you and for all your feline friends. The Make Magazine Blog had an entry the other day teaching how to make "super" catnip by distilling and isolating nepetalactone.

Enjoy.

Labels: Life, Meow

So we arrived last night after an massive travel day, much of it spent in the air. We are happy to be home but very tired and already missing our beloved France. After a few days of processing (both for us and for the computer) we will hopefully be able to upload some more photos of the trip.

I will leave you however with this question.

Which of the following words/phrases were used by the Hippie Couple sitting next to us on our 11 hour flight from London?

a. Amsterdam

b. War in Iraq

c. Vegetarian

d. I don't trust apples that don't turn brown

e. I'm going to miss out tent

f. Big Business

g. You could probably get a job in Humboldt

h. Refined Sugar

i. We need to declare our Barley Grains and Drinking Yogourt

j. All of the Above.

Labels: Life, on Holiday - Spring 2007