Ola Podrida

I don't know how I found the time but I actually wrote a story...sorta.

The following is an excerpt of my Q&A with David Wingo of Ola Podrida. Read the full story on The Deli Austin.

What’s the difference between writing music for film versus writing music for Ola Podrida? Obviously, it seems like you have less freedom doing soundtrack work because of the script, but in terms of the creative process, is it the same?
I try to make the core of it the same. It reminds me of doing art projects as a little kid in school. You’re given supplies and tools and you’ve got to make something. It’s a totally different process but still gratifying in its own way. You’ve got to take a few tools to make something that can make a wide array of emotions pop. However, I do think that it has helped me with my own stuff because I’ve learned to have a single-minded focus and to not use the blank canvas to my advantage. I have parameters now. I’ve learned to gauge what the song needs. It’s helped to maintain the “less is more” aesthetic for sure.

If Belly of the Lion was a movie, what would it be about?
I think this album would be about a weird, oppressed teenage kid in the suburbs doing what he can to have a bit of freedom in the claustrophobia while trying to meet girls and doing some drinking in the process.

Holy crap: Taylor Swift beat George Strait.

Not that I'm agreeing, but she sure is cute (and tall!).



Maybe she won because in our complicated world, where so many empty and useless words are said, we yearn to listen to someone singing--plainly and frankly--what we don't have the guts to say.

Hallway romances, heartbreak, and true love--it's what we live for.

Thanks Taylor.

In yo' face Kanye.

Hipsteria: The Mohawk

But here is where Too Short left with female co-eds and tequila bottle in hand. Here is where Michael Stipe (REM) supposedly puked his guts out.


“[Stipe] needed to go to the bathroom,” Moody said. “He was on the roof deck and it was jam packed with people so I asked an employee, an ex-Marine, to help Stipe. Not knowing that Stipe is a frail, nervous guy—grabs him and says ‘Come with me dude.’ He puts [him] in a headlock and starts yelling: ‘He’s gonna puke! He’s gonna puke!’ The crowd cleared out and Stipe got to the bathroom. For the longest time, the rumor was that Michael Stipe puked in the Green Room at the Mohawk.”

Jump to the Deli Magazine Austin for the full scoop.






(It's not my best work but I'm going to pull the over-worked teacher card now and I'm sure it won't be my last).

"New Moon" Soundtrack

I will probably see the movie but I will definitely buy the soundtrack.

Bon Iver & St. Vincent? Thom Yorke? Are you fucking kidding me? Yes please.

I'm alive.

I moved to America when I was eight years-old. Unlike my American counterparts, I didn't know how to swim. Even though the Philippines is made up of 7,100 islands, I had never seen the beach or a swimming pool.

It was May when I landed in Dallas, TX, so learning how to swim was top priority. Everyday, my family took me to the apartment pool where I learned to swim underwater and doggy paddle--basically enough to enroll me in lessons at the YMCA.

My teacher there taught us basic strokes--freestyle, back stroke, and side stroke. I was good at side stroke, decent at back (though I swam into other lanes), but terrible, just awful at freestyle. Tilting, breathing, kicking, and stroking--all while trying to breathe in water--was too much for me.

In order to pass the class, we all had to jump into the deep end and freestyle down the length of the pool. We had to do this alone, one at a time, in front of the class. I passed, but just barely and it took me forever. It is, by far, the hardest exam I've ever taken.




Being a first-year teacher makes me feel like that eight year-old kid who is trying to catch her breath before going under again.

My favorite soldier

We are very proud of him.

500 Days of Summer

Some thoughts...

1. Joseph Gordon-Levitt
2. Summer Finn's trademark blue ribbon (it brings our her eyes).
3. The jumbled time line. (I didn't like it at first but all the jumps came together in the end)
4. Joseph Gordon-Levitt and his dance to You Make My Dreams (Hall & Oates) the morning after.
5. How Amber and I were surrounded by couples. 500 Days is the perfect date movie...hopeful yet realistic. Some parts are cheesy and a little too earnest but Gordon-Levitt and Deschanel are good at being cheesy and earnest so it works.
6. The soundtrack. Because of Ben Gibbard's liaison with Deschanel, I expected Postal Service or Death Cab to contribute. However, I wasn't disappointed by the roster. (She & Him, Temper Trap, The Smiths, Regina Spektor, Hall & Oates, Carla Bruni, etc.)

Behind the Counter

Counter Café is a long, skinny restaurant on the northwest corner of S. Lamar and 6th street. The interior is dark and cramped. The breakfast counter, where customers eat and watch the short-order cooks cook, take up most of the room and leaves only a narrow walking space between the bar stools and the row of two-tops hugging the west wall. It has a small staff, too small to accommodate the large volume of customers. While the food is above average, the service is slow and sub-par. After requesting a biscuit after we’d already given our order, (I forgot I needed a carb-sponge to soak up the egg yolk), she asked me if there was “possibly anything else I could want.” This is a common question in the hospitality industry. However, the question conveyed annoyance instead of a desire to please. Couldn’t I see that she was too busy to fetch forgotten food requests? This is true. She was busy. Regardless, as a waitress, it’s her job to wait on me. It’s not her job to teach me the polite way of ordering. She made me feel so bad that I poured my own coffee refill instead of troubling her for one.

The blueberry pancakes are the only reason I would come back. Fluffy and riddled with ripe fruit--they forced me to overeat. (Shocking, I know). My brunch companion was very disappointed with her Counter Eggs Benedict because the yolks were completely done. They looked like slimy marbles sitting on top of a biscuit. Blech.

The next time I crave blueberry pancakes, I’ll order from Counter Café, but I’ll get them to go.

Y’all Have a Good Night: Better Than The Van

“The worst experiences are earlier on,” Todd Hansen said. “I was in my early twenties, Fayetteville, AR. We played a really good club that’s not even there anymore. Somebody asked if we needed a place to stay and we said yes. He was living with his parents in a doublewide trailer a half hour away from the club. His dad had a machine shop where he did plastic injection molding. It was just cement floor in a big metal shed that was as big as this patio. That was it. ‘Y’all have a good night. Cement floor, enjoy!’”

A decade and 500 miles later finds Hansen sipping Fireman’s lager at UT hangout Spiderhouse Café, no longer burning asphalt in a ragged 1988 Chevy Conversion van (stripes on the side, no AC) van as a drummer for various rock bands. In the “Live Music Capital of the World,” where Austinites trip over musicians, Hansen’s drums sticks are still. Now, he’s parked behind a computer monitor, banging out the kinks of his website, BetterthantheVan.com, an online community that hooks up touring musicians with people offering free places to stay.

For the complete story, go here.

Thrice more with feeling

Both nights were hot as balls. Heat—especially at extreme temperatures—does crazy things. It can melt plastic, cause shiny sticky faces to suck down cold cans of Tecate and Lone Star beers, and it might even alter the physical properties of sound waves. Alright, the last point isn’t accurate. Temperature has no effect on the propagation of sound waves whatsoever. However, the humidity that pressed down like a warm wet rag felt like it was thick enough to slow down waves emanating from the stage. Even poppier songs like Cherry Bomb sounded limp and faint like they too were suffering from heat exhaustion.

(Click on Cherry Bomb for the full review on theDeli.com).

Prunus mume: Hardcore pretty things

Being a girl singer means dealing with the inevitable comparisons to female leads who have come before you. Lauren Larson of Ume is no exception. From Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth to Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, she has heard them all and accepts most with a resigned smile. Situations where Larson is equated to Courtney Love, however, are not handled as graciously as the others.

“She is my antithesis,” she said before her show at Emo’s last Friday night.
“How so?”
“I play sober, first of all.”

Read the full article HERE.

Hey 311 heads: Uplifter drops today!

I’m was in my room ironing and talking to my mom on the phone when I heard someone beeping in on the other line. I ignored the call and my mom and I continued our discussion about my little sister’s hair extensions.

“Didn’t you notice that her hair was longer?” she said.
“Yeah, but I guess it didn’t click. It looked like it was all hers.”
My phone beeped again: same number.
“Hold on mom.”

“Hello?”
“Hi,” the caller said. “This is Chad Sexton.”

Holy Guacamole Batman.

Chad Sexton, the drummer for 311, one of my favorite bands ever, is on the other end of the telephone wire that stretched from my bedroom in Austin, TX to the Music Farm in Charleston, NC where Sexton is waiting for sound check to begin. Dead air ensued. I was too busy jumping up and down to speak.

Warped Tour 2001 was the first time I saw the reggae-inspired rock band. The tour had set up camp on a gigantic asphalt desert in Dallas Fair Park. The summer sun beamed UV rays down and dehydrated fans were dropping like flies but I didn’t care. I was feeling the music and Tim Mahoney, 311’s bassist, just smiled directly at me—the world was irie.

“It’s definitely more rock than our last two records were. We explored the sounds that we’ve done and a few new ones. Our reggae stuff is on there, our hard rock stuff, some funk going on.”

The adrenaline-induced euphoria (and the jumping) made it extremely hard to concentrate and maintain my reportorial composure. Sexton was talking about Bob Rock’s influence on the new album, Uplifter. Bob Rock. I looked down at my notes: “Legendary sound engineer. Metallica—St. Anger, The Cult –Beyond Good and Evil, and Bon Jovi—Slippery When Wet. All albums with a harder edge.”

Did you decide to go with Bob Rock because you wanted to extend the hard rock aspects of your sound or did it happen organically?
We knew we wanted to have some fun. By the end we had 18 songs and we put 12 on the record. We really like the rock and that thought carried us through the record and we think our fans will love it.

Why was there such a long break in between the albums?
We came to the conclusion that we shouldn’t be on a schedule. Lets get back to our roots and the reasons that we want to play music. We love to play for people so we decided that we’re going to go out there and let the record come to us in its own time. We waited for the inspiration.

What was the inspiration for this album?
It’s an overall inspiration to move on with our band and to grow. We always want to do well. We want to do our best and get outside the box we’ve been working in and that’s why we chose Bob Rock. He came to the group and he hasn’t worked with us before but we were totally open to his suggestions and to letting him take care of the audio—making sure we’re doing the bridge, what parts should be in different keys, what lyrics work and what don’t—stuff like that. It was a great experience working with him.

Watch Out For Rockets

Some of my favorite quotes from my interview with Dave T. Jones and John Tehaar of Watch Out For Rockets.


"I used to want to get eaten by a bear; that's how I wanted to die."

"If a horse could kill Superman...fuck." (Dave has had a fear of horses since a close friend was a severely injured in an equine-related accident. Consequently, he was practically traumatized by The Ring).

"I find shit to be more endearing than something that's fake and contrived."

Read my review of the show at The Deli Magazine.

Cage the Elephant

This isn't their best, but Youtube wouldn't let me embed the video for Ain't No Rest For the Wicked, the single from their debut album which encapsulates their sound so much more than this...whiny, Delilah-esque ballad.



Check out my story on bbook.com.

Best of Incubus

My obsession with Incubus (fueled in part by Brandon Boyd's beauty mark and tendency to disrobe during performances), during my high school and undergrad years has tapered off due to my disappointment over their last two offerings. However, the video for Black Heart Inertia, with its many closeups of Boyd's perfect imperfection, may revive my it.

Incubus - New Music - More Music Videos

Is it wrong to watch a music video on mute?

311 Drumline--Two more weeks until I see it live!

"It’s not pleasant to learn something at the very beginning. It involves a lot of muscle memory so we have to practice a lot but we’re better at it now than we ever have been."
--Chad Sexton on learning the drum combo

Jazz Fest. (Why am I not there?!)

I was nineteen when I fell in love with the Big Easy and it’s an affair that has bested time, distance, and natural disasters; and like Louis Armstrong, I know what it means to miss New Orleans. I miss the wrought iron balconies, the musky scent of magnolias, the waxy banana leaves, and decadent crawfish etouffé. But more than what I see, smell, or taste, I miss what I hear—the music—of the Crescent City. There’s always a jazz band blowing brass into the swampy air and bustlers working to make my hips swing a little more as I walk the Quarter. I once paid a homeless man $10 to sing R&B classics while I waited for the trolley to take me back uptown. He didn’t have any teeth but he still had some chops.

This weekend is the last half of New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, a thick gumbo of musical styles and traditions with twelve stages, food booths, and collapsible bars stewing on the Fair Grounds Race Course, a mere ten minutes from Bourbon Street. The first half of Jazz Fest showcased bands like Joe Cocker, Drive By Truckers, Spoon, Wilco and Erykah Badu. This weekend promises to be even bigger, and the following acts should not be missed.

Ben Harper (Thursday, 5:30 pm, Acura Stage)
Ben Harper is a music festival staple. It seems like you can’t have one without the other. After Jazz Fest, Harper and his Relentless 7 will headline Beale Street, and then Sasquatch, Bonaroo, Southside, Hurricane, Austin City Limits in October…

Kermit Ruffins (Friday, 3:55 pm, Gentilly)
If you missed Ruffins last weekend, you have a second chance to hear his trumpet this Saturday. His new album Living a Treme Life pays homage to his hometown of Treme, one of America’s oldest African American neighborhoods in Orleans parish, and now, the title of a new TV series directed by David Simon (The Wire, Homicide). Ruffins is a consultant for Treme and is also a central character in the pilot season.

Sugarland (Friday, 5:30 pm, Acura Stage)
The duo is nominated for six CMT Music Awards (the country equivalent of MTV) including Video of the Year for All I Want To Do, a summery ditty about playing hooky. Buy a hand grenade and sing along.

Tony Bennett (Friday, 5:45 pm, Gentilly Stage)
Listening to Tony Bennett will be more interesting than watching Anthony Benedetto paint. The two men, musician and artist respectively, are actually just one. Apparently, the lauded crooner has been painting for as long as he has been singing and his portrait of Duke Ellington hangs in the Smithsonian.

Aaron Neville/ The Neville Brothers (Saturday, 3:30 pm, Gospel Tent/Sunday, 7:00 pm, Acura Stage)
I don’t know much, but I know you shouldn’t miss the Neville brothers. That may be, all you need to know.

Kings of Leon (Saturday, 4:55 pm, Gentilly Stage)— Their single Sex on Fire catapulted them from opening-band status to the cover of this month’s Rolling Stone. Their rock star status and Caleb Followhill’s skinny jeans should draw a ridiculous crowd.

Bon Jovi (Saturday, 5:00 pm, Acura Stage)—Come on…it’s BON JOVI. Plus, wouldn’t you go just to see if the humidity will turn Jon’s famous coif into a dandelion? Look for Sugarland’s Jennifer Nettles during Bon Jovi’s set. The two collaborated on the hit country-rock single Who Says You Can’t Go Home.

Neil Young (Sunday, 4:55 pm, Acura Stage)
Aretha Franklin is out and Neil Young is in. Listen for tracks from Young’s new album Fork In The Road as well as crowd favorites.

Allen Toussaint and Trombone Shorty (Sunday, Foundation Gala)
Toussaint plays piano, Shorty plays the slide trombone; Toussaint graces vinyl covers, Shorty could be in a music video. One is old school and one is new, but both are amazing in their own right. See the two perform side by side at the Foundation Gala, the festival’s capstone event.

Ghosts at Great Lake Swimmers

Last night, I saw Great Lake Swimmers at Stubb’s. It was my first time to hear the band, my first time at the venue, and also my first time to go to a show without work or friends to keep me company. I wasn’t there to write a review. I was there to witness a unique event; to be inspired; and to be transported from my present life to another world created by the music—a place where storm clouds scuttled over still dark waters.


I had been seeing a man for six months who I had grown to really, really like. The only thing that stopped me from loving him is the fact that he didn’t want me to. He had his reasons for staying away—he was moving, he had just gotten out of a serious relationship, etc. He was being kind by keeping his distance and hopefully, someday soon, I’ll realize that he did me a huge favor.

So I was at the concert to forget. But instead of forgetting, I remembered:

I remembered my first concert experience. It was at Fair Park Music Hall and my boyfriend at the time had gotten us floor tickets to see Incubus (circa Pardon Me) who was opening for Deftones (circa White Pony). The lineup promised a good time for all. It gave me the opportunity to drool over Brandon Boyd and he got to hear Chino’s vodka-fueled screaming first hand.

Before Incubus came on, we managed to get to the barrier that separated the stage from the audience, a feat that required luck, finesse, and a mercenary attitude. While I was quite proud of my accomplishment, my rookie self learned that the mosh pit—with its ricocheting bodies, jabbing elbows, and random shoes flying around—is a rough place, especially for a petite, 16 year-old girl. Luckily, my boyfriend (who really wasn’t much bigger than me) stood guard and pushed off any sweaty bodies that were hurling in our direction. I relished his protective attitude but I liked it best when ballads slowed the moshing down enough to let him put his arms around me and then I would sweetly lean against him.



We went to a lot of concerts during the course of our six-year relationship. Music was our common denominator and our time together fostered my interest in music and also jumpstarted my lead-singer fanaticism. (He was the lead singer of his band). We spent hours in his room—white Christmas lights glowing—listening to Radiohead, Pavement, 311, Roger Miller, Air, Sparta, Wu Tang, Mos Def and A Tribe Called Quest. To this day, I can’t hear “Bonita Applebum” without thinking of him.

The relationship ended before my senior year of college and we didn’t speak for a long time, both of us needing space to grow and discover new bands of our own. But by the end of the substantial grieving period, we somehow managed to rewire our old romance into a new friendship. We check in on each other every few months and during our brief conversations, we always talk about what we’re listening to.




I stood next to a young couple at the Great Lakes Swimmers show. The boy was behind his girlfriend with his arms around her and his chin rested on top of her head. They made a sweet picture and they made me remember how nice it was to lean on someone after standing alone for a long time.

Ostentatiousness at the American Country Music Awards

When Amber asked me if I had seen what Carrie Underwood wore during her performance at the ACM, I thought that she was implying that Underwood wore another slinky number from Bebe. I couldn't have been more wrong.



It was a little...much.

"It's like lava," the singer said. Yeah...the kind that swallows whole villages. Her bedazzled microphone was the perfect accessory.

TAKE ME TO THE CIRCUS.

My Brit-hater friend , who shall remain nameless per her request, texted me this morning to tell me that Brit's tour bus was parked in Dallas. I wanna go dammit!

While my b-fri Kat Marshall dances it up at the concert, I'll be schlepping steaks and lobsters to rich legislators and lobbyists who publicly denounce Ms. Spears but still secretly dream of doing the nasty with her.

I hate my life.

Theresa Andersson Sees Dead People. OK, just one dead person...

For more of Theresa Andersson, check out bbook.com

"There were a lot of ghost stories where I grew up in Sweden and it used to freak me out as a kid but I didn’t think much of it. When I first moved to New Orleans, I was living in a slave quarter, which is the back house from the bigger, main building. A voodoo priest lived across the courtyard from us and every night, I would see her walk around the rooms with sage as the sun went down to chase out the bad spirits. One night, I was upstairs on my futon and I was still awake, my eyes were wide open and from around the corner came this very large, totally black shadow in the shape of a man. It came towards me and it jumped—throwing itself at me. I sat straight up and screamed for my life and then it evaporated. I couldn’t sleep after that. It was not a friendly presence at all. Maybe there’s something to the sage. Maybe the she chased them over to me. "
On the first and only time Andersson saw a ghost.

Justice Records at SXSW

A really blurry picture of Justice Jamail, guitarist for The Manichean and son of Randall Jamail, CEO of Justice Records.

For Randall Jamail's interview with Blackbook, click here.

Randall Jamail is the son of Joe Jamail, legendary litigator (there are TWO statues of Joe at UT Law) and BFF with Daryl Royal and Willie Nelson.

Jason Reece of ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead on SXSW

See the article on Blackbook Magazine.

Plus more:
RR:If I was a shitty band and I was coming to you for some guidance, what would you tell me?
JR: Quit while you’re ahead. Unplug your musical equipment, sell it on eBay and work in a normal job like everyone else.

RR:Where is this coming from?
JR: It’s that oversaturation of mediocrity. The bands that I like and see, I’ve discovered by accident. It seems like SXSW is this ridiculous, debaucherous, crazy, drug-fueled, alcohol-fueled party. It’s fun but does anyone really watch the music?

You know, Trail of Dead was once an aspiring band.
JR: I guess that makes me an asshole for saying that but that’s how I feel. But the cool thing about SXSW is that it’s great to have that sort of party, festive atmosphere.

The stars at night, are big and bright, deep in the heart of SXSW.

Dave Grohl, frontman extraordinaire and overall awesome dude, was spotted chowing down some fish tacos at Wahoo on Rio Grande. Joseph Gordon-Levitt also sated his appetite at an Austin eatery located a few blocks east of Wahoo. This establishment, while known for their prime seafood (no more than 72 hours between boat and plate) does not serve fish tacos.

Fritz Lamb

Towards the end of his long life, we started calling Fritz our “grumpy, old man,” because he had the appearance and outlook of a grumpy, old man. He had a gray beard and his black beady eyes looked at you accusingly, like he knew that you were up to no good. We heard his shrill bark more and more, especially in the mornings when he would bark by our bedside until we reached down and scooped him up, only for him to bark at us again when he needed to get down a few minutes later. It was annoying. I would roll over and glare at him before putting him down. But now that Fritz is gone, I feel terrible for being so mean to him, for not understand what it’s like to get old, to not be able to do the things you used to do.

My favorite memory of Fritzy was of him jumping up on my bed in the mornings and snuggling with me. He would come after the family had already started waking up and after he had breakfasted in the kitchen at the other end of the house. I could hear his approach two rooms away. His nails clacking against the hardwood floors as he raced to the room I shared with Melanie sometimes seemed like a figment of last night’s dream, in my half-awake state. On his morning runs to our bedroom, Fritz would gain enough momentum to open our door. I’d hear it bang open and then he would land on my bed with a thump, uninvited. Sometimes he’d land at my feet and I’d move my legs to make a little hollow for him. Sometimes he’d land right on top of me. On those mornings, he’d march right up, real close until I could smell and feel his doggy breath on my face. I’d open my eyes and see two black marbles staring at me. On those mornings, I’d put my arms around him and we would sleep a little longer, spooning.

He didn’t always snuggle with me. There were two twin beds and sometimes he would choose the other one. It never made me jealous when he chose Mel’s bed over mine because we both knew that he truly belonged to Judy. We were just lucky that she knew how to share.

SXSW: Day 4 (1 for me)

Lets blame my lack of enthusiasm for SXSW on the weather. Unlike Austin City Limits Music Festival which is localized in one spot, SXSW is a creature with tentacles reaching over downtown and into South Austin. This means that attendants must brave the elements as they go from one venue to another. I don’t know if y’all have been watching the Weather Channel, but for the past week, the entire state of Texas has been unseasonably cold (in the forties!) and rainy, a combination that’s not conducive to waiting in lines, not even for the next hottest musical import from Norway.

Actually, rock stars and those aspiring to become one won’t hit the stages until the latter part of this week. The first half of the festival is films and interactive*. However, my weather person predicted sunshine throughout the duration of the festival so nothing should bar me from hanging with Norway’s finest musicians. Whether it’s for a film, a band, or for some guaranteed interaction, I’ll be waiting in line with Torchy’s tacos in one hand and a refreshing beverage in the other.**


*I’m not quite sure what “interactive” entails. I think Google has a booth or something.
** Ian Moore is the shiz...especially his newest shiz.

Don't do it.

For anyone planning on proposing to their sweetheart, may I make a teensy suggestion:

Please don't go to a nice restaurant and have some poor server write "Will You Marry Me?" in chocolate icing. You will be the laughing stock of the entire restaurant staff. They will discuss, during smoke breaks and in the dry storage, nooks, and the walk-in refrigerator, how horribly tacky table eight is for popping the question on a freaking chocolate mousse plate.

Bad Kissing

The worst kiss I’ve had was with the most attractive boy I’ve ever kissed. He was tall with a solid build, luxurious brown hair and dark blue eyes. He looked like a young Tom Cruise but hotter and I would come to find out during our date that he lived in new York City for a few years and worked as a model. The whole package was impressive and I was excited about the prospects until his tongue lolled out of his mouth and licked my face by way of introduction.

We were driving to a restaurant for dinner and we were paused at a stop sign. He leaned over the small console dividing the truck’s bench seat in half and gazed at me with his blue eyes. At that moment, with the light from the setting sun filling the cab and framing the former model, the image of the Beast’s face after his transformation back to human form in the Disney movie popped into my head.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” he asked as we sat at a stop sign. “Wow,” I thought. Nobody had ever asked for my permission before.
“Sure,” I said.

After a sopping pink sponge scrubbed the inside of my mouth clean in three seconds flat, I realized that I should have said no. I thanked the Lord that we were only temporarily stopped instead of parked on Lover’s Lane. I would have been stranded then and would have had to resort to white lies or a crazy scenario that involved me climbing into another vehicle and begging the driver to take me away, far away and quickly, from the make out marauder.

I don’t remember how I got through the rest of the date without kissing him. Without the force field emanating from the intimidation factor of the “first kiss,” my mouth was vulnerable to his unwelcome advances. However, I’d like to think that I was perfectly nice to him during the rest of the evening. I smiled and laughed and pacified him by holding his hand. I didn’t lead him on. Rather, I didn’t want to ruin his day by telling him what a horrible kisser he really is. I’ll leave that chore for someone else.

“A bad kiss is bad, but a good kiss is great,” my friend Vanita said.

I couldn’t agree more. Concerning the model, I decided that the women he’s ever been in a comfortable relationship with were too struck by his physical perfection to critique his romantic mastications, and I decided after the date was over that I wasn’t going to waste my breath because there will only be just the one kiss.

But I remain optimistic. Somewhere out there, there’s a man whose kisses I’d hold up traffic for.

Grammy Awards

• Was Bono wearing guyliner?
• JT’s “general store” joke was delivered badly but damn that white boy can sing! (Matt, you did give him my number right?)
• You would think that Coldplay could afford to buy clothes without holes. Sheesh.
• Carrie Underwood, lay off the bronzer. You look like you’re wearing Hooters pantyhose and, your mic needed to be turned up. Your back-up singers were louder than you were.
• The best part about Kid Rock’s performance was that he wasn’t wearing a wife beater though according to Judy, “he still looks like one.”
• Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift are best friends?
• “Isn’t it great to see Stevie Wonder and Jonas Brothers together again?” - Mark Hoppus, Blink 182
• I think it’s great that Blink 182 are together again.
• I’m sorry. Just because you’re one of the few bands who sold a discernible amount of records (read: made profit), doesn’t mean you deserve to win Rock Album of the Year.
• Katy Perry looked like a bedazzled fruit bowl.
• Morgan Freeman and Kenny Chesney are best friends?
• Diddy….nice lilac bomber jacket.
• Dave Grohl!!!! Behind the drum set again!!!!
• RC, you’re wrong. Thom Yorke is definitely in Top 10 Best Rock & Roll vocalists.
• Best performance: TI and JT collaboration.
• Yes We Can…have a Secretary of the Arts?
• Did y’all see Lil’ Wayne jump and click his sneaks together? Adorable.
• “And Album of the Year goes to Ra-ising Sand, Alison Krauss & Robert Plant.” (Not Radiohead like I had wanted).

Try A Little Tenderness

Last spring, a boy wrote me a love letter. It’s my first, and currently, the only love letter I’ve had the honor of receiving. I said “honored,” not because it led to a great relationship, but because I feel like I did something, or was enough of something, to warrant such a ballsy move.

So for the first of my favorite love songs, here’s “Try A Little Tenderness” by Three Dog Night.



Oh she may be weary
young girls they do get wearied
wearing that same old miniskirt dress
but when she gets weary
try a little tenderness….

Now it might be a little bit sentimental,
but she has her grieves and cares
but the soft words they are spoke so gentle
it makes it easier to bear.
Oh she won’t regret it,
them young girls they don’t forget it,
love is their whole happiness.
But it’s all so easy
all you got to do is try
try a little tenderness

Thank you, Rose, for your letter.

This just in: "Let The Right One In" is not, I repeat, NOT, a German film

But in fact, Swedish.

That's all folks.

Thanks RC. Lemme know if you wanna be my intern. I'll pay you in pesos leftover from my last trip to the mother land.

There's No Such Thing As A Free Lunch

Ray Stone opened the door to Pete’s Café and walked directly to the register to order some lunch to go. Before stopping at the diner in Farmers Branch, Stone tried to go to Denny’s in Addison to cash in on their Grand Slam campaign that was aired during a commercial break on Superbowl Sunday. He didn’t get very far. “I didn’t go in,” Stone said. “There were so many people there. It was at least an hour wait.” A FedEx salesman, Stone drove down the street to Pete’s Café because he doesn’t have time to take a leisurely lunch. He waited ten minutes before he was served. His bill was $6.77, including tax.

Big corporations—like Denny’s—are trying to lure new and old customers with drastic promotions and price cuts. It’s a risk but they have the capital to absorb a small loss. A Dallas radio station reported that one store ordered a week’s worth of food in anticipation of the rush fueled by the promotion. But what about smaller, local businesses like Pete’s Cafe?

“I can afford to go one day without any sales,” Judy Lamb, co-owner of Pete’s Café said, “but it wouldn’t benefit me in the long run. I would get some new business but I would venture to say that I would know 90% of the people that walked in that front door by their first name.”

During peak hours at Pete’s Cafe, waitresses are taking orders, serving food, and patrolling the walkways with coffee pots and ice tea pitchers. Customers can see cooks flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs through the small window. A throng of people waiting to be seated normally blocks the center aisle. Now that North Texas is starting to feel the recession, the path is noticeably clearer.

This summer, Lamb, raised prices to accommodate for rising food costs. However, her total sales for January 2009 is almost even with last year’s, even with the price increase. “That’s bad,” Lamb said, with a worried look in her eye. “Very bad.”

Pomp and Circumstance: Inauguration 2009

There he is, walking in a slow stately pace, the future leader of our country, and thus by default, the future leader of the world. What is he thinking? Is he as scared? Is he doubtful? Is he hopeful?

There's a small, drawn smile on his face. In comparison, the Speaker's smile is wider and flashier.

His wife is hugging and kissing cheeks. Her butter yellow suit and matching coat is easy to spot amidst the somber blacks, navy blues, and grays.

----

Ahh..that's a smile--genuine, a crinkling around the eyes and jaws as the muscles work to lift his mouth.

"We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness." Barack Obama, 44th President of the United States, January 20, 2009

American Idol vs. Vamps

I haven't watched an episode of American Idol in years though my friend Stephen Kroll suggested I do so, not to look for upcoming talent or even to laugh at those unfortunate enough to have friends that allowed or even encouraged them to embarrass themselves on national tv, but to look at the female talent sitting on the judicial panel.

Really Stephen?

I'd rather watch vampire movies like the German film Let the Right One In. A haunting soundtrack accompanies an intriguing storyline and while scenes are sparse, each one is meaningful. It's going to be hard to forget Eli's cloudy, blue, blood-rimmed eyes. Thanks RC for reccommending the film.

Zooey and Ben Sitting in a Tree...

I have a thing for musicians, I do. I would love to deny it but my track record and my friends would call me out faster than Slash can shred a guitar string. However, I think Zooey Deschanel--the She of She & Him--has me beat.

She assumed the role of Mrs. Rushmore when she dated Coconut Record's Jason Schwartzman and was linked with Maroon 5's Mickey Madden for a long spell. Now, hours after rumors of an engagement to AFI's bassist Hunter Burgan flurried around the Elf songstress, Rolling Stone reports that Miss Deschanel will become Mrs. Ben Gibbard. (Check it out here: http://www.rollingstone.com/rockdaily/index.php/2008/12/30/death-cab-for-cuties-ben-gibbard-she-hims-zooey-deschanel-engaged/)

Who knew they were even an item? Apparently, the two have been dating for almost a year! Way to keep it on the lowdown.

Congrats and good luck to Mr. Postal Service and his Postmistress. May y'all make beautiful melancholy music together.