Burn Floss Angeles

08-08-08

2008-08-08T22:47:00.000-07:00

Oppression. Bad air quality. Communism.

Bah.

At least the Chinese have pride and soul.

Awesome. There are not enough superlatives to cover the dazzling spectacle that is the 2008 Olympics Opening Ceremony in Beijing. I'm sitting here in Los Angeles watching a 10-hour delay of the broadcast on NBC(HD). The majority of the countries' athletes have paraded in. The US athletes just walked into the Bird's Nest with their dapper Ralph Lauren blazers and their crisp white Kangol-style paperboy hats. They all looked darling, the girls looked especially cute in the garb.

The first two hours of the pageant was pure mind-blowing eye candy. Kudos to Chinese director Zhang Yimou and China for sparing no expense. So amazing, I haven't seen anything like this in a while. An impressive spectacle that's enveloped with symbolism, contrasting themes of soft, graceful beauty and the hardness of the presence of militaristic elements. There is the commingling of lo-tech/hi-tech with the intricate choreography. I'll remember the giant LED scroll, the 15,000 performers in total, the cute Chinese kids, the 2,008 Chinese men doing tai-chi in a perfect cocentric circle, the giant globe with performers running around it like a Dali-esque dream, the wraparound projection scrim atop the rim of the Bird's Nest, humble 7'-6" Yao Ming carrying his Chinese flag, flanked by the adorable 9-year old boy who saved his two classmates in the earthquake in Suchuan. I'll remember the Chinese block field undulating in perfect unison like an animatronic screen by Decoi, then seeing the tops pop of these Chinese blocks like a jack-in-the-box and revealing the hundreds of people operating this field and not some computer.

Difference, sameness, hope and passion, it's all there. The endless stream of happy faces, it is pure, concentrated joy. What a magical, artistic, cultural statement. Yeah, I shed a tear. Cool stuff.

Let the games begin.

Target - Dance Together commercial

2008-08-06T01:06:00.000-07:00

I'm feelin' this new commercial by Target. It features two girls dance battling and decorating their dorm room. It's has dynamic direction, slick choreography and the dancers are cute and charming. I'm sure the people involved are going to get a lot of work after this one. The girls dance to a great song named "Calabria" remixed by a Danish DJ named ENUR (aka Rune) and features the badass vocals by Danish reggae artist Natasja. Sadly, Natasja died in a car accident in June 2007, at the age of 32. Her career was hitting its peak at the time.

Check out the original video for the "Calabria" remix. As one YouTube commentator stated, "this is a boner factory."

The Dark Knight

2008-07-27T23:10:00.000-07:00

The Dark Knight + Heath Ledger's Joker + tequila + vodka + beer + whiskey + karoake + rum + sticky icky = pukey hangover

Hello McFlyyyyy!

2008-07-02T22:47:00.000-07:00

Thievery Corporation @ Hollywood Bowl

2008-06-29T13:06:00.000-07:00

Gooooooooooal...Not

2008-06-29T13:04:00.001-07:00

It's the first day of summer.

Fuck the Lakers

2008-06-29T13:03:00.001-07:00

You won't like me when I'm angry.

2008-06-29T13:02:00.001-07:00

Went to the see the Hulk.

It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you, With a good mind...

2008-06-29T13:00:00.000-07:00

It's been a while, a lot has happened in the last month.

Yankees v Red Sox

2008-05-06T21:51:00.000-07:00

Damn. Really?

DC v Marvel

2008-05-05T21:37:00.001-07:00

Es Cinco De Mayo, Puto

2008-05-05T07:10:00.001-07:00

It's Cinco de Mayo, sucka. Today is an excuse for all the gringos to get muy boracho and puke all over their nachos. I don't know one Mexican that celebrates this day. Stupid white people. I think I will celebrate this day by drinking a Corona and eating some chorizo, sweet and fatty chorizo.

Speaking of white people, I need to wish Wende a "¡Feliz cumpleaños!" today, at some point. Wende has the only birthday that I can remember besides my own and Jesus H's.

Cheating the One Called Death

2008-05-02T02:54:00.000-07:00

I just remembered that I almost could have seriously injured or killed myself at Coscia's construction site the other day. I used to work for the guy and he's been working on his very own Denari-esque abode for the past seven years, the 747 House. The guy has invested so much time and money on this beast, an indulgence and burden of epic proportions. The cost of materials, such as steel, has skyrocketed and he's had to refinance loans numerous times since the start of the project.

I'm in Venice for a meeting and I track down Coscia, being that he is within earshot of my client's house. I haven't seen him or the progress of his house in years. I climb up the long, wobbly ladder to the second story, Tony is meeting with a solar energy rep up top. I give him a pound and proceed with exploring the rest of the structure. The building is still without most of the skin, exposing the impressive tube structure of steel and concrete. As I am admiring this large clerestory window, I take a couple steps backward. Luckily, I stop short of the twenty-five foot drop. I am a step away from getting paralyzed or dying, impaling myself on a pile of re-bar and 2x4's. I realize this and all I can say is, "damn." I think of Chris Oberle, a fellow SCI-Arc alum who recently paralyzed himself in a mountain biking accident. These moments happen from time to time and you think about the "almosts", the "what-ifs" and how your life, as you know it, can change in a nanosecond. You take pause and be gracious and then a while later it wares off.

I make small talk with Tony as his better-half arrives home from work, she makes a beeline for the house on site. She is some sort of physician, as I remember, a somewhat fashionable Asian gal. I drive back to Koreatown from Venice with the hair standing on the back of my neck.

Note: Safety first. Always be aware of your surroundings on a construction/job site.

Does Iron Man Eat Uncle Ben's?

2008-05-02T01:03:00.000-07:00

I manage to squeeze in a workout at Bally's before catching the sneak preview of Iron Man at the ArcLight. It's been weeks since I have broken a sweat, excluding the routine, marathon sessions that I hold in the mastabatorium. It's tough working out at Bally's being as germ-phobic as I am. There is the constant fear of staph' or a good ole case of pinkeye lingering from handling the equipment. People are dirty. The Bally's I go to in Hollywood is dirty. Once in a blue moon, a lazy latin subordinate saunters by with a Swiffer pretending to clean. The thought of seeing one of those microscopic shots from a swab of the equipment that they take on those fear-orientated news programs comes to mind, I shudder. I guess ignorance is bliss. Regardless, I break the cherry, hit the treadmill for half an hour, then it's legs, upper body, abs. Done. It feels good. The short term goal is to get lean by Lyman's wedding later this May.

After the workout, I rush to Pavillions to pick up some Filet Mignon, spinach and Roquefort. I don't forget the rice. You have to stock up on rice these days. Didn't you hear about the shortage? I always buy into the hype as I am a sucker. Food has gotten so fucking expensive.

There are always a handful of cute chicks and MILFs at this market, this reminds me of the reason why I am still here...it's because of the sun and the comely girls. Some lady gives me a weird look as I chuckle to myself, I'm listening to an Adam Carolla podcast on my sidekick as I gather. I chuck a bag of Ben's brown rice in my basket and head to the checkout. I run into Ray, my neighbor buddy, as I'm checking out, he's picking up a pack of Wrigley's before heading to Wild Card to get in some rounds. I ask him if he can line up my neck and 'burns with his clippers tomorrow, he nods, "Yeah, no prob', see you later, brah."

Cousin Seth shows up to my pad first, I offer him a Corona and he passes, reminding me of his intestinal problem. Seth has to abstain from the consumption of gluten. He has lost 25 lbs, that is crazy. Alex shows up 15 minutes later, we down a Corona and rally to Iron Man in Seth's Acura. ArcLight Cinemas has to be one of my favorite theaters on record along with the McMenamin's theater pubs scattered all over Portland. ArcLight's had a lot of traffic so the upholstery is kind of beat up, but to this day, it is still fairly clean and modern. You can't beat the assigned seating, the large screens and the decent sound. It is just a well-designed and well-operated place.

We get there; you can cut the nerd-buzz energy with a knife. Both Carr and I instantly break into geek/Comic Book Guy impressions, "Um, this clearly deviates from Fantastic Four #138, this is a totally unworthy embellishment."

We mock the nerds as we head straight to the bar in the ArcLight lobby. The restaurant/bar is packed. I would like to know...who the fuck dines at the ArcLight? Alex is acquainted with the bartender, some guy that apparently worked with Monster Chris when Monster Chris was tending bar there. Dude gets around. Alex orders a Bombay, I slam a clean Makers Mark with a club-sodaback as Seth makes his way to the bar. I rush to the aisle of our theater to catch the trailers as Alex and Seth order munchies. The new Indy movie looks lame, I decide, Carr agrees. They should have made the movie a decade ago, I think to myself, I am convinced the Indiana Jones window has passed. Why is this Shia LeBouf kid getting every blockbuster role handed to him to these days? He is likable in a everyman-geek sort of way, but a movie star? Really? I piss at least three times at ArcLight, once at the halfway point of Iron Man during a part where Pepper replaces Tony Starks' "chest orb". Gweneth Paltrow is sexy in this movie, I never found the allure in her, but she is interesting eye candy in this one, nonetheless. She has a couple of honest, natural exchanges with RDJ and there is chemistry. As expected, RDJ hits a homerun as Starks. It is hard to believe that they were originally considering "Scientology Tom" for the role of Tony Starks. That would have burned me. Kudos to Favreau.

"Oh, Mikey, do you think I even know what the hell they're talkin' about? I don't if they're talking about how hard it is to be adopted or how their daddy can't show 'em affection. All I do, man, is wrinkle my brow and nod my head and somehow I turn out to be a big sweetie. Take this girl, right here, for example..." Young Vince in "Swingers" is classic.

As stated, RDJ is good. Favreau nails the coolness quotient of Iron Man. The design is awesome and the action is flawless, it is as kinetic as Transformers but more intelligible. My only gripe is a couple of cheesy/campy moments that happen and the character of Obadiah Stane. Jeff Bridges/Lebowski is classic but he is just a one-dimensional frenemy, as Obadiah. Otherwise, I'll see this one again, which is an endorsement.

They have the actual Iron Man suit worn by RDJ in the lobby, I snap a couple on my Sidekick. There is a platoon of geeks congregating around the display. Alex asks me if I'm going to beat off to the pics later. I bum an American Spirit off a passerby and light up outside. There is a KROQ tent giving out Iron Man action figures and one-sheets. I make it into the scrum of geeks and manage to make it out with three Iron Man movie posters, occasionally getting hit in the face and nudged along the way by excited comic nerds and kids clamoring for the cool freebies. I give one to Alex, one poster to Seth for "little Nicholas and I set aside the poster in the best condition for myself. It's a pretty cool giveaway.

I'm watching Oprah again, it's the only thing on after 1AM. It's a "Sex In the City" episode on Oprah, a perfect storm of estrogen. Kristen Davis looks pretty damn good for 43, I definitely have a type and she is it...HEY-OH! I wonder if she likes performing fellatio, she doesn't look like the type that does. I hear she has a sex tape that recently got out. Thanks, Intra-web.

Stay Classy, Central Washington

2008-05-01T03:04:00.000-07:00

This made my eyeballs a little moist. Reason #134 why chicks are better human beings:

The New York Times
ESPN
The Oregonian
International Herald Tribune

"I think what happened between Western Oregon and Central Washington was special. It was sportsmanlike. It was authentic. Tucholsky earned a home run, and Central Washington gave her what she'd earned. The outcome was just. And right. And national networks are descending upon the campus today to bring a wonderful story to the rest of the country." -Canzano

This reminds me of another heart wrenching/heartwarming story:

ESPN
The Big Lead
YouTube

Harpo, David Blaine and Barbecue

2008-05-01T01:35:00.000-07:00

I'm watching Oprah at 1:30 in the morning. David Blaine is attempting to break the world record for holding his breath. He is submerged in a giant $100,000 acrylic globe that apperently weighs more than a Hummer. It's filled to the brim with water, they reinforce Oprah's stage because of the sheer mass that is displayed. I can't decide if I am impressed by this...meaning the feat not the acrylic globe. The acrylic globe is bitching for a heavy duty, transparent globe.

I should have been a magician/illusionist. I had an affinity for magic when I was a kid. In grade school, I even did a presentation about Harry Houdini. Dad took me downtown in Portland to a magic store and to purchase a "kit". Practicing those tricks for a week, I was determined to wow the class. My hair parted in the middle, clad in a bow-tie like Harry, I kill. Like a mini bard, I spin the story of Houdini while performing these little tricks along the way. I have them on the edge of their seats and it all builds to the crescendo of the telling of Houdini's demise. As the story goes, as a feat, Houdini would have strangers punch him in the stomach as hard as they could as a demonstration of his cast-iron gut. It is chronicled that during the final days of Houdini, he was cornered by a couple of what could probably be described as meat-heads that challenged him and before he readied himself by flexing his ab...the guy sucker-punched him in his stomach. His appendix ruptured. Several days later, the master performer was six feet under. Why hasn't anyone capitalized on a Houdini feature film? Maybe, "The Illusionist" with Norton and "The Prestige" with Jackman was suppose to fill that void. I enjoyed both those movies. It's uncanny how in Hollywood, these similarly themed flicks come out in twos.

Blaine commences the displat by breathing pure oxygen from an oxygen tank for 23 minutes underwater before he attempts the feat. The clock starts ticking.

16:26, he floats to the top of the sphere like he is going to surface and give up. The easily excitable Oprah audience shutters and guffaws. "No, David. You're almost there," the well-coiffed ladies tremble amongst themselves. Don't they know this is for dramatic effect? It's textbook showmanship...the hens are gullible. The show is excruciatingly stale, devoid of the desired and expected tension, excitement of this type of performance. Oprah and a full audience are sitting there watching a man in a globe filled with water for almost three quarters of an hour. The show is inter-spliced with equally tepid interviews with David. Blaine has the personality of a doorknob and doesn't have too much to say, mostly answering Oprah in one-word answers. Terrible. I can't believe this guy boffed a specimen like Josie Maran, amongst others. She is so hot, in the classical "I would toss her salad, she's that hot" sense.

17:04.4, Blaine breaks the world record for holding one's breath. Riveted, I shit my pants.

Oprah is a mega-blowhard, but she is a decent interviewer. She makes something out of nothing with Blaine's brief replies. He says he wanted to try for 23 minutes because it was his Mom's birthday and that was his lucky number, but it wasn't realistic, he didn't want his heart and lungs to explode. Go figure. 23 is my birthday and my lucky number also. We're like twins, David and me. 23, a great number. By the way, Jim Carrey needs to stop making movies, retire and spend his millions. We can pinpoint that "sucking" became an artform for him after he started to grow out his hair. I am convinced that there is something to this, let's call it "The Sampson Effect". Hair affects one's psyche, giveth or taketh away. I haven't cut my hair since 'Nam.

Blaine reluctantly reveals to Oprah that his next feat is to attempt to stay awake for 1,000,000 seconds, I think that is roughly 11 days of "awakeness". I made it four straight days without sleep in grad' school in the SCI-Arc computer lab when Nagis and I were working on our project for Hernan Diaz-Alonso's vertical. Cooped up, by the second day, we had the lab smelling like man b.o., dookie and hot Cheetos. People would be afraid to go in and we took advantage of this by commandeering the 15 Dell Desktops to render our heavy-ass Maya model. Nurbs, I miss 'em. It was a trip being clinically insane after the third day of depriving ourselves of any shut-eye.

The first time I saw David Blaine was on an ABC primetime special called "Street Magic" when I was a sophomore in undergrad, more than a decade ago. I became an instant fan. It's on a VHS tape I have somewhere, I even popped the tab off of that tape so it wouldn't be recorded over. I made everyone watch it, like a total queer. This begs the question: What happened with my obsession with magic, figuratively speaking, when was the day that the magic died for me? Heh. In the meantime, "Doorknob" Blaine banged Josie Maran and David Copperfield became a rapist. While we are pondering the death of magic...how in the world is Magic Johnson more healthy, virile and more robust than I am? Abrams recently mentioned an episode of South Park where they discovered that the cure for AIDS was literally shooting cash into your veins. That is a priceless and comical commentary. The last time I watched South Park was in the '90's.

Bally's is calling my name, it's been weeks, months. I'm glad I spent all that money on a personal trainer, last year, like the Angeleno creampuff that I am. If Blaine can hold his breath for 17 minutes, I can drag my little, fat fuck ass to the gym. But, I'm craving barbecue. Thanks Jimmy Kimmel. Seeing Blaine take in oxygen from his respirator makes me want to go scuba diving again. The "Sea Oaf" awaits me.