BG

Always

Mon, 01 Apr 2013 16:07:15 -0400

Always

tumblangeles: Celebrate Cinco de Mayo just like they do down in...

Tue, 01 May 2012 19:27:48 -0400

Celebrate Cinco de Mayo just like they do down in Mexico… by coming to LOUD NOISES!

LOUD NOISES! is back and ready to bring you the best night of comedy and music that ever even did was happen this Saturday night, May 5th, Live at The Nerdmelt Theatre.

Comedians April Richardson (Chelsea Lately), Grant Pardee (SF Sketch Fest) and Eli Braden (The Howard Stern Show) and host, Brandon Vaughn will be there to make you laugh so hard you’ll chip your teeth then we’re proud to present music by The Girls feat. Alison Brie, Cyrina Fiallo and Julianna Gull!

Loud Noises! is a crispy crunchy chimichanga filled with laughter and music and we are now best friends.

everythingsuchas: OMG BAHAHA

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 19:43:17 -0400

everythingsuchas:

OMG BAHAHA

Photo

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 19:43:00 -0400

Photo

Wed, 28 Mar 2012 02:30:30 -0400

Self explanatory.

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 12:21:22 -0500

Self explanatory.

I told you I was predictable.

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 01:54:00 -0500

What did I tell you? Maybe that I would write something one night when I took some Nyquil and instead of succumbing to inevitable slumber? Maybe I tried to fight it to write a dumb tumblr post just to forget all about it the next morning? Yes. That’s exactly what I did.

And I’m doing it again! Yay me!

Nyquil, check! Boredom, check! Flagrant disregard to the fact that I’m only writing this for myself and MAYBE 2 other people (my parents), CHECK CHECK.

Maybe I write on bad days. I broke the extension to my hand for the second time since saturday today. The extension of my hand being my iPhone, and by broke I mean I’ve technically owned 3 phones in less than a week. I’ve lost my debit card. This can be seen as a positive, since I’m currently not working and spending money is the LAST thing I need to be doing, though I’m still planning a trip to Vegas this weekend. What? Yeah.

I seriously considered moving to Costa Rica and started a career as a whitewater rafting instructor. This has been my backup plan since I was 13. Thinking of going. Should I go? Lets all go! I can write in Costa Rica. They have the internet and stuff… Spaghetti and internet are both things that Costa rica has, and that’s all I really need. Christopher McCandless wouldn’t think about going to Costa Rica, he would just go to Costa Rica. Though he also froze to death in an abandoned bus in Alaska. Might not be the best metaphor. What would Alec Baldwin do? He seems like the right person to ask for this quandry.

How much longer can I fight this Nyquil. How bad has my grammar been? My high school English teacher would be so proud of me because I have a grammar website opened in one of my tabs. Though she was a huge bitch. This is how big of a bitch she was… She would QUOTE HERSELF on her wall. You’d see print-outs of things that Einstein, Twain and Orwell once said posted all over her walls, then right in the middle you’d see ‘Don’t be afraid to take a leap blah blah bullshit’ smack in the middle of them. I hated her for that. And her nose. She had a weird nose.

Ok I’m done. Night.

I’d like to say this has been my sunday, but in reality,...

Sun, 22 Jan 2012 15:01:49 -0500

I’d like to say this has been my sunday, but in reality, it’s been Talladega Nights and Mcdonalds.

Nothing, Really.

Thu, 05 Jan 2012 01:31:39 -0500

About every few months I get back into posting here. This lasts about a day, maybe even a few hours and then I forget about it again. These spurts of blogging normally arise when I’m either (1) at work and don’t want my boss to see me on Facebook, (2) at work and don’t want my boss to see me on Twitter, (3) not writing an article I should be writing or, in this particular case, (4) took some NyQuil and have nothing better to do until it kicks in. That being said, these are the things I’m thinking about:

1. Why am I self-conscious about my music choices when I’m ALONE in my room? No one is here. I can easily change my Spotify settings to “private session” and close my bedroom windows. Who cares if I listen to Bon Iver or Watch The Throne or the Twilight soundtracks in the comfort of my own home? Any admirer of my music taste, writing or recommendations will be blissfully ignorant to my obnoxious repetition of Hall and Oats and still I subconsciously listen to music I feel I “should” be searching for. I’m subjecting myself to being swallowed in Pitchfork bullshit and it has got to stop.

2. My cat needs to get the hell off me.

3. This NyQuil is kicking in.

4. How long am I going to keep blogging for. An educated guess would be I’ll post two things tomorrow when I’m glued to my chair at work waiting for something interesting happen (which it wont) or for me to be sent to pick up food for the office (which is inevitable). Then maybe I’ll humor my 4 other readers with a post on Friday. The weekend will obviously keep me preoccupied with important things like sleeping and drinking, so naturally I’ll forget all about this then and the rest of January. Not to worry though. My Birthday is in early February which will give me an excuse to pick a new theme, change the title and then write about how the only thing I really want is Skyline Chili and maybe a hug.

5. This Nyquil is kicking in.

6. To anyone who is reading this. I love you— truly, madly deeply.

7. I can’t see straight. I’m going to bed.

brandonvaughn: Be at this and stay there forever.

Thu, 01 Dec 2011 17:02:11 -0500

brandonvaughn:

Be at this and stay there forever.

How I Met Your Mother

Thu, 29 Sep 2011 18:47:00 -0400

In a recent twitter discussion, frustrations with the CBS show “How I Met Your Mother” arose.

I can’t say I don’t like a show “just because.” I need reasons. I’ll admit, “How I Met Your Mother” used to make me laugh, but now, there are too many holes in the program for me to just ignore. It’s like one giant piece of swiss cheese at this point.

There are 139 episodes and counting of HIMYM. 6 seasons and change. If Ted Mosby’s kids in season 1 were, say, between 14 and 16 years old (and that’s generous as the actors themselves were actually 16 and 18 at the time the pilot was shot), they would now be between 17 and 22 years old (in reality they’re 22 and 24). But I get it, the show takes place during a few, tedious conversations that Bob Sagat gives to these children (adults).

Keeping that in mind, each episode is roughly 21 minutes long. Now I understand, Sagat definitely paraphrased the stories of the good ‘ol days. Let’s pretend that when Ted Mosby, bless his soul, sits his kids down and spews his narcissism into their fully-developed brains, he talks for an average of 11 minutes, instead of the televised 21.

If each conversation is 11 minutes long, and there have been 139 of these conversations, that means that these poor, post-adolescent kids of Teds have been listening to him ramble for 25 hours and 48 minutes. They have spent more than 1 day of their lives listening to their dad talk about how he met their mom, and they STILL DON’T KNOW!

Bob Sagat / Ted Mosby’s children are adults. They’re probably in college, or working out in the real world. They might be dating their future spouses. Yet, in this time, they still don’t know the details of how their dad, a college graduate, teacher and architect met their mom.Two people they’ve spent the majority of their life under the same roof with have spent a total 25 hours and counting on the explanation of their courtship. And they STILL continue to give their kids countless wet, mushy, puzzle pieces to try and jam together.

Assuming this didn’t drive them to therapy or drug trafficking, I can’t imagine these kids could end up remotely normal with such a narcissistic father. Furthermore, I can’t imagine any mentally intact woman who wouldn’t have a problem with this. Don’t most women want to be the ones holding the reins during the tales of romantic conquests? Not once has Ted’s wife interrupted these chats. My best guess is that she’s locked in their sex dungeon or maybe in an asylum somewhere deep in Jersey.

vent over

Bon Iver

Mon, 19 Sep 2011 15:00:00 -0400

I’ve been waiting for this concert for a solid 3 years. Not to say ever since I heard For Emma, Forever Ago I immediately knew Justin Vernon and his crew would follow up with an incredible 2nd album, but I do give myself some (possibly undeserving) credit for my immediate obsession with the group in 2007. Perhaps it was my underdeveloped, hormone-addled, teenage mutant brain, but when I heard the album at the end of my high school career, something clicked and I realized that music can make you feel an overpowering emotion just as much, or more than the interactions with the people around you. It was eye opening, but also sort of stupid.

My parents were born in the “Almost Famous” era of music, arguably, the best time ever. I grew up listening to The Beatles, The Who, The Rolling Stones, Jefferson Airplane, and so on. I understood that music was important, and people people should listen to it in their cars or if they want to dance, but I didn’t really have anything to do with it. I knew all the words to “Revolution.” I knew it was a B-Side to 1968’s Hey Jude. I knew it was about war and shit like that. I was young, it was the 90’s and there was nothing wrong with my life except trying to avoid those 2nd grade bitches who made fun of me for eating my mac n cheese with a fork instead of a spoon, and not knowing what the “F Word” was. So I listened and nodded, but I didn’t “get it.” Fuck.

I remember when my mom bought me my first brand new CD (I say brand new because my parent’s had a ginormous record collection, but I thought the only people who made music after the 70s were the Spice Girls). It was Britney Spears’ Baby One More Time and I was 9 years old. Britney was 16 at the time, and my mom told me that the girl at the record store said, “This is the hot new thing to listen to.” So, I did what I was told and listened to “Baby One More Time,” on repeat. I remember not really liking it, but I also remember thinking “If I memorize all the lyrics, and come into school tomorrow and can sing along with all those 4th grade bitches, I’ll be a god.” So I did. I definitely wasn’t thought of as a “god” but my new, 4th grade, girlfriends appreciated my vast knowledge of popular culture by being able to sing along with a song performed by a future coke addict. I was pretty cool. All I knew was that the other 4th graders started to respect me because of a song I thought was about hitting babies. So naturally I was invited to my first concert. N’Sync.

I will never say anything bad about N’Sync.

Anyway, a few years passed, and I listened to the stuff my friends were listening to. Mostly the things that the DJ played at middle school dances. I would be happy if I never heard “Booty Call” or “Ice Ice Baby” ever again. A few times, I’d hang out with the 8th grade “Hipster” crowd and listen to those crazy underground bands like “The White Stripes” and “Thrice” but those kids knew I was posing. I wore polo shirts with long sleeves underneath, who was I kidding?

I felt pressured to know certain things about certain bands. It made no sense. It still doesn’t make since. Even now, I’ll admit that the pressure has dulled and I can say I know a fraction of a percent about music, but I’ll also admit I still get the same feeling when I introduce a friend to a new bad, that I got when I was 15 and I had more songs on my iPod than that slut, Kate. It’s satisfying and makes absolutely no sense.

When I first heard For Emma, Forever Ago I didn’t feel competitive as much as I felt protective. I knew that no one in the world would get this like I got it. I was going through a breakup. I was depressed. Justin Vernon was the only one in the world that understood my heartbreak and I wanted it to stay that way. I was ridiculous. But the great thing about being ridiculous, is that you’ll do anything to validate your ridiculousness. So I searched.

I was a grown up. I was about to go to COLLEGE. I was at the top of my game. I was good at googling things. I can thankfully blame my current musical apetite on the way Bon Iver’s first album made me feel. My addiction was finding music. I wanted to find music that made me feel alive, happy, depressed and ridiculous like that album did. So there was Andrew Bird, St. Vincent, Grizzly Bear, Beck, The National and so many other bands that I now write about every week. Bon Iver is why I interned for Billboard, why I started a blog, and why I devote hours and hours each week to finding new, remarkable bands I want to listen to over and over.

Bon Iver’s new album was just as I hoped. I got that same protective feeling I got when I was in high school. I cannot wait for this show.

Word Game

Thu, 15 Sep 2011 17:31:03 -0400

I just found this. I'm never deleting it.
Good work, Abel.

me: lets play a game
a word game
the story game
Abel: ugh okay'
you start
me: do you knwo how to play the story game
Abel: no
me: i say a word
you say the next one
and we try and tell a story
Abel: okay
me: There
Abel: farted
me: the
3:09 PM Abel: king
me: oh
of
Abel: Kentucky
me: . A
Abel: wise
3:10 PM me: , naked
Abel: king
me: , spending
Abel: buttloads
me: oh
of
Abel: farts
me: on
3:11 PM Abel: cocaine
me: . Farts
Abel: were
me: the
Abel: currency
me: of
Abel: Kentucky
me: during
Abel: the
me: Jurassic
Abel: Revolution
3:12 PM me: . Fredrick
Abel: Nietzche
me: liked
Abel: farting
me: thus
Abel: he
me: was
Abel: rich
me: throughout
Abel: Kentucky
3:13 PM me: . He
Abel: used
me: King
Abel: Salamander's
me: pillow
Abel: to
me: fart
Abel: into
me: . but
3:14 PM Abel: the
me: King's
Abel: pillow
me: decided
Abel: to
me: take
Abel: a
me: bite
Abel: out
me: of
Abel: time
3:15 PM me: . This
Abel: marked
me: the
Abel: darkest
me: hour
Abel: in
me: Kentucky's
Abel: brief
me: economic
3:16 PM Abel: fartocracy
me: . The
Abel: state
3:17 PM me: of
Abel: affairs
me: was
Abel: dismall
dismal
me: until
Abel: coinage
3:18 PM me: made
Abel: things
me: grow
3:19 PM Abel: prosperous
me: in
Abel: Kentucky
me: . Coins
Abel: replaced
3:20 PM me: farts
Abel: . The
me: poop
Abel: reamined
remained
me: valuable
Abel: for
me: the
3:21 PM Abel: peons
me: like
Abel: farmers
me: who
Abel: fertilized
me: with
Abel: it.
me: Queen
3:22 PM Abel: Salamnder
me: the
Abel: Ugly
me: was
Abel: eleven
3:23 PM me: years
Abel: old
me: when
Abel: she
me: revolutionized
Abel: waterbirths
me: by
Abel: simultaneously
3:24 PM me: lunging
Abel: and
me: hurling
Abel: aggressively
me: as
Abel: her
me: child
3:25 PM Abel: spewed
me: from
Abel: her
me: vaginal
Abel: cavity
me: . This
Abel: came
me: as
Abel: a
me: surprise
3:26 PM Abel: to
me: her
Abel: patrons
me: especially
Abel: the
me: Master
Abel: Cleanser
3:27 PM me: , Portabello
Abel: Gayface
me: . He
Abel: was
me: the
Abel: straightest
3:28 PM me: dragon
Abel: in
me: Kentucky's
Abel: discotech
3:29 PM me: . The
Abel: End.
me: good
Abel: (Gotta go back to work)
me: peace out
Abel: later
good work
good stry
me: i like ti
im saving it

Sick

Thu, 15 Sep 2011 17:09:09 -0400

I always hated it when friends would post “sick” as their facebook status like anyone actually cared. Not even a clever, “I’m sick, come bring me some fucking soup and crackers.” Cool, you’re sick, I get it. I’ve been sick before too, it sucks. But it happens to EVERYONE. Everyone gets sick at some point, some worse than others. If you wrote “I have cancer and I only have one month to live” on your facebook wall, sure, you’d get my attention. I’d probably give you a call, and in that phone conversation I would say, “Why did you announce your cancer diagnosis on your Facebook wall? By the way, I’m sorry about that.”

But I’m just as obnoxious as the next person. In that spirit I will admit that I actually am sick. It’s just some kind of cold or something. It’s definitely, probably not cancer.

I have one of the cutest kittens in the world. Her name is...

Thu, 15 Sep 2011 00:05:44 -0400

I have one of the cutest kittens in the world. Her name is Ramona and she belongs in a magazine… or a coffin.

Progress

Wed, 14 Sep 2011 21:07:31 -0400

This is the third tumblr I’ve made.

Sometimes I have trouble focusing on things, but today my attention span is irrationally weak. I think it’s because I haven’t taken my ADD medicine and because I have a cold. But even though I’m sitting at my desk waiting to be told to go home, writing this makes me feel better because I’m actually doing something. Before I started this I was eating frozen yogurt and staring at the blank wall behind my computer. So, progress.