That Ain't Kosher

You guys are in for a very special edition of SMAC this month. I was actually going to skip the July movie reviews altogether, seeing as how I’ve been going through some incredibly overwhelming shit (more on that at a later date) and I’ve also been letting my Childhood Trauma posts pile up. I sent out an email that let everyone know that SMAC was a no-go for July, and we would pick up again next month.

And then. AND. THEN. I found out a few days ago that Season of the Witch had come out on DVD. I had waiting for this since the day it had been released in theaters and was met with a 0% on Rotten Tomatoes. Its final score was a 7%, which I had been warned by Sara Nips that it didn’t even deserve. I was intrigued. I must see this movie.

My genius plan was to have the July theme of SMAC be “Season of the Witch,” where we all watch the movie and review it for someone else’s blog. We already did a Nic Cage-themed ‘ring back in April, and it was so mentally damaging that I swore I would never watch another one of his movies ever again, but seriously, this one deserves a post of its very own.

Unfortunately for me, no one else was willing to take one for the team. I figured that at the very least, my girls in the Nip Clique would be the wingwomen- you know, the friends that hook up with the ugly guy so you can have quality sexytimes with the totally hot piece of ass you picked up at the bar, only to discover that he’s dumb as a fucking stump and/or secretly a leprechaun? Not that that’s ever happened to me. On either side. However, apparently this movie is so bad, so heinously awful that even my best bloggy friends were like, “hell, no!” and left me to suffer through the torturous twenty minutes that I got through. Thanks a lot. And you guys all claim love.

Basically, here’s what I got from the time that I spent (actually) watching Season of the Witch: There’s some chick that everyone thinks is a witch, and the other characters have to bring her to some village. That’s about it. We don’t learn her name, although I suspect that’s because even the fictional character was embarrassed to be part of this movie and chose not to reveal who she actually was. Ron Perlman was in this movie, BTW- Ron Perlman! I sincerely hope his performance in this pile of shit doesn’t scare you guys away from ever watching Sons of Anarchy or either of the Hellboy films, because both of those (especially SOA) are pretty substantial and if you haven’t experienced them yet, you should.

The costumes and props are pretty hilarious; the whole thing reminded me of when I used to play Oregon Trail. Honestly, I would have welcomed the dysentery at that point- it would have given me an excuse to get away from the movie.

Also, in the spirit of the NCH scale, what is UP with this dude’s hair? I absolutely give this one a category all its own. I don’t even… what the fuck.

At least go to a SuperCuts, in the name of all that doesn't suck!

In the twenty minutes (actually, 18.75) I spent wondering how Nicolas Cage ever earned an Academy Award, I really did attempt to make it to the end. As the creator of SMAC, I really hate to let you guys down, but I couldn’t do this to myself anymore. I’ve finally found the one film that defeated me; the one that even I couldn’t get all the way through. I thought it couldn’t be done, ever. That is quite the accomplishment- congratulations, Season of the Witch.

I am officially mad at all of you for forcing me to go through this misery by myself. No more sexual favors (and don’t think you can get away with hiding in my treehouse, Lor- I’ve briefed him on the situation and he knows what’s up).

You guys owe me. Huge.

So it’s come to this: post number 100.

Honestly, I never thought I would make it this far. When I started That Ain’t Kosher, I figured maybe four people would be interested in what I had to say and I would give up after a few weeks and go back to watching old episodes of Stargate all day.

Well, too bad for you, because I’m a persistent little asshole. A few months ago a bunch of you voted that I should do a vlog, so I decided to celebrate my hundredth by gracing your screens with my drunken redeye majestic visage. It just so happened that this milestone fell during the weekend of Mandy Moore‘s epic birthday ridiculousness, so I got her wasted and tricked her into making a guest appearance. I know all of you are quivering with longing, so I’ll shut up and get right to it.

So here goes my anonymity, shot to shit. Enjoy. Thanks to Mandy for relinquishing her dignity.

If you’re an avid supporter of my blog you may have noticed two recurring themes: One, my constant ingenious assassination attempts against Justin Bieber; and two, my undying devotion to live music.

Since I can’t actively try to kill that little shit without drawing attention to myself and therefore creating a hefty criminal record (ha…creating. Let’s go with that), this month’s Aural Sex is focused on the healthier part of my obsession- those particular concerts that changed my life, that inspired me, or that stirred something in me I never knew I had. Here’s my list:

GREATEST MUSICAL O’S OF MY LIFETIME

BAD RELIGION/THE AGGROLITES/OFF WITH THEIR HEADS (2010)

I’d already seen Bad Religion at Warped Tour a billion years ago, but this show was so much better because it was their 30^th Anniversary Tour, so this one was entirely about them. They played for about an hour and a half, and while they focused mostly on this past decade, they did some of their old stuff, too. Everyone went nuts for “Los Angeles is Burning,” which is my absolute favorite BR song. Their encore was like, four songs long, also.

I’m also crazy for Off With Their Heads, a punk band from Minnesota that have a song called “Fuck This, I’m Out.” If that doesn’t make you want to at least check them out, you have failed me.

I’m most in my element when I attend punk shows, even when I go alone. Most of my friends don’t listen to the genre, so I usually have to go by myself, which gives me the opportunity to scream, jump around and act like a total lunatic. Bad Religion is arguably one of the most influential punk acts ever, so seeing them live was one of the most cathartic musical experiences of my life.

SHINY TOY GUNS (2010)

I’d been tracking this band for YEARS before I finally saw them perform this summer, and it was everything I expected. Shiny Toy Guns uses crazy visuals to amp up what are sadly under-discovered tracks that have just recently earned more of a following thanks to their advertisement deal with Lincoln.

I totally embarrassed myself at this show with my camera, but it was worth it because I finally got to see them live. They played EVERYTHING.

JOURNEY/HEART/CHEAP TRICK (2008)

I don’t give a shit what anyone says- Steve Perry is one of the most incomparable rock vocalists of all time, and Journey has some of the most superior tracks to come out of the ‘70’s and ‘80’s (“Don’t Stop Believin’” isn’t even their best song, but if it gets them the recognition they deserve, I’ll take it). Did you guys even know that lead guitarist Neal Schon played with Santana when he was only a teenager? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

I make zero apologies for my unhealthy infatuation respectful admiration for Journey.  I’m so into them that I even paid 25 bucks to see a Journey tribute band by myself and got incredibly angry when they busted out “Oh, Sherrie.” That’s not a Journey song! (When I mentioned this to my dad he got really quiet, and then suggested I “talk to somebody.”)

When I found out they were playing in 2008, I asked everyone I know to go with me and (understandably), they all turned me down. I was dating The Sexaholic at the time and he started laughing; then finished with, “Oh, you were serious? Oh. Then no.”

Luckily, my dad is a Journey fan, and he also loves Cheap Trick. He wasn’t too ecstatic about the concept of seeing Heart, but I was, because I love them, and he also can’t resist my sad puppy face (I do have the tendency to be rather adorable).

The entire show was great- Heart can still rock out, and Cheap Trick put on an absolutely stellar performance that I would have expected from artists 20 years younger. Journey was the last band on and I was the youngest one there, and I knew every word to every song. Of course, when I told this to all my friends, they all got that look on their faces.

I don’t care, dude. I would still see Journey again. I would rather see them with Steve Perry than with some guy that they found on Youtube, but at least I can say that I saw Journey live.

QUEENS OF THE STONE AGE/NINE INCH NAILS (2006)

During my first couple of years of college I interned for a guy who was a few years older than me, so our taste in music was pretty much on par.  One afternoon I was in his office, doing assistant-y stuff, when he asked me what my plans were later. Someone had given him tickets to that night’s QOTSA/NIN show, and he couldn’t make it, so he was offering them to me.

After I picked myself up off the floor, I called my brother. I knew not inviting him to a free Nine Inch Nails concert was akin to taking an aluminum bat to his car after having his best friend fuck the girl he was in love with right in front of him.

The show itself was fucking insane- I still think about it as if it happened yesterday. It’s easily in my Top 5, and even though I’m no longer at that company, that guy is hands-down one of the best bosses ever.

THE PRODIGY (2005)

I often go to concerts by myself, because my taste is radically dissimilar from that of the rest of my group, but The Prodigy is the first live show I ever saw unaccompanied. It was totally agonizing, especially because there were two couples groping each other in front of me, but that changed after about half an hour because I met a guy who I still hang out with five years later. We started chatting, exchanged email addresses, and a friendship based on an insanely nerd-tastic love of music and sci-fi developed from there. This year for my birthday he even bought me a PS3 and didn’t even laugh at me too hard when an alien ate my head.

So, thanks, D. This entire post is for you.

HOT HOT HEAT/WEEZER/FOO FIGHTERS (2005)

I actually took my dad to this show for one of his birthdays because he loves Foo Fighters and likes Weezer’s old stuff. I’m a fan of Hot Hot Heat, too, so this was a triple Music O for me.

I’ve probably seen Foo Fighters five or six times by now. Dave Grohl is a musical mastermind and every live show is completely new- it’s like how a Catholic schoolgirl feels when she walks into a sex shop for the first time. If you haven’t seen them yet, GO.

As for Weezer, I would definitely recommend their older material, although I would have to put them in the “lame” category recently. However, they do have a shout-out to Lost on their latest CD, so I might check it out.

Maybe.

THE USED (WARPED TOUR, 2003)

Besides having the distinction of being the first ever free show that I’ve attended, seeing The Used play the 2003 Warped Tour was also a bonding moment for my brother and I.

Before anyone knew who the hell The Used actually were, my brother used to hang out with them, and they invited him to watch their set at Warped. I thought that he took me along to be nice, but he later told me it was because I had a camera phone and he didn’t. Um, thanks.

Anyway, not only did I get to hang with the guys in The Used, I also met a few of the other bands and had the opportunity to lounge on the corner of the stage while they shot a video of their performance. Considering the occupation that I currently hold, that isn’t a big deal anymore, but back then, it was pretty fucking sweet.

Spending time with my brother and realizing that we shared a common interest also helped cement the relationship we have now. We go to shows together all the time, but it’s this first one that really sealed everything.

NO DOUBT (2000)

No Doubt’s Return of Saturn tour was the first one I was ever allowed to see without parental supervision. I was in high school and my best friend was the first one of us to get her license, so seven of us piled into her parents’ van and drove all the way to New Jersey. We all thought that attending a concert by ourselves and staying out past midnight made us total bad-asses (note: it did not).

Gwen Stefani annoys the shit out of me now, but I’ll never forget the experience of seeing her perform. I can always tell when an artist truly revels in being onstage, and she loved every minute of it. It made that particular girls’ night out that much more unforgettable.

GREEN DAY (1994)

There are two musical moments that I credit with steering me in the direction that I ultimately wound up in. One of them was when I saw Almost Famous, which I won’t go into again because you’re all probably totally sick of that by now.

The other was the release of Green Day’s Dookie in 1994 and subsequent tour. When that record came out I was really young and still poisoning my ears with Wilson Phillips and Nelson (all of you can go fuck yourselves- I already said I was really young).  Then I went to my cousin’s house and heard “Longview” blasting from his stereo, and that was it. My entire CD collection went into the trash, and my mom was horrified forever.

Dookie was the first CD I ever bought for myself, with my own money, and I played it over and over again until I wore it out. When I learned that my cousin was going to see Green Day live, I pretty much forced him to take me with him.  I’m sure he was really stoked for that one. He’s a lot older than me and I was a major cock-block. In retrospect, he was pretty cool for agreeing to it. I’m not exaggerating when I say that that show completely altered my life.

Discovering Green Day totally transformed my taste in music. I became a punk addict and used my love for the band to spin-off into the mid-nineties So-Cal scene and artists that dominated the grunge genre. While all of my friends were collecting NSYNC and Britney Spears albums, I was filling my CD booklets with Rancid and The Offspring. Later on I fell in love with The Clash, The Ramones, and the pioneers of the ’70′s New York and UK punk scenes as well.

My love for Green Day has died down considerably since then, especially after “Time of Your Life” came out and pansy-ass twelve year olds pretended that they loved the band when they had NO idea what else had been previously released. However, no one can argue that Green Day is a fucking powerhouse and that American Idiot is already considered a classic. I would absolutely see them again- but only if they played their old stuff.

THE BANGLES (1980-something)

This was the very first concert I ever went to. I don’t remember what year it was, but I think I was like three. My parents say that Susanna Hoffs looked at me when they did “Walk Like An Egyptian,” and this is most likely why I’m so involved with music now. Foreshadowing, yo.

OK, probably not. But I still listen to The Bangles today. Seriously, “Eternal Flame” is one of the best songs written about love in the eighties.

Here’s a weird fact: Hoffs is married to the guy that directed the Austin Powers movies. Turn that one around for a while.

FUTURE AMAZINGLY EPIC SHOW THAT IS GUARANTEED TO MAKE MY HEAD EXPLODE:

SOCIAL DISTORTION (2011)

A few months ago I found out that Social Distortion, who I’ve been stalking not at all frighteningly consumed with for almost 15 years, was embarking on a double-legged US tour. First I was totally bummed out because they were coming nowhere near LA. I even wrote a post pleading with them to play there. I promised to degrade myself for tickets, and it was extremely humiliating. Then I almost wet myself when I realized that we were going to be in New York at exactly the same time, but the tickets were 50 bucks and I’m broke as hell.

I told my dad over the phone and he was all, “oh, sorry, that sucks.” Then a few days later he dropped the bomb that he’d looked up Social Distortion’s tour dates and found out that they’re coming to Los Angeles a couple of weeks after my birthday, and he’d gotten me two tickets as a present.

I was speechless on the other end for so long that I think my dad thought I was clinically dead. I don’t know whether he’d had the tickets all along and wanted to surprise me, or he decided to get them for me after that first call, but I think he just won some sort of Award for Dads that hasn’t yet been invented. Social Distortion is one of my all-time favorite bands that NEVER tours, and I’m pretty sure that I’ll cream myself at the show, if I even make it there. I might die from delirium first.

BTW, if anyone EVER wants to get me Radiohead tickets, I can’t pay you or anything. However, I do have an interestingly shaped tongue and tiny yet dexterous fingers. Just saying.

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday- I look forward to it every year and usually go all out. If the party’s not at my house, I’m always invited to one or have one to crash. Also, my mom’s birthday is the day before so it was instilled in my brain as a kid that Halloween is THE HOLIDAY- even better than Shark Week.

Preparing for Halloween is definitely a lot easier for girls than it is for guys, probably because we can put “slutty” in front of any noun and make a costume (example: slutty dentist, slutty elf, slutty armchair).

Aren't I delightful?

This is kind of ironic considering it’s also associated with eating a shit-ton of candy, and with the lack of fabric used to make most of the disguises one might expect to find inside any random Party City, that might be the one food you would want to stay away from.

If I hit the gym in my head, it still counts, right?

Anyway, I’m broke this year, so I gave my creativity bone (haha… “bone”) a break and bought a pair of black wings that matched a remarkably skanky dress that neither of my parents would have let me out of the house in ten years ago. Not very inventive, but it also only cost me around ten dollars.  Normally I leave New York City for Halloween, because it’s a fucking madhouse, but this year I figured “why the hell not?”

I decided to be a partially good daughter and spend Friday and most of the day Saturday with my mom. My brother was supposed to come for her birthday dinner and then I was going to an 80’s club with my girlfriends. On Sunday (the ACTUAL Halloween), I had plans to hit up the famous parade in the Village with another group of friends and then do the midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show in Chelsea (I was most ecstatic about this one- I’m still doing the Time Warp in my head).

I was diligent about all this planning. This was going to be the best Halloween ever! Last year I had spent it at a lame party with The Subscription, so this was already better by default. Nothing could go wrong.

You’d think I would know better by now. Of course not, because I am an idiot.

So what happened to totally fuck up my favorite holiday and the most kick-ass weekend of the year? I get a FUCKING COLD.

And not a little case of the sniffles, either- this one is a without-warning, knock-me-on-my-ass, phlegmtastic journey through hell. My brother told me I was retarded if I went out. “But… it’s Halloween! I have wings! Non-returnable!” He just looked at me, and yes, I do realize how stupid I sounded.

I also managed to catch a glimpse of myself when I walked past a mirror- I no longer needed a costume. I looked lovely enough.

I called J and let him know that I was a no-show all weekend.

J: “You’re bailing on Halloween?”

ME: “I know. I’m a fraud.”

J: “Fraud is illegal. You could get arrested for that shit.”

ME: “DUDE. I look like death.”

J: “It’s Halloween. That’s fitting.”

ME: The sound of mucus “I really wish I could.  But I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

J: “But we need you! You bring the boobs.” (Thanks.)

ME: Hideous, guttural hacking noises

J: “Hot. Well, you know where to find us if you change your mind.”

The next thing I did to admit defeat was to hit up Awesome on Facebook to let her know that I would not be making an ass of myself in her presence this year. Was she “disliking” me or my post? One may never know. (UPDATE: Just my post. She still loves me! Probably because I got her a Snuggie for her birthday last year).

So this year I spent my Halloween on the couch watching old episodes of Oprah with my mom (EPIC FAIL) and relentlessly checking Facebook and blog posts for my friends’ constant photo updates. I have no idea why I would punish myself this way, so don’t bother asking. EVERYONE went out for Halloween this year except me.

ME: “So, Mom, guess who else wound up staying home for Halloween?”

MOM:  “Who?”

ME: “NO ONE! I may as well be a leper with open sores!”

Mom made me chicken alphabet soup and I kept spelling out words such as “sad” and “loser” and showing them to her along with my most “adorable” dejected facial expressions. I almost got all the letters for “pathetic” but I was missing the “h” and the “i.” I thought she might appreciate this grand gesture since she loves Wheel of Fortune, but my efforts went largely ignored.

Anyway, Halloween is over and I’m still downing soup like it’s vodka and blowing through Kleenex like they’re half-naked European boys holding boxes full of orphaned puppies with hundred dollar bills in their mouths.  At least I have no sense of taste or smell, so this is like, the best diet ever!

I’m also popping these monstrosities. What the F, Walgreens? NO.

PS- In case you guys are outraged that I wasn’t watching The Walking Dead, let me remind you that my grandma has no cable and no Internet, which is also why I haven’t been able to post for this long. I’d like to promise that this won’t happen again, but we all know how fucking lazy I am. Anyway, I DVR’d that shit back in LA so I don’t miss a second. Don’t leave me any spoilers, or when the zombie apocalypse comes, I’ll totally let them eat you.

Also, I totally called the Giants before the season even started. Congrats, San Fran!

I’m taking the day off today.

Not like I haven’t taken the whole week off, but whatever.

I’ve once again signed up for this deal called Bloggerstock, which will be explained henceforth, and note my use of Elizabethan phrasing or whatever the hell that was. I got teamed up with Puneeth at Rustic Reverie, who agreed to take over That Ain’t Kosher for the day. So here’s his shit.

Hi. This post is coming to you thanks to an idea called Bloggerstock.

Bloggerstock aims to create a “Blog-ring”, where a group of people post on a common topic on each others blog, creating a kind of a ring of posts. The bloggers are given a topic each month and they post on that topic.

This month’s topic is Do-over. I’m going to talk about one thing that I’d like to do-over, given the hind-sight that I have after the event.

Bloggerstock: Do-over

There are a hundred thousand things that I felt like doing over — doing better, doing differently, or refraining from doing — after having done them. All sorts of things, from a pass in a game of football to an argument with a friend to the way I prepared for a test to the courses I took in college to the book(s) I (didn’t) read, and so on…

But now, when I wish to write about one thing that I’d like to do-over, I’m really out of ideas. I’m in no position to write anything.  Obviously, it’s not the lack of instances or incidents.

There are, as I said, a hundred thousand things that I felt really bad or angry about and badly wanted to change the way I did them. Time has probably healed the injuries and relieved the pain. I don’t feel so intensely about them, anymore.

In fact, I even have started to think they are an integral part of me. I wouldn’t be me — what I am today — even if one of those things had been done differently. These things make up what I am.

But, on some further thought, this begins to feel like, just an excuse to avoid thinking really hard about life. An excuse to avoid writing about something that I really want to do differently. Do over. More thought and Viola! I finally came up with some thing better. More realistic. More sensible. Less of an excuse.

I would re-live my college (read as a school, in American English) life, religiously writing into my journal every day. Each and every day! College has been a great learning experience — I learn a lot of things (mostly out of class). A lot of things I’d like to go back to. Re-read. Recall. Ruminate upon. Re-learn. But often I fail. I’m lost.

I’m not able to go back, as well as I would like to. I’ve learnt some lessons, but I wish to go back and learn some new lessons. I wish to think about stuff, aloud. But I’m at a loss. I see no way. I can’t go back as precisely and accurately as I’d have loved to. I really want to do-over my college life, and write into my diary each day of it.

I would’ve definitely written about something else now, if only I’d the habit of writing my diary diligently every day.

I hope to do that henceforth, at least.

So you may have noticed the Formspring link on the bottom of this blog.

I figured that even though I’m still totally anonymous, it might be fun for you guys to pry into my private life and ask me some stuff, much like how I snoop through the medicine cabinets of new guys that I’m dating (hey, no one likes nasty surprises from the vadge doctor).

I got some pretty imaginative questions, so here are the ones I chose to address (someone actually asked what my astrological sign was. Are you serious? We’re all writers here; that’s really the best you could come up with? I’m ashamed for you. I’m a Capricorn, BTW). Nothing was held back; I don’t get embarrassed or grossed out, obviously.

Here are some of my favorites, based on the creativity of the question or how funny of an answer I can pull out of my ass:

So how many brothers do you actually have? It sometimes seems like you only have one, but then sometimes you talk about having more than one.

My brother is a schizo with multiple personalities.

No, seriously, I have two. They’re both younger than I am, and when we were kids we used to constantly kick each other’s ass. Now we all get along and we’re really close.

Do you have any tattoos/piercings/visible scars?

I wish. My parents had my ears pierced when I was a baby, but I stopped wearing earrings a while ago so the holes closed up (haha… “holes”). As for tattoos, I’m dying to get at least one, but I have debilitating panic attacks even thinking about needles, so there’s a 99.9999% chance that that’s never going to happen. I know exactly what I would get, and where: It would be on my wrist, and it would be the Hebrew symbol for strength, which would be ironic because Jews aren’t allowed to be buried in a Jewish cemetery if they “desecrate” their body. Oh well.

As for scars, I have a really stupid story  to go with mine. About eight years ago my mom asked me to get her a plate from the kitchen and the door to one of her cabinets fell off when I opened it, slicing my finger in the process. It was bleeding all over the place and took off about three layers of skin. So there’s my retarded scar story. Most scars are cool but mine is really, really lame. I probably should have made something up.

How about this: I was in a bayonet fight with seventeen ninjas and twelve pirates. While I was defending myself and simultaneously guarding a barrelful of orphaned puppies I got distracted by a truck full of diamonds and one of the ninjas cut my finger with his sword.

There. Much cooler.

Which of your friends/family is the farthest away from you right now? How many of them are actually still in New York?

This is a good one. Thanks to blogging I have friends all over the country. I actually went to Google Maps to find out exactly which one of them is the farthest distance away, in miles, and that would be Ginntastic, in Boston.

How many are actually in New York? At last count, at least half.

Now I’m depressed. Thanks a lot, asshole.

Do you really love doing laundry that much?

Why don’t you come over and see for yourself? Wait- are you hot?

What exactly do you in the music business?

Let’s see if I can do this without giving anything away:

I work in management and promotions. I’m the manager/booking agent for unsigned bands back on the East Coast, and I handle their touring, merchandise, booking, etc. My hours are erratic and I get to drink on the job. Some of the people I deal with are total douchebags, but most of them are incredibly awesome. Also, I work with mostly dudes, which sometimes sucks but also means that no one starts shifting uncomfortably when I mention sports or comics, or pack away eleven pounds of fries in one sitting. I usually deal with New York City but I also cover a lot of the big cities on the East Coast. It’s my passion, but unfortunately the pay isn’t that great, hence my location switch and forceful shove into the employment hunt.

At my old job, I worked the A&R circuit for an indie record label, and ran the youth marketing division. I loved that too, but the label exploded faster than the Bob-Ombs from Mario Bros.

Do you really swear as much IRL as you do in your blog?

Fuck yes.

Where did you go to school?

Yeah, right; like I’m giving that away. I will tell you, however, that I studied Marketing with an Economics minor.

You probably have a hilarious sex story.

A) that’s not in the form of a question, and B) yes, I do. A few years ago I was at work and I cut my foot open on a metal rack. It was really disgusting, I had to get a tetanus shot and I got to call out for two weeks. Awesome. Plus I was prescribed Vicodin, which left me higher than Lindsay Lohan in a hot-air balloon after a three-day bender. Sweet.

After being bedridden for weeks, my friends decided to take me to this bar where this dude worked that I was obsessed with. Everyone there knew it was only a matter of time before we were making sweet monkey love by candlelight on 4,000-thread count sheets. Or porking up against a dumpster in an alley. Whatever. He was totally hot so I didn’t give a shit.

Anyway, I “ran into” him (read: circled the bar) and he told me he was going outside for a smoke. Of course he practically threw me against the wall outside where we groped each other like seventh graders for the next twenty minutes until he got off (no, actually got off- as in, it was time for him to clock out and go home). We wound up in a cab back to his place where we commenced with the groping while I ignored the “where the hell ARE you???” texts from my friends (like they didn’t know).

Once the clothes came off I realized that this was, potentially, the best In-N-Out I had ever received IN MY LIFE. This guy was a total slut so I didn’t expect anything really terrible, but nothing as earth-shattering as what was going on below the pelv. We were on what seemed like the eighth position switch when he did this move that required my leg to be up against the wall and BAM!- that’s when my foot knocked against the plaster. Yup, THAT foot.

Dude- there was blood EVERYWHERE. It looked like a kindergartener’s art project. It was on the wall. The ceiling. The dresser. The bed. It was like Jason Voorhees had come in and gotten slice-happy. It was fucking NASTY.

The worst part was is that this charming intellectual kept going. When I screamed out “OH SHIT!!!!” he thought it was for the reason most women yell that out in the middle of sexy times. I was in so much pain I thought I was going to pass out. When he was finally done, like nine years later, he looks at me and goes, “I didn’t know you were on the rag. That’s fucking gross.” I got up, hobbled to the bathroom, wrapped my foot up in paper towel, and called a cab.

The invite to our wedding is in the mail.

What’s your favorite website that’s not a blog?

I’m not going to say 20SB again, because I’ve whored that out more than enough. So besides that, I’m going to have to go with Pajiba.com.

I LOVE your blog- you’re an amazing writer. If you could have any writing job, what would it be?

First of all, thanks; anyone that compliments me is automatically in the club. Second, whenever I read anything I always mock people’s poor grammar and atrocious spelling, so if I could be an editor, I would take that. By the way, Y-O-U(apostrophe)R-E is you are, as in the descriptive, and Y-O-U-R is your, as in the possessive. It’s not that fucking tough!

Also, if Chelsea Handler is reading this, and she needs a writer for her round table, I’m available. I love her.

However, my DREAM dream writing job would have to be in music journalism, like the William Miller character in Almost Famous. If I ever got an opportunity like that I would probably cream myself.

So there were my ten favorite questions. If there’s anything I left out, feel free to click the link, and I’ll cover them in my next round.

Also, my 69th post is coming up, so to celebrate, I’ll be featuring a guest blogger. I’ll keep you posted on that.

I think by now it’s borderline superfluous to mention how obsessed I am with the band Shiny Toy Guns. I think I’ve probably written about them in this blog one or a hundred times, so I’ll just start off this post with

SHINY TOY GUNS! SHINY TOY GUNS! SHINY TOY GUNS!

Sorry. I’ll stop now.

They performed at the Sunset Junction festival this weekend and as soon as I found out about it a few weeks ago I annoyed everyone right up until the second they went on. I’ve been furiously checking for years to see when this band was supposed to play near me, so short of winning a bajillion dollars, this was probably the greatest thing that could have happened to me right now (Honestly, I probably would have preferred the bajillion dollars. I’m broke as hell).

The Sunset Junction festival takes place in Silverlake every year, and for 20 bucks you can see close to 40 bands. There’s also carnival rides, copious amounts of booze, spectacularly shitty food and street vendors from local stores, newspapers and radio stations. I hung out with the guys from KROQ for a while and they were both really cool.

Because it was a street fair, the prices were insane. I got a $5 milkshake- the only time that’s acceptable is in Pulp Fiction, and even John Travolta got pissed. I also took major offense with the candy apples- mixing candy and fruit is like bringing your favorite stuffed animal with you to a maximum security prison- it’s a surefire way to get plowed painfully up the ass.

Also, the ATM fees were $3.50. What the fuck???!!!! They didn’t even bother to kiss me first.

The bands, on the other hand, were well worth the price of admission. When I was bothering the guys at the KROQ booth I discovered these guys called Saint Motel. They gave off a laid-back rock vibe that I was totally into, and the best part is that they’re playing here next week, too, so I get to see them again.

I was also excited for Eastern Conference Champions. One of my old co-workers turned me onto them about a year and a half ago, but I’ve never seen them live. I ignored the fact that they contributed a song to one of the Twilight soundtracks because their sound is THAT good. They‘re just good enough for the hipsters back in Brooklyn without actually being hipster. Plus the guitarist is a chick, and I’m pretty sure the band name is a hockey reference. Check them out.

Surprisingly, one of the best acts of the night was Fishbone, who I wasn’t going to go see because I’m not into them at all, but they were right next to where I brought my diamond-encrusted milkshake so I couldn’t help but overhear. They did a kick-ass cover of Ozzy’s “Iron Man.” Yes, you read that right. I was kind of blown away, actually. It was out of their genre, but extremely well done. I may check out more of their material because of it.

Unfortunately I couldn’t make Ghostland Observatory or Bad Brains because they were both on at the exact same time as SHINY TOY GUNS! and there was NO WAY IN HELL I was going to miss a single second of that show. I was pretty bummed about Ghostland, but I’d already seen Bad Brains a while ago so it wasn’t that huge of a loss.

As it got darker out it crept closer and closer to SHINY TOY GUNS! time. I had run into a friend of a friend and I had warned him that he was going to witness me make a complete ass of myself. I don’t think he took me seriously until 8:55 rolled around and some dude came out with the SHINY TOY GUNS! banner. I started growing restless and my friend began to back away.

SHINY TOY GUNS! were supposed to go on at 9pm but, with a background in the music business, I knew that probably meant around 9:15. At 9:20 the lights dimmed and I started jumping around like a dying caterpillar on meth. This could also probably be attributed to the contact high that I most likely received from the joint that was being passed around right next to me. Gotta love Silverlake.

SHINY TOY GUNS!

The show itself was absolutely fucking incredible. SHINY TOY GUNS! is mostly an electronica act so they relied largely on awesome visuals. Some girl in a bikini top and skirt came out and fucking ATE FIRE.

There were weird creatures that danced around on stage and fondled their own boob-type-things.

Some dude came out and did gymnastics/ballet-type stuff.

The thong was highly unappreciated.

There was an androgynous alien-like thing that moved around on stage like it was evil.

The cheapest way to get rid of crabs.

I took so many pictures that the batteries in my camera lasted about twenty minutes. Unfortunately my camera blows and has a delay on it so a lot of the pictures came out blurry. Fuck you, Nikon Coolpix.

I was waiting for about eight songs and they played every single one. When they got to “Rainy Monday” (my current favorite) I went totally fucking nuts and started dancing around like a lunatic. I put up so many Facebook updates during the day that one of my friends sent me a text that read “Shut the fuck up about Shiny Toy Guns.” No, YOU shut the fuck up. You’re jealous (probably not. I was just being really obnoxious).

Apparently SHINY TOY GUNS! play in SoCal a lot so I’ll get to see them again. I’m covered in bruises and I’m piss broke but I would gladly dip into my non-existent bank account to see them over and over again because they are SICK live.

Not like you need it again, but here’s their official link:

SHINY TOY GUNS!

I think I’ve effectively gotten the fever out of my system for now. I know I was really insufferable, and everyone around me was probably looking forward to the show just so I would shut the hell up. Thanks for putting up with me.

There’s another music festival next weekend, which you’ll hear about, but I won’t be nearly as irritating.

I know this was supposed to go up yesterday, but as a longtime baseball fan and a New Yorker, I thought it more appropriate that I honor the passing of legendary Yankees owner George Steinbrenner. Really, are you guys that impatient that you can’t wait an extra day for some lame post about what’s on my iPod? I also owe a shitload of guest blogs and they’ve all been waiting for like nine years.

Anyway, after last month’s Aural Sex column led to a bunch of texts from my friends threatening to out me for my current Lady Gaga infatuation, I realized that in order for my writing to be even moderately successful, I probably have to humiliate myself. Here are some primo examples of messages from my so-called “friends.” (Note: I hate you all).

“Hahaha Lady Gaga. I’m telling everyone.”

“Gaga! I knew it! You LOSER!”

“I knew u liked Gaga. LIAR. I’m posting it on ur wall.” (She did, BTW.)

Skanks.

Sadly, this is the biggest and fastest response I’ve ever gotten from my friends on any post I’ve ever done, and as a marketer, I’m forced to subscribe to the “go with what sells” theory. So, just for you guys, I went through my iTunes and decided to denigrate myself by listing the most embarrassing songs that I actually paid money for. I couldn’t decide which one was the most horrible, so I just alphabetized them. Feel free to taunt while you take a gander at the Shit That I Lie About:

Berlin- Take My Breath Away

Not only is this is a seriously cheesy ballad, but it plays over a love scene in what’s one of the most ambiguously homoerotic movies of all time. I was embarrassed just typing the title into Youtube. My dad came into the room while I was doing this and was like, “really?”

I was briefly comforted by the fact that whenever I used to watch this scene it was pretty hot, but then I found out that the broad is a lesbian, and let’s not post any speculations about Tom Cruise even though it’s pretty obvious and he annoys the crap out of me.

Daughtry- It’s Not Over

I’m embarrassed about liking anything having to do with American Idol, regardless of genre. However, I can defend myself by telling you guys that when I downloaded this, I didn’t know that Daughtry was actually from American Idol, so this is actually pretty low down on the scale.

Dead Or Alive- You Spin Me Round

This is by far the gayest song of all time. It’s so gay that the dude singing it is actually now a girl. It’s quintessential 80′s, though, which is why I love it- I have an obsession with that whole decade, even though I don’t remember it because I was too young. If you scroll down, 2/3 of the songs on here are crappy 80′s songs. My whole iPod is pretty much like that, which is why it was so difficult to narrow this list down to just 15.

EMF- Unbelievable

I know this song is awful, OK? I can’t explain why I like it; I just do. Look at their outfits in the video- they’re SO nineties, with the Day-Glo and the hats and the shorts… oh man, I’m so humiliated.

What makes it worse is the commercial they did for Kraft- they actually got back together to re-record the song as “Crumb-believable.” (Note: Youtube refers to the song as the “classic single.” Um, no.) Mortifying.

Georgia Satellites- Keep Your Hands To Yourself

Haha, this song is so country. It would actually be a pretty good rock tune, but Dan Baird’s voice is hilarious, and the video is great- they’re riding around on a pick-up truck with hay and shit, like they’re on their way to a state fair on a date with their cousin and a couple of pigs. It’s such a stereotype, and I will deny until someone actually looks at my music collection.

Great White- Once Bitten Twice Shy

I LOVE 80′s hair metal, but this is REALLY fucking bad. It has tinkling in it. TINKLING! Piano doesn’t belong here. Maybe it’s a good thing no one ever heard from this band again.

I, however, really like this song. Everything else they ever did sucked hardcore, but for some reason I chose to actually buy this one.

The J. Geils Band- Centerfold

I don’t know what this song is actually about. Is it some guy who jerks off to a magazine or something? Whatever. It’s terrible, I know. But I like the “na’s.” They make me happy.

Jason Mraz- I’m Yours

This actually isn’t a bad song, and Jason Mraz isn’t untalented. It’s just that everything about “I’m Yours” goes entirely against my rep because it’s a cute, sappy love song. Every time it comes on in a bar or a store, or wherever, I will roll my eyes but secretly sing along to it in my head.

See? I have feelings sometimes.

Katrina and the Waves- Walking On Sunshine

Every time I hear this song it perks me up, so I secretly downloaded it and didn’t tell any of my friends. Then one of them found out and told everyone. That bitch. You know who you are.

Kelly Clarkson- My Life Would Suck Without You

There’s actually a pretty good beat on this song, so I use it to work out to. But again, I loathe American Idol and everything connected to it. I only listen to this at the gym, and I hate anything else she’s ever done. BTW, does this picture win the “Photoshop Of The Year” award, or what?

KE$HA- Tik Tok

In my defense, I downloaded this song to work out to and it’s buried at the very end of my gym playlist.

Not in my defense, I willingly paid $1.29 for this piece of shit.

The prosecution rests.

Lady Gaga- Alejandro

I’ve gotten over my Lady Gaga denial that I was in last month, and embraced the fact that her music is, in fact, pretty awesome. Plus 90% of everyone I know loves her, so I can be honest about downloading her shit, even if I do think she’s a vile human being that should be slowly crushed by a Mack truck. This song, however, actually humiliates me because if you listen to it you immediately hear the Ace of Base track that it samples and they haven’t been cool for almost twenty years (I just TOTALLY dated myself).

Poison- Talk Dirty To Me

I actually love Poison and have a bunch of their shit, but I guess I’ll put them on this list because everyone makes fun of me for that. I have a Poison t-shirt that I’ve been requested by many to never wear in public, and I’ve been laughed at for knowing all the words to “Every Rose Has It’s Thorn” (I still maintain that it’s a classic). This song, however, is slightly embarrassing because Bret Michaels actually talks in it, and talking in songs annoys me. If I were ranking songs in this post, this would be the lowest one.

Rick Springfield- Human Touch

Everyone is into “Jessie’s Girl,” and if you say you aren’t, you’re a liar. But I’m slightly perturbed by the fact that I know more of Rick Springfield’s songs, and that I actually like them. I mean, he was really popular then, but I was like two, so I have no excuse now.

Skid Row- 18 and Life

This one made the cut because people are embarrassed for me. Once I was at a bar with some guys from work and this came on and I identified it out loud, and everyone looked at me like I was a freak. It was awkward, and this song was forever banished to the Mortification Rotation.

Steve Perry- Oh Sherrie

First of all, as an unapologetic Journey fanatic, let me stick up for Steve. His voice is incredible and unmistakeable. His solo stuff, however, blows copious amounts of ass, and this is the only single he ever came out with that I actually like. I am aware, however, that that doesn’t mean it’s actually good. Once I was in a store with my dad and this started playing, and even though we were done shopping I made him stay there until the song was over. I am such a loser.

PS- check out the video. That alone is reason enough.

Tommy Tutone- 867-5309

This is in no way a good song. I have no idea why I like this.

Vixen- Edge of a Broken Heart

It’s pretty cool that there are chicks singing and playing instruments here, but there a lot of more talented bands in this category with much better tunes- i.e. Heart, The Bangles, The GoGos. I have all of these downloaded, so I really have no excuse for this one. I don’t know, I guess the song just appeals to me. It could be because they came out at the same time as the all-guy metal bands, so I guess they were inspiring people? That’s a piss-poor excuse. They sucked.

Warrant- Heaven

“Cherry Pie” is an awesome song that’s become a bar band staple that all my friends love, and I’m totally fine with that one. But “Heaven” actually lets people know that I can identify more than one Warrant song, and that I enjoy it, and that’s not OK.

Winger- Seventeen

Any band that’s considered the “Beavis and Butthead wuss band” does not belong in anyone’s collection. This song is, however, in mine. I hang my head in shame.

See what I put myself through for you guys? All of these are the reason that no one is allowed to see my music collection until they’ve known me for like, a year. That’s usually around the same time people expose their prison record. Please be gentle with your comments, and if you’re feeling generous, let me know if you have any hidden tracks on your iPod.

Before I get into why these past few days have rained down the FAIL!, I have a few minor, more uplifting announcements:

I’ll be doing some heavy guest posting in the coming weeks for three pretty awesome bloggers (bloggesses?): Ashley at What Sources Say, Heather at Boyfriend Challenged, and Lynn at Thoughts of a Randomista. I’ll of course be alerting all of you as to when my posts go up, but in the meantime, you should check their shit out- it’s pretty entertaining.

Plus I got my tenth follower on Blogger. Say yes to double digits (and no to The Clap)!

Seriously, don't get too excited.

I also had a mildly exhilarating lunch that could maybe lead to a potentially awesome job. So we’ll see if anything comes of that. Legs crossed.

Other than that, this week pretty much brought on the suckage. My current role as Verizon’s favorite punching bag continued when my Droid broke and they had to send me a new phone- again. I had to go all the way to the Verizon store, and of course the problem wouldn’t repeat itself. The douche behind the counter basically accused me of lying, but he did order me another phone while looking down at me from behind his $1,000 shades. Hey, asshole, only two kinds of people wear sunglasses inside- blind guys and dicks. And I seriously doubt you’re blind.

Dickface.

So my new Droid arrived and I realized they forgot to send me the memory card for my phone- again. After I ordered ANOTHER card (for the third time, BTW- the second time was because the genius that took my order in the first place forgot to actually put it in, and BTW congratulate me for not laughing at “put it in”), the guy told me where they sent it and I was like, “What? That place doesn’t even exist.” Seriously, why didn’t you just send the stuff to fucking Narnia? It would probably have gotten here faster. So I gave them the address again, and at least they credited my account. Let’s see where this new adventure takes me (to a clock tower).

Speaking of idiots, a new restaurant is opening here in LA and I was looking forward to at least getting something part-time while I look for something that will actually pay me. I was an assistant GM at a bar for years so even if I had to downgrade, I figured it was at least something. I had seen a sign for a walk-in job fair at said restaurant that went through Saturday, so I called the place just to make sure I could still come in. The Einstein that answered the phone told me that they’re no longer hiring, but are “currently accepting applications.” I knew what that meant- I better hope that someone quit, got fired, or came down with a nasty case of Ebola.

OK, first of all, why would you stop hiring in the middle of a job fair? The operative words here are “job” and “fair.”  And second, why the hell would you tell people that? Dumbass. Luckily, the place is a chain, so I figure I’ll just submit my application online.

In non-related, but just as shitty, news, a couple of my girlfriends told me that I should text The Architect and find out what he’s up to over the next couple of days. This kind of crap always leaves a bad taste in my mouth; I was the last one to call; technically, he should reach out to me, right? Anyway, I took my friends’ advice, dug his number off of the scrap paper that had burrowed its way into the little pocket of my purse and asked him if anything was going down this weekend. An hour later (!) he wrote back, “I don’t know, I’m doing my own thing with Annette this weekend.”

Excuse me? Who the fuck is Annette? And why does she have such a whorey name?

I know that guys sometimes do that thing where they collect numbers like some people collect communicable diseases and then don’t call, just to prove that girls find them hot. Women do this too, I’m not gonna lie. But why actually follow up and call me if you’re already dating someone? What the hell does that accomplish? I forwarded the text to M and she was like, “WTF? Don’t even answer that.” Right there with ya.

I should order him killed.

Oh, well. Time to start over. The World Cup final is this weekend and I plan on indifferently rooting for both teams. M is super pissed about LeBron leaving Cleveland so maybe I can convince her to get sufficiently soused with me. I’ll keep you guys updated.