Man we had a blast last night. Like I said, the venue is cozy and very personable. If you go to the floor you’re basically right next to whoever is performing. All that seems to affect the artists too- they play like they’re in front of a bunch of buddies- you really got the sence Liz and her band were playing a party at your house or something.

Just check the pictures.

Jerz has a great revue of the show and some great pics as well. He brought his friends Ethan and Colleen who were really cool peeps. Afterwards we had some beers and hung out. I took my first shot at shuffleboard- that rocks.

BTW, If you want any of my pics in super-hi-res mode, just hit up this folder.

The wifey, myself and Mr. Jerz are hitting up a Liz Phair show in Tahoe tonite. One day Jerz and I are talking and one of us mentions Liz- the other is like, “dude, I love Liz Phair.”

Now there’s something I didn’t see coming.

Don’t worry tho- I’m still manly. I didn’t even shave today and I’m wearing a flanel. Stop looking at me that way.

Can’t wait. Just like Jerz, tho- I hope she plays stuff from my fav albums instead of her latest. More on the show tomorrow.

Update: Too tired to recap completely, but it was great. She played a bunch of stuff from Exile and Whip-smart so I was stoked. More importantly tho we were right in front and this venue is like having the artist play right in your living room. I kid you not, we were no more than 8 feet away the whole time- and some times 2 feet. The pics are PHATTY. Will post more tomorrow.

Holy Crap! Pit Bulls can type!!

Don’t beliveve me? Check out this post from way back- take note of the comments.

Just a little “I’m OK, You’re OK” from E&H.com.

Whenever I write a few rants in a row people get the sense I’m angry. Then the letters come rolling in, and the therapy. Some times the cops show up. It’s a mess.

I’m fine. Really- it’s just these things kind of come in waves. Once I’m on a roll, it’s hard to stop- kind of like an Atkins dieter who fell of the wagon, eh?

Get it? roll? ehhhh….

So breathe easy and enjoy your long weekend.

Overheard a moment ago…

“Still on Atkins?”
“No.”
“Then why are you still stayin away from bread?”
“I heard once you go back on carbs you blow up like a baloon.”

Dang man. I can’t imagine walking past muffins, bread, croissants, biscottis, cookies, cake, rolls and the like- only to want what you can’t have. It would be like living with a freshly baked, buttery, flaky monkey on your back. Not me, brother.

He’s not even doing because he chooses to now- he’s a captive to Dr. Atkins. The good Dr. may be dead, but still his chain gang grows. They get snared with the idea of losing a few quick & easy pounds, and before they know it they’re lined up in striped jumpsuits listening to the Captain’s speech:

“Any man who lays a hand on a petit four, get the box. Any man caught nibblin’ dinner roll, gets the box. Any man losin all control after starvin himself of carbs for six months and tears into a whole loaf of bread like its the gosh dern secret of everlasin’ life- makin all kinds of snortin’ noises whatnot- you can bet yer bottom dollar- that man gets the box. Am I clear?”

No. No you’re not clear, Cap. I know where I got this gut. I got it sitting at me deskjob 8 hours a day gulping down soda and shoveling double quarterpounders. I got it from beer. Delicious, frothy carb-infested bottles of malted hoppsy goodness. I got it at 5 bucks a dozen for Krispy Kreme and I got it from thick-crust pizzas I ate all by my self while flipping channels on my huge TV.

But I will never ask your help to get rid of it. I need to go for a freakin jog. I need to ride the bike thats sitting in my stinkin garage since i graduated college and lost all that free time. So screw your plan and your anti-carb prison, and that insanely stoic guy with the mirror sun-glasses and the shotgun- he could use a bran muffin. Might make him regular.

You all know her. She’s the bane of my existence. Check-Out Lady From Hell.

Somehow I lose myself about 20 seconds from finishing every single trip to the grocery store by my house. I’m all done picking stuff out and start towards the checkers when I forget that unspeakable horror lurks in aisle 6… the COLFH.

And without thinking I go right for her. I’m not clued in at first cause she has her back to me- plus I’ve already become engrossed in the latest Benn/Jenn/Brad/Ashton/Demi/Paris crap- or perhaps wondering how the Batboy’s face showed up in a cloud over Waco. But wait- what was that?

The Cackle.

Oh this is great. Craptabulous. I’m in the line of the all-time most annoying check-out lady. The type that opens and reads your greeting cards to you. “Ha. yeah, that’s a good one.” A good one? No a good one would be a card that said “Just run the friggin card across the red beam, genius, before the lady behind me beats you with a sack of potatoes.” That would be a good one.

She’s got the hint of a mullet and the most distracting perpetual cold sore in history. She can turn anything into a full-fledged conversation. ANY thing. “Ooooh. A man who knows how to shop. Way to get those savings.” Kindly shut your face-pit COLFH.

Now I looooove to talk. No surprise there. BUT there is a time and place. Yesterday I was in line with 40 pounds of ice. There was one woman in front of me with ONE item- a case of water. Here’s the scene:

COLFH: Hey there- got some water, eh? Well, let’s see if I can find the bar code.
Lady: Umm. yeah.
COLFH: Mmmmm. Got it.
COLFH: Have you seen our extreme special of the day? Bottles of sprite just 69 cents. (stares at bottle) 69 cents. that’s good.
Lady: Nah.

(COLFH stops the transaction to talk to the check out person next to her)

COLFH: (Mindless banter)
Lady: Um I thought the case was $2.99
COLFH: Nope, $3.99
Lady: But I read a circular
COLFH: Naw, Hon, it must’ve ended or something
Lady: It was for today
COLFH: Naw, it’s $3.99
Lady: Hmmmm… You know a dollar is real important to some people. In some countries it means life or death. Now I guess that kid I sponsor in Ethiopia will have to go without for a month.
COLFH: I could show you the circular-
Lady: No, he’ll manage somehow…
COLFH: Here. Let’s go through it together

(They combine their wits in order to finally answer the question nagging us all- can COLFH read?)

COLFH: Well I’ll be- it’s right there. Lemme spend a minute staring at the barcode…
COLFH: It’s definitely the one.
COLFH: Oh wait- the sale starts tomorrow…. ha. wow. that was great.

(I kick down the potato chip display and skewer the COLFH with a flagpole from the Fourth of July display- no wait- I just stand there and fume.)

Lady: I guess I’m just a hair away from retarded.
COLFH: Same here. I can’t for the life of me figure out why I’m still breathing. Ha ha ha. Whew. Have a great day.

COLFH: Hello sir, wow- that’s a lot of ice. Pretty cold, huh?
Me: (cold stare of a psychopath)
COLFH: Alrighty, is that gonna be it?
Me: You have no idea.
COLFH: Have you seen our ext-
Me: (interrupting with stare of doom) not now.

COLFH: Well all set- you have a great day sir, blah blah blah lot of ice blah blaah hah inane musings blah blah….

So, if you were going to hit a wall doing 40mph, which would you rather be in- A Mini Cooper or a Ford F150?

Hold that thought.

Go here.

(Found at Dana’s blog)

Things people are willing to trade for gmail (via gmailswap):

three days of hospitality during the Athens 2004 Olympics
a costume from the movie Troy
the location of Atlantis, and a man’s dignity
a 1974 Dodge Dart Swinger
ride across the USA in a big rig
real Vegemite
9,000 ladybugs
online girlfriend for a month
an authentic bible signed by Jesus
a human kidney (shipping not included)

There’s also pelnty of people pledging their undying love and friendship in exchange for invites. Most of them go to people offering cash, tho. The average looks to be about $40. I’ve had someone offer me 70 bucks for one. 70 bucks. People are great.

“Yeah, I’ll have a double quarter-pounder meal, with a coke, Torque and You Got Served. Thanks.”

McDonalds to offer DVD Rentals.

Michael Moore Hates America.

This looks fun. If I’ve ever seen someone who who looks totally unprepared to take what they dish out, it’s Mr. Moore. He’s a perfect example of why I didn’t get into Political Cartooning- it’s so easy to become a spiteful little person rather that a guide through the world of political satire.

Oh sure, when you start down the road you’re thought-provoking and informative. I loved TV Nation. But sooner or later it overcomes most people’s spirit. You focus on the negative so much, it’s easy to be filled with it. He used to seem cool- this disheveled imp poking a stick at all the corporate bears. Now he just strikes me as a bitter little elf.

So it’s nice to see someone sticking it to him. I do suggest after his little grass-roots stint in pseudo-political journalism, that this MMHA guy jumps the train.

Cats Burn House Down

It’s been a tough time, these last few years. We’ve seen something we all loved- every single one of us- get abused and cheapened, and we were powerless to stop it.

It was anticipated breathlessly for decades- literally. A nation- nay, a world, dreamed of a day when it would become a reality. Then we woke to a nightmare- not of epic proportions, but of emptiness and fizzle.

But, fear not- for I just realized something which will set us all free.

George has not ruined our dream. He never could. No one can control the future (outside of perhaps Alan Greenspan or Simon Cowwell). For I predict that some day another will come to fill his shoes and make right all that he has trampled.
(more…)

Tonite is the last episode of Angel, ever. It’s the season finale of Smallville as well. I know this will make me a mockery of some of our long-term readers- many of whom I know regard me as near-perfect in my media tastes.

I have outed myself.

I watch Angel- and I was a ferocious Buffy fan as well. It pains me to say it- but not nearly as much as it pains me to see them end. TV is crap. They keep craptastic crapfests like Charmed, The (someone please show Omarosa to the well) Apprentice and Swan on the air but cool stuff like Angel and Firefly get hosed.

Come on, people. Wasn’t there room in your hearts for the Andy Richter show? Oh well, such is progress in the world of media- where any mindless drone will choose to waste a night on Who Wants to Marry A Midget.

Forgive me, it must be allergies or something. I’ll be OK tomorrow.

Earlier today, these pictures flooded bulletin boards and celebrity websites, proving that Froggie the Frog did indeed father a child the night of his death. Regular readers of E&H.com are already far too familiar with the Froggie Saga.

See Froggie’s Love Child.

The frog’s family reportedly received a note earlier claiming that Froggie was the father of the child, and that the mother would grant visitation rights. The family claims that when they dismissed the notes as blackmail, the photos hit the web as retaliation.

“I figured it was an attempt at black mail- and I was right,” Said Mr. Squiggles, the late frog’s father. “That dirty pig squealed the moment we said she wouldn’t see a cent.”

Since the photos have been released, the family has decided to post both of the notes they received from the alleged blackmailer. Both notes can be seen in the extended entry below.
(more…)

… and then there was that time I thought I was dying.

My buddy Rudy used to bring all kinds of cherries over to my place when we were in college. He was, you might say, our cherry connection. Red, yellow- he had you totally hooked up in the cherry dept. It was crazy. He claimed that his parrents had tons of cherry trees and there was a little river fo cherry juice on their property because they couldn’t pick them fast enough.

I love cherries.

I’d sit in the living room of our dorm suite and eat tons of them. Almost every day he brought them in these gallon buckets and I would tackle at least half of one in each sitting. Can you imagine a seemingly endless supply of cherries?!?

Well one day my friends stopped by while I was playing playstation and one of them gasped at the enormous mound of cherry pits. “Holy crap- did you eat all of those?”

“Uhhhh, yeah. I still have plenty if you want some.” Another pit gets spit on the pile while I perfect my aim on Doom2.

“Don’t you know what that much fruit does to your system? You must be like a constant factory of diarrhea!”

“OMG. You are so awesome,” I said. “I was dead-sure I had Ebola.”

You know those dreams that actually affect your mood when you wake up?

I’ve talked to other couples who have those- you have a bizarre dream where your spouse does something horrible and you wake up mad at them? I woke up still trying to blame Heidi for something in my dream last night.

In the dream we were moving out of an apartment or something. Or maybe I was mowing the lawn. Either way, both of my hands were occupied. Heidi was out of town in like New York or something and while there she bought a lottery ticket.

She gets back and I’m still all busy. Upon checking the ticket, though, she finds out that we’ve won 35 million dollars.

What?

Yeah. 35 million. Dolla dolla bill ya’ll. We freak out. First I’m like, NO MORE STUDENT LOANS. Then we start thinking about all that this means and it really sinks in. It’s one of those real-life-emotions dreams that feels all real.

But wait- where’s the ticket?

You see, since I was all busy when Heidi came home and my hands as I said were ocupado, Heidi placed whatever she was talking about in my teeth and I clamped down on it expecting to check it out when I had a free hand.

But when I’m concentrating I chew. Toothpicks, straws, my tongue, whatever. And by the time that I realized something might be up, whatever was in my mouth was now pulp. I spit it out and was all, “It can’t be- she wouldn’t- it’s not… Honey?!?”

Now she’s all “You chewed up the ticket?” and I’m all “You put the Ticket in my mouth?” It’s a mess.

We tried to redeem the mound of ticket pulp, but they refused. And like I said, the dream ended and I was frustrated and depressed. How often do you lose 35 million dollars before you even wake up?

We’re cool now though. We’ve both decided any winning lottery tickets in the house get redeemed before ever chewing on them.

No doubt as a result of Movable Type’s recent pricing structure announcement fiasco, Wordpress is getting more, well, press.

Wordpress.org recently jumped to number 2 of bloglines’ most popular links list, indicating a surge of interest in the competing blog software application. A quick glance at Wordpress’s list of features puts it at par with Movable type, with a few additional features such as multiple categories per post and sub-categories.

As more people leave MT in favor of beta applications like Wordpress which are still offered free of charge, we’re bound to see some major jumps in features and functionality brought by increased competion.

I’m excitied to see what new developments are going to come of all this. I was waiting to see the new MT3, expecting it to have all kinds of new features, but it doesnt seem to.

What’s up now, huh?

Reno Scientist Uncovers Mystery of Earth’s Wobble

NCAA what? GPS who?
Representin’ the 775.

Think Office Space meets Waiting for Guffman meets the BBC. Our buds Jason and Oksana had us over to wach The Office last night. It’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while- well written comedy with a great cast. We liked it so much we watched all six episodes in a row.

Which makes the following news sound perfectly reasonable: an American network will now be bastardizing remaking it. Woohoo.

Jimmy Fallon is leaving SNL and nobody told me. I was watching SNL on Saturday (which was pretty good BTW) and all the sudden they’re talking about how it was the last time he’d do this or that, and I was all “he hah aha.. wait, what??!?”

Now don’t tell me he’s heading off to pursue his promising movie career a la Dana Carvey, Norm Macdonald or Chris (who am I kidding?) Kattan. This is gonna be ugly.

Now, I like Jimmy. I actually got to hang out with him once in college. He played a show at UNM and the event staff took him to this all nite diner afterwards. We pretty much ended up talking about Simpsons episodes all nite and he told us about what it was like making it onto SNL.

But really, I don’t expect him to be able to carry a movie at all. He can do one fine Droopy Dog impression, I’ll give him that, but he can’t keep a straight face for 10 seconds- and he’s a comedian (don’t buy the his CD expecting to her good standup either). He’s great for SNL, just like Norm was, but I really don’t think he’ll go anywhere as an actor, and that’s a shame for both.

Maya, pleaseohpleaseohplease stay put!!!