Monthly Archives: May 2009

I Figured Out LOST. NBD.

Yes, it’s true.  I’m fucking brilliant.  For all of you insanely awesome people that watch LOST, I hope this doesn’t make your brain explode.  Or ruin anything.  Because I am the shit, I will share my thoughts with you.  Jacob’s enemy IS the Smoke Monster.

My mind is exploding right now.

My mind is exploding right now.

Think about it – his loophole is that he had to wait for Locke to die so that he could manifest as Locke in order to come back to the island and convince Ben to kill Jacob.  Once he was Locke, he could tell Richard to tell the REAL Locke that he had to die, which is obviously crucial to his entire plan. He manifested as Eko’s brother.  He manifested as Christian to scare the shit out of Jack.  He manifested as Eko, Ana Lucia, Charlie, et cetera to Hurley.  THAT’S why Jacob knows Hurley isn’t crazy – he realizes that his enemy has been appearing to the Oceanic survivors.  For serious, the entire show comes down to Jacob versus Smokey/Black Shirt Guy.  You thought the war was Ben versus Widmore, but they just represent the greater struggle of Jacob and BSG.

You can worship me now.

You can worship me now.

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Seriously, DMB Fans – You. Suck.

So I went to my first DMB concert a few weeks back.  I had always kind of listened to him in the background, and had a lot of his music, but he was never really a priority for me, you know?  I mean, I love “Everyday” and “Crush” and a few of his albums, but if you looked at my top artists on last.fm, Dave Matthews wouldn’t be even close to the top.  The Weepies, Oasis, Patrick Park – yes.  Dave Matthews, not so much.

Regardless (SIDE NOTE – Yes, I only use “irregardless” as a joke, as it serves as a mini-reference to Mean Girls.  Not only do I know it’s not accepted by most people as a real word, I also know that its prevalence has made it practically admissible, if only nominally.), I knew I had to see them.  They’re just one of those bands you should see live before you die, like The Flaming Lips (absolutely incredible) or Ryan Adams (phenomenal).  So I bought myself a ticket, forgot about it for the most part, and moved on with my life.

What I expected from the concert.

What I expected from the concert.

Then the weekend actually got closer.  I made plans with Hannah, the love of my life, and we grabbed some McDougall’s and a case of beer, planning to tailgate that shit.  We realized quickly how intense everyone was being about it, so we rocked out about a mile from the venue then walked over.  Well, a more accurate description is that she walked while I crutched, since I was still healing from the surgery.  We finally get to the stadium, and they have all of like two entrances set up for over 25,000 people.  It took us a bit to get in there, but once we finally made it through all the excessive security and total morons, we made our way towards our seats.

Well, let’s be honest here, I was on crutches.  Did you seriously expect me to hunt down my actual seat?  Of course not, I’m a prick, and I’m ridiculously lazy.  We found our general area and just picked some seats.  Except that they apparently belonged to same angry, obese lesbians.  Who actually demanded that we leave.  We moved to another row.  A new couple made us leave.

Second side note – I’m sorry, I know I’m obnoxious and everything, and shouldn’t have taken their seats to begin with in this scenario, but come on.  COME ON.  I was on crutches.  For the sixth straight week.  Throw me a bone here, gayelles.

That’s when it really started to sink in.  DMB fans are the biggest tools to ever exist.  They wear shirts from the band to the concert.  Seriously, people, this is just something you don’t do.  It’s like wearing a Princeton shirt when you go on your Dartmouth tour.  It’s a social faux paus of epic proportions.  I looked around at the people in the stadium and realized that everyone was either a freshman in high school or pushing 45.  Practically everyone had a ponytail, love handles, graying temples, and a Hawaiian shirt.  It was shocking and appalling how lame everyone was in this stadium.  Save for the puffs of weed smoke you could see emanating from the crowd on the field, everyone was basically the epitome of a tool.

At one point, they started playing some Crowded House.  I kid you not, this guy behind me starts screaming the lyrics, then turns to his life partner.  The words that came out of his mouth made me cringe.  “This is the best shit ever!  I love this shit!”  I know I can’t capture the moment effectively through words alone, but suffice to say, this is the kind of guy who ate at the Olive Garden for prom.

Honestly, I’ve never been surrounded by so many shattered dreams in my life.

It was like this.  But worse.

It was like this. But worse.

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“Come What May”*

I know that it’s been awhile since I posted, save for the awesomeness that was Wet Hot American Chicken, and I apologize for that.  Last semester I wrote about a theme I had come up with for that hideously bad start to my graduate school career.  I had one lined up in January for this spring, and just never got around to posting it.  After the events that transpired over the past five months, it’s still apropos today.

I heard it when I was re-obsessed with the Rogue Wave cover of Buddy Holly’s song, “Everyday.”  I had loved it a year or so ago when I first found it, and truly started to appreciate it again once it was utilized in the Rachel Getting Married trailer.  It’s a pretty simple theme really, and I can’t imagine needing to write too much to explain it.  “Come What May” means just what it says – nothing is going to stop me, and I will be fine, come what may.

I may not be prepared, but I will do my damnedest to not be fazed by anything this piece of shit school throws at me.  I weathered many a storm this semester, and I’m looking forward to getting out of Tennessee for the next three months or so.  I get to head back to DC for a few months, spend some time in Virginia in the meantime, and even visit North Carolina for a week on the beach.  This past year has taught me a lot, not only about myself, but about what to expect from the world.  I will never assume that anyone around me is competent again.  This year’s experiences have been steeped in other people’s stupidity so much, that I know I can only rely on myself, come what may.  For now, though, I’m just happy to be done.

*Side note – this theme has nothing to do with Moulin Rouge.  I have always and will always hate that movie.

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Wet Hot American Chicken

The other night, on a fluke, my friend and I decided to head to the grocery store, grab some stuff, and make a dinner.  Instead of looking up a recipe or making some weird, pre-made meal like Hamburger Helper, I decided to just invent a dinner from scratch, because, you know, laziness.

I wanted to start with a salad because it was nice and warm down here in Nashville.  I threw some baby spinach in a bowl, tossed in some dried blueberries, golden raisins, sunflower kernels, and a little bit of lemon juice and zest.  I made a honey vinaigrette and tossed the salad (no joke necessary), and then sprinkled some fresh mozzarella on top.

For the entree, I wanted to make a light chicken, since it would go well with the salad and the spring night.  I juiced a full lemon, grated some zest, and added salt, ground white pepper, rosemary, and thyme.  After scoring the chicken breasts, I soaked and lightly kneaded the meat to infuse the flavor.  I seared them in a pan for a few minutes before putting them in the oven to cook fully.  While they cooked, I made some long grain white rice with a quarter cup of butter to thicken the consistency.  Once the chicken finished, I poured some of the juice onto the rice.

All in all, it turned out pretty damn good.  Not too creative, but simple, easy, and ridiculously delicious.  I think if I made it in the future, I would add some asparagus to the entree, because what meal wouldn’t be better with asparagus?

One of the better meals Ive had recently.

One of the better meals I've had recently.

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