Pub Quiz, Part Duex!

Hello everybody. Sorry I’ve been absent for awhile. My only excuse it that I really haven’t done too much worth blogging about. No, that’s a lie. Since we last spoke, there was Thanksgiving, which was memorable, and the Kaiser Chiefs show, which was awesome, and yet another pub quiz. Since Thanksgiving and the Kaiser Chiefs are too far away in my memory to discuss anymore, I bring you the 2nd pub quiz.

Because I’ve already gave you the run down on the previous pub quiz, I will simply give you two things I didn’t before.

• Pictures of the actual pub quiz
  
• The questions (and answers!) of this week’s quiz, as well as the best wrong answer given by one of the teams.

I know it’s not much, but it will have to do until I get my head around blogging again.

My name on the marquee? I'm famous!

ROUND ONE QUESTIONS:

1. What does the chemical symbol ‘As’ represent?
   
2. In which year did the explosion at the Chernobyl nuclear reactor occur?
   
3. What is the name of Gandalf’s horse in the Lord of the Rings?
   
4. What US State had the most tornadoes in the last half of the 20th Century?
   
5. At the beginning of Casablanca, what beverage is Rick drowning his sorrows with?
   
6. What Middle Eastern capital forbade men from going to work in neckties in 2001?
   
7. How many teams are involved at the start of the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament?
   
8. From what country does the poinsettia plant originate?
   
9. Who is referred to as the Godfather of Grunge?
   
10. What is the traditional gift given to a couple on their 3rd wedding anniversary?

ROUND ONE ANSWERS:

1. Arsenic Best wrong answer given by a team: Silver
   
2. 1986 Best wrong answer given by a team: 1981
   
3. Shadowfax Best wrong answer given by a team: Pokey
   
4. Texas Best wrong answer given by a team: Idaho
   
5. Champagne Best wrong answer given by a team: Gin & Tonic
   
6. Tehran Best wrong answer given by a team: Kabul
   
7. 65 Best wrong answer given by a team: 32
   
8. Mexico Best wrong answer given by a team: Spain
   
9. Neil Young Best wrong answer given by a team: Kurt Cobain
   
10. leather Best wrong answer given by a team: Lace

Dave is over thinking this one, or just doesn't care...hard to tell.

ROUND TWO QUESTIONS:

1. What type of creature is a Bombay Duck?
   
2. With which war is Florence Nightingale chiefly associated?
   
3. Who wrote the Winnie the Pooh books?
   
4. Angelina Jolie did the voice for the character “Lola” in what 2004 animated fish film?
   
5. What US State flag has a UK Union Flag on it?
   
6. Who threw a record 6 touchdown passes in one Super Bowl, in 1995?
   
7. According to the Chinese Zodiac, 2009 is the year of the what?
   
8. Which Christmas word means “turning of the sun”?
   
9. What classical composer is buried in France, all except his heart which is buried in Poland?
   
10. How many syllables makes up a Haiku?

ROUND TWO ANSWERS:

1. Fish Best wrong answer given by a team: Rabbit
   
2. Crimean War Best wrong answer given by a team: None…everyone got this right!
   
3. A.A. Milne Best wrong answer given by a team: None…everyone got this right!
   
4. Shark Tale Best wrong answer given by a team: Saving Nemo
   
5. Hawaii Best wrong answer given by a team: Maine
   
6. Steve Young Best wrong answer given by a team: Troy Aikmen
   
7. Ox Best wrong answer given by a team: Monkey
   
8. Yuletide Best wrong answer given by a team: Solstice
   
9. Frederic Chopin Best wrong answer given by a team: Handel
   
10. 17 Best wrong answer given by a team: 8

ROUND THREE QUESTIONS:

1. How many bones are there in an adult human body?
   
2. Obama says that his alternate career choice would have been a) Pastor b) Architect c) Doctor or d) Lawyer?
   
3. In Morse Code, which letter of the alphabet is represented by a single dash?
   
4. Name the 5 James Bond films with a one-word title.
   
5. Which European capital’s name translated means “merchant harbor”?
   
6. In which sport is there a York round?
   
7. What US city is the Encyclopedia Britannica published?
   
8. What kind of fruit is a jargonelle?
   
9. Who wrote the song ‘White Christmas’?
   
10. What was the world's 1st independent credit card company?
    

ROUND THREE ANSWERS:

1. 206 Best wrong answer given by a team: 196
   
2. Architect Best wrong answer given by a team: Pastor
   
3. T Best wrong answer given by a team: Z
   
4. Goldfinger, Thunderball, Moonraker, Octopussy, and Goldeneye
   
5. Copenhagen Best wrong answer given by a team: Istanbul
   
6. Archery Best wrong answer given by a team: Yachting
   
7. Chicago Best wrong answer given by a team: Minneapolis
   
8. pear Best wrong answer given by a team: Melon
   
9. Irving Berlin Best wrong answer given by a team: Leonard Bernstein
   
10. Diner’s Club Best wrong answer given by a team: American Express

ROUND FOUR QUESTIONS:

1. What is the Mandarin expression for wind and water?
   
2. What nickname was given to the F-104 Starfighter aircraft?
   
3. What is the tall hat a chef wears called?
   
4. Who was the first actress to receive 1 million dollars for a film?
   
5. What is the largest African country by area?
   
6. In 1898, Pepsi Cola was introduced under what name?
   
7. Which kind of creature in Hebrew legend is made from clay?
   
8. What was the first US city to host the Olympics? Extra point if you name the year.
   
9. Which writer is mentioned in the Police song “Don’t Stand So Close to Me”?
   
10. When was the first test tube baby born? Extra point for her name.

ROUND FOUR ANSWERS:

1. Feng Shui Best wrong answer given by a team: Tai Chi
   
2. the Widow Maker Best wrong answer given by a team: Millennium Falcon
   
3. Toque Best wrong answer given by a team: Le Chapeau de Fromage (Hat of Cheese)
   
4. Elizabeth Taylor for Cleopatra Best wrong answer given by a team: Julia Roberts
   
5. Sudan Best wrong answer given by a team: Ethiopia
   
6. Brad’s Drink Best wrong answer given by a team: Peppi
   
7. Golem Best wrong answer given by a team: Goat
   
8. St. Louis, MO 1904 Best wrong answer given by a team: Lake Placid
   
9. Nabakov Best wrong answer given by a team: Jack Kerouac
   
10. 1978, Louise Brown Best wrong answer given by a team: 1980, Petra Dish

The Tea Baggers won again but they had some competition this time!

Last Shadow Puppets, Mayan Theater, Los Angeles, CA

Why hello everyone! Now that the rush of the election is over we can finally get on to our regular lives. You know, watching television and wondering how you’re going to break it to your family that there will be no Christmas gift exchanging this year because your bank account is so empty there’s tumble weeds blowing through it. I’ll have you know that I tried to get a proposition added to the ballot this year but Proposition 83: Give Moe All Your Money was shot down faster than a 9 point buck in hunting season.

I was fairly happy with the results of the election though my enthusiasm was a bit subdued due to the tiredness I was experiencing from 4 nights of absolutely no sleep. From Halloween night to Monday night’s show in LA (which, dear reader, I will get to shortly) I was running full throttle. There really wasn’t much time for sleep and by the third day the old hurling mantra, “You can sleep when you’re dead” was on a constant loop in my brain like a personal trainer you want to punch out. These last four nights have brought back some memories of my Milwaukee Hurling days when the week started with Monday night tacos at the Landmark and didn’t end until Sunday night’s Round Robin location, bloodied and bruised from the field but feeling fantastic. Sleep was merely a hassle forgotten and I seriously thought at the time that I might just be 25 forever. It amazes me that I held down two jobs during the same time frame (one professional, one bartending) and I did very well at both of them.

I am obviously not 25 anymore.

As most of you know, Kevin and I tend to hang out at the Harp in Costa Mesa. The Harp is a bit of a Succubus in by the fact that it has (at least since I’ve been going there) some sort of draw to expatriates. Many of the regular clientele are from the UK and they tend to form a pretty tight knit group. One of these groups, or an off shoot of the conglomerate group, often goes to concerts in during the week. A lot of Fridays Kevin and I will go in and they will be talking about the great show they saw on the previous Monday or Tuesday. “Blah blah blah saw the Subways….” “blah blah blah Tokyo Police Club blah blah blah…” “Blah blah blah” (This is the point where you substitute ‘blah blah blah’ for English slang which I won’t even attempt due to the fact that I would get blasted for it’s inaccuracies by the very people I’m trying to mimic.) Every time I heard about one of these great shows I would feel a twinge of envy and inside whine to myself, “but I would have wanted to gooooooo.” Thankfully I didn’t outside whine or else I would have never been invited. Well, sort of invited.

As mentioned previously, I’m on Facebook. After the pub quiz a couple weeks ago, Dave and Andy had agreed to be my Facebook friends. Dave and Andy are two of the blokes (ha! I’m leaving it!) who go to the weekday concerts. When Andy posted on Facebook a few weeks back that he was going to see the Kaiser Chiefs in LA in November, I commented back “I want to go!” While this was sort of an outside whine, there were less ‘O’s in ‘go’ so therefore not as whiney. Anyhow, Andy talked to Dave and all of a sudden Kevin and I had successfully invited ourselves along. Since we were going to that show, we were properly invited to attend the Last Shadow Puppets a week earlier. Hurray!

Usually at this point of an entry and I usually tell you how awesome and great my such and such friend(s) are. While I do think Dave and Andy (and Fergie!) are awesome and great, I’m not going to tell you about it because they are British and will get big heads about it. You can’t go around having a Brit with a big head. They are apt to stick a flag in you and call you property of the Queen.

So yes! The Last Shadow Puppets! I’m a big fan of the Arctic Monkeys so when I had heard that one of its members formed a side project, I immediately bought the album. While the Last Shadow Puppets is distinctly different from the Arctic Monkeys, they are still incredibly good. Think over the top 70’s rock with a string section and an alternative twist and you might just have described them. Maybe.

The night before the show, I had gotten at best 4 hours of sleep. I was suppose to be the designated driver but seeing as I could hardly stand straight dead sober, it was agreed that Kevin would be doing the driving in my car. He’s such a champ. We met Andy, Dave and Fergie at the Harp around 6:30 PM and proceeded to drive up to LA. Now my car is a Nissan Sentra and doesn’t have a large backseat area. I was the shortest person by at least 3 inches but that didn’t stop me from calling ‘Shotgun’; it was my car after all. So now its Kevin driving, me in the passenger seat, and 3 long legged Brits crammed into the tiny backseat bench of my car. I can’t be the only one who thinks that sounds like the beginning of a joke. For the entire 45 minute drive Kevin and I said practically nothing while we listened to the barrage of shouting from the backseat.

“FASTER! FASTER! DRIVE FASTER!”

“Get your arse off me!”

“Can you please just put the iPod on random?”

(Over any small bump a thump is heard which is the result of Dave hitting his head on the ‘oh shit’ handle on the ceiling) “OW! OW! OW!”

“FASTER! DRIVE FASTER!”

“Oh, you should have merged over there mate.”

“FAST! FAST! FAST! DRIVE FAST!”

When we got to the Mayan, the 5 of us jumped out as though the Sentra was on fire. I was still giggling though.

The Mayan Theatre is in a very sad desolate area of downtown Los Angeles. Not much happens in the evening in downtown LA, very much a work there and get the hell out kind of vibe. The Mayan though, was pretty impressive. It was dark and ancient ruin-y. I read reviews online that slam the Mayan for its salsa nights, but since we weren’t here for salsa it really didn’t matter. They have three levels with a bar on each one. We settled up to the 2nd level bar, had a couple rounds of $7 Heinekens and waited for the show to begin.

Kevin, Fergie, and Andy

Unlike the Wombats where the wait to actually see the Wombats seemed like a time vortex of wasted time, the wait to see the Shadow Puppets was incredibly quick. Or so it seemed. I was having a really good chat with Fergie about restaurants and we also met this girl who got into the Last Shadow Puppets the same way I did. I wish I remembered her name, but I’m crap, so sorry nice lady at the bar who also thinks Alex Turner is hot but way too young for us.

Opening Act

When the show did begin we moved out to the main floor at the lower level. Since I’m shit at describing the actual show, I’ll just give you pictures.




As a matter of fact, that is a full stringed orchestra behind them.


I personally thought the show was excellent. They were fantastic. My only complaint was that it wasn’t long enough. Then again, I was having such a good time that it may have accelerated the time vortex.


The ride home was a lot more mellow, what with Fergie fast asleep, Dave consulting his iPhone for driving instructions and Andy in the “OW” seat but avoiding it by sticking his head out the window claiming to finally understand why dogs enjoy it so much.

Dave's iPhone (and the only photo that turned out that had Dave in it) and a sleeping Fergie.

Next week the Kaiser Chiefs!

Hmm…and I wonder where my money has run off to…

*GUEST ENTRY*: Ed takes the family to see Obama, Ft. Collins, CO

About a year ago I had started running out of ideas for this blog. As I think many of you have noticed, this small spot in the Internet universe has evolved a bit from “New This Weekend” to pretty much just “This Weekend”. I think most of you have adjusted to the transition well without too many epileptic seizures and worry rashes. During my dry spell last year, I had asked for some guest writers to do a post for me. Beth was up to the challenge and although Ed also said he would do it, it would be months and months before I got his essay. In fact, it was just a mere 10 minutes ago that I got the following post. With the election coming up next week I figured now would be as good as time as any to share it (especially seeing that it appears that my San Francisco “The Cash City” post will never get written).

Views expressed in the following post do not reflect the opinions of the author of this here blog. Except they sort of do, but we’re going to gloss over that for now.

_______________________

In which Ed takes his family to see Barack Obama at a rally in Fort Collins, Colorado


Yesterday (Sunday Oct 26), Democratic candidate for president Barack Obama spoke at two rallies in the Denver area - one in front of the capitol building in Denver (reports say that well over 100,000 people showed up for the morning rally in Denver!), and another one in Fort Collins on the CSU campus (nearly 50,000 people!). My family and I decided to go to Fort Collins for the 3:30pm speech. We knew there'd be a lot of people, since the University claimed to expect over 20,000 prior to the event. So we planned to head up there early!

We did not plan well enough! Confusion over the time caused some problems (anybody else notice their VCR's 'fell back' an hour Saturday night?), and a sudden and quite heavy bloody nose brought our expedition to a sudden detour (Natalie is prone to them, but this one was shocking -- double handful of bloody tissues, anyone?). Sometimes I think my lovely wife single-handedly keeps the tissue and moisturizer industries in business.


Fort Collins is about an hour North of our home in Thornton, and then another twenty minutes West to our initial destination. After a quick stop in Erie to pick up our mothers and speeding through lunch followed by the uber-nosebleed, Katie, Natalie, Laura, mom and I finally arrived at the South end of the bus route serving the event. Front Range Community College, where buses were queued up to take passengers to CSU campus. The parking lot at FRCC was surprisingly not remotely full. We began to think that we were in for a break since OBVIOUSLY the city of Fort Collins wasn't overwhelmed with visitors!


Not so. We rode our bus North on College Ave. into the heart of campus (see A on my map of the East half of campus for where we got off the bus). We walked through the tunnel under College Ave as directed by our bus driver. This turned out to be a time-waster, as we ended up doubling back to College Ave. to find the end of the line (see B on map)... Quite the line, too! We were about 4 abreast, and the line ran as far as I could see down Pitkin Street. Random people would pass by from time to time grumbling about how far they'd walked to find the end of the line. One grumpy gal declared loudly "Give up, there's no way you're getting in!" Others said things like "They're cutting it off at 20,000 people and they were already to 15,000 an hour ago!" and "It's already 3:15, and you have thousands of people ahead of you. Go home." and "How long have we been in line? Seems like 3 days." Things were moving slowly because, at the entrance to The Oval, security was frisking and/or searching every person.



Yes, it looked pretty grim. It was nearly 3:30 and the line stretched out ahead of us interminably. We thought about giving up, but held fast! The decision point came a few minutes later (See C on map). We came to a fork, at which point we could see the line we'd been following, on the other side of a gap 30 yards ahead of us; and we could see all the people immediately in front of us heading off quickly to the right - toward The Oval where the event was scheduled to begin right then. Why did the line split? Where were these people going? A small knot of campaign volunteers were standing there telling us that we were to go thataway - toward The Oval. "I don't know what's going on, but go that way." Very reassuring words! Perhaps we were being led back to the bus stop?


I'm kind of a law-and-order guy. I don't take cuts. I had a short-term hard time deciding whether to follow the crowd or get back into the same line we'd been in for so long. We decided as a group to go right, and see what happened. Heck, we were already late and our line hadn't been moving very quickly. Why not?! So we hustled and followed the new route directly into the heart of campus.

Things got a little ugly when our short cut brought us into contact with The Line we'd gotten out of. We'd bypassed a significant chunk of The Line and were re-merging with The Line (see D on map). None of us realized at this point that all order had broken down at the gates to The Oval... ;-) So, a woman was standing apart from The Line, hollering at all of us (several hundred of whom had already merged into The Line) "Who are you people!? You can't cut in here!" She was all serious and indignant. I felt sorry for her, on one level, because haven't we all felt that emotion? But part of me also laughed, inside, at the absurdity of her standing there trying to hold off hundreds more line-crashers. Brave, foolish person. Tsk tsk.


Undaunted, our sizeable force invaded The Line (which was at this point about 15 people abreast). But The Line was fracturing anyway. Packs of people broke off and headed to The Oval via other routes. It was very chaotic and lots of people pushing and shoving. I held tight to Katie's hand - she's 5 years old - and I was concerned she might get scared in the crush of people. But she was actually very brave the whole time. We kept getting separated from the moms, Natalie had katie some of the time, I did some of the time. But happily, it never devolved into fighting or people-stomping. It was as peaceful as a mob could be!


At this point, we spotted our first McCain/Palin supporters. They were wandering around with those ironic "Country First" signs that always give me a giggle. Poor suckers. Our mob managed to spurt out a few yells and jeers which came across kind of nasty considering the vast outnumbering going on. Later I spotted some folks wielding pink 'Obama the communist' signs and sporting red hammer & sickle motif signs. Little packs of pot-stirrers in a sea of excited, amped up Obama supporters. You wouldn't catch me doing something similar!




As The Line headed North on West Drive, picking up speed, it started to feel eerily like the scene in Lord of the Rings where the orcs start pouring through the walls of Helm's Deep. A handful of campaign volunteers stood behind trash bins and barking "Don't run! Walk please!" (I somehow resisted the urge to smite them with my orcish sword.) Obama signs of the sort that get waved during speeches were scattered in the street, their paper-tube handles crushed by dirty shoe-prints. I saw a clipboard with volunteer registration forms laying among litter. Everywhere the signs of a crowd-control struggle gone wrong. (It appears, actually, that once Obama started his speech and The Oval was near full, security simply decided to let people in without searching them.)



We could hear the crowd cheering and snippets of Obama's speech. It sounds so powerful in person, compared to the flat, over-rehearsed sound you get when watching him speak on TV. Live, it was fiery, urgent, and more inspiring. Soon, encouraged by the amplified voice and amplified crowd, we were approaching the line of easy-ups that served as the security checkpoint (see E on map). The white canopies stood unoccupied by any official presence now, while literally thousands of people streamed through them. The Oval itself was sectioned off into multiple 'pens'. We all poured into a pen on the SouthWest sixth of The Oval.



At the opposite end of the great open space, filled with giant oaks, was a rank of bleachers surmounted by a giant "CHANGE" banner (see F on map). Beneath and in front of the banner was a small stage with a lone podium. At the podium stood Barack, in his black jacket and white shirt (no tie - the FOX people like to line up this look in comparison to the way Ahmedinijad tends to dress). The crowd was massive. Since I'm just over six feet tall, I was able to see over the top of many people's heads and actually spot Obama across the crowds. My wife and our moms could not see him at all. Katie put her hands to her ears, because the noise of the crowd and the blaring loudspeakers assaulted her, but she was excited to be there and I put her on my shoulders. I don't think she actually saw the candidate, though. She's too unfamiliar with crowds to know how to orient in one. You have to know what to look for at that kind of distance. Where are the people out there looking? Where are the lights pointed? Where are the cameras pointed? What positioning of the stage would position Obama properly for photos?



Fifteen minutes went by so quickly; Katie was glad when the crowd dispersed and she could run around. People all around us were happy and not grumpy about the crowding. Those of us with cameras showed our photos around, which was nice since so many people in our part of The Oval hadn't been able to see Obama over the heads of the crowd. We spotted about a dozen SWAT officers, well armed and in black body armor. On the way back to the bus, we saw another half-dozen McCain supporters protesting Obama. No catcalls this time, as far as I could see. We left inspired and optimistic.



It's pretty cool to live in a Battleground State. Everyone should give it a try some time!

Quiz Master! - Costa Mesa, CA

THE SCENE: Patio at the Harp Inn, approximately 4 Saturdays ago.

SPECIAL NOTE: Exact conversation may vary. I have a bad memory and I failed to bring along my personal stenographer that night.

MOE: (sigh) I wish John Joe would have a pub quiz here. Or that the Shamrock holds one again soon. I’ve really been in the mood for a pub quiz.

KEVIN: The Harp is having a pub quiz?

MOE: NO, I said I WISH the Harp was having a pub quiz.

DAVE F: Then have a pub quiz.

MARILYNN: What’s a pub quiz?

MOE: What do you mean, HAVE a pub quiz? Like hold one ourselves?

KEVIN: The Shamrock is having another pub quiz?

MARILYNN: What’s a pub quiz?

ANDY: Sure, why not? Just ask John Joe.

MOE: ...to hold a pub quiz?

ANDY: Yep.

KEVIN: What time is the pub quiz at the Shamrock?

MOE: The Shamrock isn’t having a pub quiz, I just said I WISH they were.

DAVE F: A pub quiz here would be a good idea. Hold it on some Sunday when it’s dead.

MOE: OK, let’s have a pub quiz!

ANDY: Who wants to be Quiz Master?

(Moe shoots her hand in the air before the question is even out. She does this because she believes that Quiz Master is a sought after title and many will be clamoring to take from her if she is not swift in her acceptance to hold it.)

ANDY: You want to be Quiz Master? You sure?

MOE: Absolutely!

DAVE F.: It’s a lot of work…

MOE: That’s fine.

(John Joe suddenly appears out on the patio. Moe calls him over.)

MOE: Hey John Joe, can we have a pub quiz here?

JOHN JOE: Sure.

(Without another word John Joe walks away)

MOE: Maybe I should have been more specific.

MARILYNN: What’s a pub quiz?

And that, my friends, is how I suckered myself into hosting my first pub quiz this past Sunday afternoon.

To steal directly from Wikipedia so that I don’t have to go about describing something ineffectively: A pub quiz is a quiz held in a pub (oh, good one Wikipedia). It is largely a British phenomenon. (damn those Brits with their brilliant ideas to get people to drink more!) Most pub quizzes depend on answers being written in response to questions which may themselves be written or announced by a quizmaster (in da hoooouse!). It is up to the quizzers to form teams, which are generally based on tables. The team members decide on a team name, which must be written on all papers handed in. (Maybe I would have been better at describing this). People often have to pay to participate – ranging from £1 to £5 per person (current currency conversion rates mark this as $12.35 to $800 billion American). There may be between one and more than half a dozen rounds of questions, totaling anything from 10 to upwards of 80 questions. Prizes are awarded to the highest scoring team, and possibly runners-up as well.

My own personal experience with pub quizzes is minimal. I attended one at the Shamrock last year and I was at one with Beth at some dodgy bar in New Berlin, but I could have sworn I’ve been to at least one more. Wait, I think it might be coming back to me….it’s fuzzy but it’s there…2000 or 2001, Huntington Beach, Fitzgerald’s….I was there with either Andrea or Finky…probably Andrea…we lost…badly. Sorry that I slipped into a reminisce. Now I have to listen to “Reminiscing” by the Little River Band as punishment for making you go through that.

“Hurry! Don’t be late
I can hardly wait!
I said to myself when we’re old
We’ll go dancing in the dark
Walking through the park and remiiiiiiiiniscing!”

God, what a horrible easy listening 70’s tune. And yes, I do have a perfectly good explanation on why I have it in my iTunes catalog. And no, I will not be revealing that explanation to you.

So yes! The pub quiz. I want to share this with anyone who may be tempted to shoot up their hand as if on fire at the prospect of owning the title Quiz Master. Being the Quiz Master is a lot of work. You may think to yourself, “Self, this will be EASY. How hard is it really, to collect together 50 odd questions? Easy peasy Japanesey. Like, a day tops is all it’s going to take. Self, you are totally all over this.”

These fine lads are enjoying their pints and crisps while thinking of ways to taunt the Quiz Master.

What you fail to realize when your hand shoots up as if reaching for falling money at the glory of Quiz Master is that you will be on a stage with a microphone reading 40-50 odd questions to a bunch of people who, while claiming to be your friend, will not hesitate to heckle you the very moment you screw something up. These questions, because they are coming out of your mouth, are YOUR questions. If the question is too easy, your now drunken heckling “friends” will roll their eyes and odd drunks who are not even playing will call out the answer ruining that question for everybody. If your question is too hard you will get a collective groan and “whatevers!” and “well, I’m out on this one!”…after they (your now VERY drunken heckling friends) force you to read the question not once but three times to make sure that they were correct in assuming that this particular question was the most lamest asinine question ever known to man.

Oh, and lastly…try to choose questions that don’t contain words that are hard to pronounce or give way to Freudian slips. You will be nervous enough without saying loudly in a microphone to a bunch of your drunken heckling friends “Bram Stroker’s Dracula” (Bram Stoker) or “Vinson Massive” (Vinson Massif) or “Jaffa” (pronounced Yafa or Hafa, not Jaffa like Jaffa cakes). That’s right, I’m here making the mistakes so you don’t have to. What can I say? I’m a giver.

Needless to say that once I got into formulating my questions, I started getting nervous. I knew I would have a mix of Americans and Europeans so, for example, sports questions, I couldn’t have them all NFL or soccer related. And after talking to people who would either say, “Please don’t make the questions too hard” or “You don’t want me to play, I’m excellent at trivia” I started to stress whether the questions I had were decent enough to keep both sides of the coin contented enough to have fun. I honestly spent a good two weeks putting together 50 questions and lost a bit of sleep at night those two weeks because I couldn’t stop thinking about the questions. I’m usually not this obsessive (I’m inherently too lazy to be obsessive on a regular basis) but I wanted it to be good enough that John Joe would consider holding a pub quiz again.

FAMOUS QUIZ MASTERS OF OUR TIME:

Marty "I read 'em, you weep" Johanson

Jacob "Spit on me again and I'll break your falange" Cook

Peter "The Lush" Hoover Jr.

Peter "The Lush" Hoover Sr.

Amiya Pahare (no, really)

By the time this Sunday hit and the quiz was two hours away my stomach was in knots. I went to the Harp to set up and seeing as that only took 5 minutes, I spent the rest of the time walking from the patio to the inside then back to the patio to either smoke my way through a pack of cigarettes, drink a pints upon pints of water, or use the bathroom (because of said water). I was basically pacing.

"Ha Ha Ha! Wait until we fuck with the Quiz Master this time! HA HA HA HA!"

The quiz started at 4 o clock (ish). 20 people showed up for the quiz forming a total of 5 teams. John Joe had gotten the hated microphone out for me but I was still a bit shaky to get up on stage. I pleaded with Kevin to go up there and read out the quiz rules for me. I needed to see how the crowd responded. If they threw peanut shells at him (and the Harp doesn’t even sell peanuts) then I knew I couldn’t do it. But the crowd, still sober, was fine. They heckled a bit but it was in good fun. So I got up there. The first round was a bit hard…my voice was trembling a bit, I mispronounced a couple words and I was in a constant fight with the bastard microphone…but over all it was OK. By the final 4th round I was pretty comfortable on stage. I still had trouble having fun with the hecklers though…I’m just not quick witted enough to throw something back in time (I tend just to make a face back which I think is a lot worse than just ignoring the heckle. I could be wrong).

Written: The Quiz Master is a big stupid head.

At the end the Tea Baggers were victorious (they choose the name not me)(and damn am I going to get a bunch of unwanted internet traffic with that sitting there) by getting 25 out of 40 of my American\European Hard\Easy questions correct and Bravo 2-0 getting 17 for 2nd place. People in general seemed to have a good time and I had not one but three people come up to me immediately after asking when the next quiz was. And get this…John Joe bought me a beer! John Joe! The owner! Bought ME a BEER! To make it even better, he wants me to come in this Tuesday to talk about scheduling more quizzes.

"We won the quiz so we won't beat up the Quiz Master on the way to her car."

After the quiz I sat outside on the patio talking to my participants\friends\drunken hecklers. They gave me a lot of great suggestions for the next quiz. I’m looking forward to it, I really am.

Thank you to everyone who showed up. Thank you for the beers and the suggestions. And mostly, thanks for having fun or at least saying you did.

**Sorry that once again I have no pictorial evidence of this event. I didn’t forget my camera this time…it was actually sitting on the coffee table begging to be brought along. Due to my habit of blushing on a moment’s notice, I couldn’t bear to have internet evidence of me on a stage with a bastard microphone beet red from nervousness. Maybe next time, maybe not. Let’s just say that you’ll probably get the Little River Band story about the same time as you get a picture of me on a stage with a bastard microphone.

Obama Campaign Party - Huntington Beach, CA

Oh cripes*! Last week I’m telling you all about my job (which I don’t like talking about on the blog), and here I am this week talking about politics (which I don’t like talking about on the blog). Seeing as my new thing this weekend was an Obama campaign party I don’t know how I can really avoid it.

*CRIPES: A purely Wisconsin term that is used in lieu of being blasphemous. I really don’t use it as often as I should.

I don’t like discussing politics because it’s pretty pointless. It’s a bit like discussing food:

“Hi, I like broccoli but I don’t like cauliflower.”

“How can you possibly LIKE broccoli! It’s green! Cauliflower is so much better.”

“I just don’t like cauliflower. But broccoli tastes pretty good, especially with some butter and basil.”

“Well, you’re stupid.”

“I, uh, yeah…OooooooK.”

I guess what I’m saying is, politicians are exactly like broccoli and cauliflower: Vegetables that kids don’t like to eat. And I’m voting for broccoli this year. (with butter and a dash of basil). This is actually the 2nd time in my life that I’ll be headed to the polls. The first time was 4 years ago. Before then, I couldn’t be assed. But then 2003 happened, and 2003 was really bad. Before 2003 when someone gave me crap for not voting and pulled the “well then you can’t complain” line, I’d say to them, “I’m not complaining. I don’t care. Until something happens to me in my own backyard I’ll let the people who are educated about politics vote for me.” While incredibly dim, the philosophy worked for me. Then…2003. I don’t know if I will ever not vote again.

Andrea was one of those people who used to give me hard time about not voting. Andrea is an incredibly intelligent, well informed, highly educated person. You’d think with those credentials she’d be a pain in the ass, but she’s surprisingly easy going. She’s also very liberal so it wasn’t with much shock to get her invite to the Obama campaign party via Facebook** a few weeks back. I emailed back pretty swiftly that I would be attending but that I didn’t think Kevin would be interested. Surrounded by a room full of liberals, as it was sure to be, Kevin might have broken out into hives. He has sensitive skin you know.

**Always wanting to build up my collection of friends, if you’re on Facebook, send me an email to the account right there  and I’ll send you a friend invite. HA! Build up my collection of friends. Like I’m storing you all in a curio cabinet in the garage. That would just be creepy. It’s a filing cabinet so I don’t have to look at your puppy dog eyes pleading with me to let you out every time I go in there to get my bike.


So yes! The party. I honestly didn’t know what to expect but it turned out a lot better than I had thought. I was thinking there would be a bunch of people talking candidates and initiatives and debates and propositions and a bunch of other stuff that I really don’t know that much about, but it wasn’t like that. Honestly, the most political conversation I got into was how to sneak an Obama\Biden bumper sticker on Kevin’s car without him knowing it (Andrea’s idea by the way). The party was at Jimmy and Siobhain’s beautiful house in Huntington Beach. Everyone pretty much hung out around the pool, drinking beer and eating the food prepared by the caterers (which was mostly food on a stick…you can’t go wrong with food on a stick). Oh, the pool…great pool. Not so great on my hair. It’s the humidity you know. I was afro-city in less than 15 minutes. Of course I didn’t realize I was afro-city until I went into the bathroom. And this, of course, was just after I made the comment to Andrea’s mother, “I don’t want Oliver to touch my hair, I just spent an hour doing it.” After the bathroom trip, “Go ahead Oliver, touch away.” By this time Oliver had lost interest in touching my hair but wanted to simultaneously cut off my head while shooting me with a gun. Ah, kids.

"I will close my eyes for 10 seconds. If you are still taking my picture when I open them, I will cut off your head, shoot you dead, and cut off that afro-city do! Heeee Heeeee"


Speaking of which and this story is going to be a ‘had to be there’ tale (but dammit, I’m writing it down here so I don’t forget it), Jim and Siobhain had ordered these cupcakes that had the faces of Obama and Biden on them. The kids at the party, intermittently between trying to cut off heads and start a pillow fights, would sit on the kitchen stools just drooling over these cupcakes. I don’t have to tell you that they couldn’t care less if a smiling bear or Obama’s toenail was depicted on the frosting, they just wanted the damn sugar. After hours of waiting, the caterers were given the go ahead to bring out the cupcakes. The kids swarmed the poor man in the bow tie. Four of the kids, all under the age of five, had just grabbed their sweets when Siobhain came out with her camera. “Line up! I want to get a picture!” These poor kids are looking at Siobhain with death in their eyes; two of them had their little pink tongues reaching out to just get that first taste of frosting. “Line up!” she says again. So the kids line up. Each have their cupcakes less than 2 inches from their mouths. “Say OBAMA!” she says. Each of these little kids, each grabbing on to their cupcake like it was the last food on earth (one with bright red curls) look up to Siobhain and say with all the malice and grumble that a child can muster “ooobama.” *CLICK!* As soon as the flash went off, 4 Obama heads depicted in frosting were gone. I laughed so hard the people standing next to me asked me if I was alright.

Oliver will vote for anyone that has cupcakes.

And that was the party in a nutshell. I talked to a lot of nice people. I bought a $20 Obama t-shirt for the cause (which when I got home and put it on, Kevin claimed burnt his skin if it touched him) (no hugs for you buddy). I laughed at children. I had a good time.

Go Broccoli!

I Have A Horse In The Bathroom

I really don't like talking about my job on this blog. Not only will talking too much about run the risk of me losing it (the job that is, not my mind) (then again…), but it's really rather dull. However, I had a conversation with someone today that warrants a post.

Just to give you an idea of what I do for those who don't know, I am officially a 'Product Specialist'. This fancy title really means 'Technical Support in a Specified Software Application'. A lot of people upon hearing I'm in support usually respond with, "Oh, I hate those guys!" or "Do you get people who don't know how to use a mouse?". To them I respond, "We don't like you either" and "Um, no." My first support job I did work with a lot of geriatrics and therefore talked a lot of non-technical people. But that was 11 years ago and I have since moved on to talking to people who, for the most part, know what they are doing on a basic technical level. By the way (addressing those who 'hate those guys'), if we are talking about pecking order in the technology field, technical support is pretty much as far down the totem pole you can get before you're actually working in a sweatshop in the Philippines making mouses and keyboards. We know this. After years of getting absolutely no respect some of us can become bitter. Some of us may transfer that bitterness to you. We are sorry. We are sure your grandson really is a wiz at the computer and would never ever download Kazaa and look at porn on your PC causing a virus that ruined it so badly that you need to pay that snot nosed kid at Best Buy to rebuild it for you. And yes, we actually DO know the developer who created that cryptic message that you are looking at but we still aren't transferring you directly to his extension (as much as we would really REALLY love to).

As you wait on hold, Toby is diligently researching your problem by finishing the next level of Half-Life 2.

So yes! Today I talked to someone that was worthy enough to post about. Since this conversation is application specific and none of you save Kevin and Ed would know what the hell I was talking about, I've replaced the specifics with the absurd. I think it still works. Let's just say I got off the phone and called over to my next door cubicle buddy, "So yeah, am I speaking Latin right now without knowing it? I must be speaking Latin."

CUSTOMER: I can't get my cat to eat the food.

MOE: You mentioned in your email that you have another cat. Does your other cat eat the food?

CUSTOMER: I have a horse in the bathroom.

MOE: Uh…where is your cat?

CUSTOMER: I have a horse in the bathroom.

MOE: But aren't we talking about your cat?

CUSTOMER: Yes.

MOE: So does your other cat eat the food?

CUSTOMER: My horse eats food. He's in the bathroom.

MOE: Where is your cat?

CUSTOMER: I don't understand.

MOE: Do you have another cat?

CUSTOMER: Yes.

MOE: Does that cat eat food?

CUSTOMER: I have a horse in the bathroom.

MOE: Yeah, OK. Does your horse eat food?

CUSTOMER: Yes.

MOE: Does your horse juggle?

CUSTOMER: Yes.

MOE: Are you at the circus?

CUSTOMER: You mean with the clowns? That type of circus?

MOE: Yes.

CUSTOMER: No, I'm not at the circus.

MOE: But your horse juggles?

CUSTOMER: Yes.

MOE: That's impossible. Horses don't juggle unless they are at the circus. And even then it's pretty rare because their hoofs can't hold the balls properly . Are you sure your horse can juggle?

CUSTOMER: No, my horse can't juggle. He's in the bathroom. (pause) But yes, I'm at the circus. Why won't my cat eat the food?

MOE: Well, it would help if you had another cat so we could see if it's something wrong with the cat or something wrong with the food. If you don't have another cat, can you get one?

CUSTOMER: Sure!

MOE: OK, go and get one and see if it eats the food.

CUSTOMER: I don't understand. What's wrong with the food?

MOE: I don't know if there is anything wrong with the food. We need another cat to see if it's the food or the cat.

CUSTOMER: My horse is a juggling asshole.

MOE: Excuse me?

CUSTOMER: My cat won't eat the food.

MOE: I understand. Can you get another cat?

CUSTOMER: Sure!

MOE: Can you get another cat now?

CUSTOMER: I can't do that. I'm in the washing machine.

MOE: Can you get out of the washing machine just for a moment so you can go get another cat?

CUSTOMER: I don't understand. Why do you want me to get another cat? My cat won't eat the food.

MOE: OK, let's try something else. Do you have some other food you can try to feed your cat?

CUSTOMER: I have another cat, will that work?

MOE: (pause. Breathe) Yes. That will work.

CUSTOMER: You know what? I think I'm just going to watch the horse juggle. I'll let you know if I need any further help. Thanks!

MOE: Uh, OK. You're welcome.

EMAIL FROM CUSTOMER 15 MINUTES LATER: Hey! I'm sorry; I don't actually have a cat! It was a dog! It's eating just fine now.

Happy Blog-a-versary to me

So recently I have done nothing but be obnoxious and make an ass out of myself. This of course reminded me of back when I first moved here to California, when being obnoxious and making an ass out of myself was a weekly occurrence (rather then the occasional slip up with deep head shaking come Monday morning). Of course this also reminded me of my old 'More Fun Than Scrabble' blog on Diaryland where I actually had the nerve to post the details of my obnoxiousness and ass-out-of-myself-ness on a fairly regular basis. While that blog is still out there in cyberland, I did have the foresight to privatize most of the entries. Those of you who had the fortunate\unfortunate pleasure\un-pleasure of reading those posts, I hope you enjoyed them and made copies to use against me for when I decide to run for Congress. The rest of you…well, sorry. My 27-year old self did not have a proper functioning 'Edit' button and it showed. I should know, I've been spending the last few days going over those old privatized posts wondering, basically, what the hell was I thinking? And, "Man, I was an ass, but I sure did have fun."

I'm bringing all this up because if you count my old blog, I've been writing to you all in some function for the last 7 years. Actually, that wasn't why I was bringing all this up; I just wanted to say that to sound impressive. Are you impressed? How about if I give you a dollar? No, the real reason why I'm bringing this up is that I wanted to use a cheat (or a lifeline, or a street shout out, or whatever) and actually do a re-print of one of the old entries as kind of a blog anniversary present to myself. Of course trying to find an old entry from Diaryland suitable for the new evolution-ized version of this blog (Read: Parent Friendly) (Or, my parents anyhow) was not an easy task. I did find one (one!) that I thought was safe enough as well as amusing enough to warrant a re-print.

This post is from August 2001. (7 years!) I was living in the Blue Boxes at the time. Tom was a friend of mine that eventually became a roommate which basically means that we don't talk anymore. (Though Kevin and I were invited and went to his wedding a few years back) Hope you like it…and for some of you, like it again.

I've got to tell you how yesterday I was transformed to DANGER GIRL.

You know, I suppose I really shouldn't say DANGER girl. That just implies a whole bunch of things that are, well, dangerous, and I suppose that really isn't the case at all. Let me change that to the MOMENT OF PERIL girl. I don't think peril is as forthcoming as danger is and well, hmmm, maybe I'll just get on with the story...

So I got home from work yesterday and went to get my mail like I always do when I first get home from work. I've got a small track of land they call grass (though very rarely the green variety) that I walk over to get to the mailboxes. Three steps into the grass to the mailbox, this horde of wasps fly out of the grass and start surrounding me like, well, like wasps do. I scream and run like a girl to the mailbox like a true hero and return back the long way around completely avoiding the grassy knoll. I get back inside my house and call Tom.

TOM: Hello?

MOE: Why would wasps live in my grass?

TOM: Excuse me?

MOE: Why would wasps live in my grass. There's a horde of wasps hanging out in my grass. I don't understand.

TOM: Wasps? In your grass?

MOE: Yes. Big fuckers. With teeth. In. My. Grass. What's in that grass anyhow? It's not like it's shady. It's not like there's any flowers or anything there. It's grass. It's dry. I don't understand the appeal to the wasps. It's like us deciding to hang out in Death Valley all day. Just because.

TOM: Well, it's August. It's Bee Season. I've got them too...in my tiki head. I sprayed them though.

MOE: I still don't understand the grass...

TOM: Want to come over?

MOE: Sure. As long as the wasps aren't invited.

So I go over to Tom's house to hang out. When I get there, he's sweeping out the back patio. Tom has this 4-foot tall carved wooden tiki head on his back patio. It's kind of cool actually. You can put candles in the tiki's mouth and he lights up and looks really scary. Tom points out that that's where the bees were this afternoon. Tom returns to sweeping and I notice that there's definitely some more bee activity going on by the tiki head.

MOE: Hey Tom. Uh, I don't think you've eliminated the bee situation.

TOM: Well, I got this spray. (pointing to can of Bee & Wasp spray)

MOE: Uh, well, there seems to be a lot of bees going in there.

TOM: Huh. Well let me spray again. (He stands and points the spray into tiki mouth from 20 ft. away) There, that should do it.

MOE: I think you just pissed them off. There's still a lot of bees. I think there might be a nest.

TOM: In the tiki head? No...there can't be a nest in the tiki head.

MOE: I think there's a nest Tom, there's an awful lot of bees flying in there and they sure as hell aren't flying out.

TOM: You really think there's a nest? Well, let me try the flame thrower approach.

At this point Tom takes the Bee & Wasp spray and sprays using a flame from a lighter - creating one hell of a flame which in turn burns the tiki head. This doesn't seem to affect the bees. Running out of Bee and Wasp spray, Tom turns to the Ant and Roach spray and tries the same thing.

MOE: Tom, that's Ant and Roach spray. Those are bees.

TOM: It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it's on fire.

Tom burns the tiki head some more. There is now smoke coming out of both the top of the tiki head and the tiki head's nostrils. The tiki head is beginning to look really scary. As well, something seems to be burning in the inside, and it's starting to smell really bad.

Tom eventually runs out of the Ant and Roach spray, but the bees are still there.

TOM: I'm going to get all Lysol on their ass.

MOE: Lysol? We don't need to disinfect them Tom. They're bees.

TOM: It doesn't matter what it is...

MOE: I know, I know, as long as it's on fire.

So out comes the Lysol flame thrower. Something is DEFINITELY burning inside of the tiki head. There's smoke everywhere. And the smell made me run indoors from the gagging reflex.

MOE: Tom, there's *gag* an awful lot of smoke..*GAG!* I think..*gag!* you set the nest on fire *cough! gag! gagg!*

TOM: Hmmm...I think you're right. I'll get the hose.

Now Tom takes the hose and shoots water down the top of the tiki head. Bees are everywhere and those bees are pissed off. I run inside and shut the patio door and gag and laugh at Tom trying to get back in. But then the nest falls out of the mouth of the tiki head. Not that big of a nest, about 6 inches round, but there are bee larva EVERYWHERE.

TOM: Let me back in!

MOE: No, the bees have no home. They'll want to live here.

TOM: LET ME BACK IN!

MOE: Fine. But they're staying in your room.

And that was the BEE peril. That we handled. I suppose I can't really say I handled it as I just stood around offering advice and humor while someone else tackled the peril, but you know, it was bees. Bees are scary.

Shishmaref, Alaska

Sorry for the silliness ahead...

When I was at the Harp last Saturday night, I ran into Steve (Steve of Fairy Princess fame, not Steve the bartender) who stated he was a regular reader of the blog. He then made the comment that since I enjoyed traveling and I enjoyed writing, that I should be a travel writer. I do admit to having many aspirations to be a great many things (National Geographic photographer, Radio DJ, Rock Band Album Cover Art creator, Cast Member on a wildly popular underground indie film, Tilt-A-Whirl operator, Fruity Pebble maker, International Woman of Mystery, Fish Whisperer to name a few) and being a travel writer is definitely one of them. However, I’m afraid that I’m in technology and technology is what I will always be in lest I get too old and have to revert back to retail due to “this darn tootin’ stuff that the kids these days are getting into” gets too complicated for my aging brain. Let’s be honest…aspirations of greatness take work. And I’m lazy. Many of the good things that I’ve achieved were achieved by a combination of luck and being thick enough to jump into things without thinking about them first. But Steve said that if I didn’t this, and by this I mean writing about a place that I’ve never been to, that he would do me harm the next time he saw me. I think he has nun chucks, I know he definitely has a turtle. Maybe a turtle with nun chucks.

I had asked him to pick a place to write about and he told me, but of course I forgot (Mags, I’m turning into Dad faster than I like!). It was someplace in Alaska so to save time and harm from nun chuck wielding turtles; I just opened Google maps and picked a place…which was Shishmaref, Alaska. Yeah, I just liked the name.



Without cheating and looking up Shishmaref on Wikipedia, this is what I know for a fact about it:

• It is in Alaska.
  
• It rhymes with Wish Pear Miff. Or “Sheesh Ma Riff!”
  
• It’s cold there. REALLY cold. Like cold enough to wear two sets of mittens.
  
• Location if you had a GPS in your pocket: 66.25066 N, 166.11954 W

OK, I totally cheated on that last one. I didn’t think I could fool you with another “It’s in Alaska”.



Now let’s cheat and see what boring old Wikipedia has to say about it…

• Just north of the Bering Strait (check!)
  
• Population: 562 (check!)
  
• Home to Herbie “Shishmaref Cannonball” Nayokpuk, a famous dog-musher (check!) (and a quick side note…I read that wrong at first and thought he was the beloved dog-musher “Shishmaref Cannibal”)
  
• Voted the “friendliest village in Alaska” (until they eat you) (check!)
  
• Well known for it’s high quality seal oil and fermented meat (yum!) (check!)
  
• Known for it’s whalebone and walrus ivory carvings (of the dog-musher Shishmaref Cannibal eating fun loving tourists) (check!)
  
• And finally, if you were a woman and you took 99 of your closest girl friends to the Annual Ivory Carving\Seal Oil Cook-Off, there would be 21.3 men thinking that they should have stayed home and cuddled with their walruses.

For the sake of Steve, if I climbed into Mr. Rodger’s ‘Neighborhood of Make-Believe’ this is surely what I would write if I had actually been there:

I woke up early this morning. I tried to sleep in but the sound of mating seals outside my window was too much to handle. Pukachuamon greated me at the breakfast table with the most delicious cup of hot seal oil and honey followed by orca fat on toast with a side of hot seal oil. She is truly a gracious and kind host, though I am a bit skeptical on why she keeps grabbing my belly muttering something about “being ready for the feast on Sunday.” Perhaps it is a cultural oversight I missed in my Lonely Planet guide. I am looking forward to the feast on Sunday, especially if there is more seal oil! I could literally take a bath in it I find it so lovely.

After breakfast Pukachuamon’s son, Cliff, offered to take me walrus hunting. I let him know that due to my beliefs of getting mauled by large arctic animals, I would be unable to partake in the obviously exciting event, but would he happen to know where I could find the local mall or maybe just a pub? You know what? He did! The mall was very nice and had the usual stores but I was really disappointed that everything was covered in fur. I bought an evening gown of penguin anyhow. I want to look nice for Sunday’s feast.

After the mall Cliff took me to the pub. It was the oddest thing! I went up to order Cliff and me a couple Ice Houses (I know, it was the only thing they had on tap) and when I turned back around, Cliff was gone! Thankfully there were 22 very nice, albeit rugged, gentlemen to chat with. I especially liked the man who only had a head and an arm; I think his name was Pointre. I wonder if that’s French. I talked with him for hours. Afterwards we took his dog sled and went out for fried seal oil with cheese. Yum!

It’s getting late here so I’m going to try to get some sleep before the seals start back at it.

(Don’t do me harm Steve!)

NOTE: No seals or walruses were harmed in the making of this post.

The Wombats: Los Angeles, CA

This post is dedicated to Dori who is quite possibly the hippest girl I know (though Am. Dave would say “hep”) and who insisted I give her a full report on the show.

MOE: (Addressing a large room of people) Hello everyone.

PEOPLE IN ROOM: Hi there.

MOE: (shifting uncomfortably) My name is Moe, and I’m…I’m a music whore.
PEOPLE IN ROOM: (Nodding knowingly)

MOE: I’m not sure how I got to where I am now. Pimping myself for music. I never used to be this bad.

LARGE WOMAN IN ROOM: Amen sister.

MOE: It started about 6 months ago. I was innocently browsing through my iTunes when I realized there wasn’t anything there I wanted to listen to. I went to the iTunes Store but I drew a blank on what to get. Their ‘Top Songs’ and popular downloads were awful. What people listen to in this country is appalling at times…

LARGE WOMAN IN ROOM: HALLELUIAH!

MOE: …I had already infiltrated Kevin’s CD collection years ago…

MULTIPLE PEOPLE IN ROOM: (whisper) I’ve done that. Have you done that? It’s so sad…

MOE: …the radio stations in LA weren’t helping. I used to be so with it -I mean music wise. My mother and step dad were DJs when I was growing up. I had access to so much music. Well into my twenties there wasn’t a festival where I didn’t know all the bands playing. I was even sometimes friends with some of the local bands playing there! I don’t know what happened…

MAN IN ROOM: (mumbling) You got old.

MOE: I heard that! And I didn’t get old! Not that old. Just old-ish-er.

MAN IN ROOM: That’s not a word.

MOE: Shut it! I’m telling a story here through narrative!

MAN IN ROOM: Are you going to get to your point soon?

MOE: Maybe.

MAN IN ROOM: You know you lost half the people who were trying to read this. They’ve already moved on to the Wombat story. You know, the point to this entry.

MOE: I know, I know…I tend to be wordy.

MAN IN ROOM: No kidding.

MOE: SO AS I WAS SAYING, with no access to new good music of late, I went to desperate measures. I started to steal.

PEOPLE IN ROOM: Gasp!

MOE: No, it’s true. I’m not proud. Half the delight in finding new good music is finding it all on your own. There’s a bit of smugness being in a conversation and saying, “Have you heard of So-n-So band? You haven’t? Well, you should, they’re awesome.” But I can’t do that. I’ve been stealing other people’s discoveries. And in the worst ways! If I read an interview that so and so actor likes so and so band, you know what I do? I buy it! If I watch a movie and the closing credits have a good song, you know what I do? I buy it! I’ve read music reviews in magazines and then went out and bought some of their suggestions! I’ve gone into other people’s iTunes and forced them to burn me music! I’ve gone into other countries iTunes stores and browsed their popular downloads! The Germans are really weird by the way. Oh, and if you want a good laugh, check out the Qatar store. I don’t think there is any actual music available.

MAN IN ROOM: *a-hem*

MOE: Right. So I guess what I’m saying is that if it wasn’t for my recent music whoring, I wouldn’t have ended up in LA on a school night watching the Wombats. And I wouldn’t have had a fantastic time and want to change my career from technical support to professional go-and-see-live-bands-and-write-about-them-on-a silly-blog Person. Oh, and I’d probably have a lot more money as buying loads of music is, as you may have guessed, expensive.

MAN IN ROOM: Are you done with this stupid narrative?

MOE: Um, yeah, I guess I am. Thanks for the support buddy.

________________________________

WOMBAT (marsupial): Australian. They are short-legged, muscular quadrupeds, approximately 39 inches in length with a very short tail.



THE WOMBATS (band): English. They are regular-legged male homosapiens, approximately 68-72 inches in height with such short tails you don’t even see them.



(So there Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby-Jones who insisted otherwise!)
________________________________

When I found out that the Wombats were playing in Los Angeles, it took me about 15 minutes to purchase the tickets to the show. Most of that time was used digging through my purse to find my credit card. I had asked Kevin if he had wanted to go but unbeknownst to him, I actually asked after the tickets were sitting in my hand. I really like the Wombats. And if you must pry and embarrass me, I found them on the iTunes Discovery Download of the Week a few months back. They must have a good PR rep; after downloading the free song it was less than a half hour later that I bought the whole album.



While I wiggled in my office chair the entire day of the show too giddy to do any real work, Kevin was going about as normal with general appeasing comments as I bugged him with my excitement via IM every 15 minutes. Kevin had only heard two of the Wombats songs and really couldn’t care less about seeing them. Thankfully he got more into it when we finally got there…

…to the Echoplex in Echo Park. If you Google Maps (with Street View!) the address for the Echoplex you will assume that it’s the big white building on the corner. Nope. In true ‘Swingers’ LA fashion, the entrance to the Echoplex was a side door with no signage what so ever. I never would have found it if it weren’t for the line of people waiting to get in.

Speaking of the people waiting to get in, are skinny jeans still that popular? I totally get the big floppy hair and the low top Converse, but skinny jeans? Really? OK, cool, whatever. I guess looking back I really have no right for judgment (so you can just put away that yearbook Beth).

So anyhow, on the ticket it said that the doors opened at 7 PM. The way we figured it, even though there were two opening bands, it was a small all ages show at a small venue on a school night…with the doors opening at 7, the Wombats would be playing by 9 at least. Right?

So it might have been awhile since I’ve seen a live show.

Not the Wombats, but it is the Echoplex stage.

The first band was called Pop Noir. They’re from Costa Mesa and play at La Cave on a fairly regular basis. They were…alright. Kevin and I both agreed that they were *ahem* interesting dancers. The second band was called the Afternoons. Their first couple of songs were actually really good but then...oi. They were a 7-piece band and some good songs but one of the members, the tambourine player no less, insisted of “wooooooo”-ing her way through every single number ruining them. I mean, I don’t mind an occasional “woop woop” or a “wooooo” at the beginning of a tune, but the entire song? And it was that sort of sad arctic seal on the beach about to get clubbed sort of woooooo-ing. “Look at me, feel sad for me, I’m so deeply interesting, wooooooooooo”. OK, to be fair, I just looked on iTunes in hopes to give you a sample of the woooooo-ing and it was refreshingly non-present from their album. I will just say that the audio guy at the Echoplex must have had the day off instead….

…which would make sense! When the Wombats finally took the stage at 10:30, one of their amps was piping in a local Spanish station. They took it with stride and make a joke out of it but it was so obvious that it was annoying trying to play over. But they did great. Not having a huge catalog at this point, the Wombats played all the songs from the EP and about 5 from their album. And it was fantastic. Kevin even danced! He never dances! And I bounced around like I used to at shows, except I’m older and out of shape so instead of a continual bounce, it’s more like bouncing for 30 seconds, resting for 30 seconds (maintaining a head bob), then continuing the bounce.


By the time we left at midnight, our feet hurt, our backs hurt, we were covered in sweat, our voices were going and we could hardly hear. As I said to Kevin with his grinning agreement, “I haven’t felt this good in years!”

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**Pictures from this post have been *borrowed* from the World Wide Web. Kevin has been working on a device that will permanently attach my camera to me. Either that or a big wooden hand that will slap me if I leave the house without it.