Incite Full

For the past few days I’ve had a craving for burritos. I’ve sent emails, read recipes, browsed forums, and discussed on end with people the sanctity of the tortilla church. I’ve witnessed first hand the robust arguments used against “tex-mex shit” and “california what?” styles of burritos. I’ve been told that I need to endanger my health for a glimpse of burrito nirvana.

Well Friday should silence the choir of growling that is, apparently, a hot ticket in my stomach right now. Me and a few friends are going to a Pasadena restaurant/shack that is supposed to have amazing burritos. I am deliciously excited. It’s been a long time since i’ve been honest-to-God excited about a meal, the last time was probably a trip to Fogo De Chao about a year (almost to the day) ago.

It’s a dangerous proposition, looking forward to things. On one hand, it could be terrible or awful, on the other, it could be forgettable. Am I forgetting the third handed option, as Borat would say, “Great Success?” Hardly, things rarely live up to their expectations on a first go- from food, to movies, to people, we’re all just living in between on giant disappointment and the next. But there are those diamond moments, the silver linings, the sel de fleur of events that completely and utterly contents. This is what makes those lumps of coal bearable.

Last night I went to the aforementioned spin class. When i described it as the dichomatic equal of flossing, I left out one, very important part: It’s like flossing while sprinting uphill with cement filled cowboy boots. While I feel great today, and can eat a burrito without feeling the least bit guilty for it (not that I would anyways), it still kicked my ass.

Hard.

It was an hour long, high impact interval training (HIIT) session. That’s what they call it. They being the pregnant instructor who has yet to gain a pound 16 weeks into her gestation- I use this term because I’m not so sure this woman is human. Not in a bad way, mind you, but as superman was not exactly from Earth- neither is this one. I’m guessing robot. I will do it again, but I much prefer some form of strength training. Those of you who know me find the combination of me and strength laughable at best, unless referring to a gin and tonic. But give me, oh, 3-4 years; we’ll see who’s laughing on top of the proverbial hill.

Lastly, for now anyways, I need to talk about my roommate. I can’t get away from the constant noise and it’s driving me crazy. I am, of course, talking about Basil. He found a thumb tac in my room and decided to knock it all over the damn place with his little paw. Steph might call it a mitten, I’m not sure, but of one thing I am: the cat sleeps elsewhere from now on. I plan on locking and soundproofing the door so that I can attempt a mediocre night’s sleep.

I need you like water in my lungs.

What an interesting weekend.

Friday night Steph and I went out. Wait, back that up. we made awesome plans to go all over the place to Silverlake. But our friend, Dan, was basically nowhere to be found, even though we were supposed to hang out that night. So Steph grabs her wallet and we head out. That’s how it was supposed to work. An hour and a half later, we still cannot find her wallet, no matter how much we tear the apartment apart. Our place, already destroyed from a bit of the old (moving) in-out, looked as if tsunamical hurricane had ran through it.

We finally get a call back from her mother, stating that her wallet is in San Diego. Well that sucks. Steph grabs her passport, we do a shot (ugh) and head out. We’re chillin’ at the bar, perhaps even lounging, sitting down and chatting with a few people, when we do our best jaggers. I begin talking to the guy next to me who i presumed was on a date with the girl at his table. They turned out to be just friends, and, in fact, the guy was very, very gay.

At one point, after Dan arrived at our table, the guy turns to me and says “you’re gay, right” and i can only reply that I’m “way straight”. Back me up, ladies. He says of dan, though, that he’s “definitely gay, right?” We all had a good laugh at the situation, and dan and I hung out with these guys a bit later along with some other folks at their hot tub/ house. Curiously when i asked to use a restroom they told us to just use the bushes.

odd.

The next day i asked Steph if she knew why the guy would think I’m gay. She said that I was pretty outgoing (straight men are not, I can only conjecture) but also that I had “sculpted” eye brows and “nice” eyes, transporting me back to High school when a girl said i had beautiful cow eyes.

I also joined the LA fitness not 2 blocks from my apartment. It felt good to go to the gym again, but now i have an incredible amount of peer pressure to do this “cycling” activity, which seems to be a voluntary torture, much like flossing: healthy for you but an incredible pain in the ass. My only reprieve is that the bearers of said pressure also bake lots of goods. And I eat them all up.

The next day, we went to a barbecue at our friend’s place which was a lot of fun. Lasting from 4 to about 8:30, We started the day with some marinated shrimp I had brought, grilled on the Q, and then moved on to the burgers, ribs, and beans. Everything was exceptional, including the entertaining steph/dan swimming seal combo, as well as the fine maduro cigar later in the evening.

After those festivities, Dan and I headed to a cal tech party. Now, structurally, the party was impressive. Things were built, crashed, destroyed, burned, and decorated simply lovely. The people, however, are everything you’re probably already thinking. Only, about 10 percent worse.

I’ve never seen so many “clever” T-shirts, and by that i mean laaaaaaaaaame sci-fi quoting, LOTR referencing T’s. I wear awesome T-shirts, such as my communist party one, but i shall never wear on emblazoned with Gandalf or Darth Vader.

True story.

After that party, Dan and I met up with some friends in Culver city at The Backstage, where some rocking karaoke was being thrown down. Actually, some of it sucked, and one particular group had taken over the area, and were dropping all kinds of pills in public- very odd. But overall the night was ok, but could’ve been better.

It’s Sunday now, and I’m heading off to a pot luck with the odler RA’s from Webb. our last reunion, i feel, which is kind of sad. I’ll miss the chain emails that we construct from the posting of a random youTube video. Nothing witty to end this one.

“everybody wants to build and nobody wants to do maintenance”

I might have just found the best game ever. And i cannot wait to start playing it- so much in fact I already started. Last night.

It’s called Jaggering, and essentially it’s copying the moves of Mick Jagger anytime someone communicates the words “Do your best Jagger” to you. It’s a ton of fun, and basically really helps you realize when you’re out that no one gives a shit about anything. And half the time, you will entertain them and it works in your favor. Case in point, steph, brian and I all went to 21 choices yesterday for a post-dinner, pre-top chef snack. We ended up getting ding-dong and marshmallow, or reeses’s pieces vanilla, or some combination thereof.

Having just explained the game to steph, we’re standing in line for maybe 3 to 4 minutes when she turns to me and says “Hey Mike, do your best Jagger”. Well fuck, but without hesitation I do the back up finger wiggle, and a little dancing to which a random girl, having seen my mating ritual, tells me how awesome I am.

But revenge, like frozen yogurt, is a dish best served cold. One of the girls working there came up and started chatting with the crowd, we talked back a bit, and found out she was having a long day, what with school and all. I asked if she wanted it to be instantly better, to which she ovbiously said yes.

Steph, do your best Jagger.

And she does it, we laugh and she turns bright red, much like I did. We pay for our treats and the clerk gives us a free coupon for froyo in the future, all because of the Jagger.

So, you see, it is just an awesome game. And I look forward to some funny, embarrassing and truly awesome stories from it.

“Afterward, you can remove all traces of reality”

I did not plan on writing a post today. I like to go maybe 1 or 2 days in between posts so that I have something substantive to talk about. Something that interests at least me, and hopefully others. Then I stumbled across what can only be an April Fool’s day joke, 21 days late. I give you, CNN Shirts:

Love CNN? Love the News? Well now, declare your love for all things unholy with CNN Shirts! wear your favorite headlines, along with a linkback/citation to CNN! Well, I sure hope that’s MLA format. Pictured here, we have the “Citizen tickets cop for $540″ couture shirt, but there are at least 3 others on the front page.

Which imbecile thought this was a great idea? Which manager sent it up, and which director thought this was a great idea? I mean, I understand that revenue is revenue, but I can’t actually believe these shirts are going to sell- maybe if it had a cool photo. or some other graphic, or something completely unrelated to CNN, but not this insipid and vile garbage.

I didn’t even know CNN had to build it’s brand up. Sure it’s not McDonald’s, but with stories like “Synchronized swimmers faint in unison” who needs advertising. Shit like that sells itself! I’m tired of being bombarded with this stuff. You can’t go anywhere or watch anything without having some terrible product tie in. I’m already at the site, stop trying to advertise it to me and the people I fucking walk around. I can’t watch an NFL game without being assaulted by the cavalcade of car, truck, and beer companies.

What’s next, books with advertisements in them? Oh hold on, that would make a fucking awesome CNN Shirt headline. “Young man ruins last good thing”

“you must hammer and forge yourself”

This past weekend was intense. A lot of work packed into a short amount of time was the theme, and the end result is me having moved into my new apartment. I’m pretty happy with how everything is going, especially the fact that I’ve got my own closet at the new place. It’s a little cramped as of this morning, mostly because I’m still waiting to unpack a few boxes- but I can deal with that for a little while.

I haven’t been able to cook anything for a while, what with the move and all, which is killing me. But all the meals i’ve eaten have been with good company- especially when it’s been with some people I haven’t caught up with in quite some time. Saturday night probably takes the cake, however, what with the grilled ribs I had over at Tommy and Matt’s place.

That night was also fantastic, what with the celebratory party I threw at the bars for everyone who helped me move. That was probably too much fun. In fact, on our way home, Matt and I stopped to eat burritos AND hot dogs. Ultimately, I did not finish both, but  that’s probably because I was laughing too hard at the trail of doritos that led straight to tommy’s room from about 3 blocks away.

In other news, twice saturday I was told that I resemble a cross between Ashton Kutcher (ugh) and Daniel Day-Lewis (say what?!). One time, someone adding “but way sexier.” And that’s just a lie- I’m a lot of things, but one thing I am not, is sexy. I had to actually laugh when the person said it, because it was far too ridiculous. But hey, maybe in those dark, dank bars I am. I won’t lose sleep over finding out.

I digress; my annoyance with Ashton kutcher is that I find him so dull and uninspired. He plays the same role all the time, and in this particular case- that role sucks. I know these people don’t describe me as acting like him, just resembling. That description, however, lives on the periphery of similarity- and I will raze the villages of such accusations with extreme prejudice. The later, Daniel Day-Lewis, just confounds me. I mean, I am pretty sure that I have nothing in common with this man, except for being awesome. Aside from that, and my shameless quoting of his famous milkshake line, there is nothing there. nothing. I suppose I should have asked if it was “there will be blood” Lewis or something else, but either way, I’m not offended, but I’m not buying this either.

“Pig after pig. Cow after cow. Village after village. Army after army. “