Archive for December, 2007

Is it just me, or does this rather poorly worded Chronicle article suggest that violence and chaos have erupted on the mild, Ford Windstar-lined streets of Sugar Land?

Chaos erupting after assassination, Fort Bend man says

Barkat Charania, a Sugar Land resident and former president of the local Pakistani Chamber of Commerce, first heard about the assassination of Benazir Bhutto via a text message early today from his CEO heading a wholesale business operation in Karachi.

He turned on the news to confirm the chaos.

”The streets are already starting to get rough,” Charania said. ”It’s really not safe to go home.”

His 20 employees, who were reaching the end of their workday, planned to spend the night in their offices and reassess the situation in the morning. Protests and looting are expected to get worse.

This headline and associated-by-proximity photograph probably isn’t helping matters:


Just for clarification, although you may feel at times that you are actually in Pakistan or India while traveling through certain enclaves of the Sugar Land area, Sugar Land itself has not erupted into any kind of violence unless you count the after-Christmas sales at Off 5th and Talbots.


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That’s Twice

Poking around on YouTube today, I found my favorite scene from my favorite movie ever and I feel compelled now to share it with you:

If this isn’t the most beautiful, most romantic, most amazing move you’ve ever seen, I’ll send you a little, black piece of charcoal through the mail so that you can place it in that sad, empty cavity where your heart should be.

“Forget for this moment the smog and the cars and the restaurants and the skating and remember only this:  a kiss may not be the truth, but it is what we wish were true.”

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Are you stoked — like TOTALLY stoked — about the awesome new Aliens vs. Predator movie that’s coming out?  Like, oh my freaking God, man, it’s gonna be so freaking awesomely cool, like, I can’t wait to go see it and then, like, go watch WWE Smackdown at Phil’s house afterwards and drink some MGDs and have, like, a totally badass guy’s night, you know what I mean, man?  I’M SO EFFING STOKED.*

Anyway, if you’re TOTALLY FREAKING STOKED to go and see AVPR, then you’re gonna love this:

Alien vs. Predator

Badass, isn’t it?

*In case I didn’t make myself abudantly clear, that was sarcasm.

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Down The Rabbit Hole

For me, the best part of this video isn’t how wicked Shlomo’s beatboxing is (even in his early days here), but how at around 2:04 you can see Pete Doherty randomly sitting in the audience, absolutely cracked out of his skull — eyes bugging, the bottle of vodka slipping from his hand — and quickly losing his mind as he watches Shlomo spit beats.


Where the fuck are the drums, mate? I mean…where the fuck? Is that Seven Nation Army? But…he’s not that Jack White bloke…or is he? Bollox that…WHERE IS HE KEEPING THE BLOODY DRUMS? …God, I need some weed.”



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Merry Christmas

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New (and Old) Obsessions

I’ve callously ditched Project Playlist for a far groovier music search engine: Seeqpod.  Not only is it much cleaner and easier to use in general, it also allows you to save and share playlists without creating an account.  So much nicer.

And to demonstrate, here’s a short-but-sweet playlist with a few songs I’ve had on repeat lately:  Dig It.

I’ve got a little old school New Order and Cranberries, a few old standbys like Air and The Chemical Brothers, and some new artists that I’ve really been enjoying lately, like Sebastien Tellier and Emilie Simon.

Let me know what you think.  🙂

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Me:  Hey, Betty Sue, do you happen to know where Johnny is?  I just went by his office to drop something off, but his nameplate is gone and the office is cleaned out.  Did I miss something?

Betty Sue (with shifty eyes):  He was…relocated.  To Arizona.

Me:  I’m sorry?

Betty Sue (still with shifty eyes):  He’s no longer working in this division.

Me:  ….okay.  Who should I…

Betty Sue:  Are we done here?

Me:  I guess so.

I’m anticipating that one of these days, the floor will open up and expose the inner workings of the MIB.  You’ll probably never hear from me again, but it won’t matter.  I’ll have a laser gun and some kicky, new alien pals and I’ll have forgotten all about you.

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