Acts 8:27

I know I've been away for awhile, but I don't have the energy to 'splain what I've been up to.  Maybe tomorrow.  Okay, probably not tomorrow either.  Stop pressuring me.

Anyway, I just stopped by to fly the flag of equality.  Take a gander at this headline ...

-------

CALIFORNIA'S TOP COURT ISSUES HISTORIC RULING IN SUPPORT OF GAY MARRIAGE!

Thursday May 15, 2008 -- Today, California's top court issued an historic ruling in support of gay marriage. "We are thrilled by this amazing victory that ensures deserving legal equality for ALL Californians." said Rodney Scott, President of Christopher Street West, producer of Los Angeles LGBT PRIDE.
 
As written by Chief Justice Ron George for the court's majority, "Our state now recognizes that an individual's capacity to establish a loving and long-term committed relationship with another person and responsibly to care for and raise children does not depend upon the individual's sexual orientation."

For more on this story: see NYT here

-------

That's right.  Cali's the second state in the Union to officially recognize same-sex marriage.  I wonder what affect this news will have on this weekend's Pride parade down in Long Beach.  I'm actually going to try and attend this year, thanks to a suggestion from a chica over on LJ.  The parade's on Sunday morning, but instead of driving down to LBC and spending a shockingly large amount of gas -- we're up to $3.85 per gallon here in VN -- I'm heading down on the subway.  I still haven't planned my entire trip yet, but essentially, I'm gonna hop on the blue line, watch the parade, browse the boulevard, meet up with a buddy for lunch, then ride the rail back to the Valley.  :-)  I'm really looking forward to it.

Of course, I plan to take photos, but you know me.  I probably won't post them until September.  :-P

Oops.  Last week, I meant to post a little shout-out and free advertising to my buddy, Sebastian, and his next gig, but I procrastinated and here we are.  I'm not sure if I've mentioned him here before, but Seb's an actor-guy that I met at my-job-before-my-last-job.  (Hope that makes sense.)  I call him "actor-guy" because he's one of the first, and believe it or not, few L.A. transplants I've met who actually came out to La-La-Land to take a shot at this crazy business called show.  I guess I was expecting to meet a lot more wannabe actors when I came out here, but I think I've met far more people who want to work behind-the-scenes than in front of the camera.

Anyway, actor-guy recently joined/was accepted under duress by the Theatre Unleashed group to come and frolick upon the stage for the amusement and bemusement of others.  Look it up if you don't know what it means.  And Theatre Unleashed is putting on a show tonight over at the M Bar in Hollywood.  I've never been to the M Bar, and when I tried to call and make reservations, they returned my voicemail with some confusing directions on reserving a table for up to 7 people.  Hmmm.  Weird.

So, I don't know if I'll even be able to get in to see the show.  This is one of the many reasons why I don't like talking to people for the sake of purchasing something.  Don't even get me started on my strict avoidance of Farmers Markets.  A couple of Seb's other buddies are going to be there, so hopefully if the doorman gives me any trouble, I can snag a chair at their table.  Wish me luck.  Well, I guess it would be better to wish him luck.  :-)  The show starts at 8pm, so I'm leaving work around 6:30pm to beat the traffic and find a parking spot.  Here's hoping it goes off without a hitch.

Oh yeah, btw.  Theatre Unleashed put up a few YouTube commercials to advertise the show, and Sebastian is featured in one of them.  That's him pontificating on the wonders of poetry.  Yep, he's a doofus.  I like his scream at the end.  So very girly.

 

 

Generations ... of disposable people.

As someone else said, it's going to be a long, hot summer in NYC.

_________

Police not guilty in groom's death

• Story Highlights
• NEW: Crowd angry but orderly; union chief praises verdict
• Detectives acquitted of wrongdoing in Sean Bell shooting case
• Judge cites contradictory prosecution testimony, witnesses' demeanor
• Victim's fiancee runs from courtroom as verdicts are read

From Deborah Feyerick

NEW YORK (CNN) -- A judge acquitted three New York Police Department detectives of all charges Friday morning in the shooting death of an unarmed man in a 50-bullet barrage, hours before he was to be married.

Detectives Michael Oliver, left, Gescard Isnora and Marc Cooper were accused in the 50-bullet barrage." Detectives Michael Oliver and Gescard Isnora were found not guilty of charges of manslaughter, assault and reckless endangerment in the death of Sean Bell, 23, and the wounding of two of his friends.

Detective Marc Cooper was acquitted of reckless endangerment.
Justice Arthur Cooperman said he found problems with the prosecution's case. He said some prosecution witnesses contradicted themselves, and he cited prior convictions and incarcerations of witnesses.

He also cited the demeanor of some witnesses on the stand.
As the judge read his decision, Nicole Paultre Bell -- Sean Bell's fiancee before his death -- ran from the courtroom, saying, "I've got to get out of here."

The announcement immediately sparked anger among some in the crowd outside the courthouse, but the protests were generally orderly.

One woman shouted at a black police officer, "How can you be proud to wear that uniform? Stand down! Stop working for the masters!"

Patrick Lynch, president of the New York Police Patrolmen's Benevolent Association, said "there's no winners, there's no losers" in the case.

"We still have a death that occurred. We still have police officers that have to live with the fact that there was a death involved in their case," Lynch said.

But, he added, the verdict assured police officers that they will be treated fairly in New York's courts.
The Rev. Al Sharpton, who has been advising Bell's fiancee and family, left the courthouse about an hour after the verdict without making a public statement. He had called for calm Wednesday.

Bell, 23, was killed just before dawn on his wedding day, November 25, 2006. He and several friends were winding up an all-night bachelor party at the Kalua Club in Queens, a strip club that was under investigation by a NYPD undercover unit looking into complaints of guns, drugs and prostitution.

Undercover detectives were inside the club, and plainclothes officers were stationed outside.
Witnesses said that about 4 a.m., closing time, as Bell and his friends left the club, an argument broke out. Believing that one of Bell's friends, Joseph Guzman, was going to get a gun from Bell's car, one of the undercover detectives followed the men and called for backup.

What happened next was at the heart of the trial, prosecuted by the assistant district attorney in Queens.
Bell, Guzman and Trent Benefield got into the car, with Bell at the wheel. The detectives drew their weapons, said Guzman and Benefield, who testified that they never heard the plainclothes detectives identify themselves as police.

Bell was in a panic to get away from the armed men, his friends testified.
But the detectives thought Bell was trying to run down one of them, according to their lawyers, believed that their lives were in danger and started shooting.

In a frantic 911 call, police can be heard saying, "Shots fired. Undercover units involved."
A total of 50 bullets were fired by five NYPD officers. Only three were charged with crimes.
Oliver, who reloaded his semiautomatic in the middle of the fray, fired 31 times, Isnora fired 11 times, and Cooper, whose leg was brushed by Bell's moving car, fired four times, the NYPD said.

No gun was found near Bell or his friends.
Soon after his death, Bell's fiancee, Nicole Paultre, legally changed her name to Nicole Paultre Bell. She is raising the couple's two daughters, ages 5 and 1.

"I tell [them] that Daddy's in heaven now," she said. "He's watching over us. He's our guardian angel. He's going to be here to protect us and make sure nothing happens to us."

Detectives Endowment Association President Michael Palladino said forensic and scientific evidence presented during the seven-week trial contradicts the testimony of prosecution witnesses.

But Paultre Bell's father, Lester Paultre, said, "For those naysayers who say the police was doing their job, they should imagine their child in that car being shot by the police for no reason."

Paultre Bell, Guzman and Benefield have filed a wrongful-death lawsuit in federal court that has been stayed pending the outcome of the criminal trial. Guzman was shot 16 times, and four bullets, too dangerous to remove, remain in his body, according to his lawyer, Sanford Rubenstein.

Federal prosecutors in the Eastern District of New York have been monitoring the trial. In the event of an acquittal, it is likely authorities would conduct a review to determine whether there were any civil rights violations.

 

As one of the poor schmucks who refuses to fork over $60 per month for basic cable, I have to wait until the weekend to catch up on my Colbert Report love via the Interweb.  I must say that last week's broadcast from the Keystone State was pretty sweet.  Nice work, Mr. Noblet.  Nice work. 

And it seems only fitting that on the eve of the big Pennsylvania primary that I post this clip of last Thursday night's The Word.  I was an Edwards supporter until he dropped out of the race before the California primary, so it's nice to see him in the spotlight again.  If only, briefly.  His timing's not perfect, but I think he did pretty well for a politician.  Plus, I like a guy who can poke fun at himself.

 

Show us something shady.
Submitted by House of Humor.

Which popular slang expression drives you nuts?

Some people may not consider it a slang expression, but I do, especially in this context.  The term I loathe to hear as often as I do is: "ghetto."  Particularly out of the mouths of white people.  I'm sorry (or to be frank, I'm really not sorry at all), but there is no way this term escapes a white person's lips without bearing the weight of racist overtones.

I bounced this idea off of someone else recently to see if I'm just being nitpicky/persnickety/overly sensitive/[insert dismissive phrase here].  Granted, I could've cast a wider net and talked to more people about it before posting, but since this Vox QOTD came up yesterday, I figured I might as well get this off my chest and onto the chest of my inferiors.  Simpsons reference.  And no, I'm not being touchy about this, so if you're not ready for some tough love, just click on that Back icon in the upper left-hand corner of your screen.  It's about to get all racial up in this piece. 

White people.  Please, pull up a chair.  ::pats cushion::  I know I count some of you as friends, buddies, acquaintances, cronies, etc.  So I say this with as much patience as I can possibly muster.  Your use of the term "ghetto" is 99.5% of the time completely f#!ked up and offensive. 

Why, you ask.  Allow me to break it down for you.

Let's set aside the fact that most of you wouldn't know a real ghetto if it fell out of the sky and started to wiggle on your lap.  The most salient issue concerning your use of the slang term involves your egregious application to anything remotely associated with African-American (and to a lesser extent, Latino-American) culture.  Cadillac Escalades are ghetto.  Tyler Perry movies are ghetto.  Kool-aid is ghetto.  Bad credit is ghetto.  And so on, ad nauseam.

And none of these are in any way an expression of anything truly "ghetto."  This leaves me to conclude that the majority of you who enjoy throwing the term into your everyday speech so haphazardly have no clue as to what it truly refers to.  Yes, the term was borne from the strictly segregated Jewish enclaves of Eastern Europe that were little better than a concentration camp, but we all know that in the modern U.S., this connotation no longer dominates our cultural psyche.  No, instead, it's the image of the predominantly African-American neighborhoods populated with more liquor stores and 7-11s than banks, parks, and supermarkets.  It's identified as sections of any major city overrun by gang bangers, prostitutes, and corner drug dealers; the places were you rush to lock your car doors as you drive through because you're certain that if you don't, you'll be yanked from your Ford Taurus, thrown to the ground, bludgeoned within an inch of your life, and left for dead.

And guess what?  That is a ghetto.  But that is NOT North Hollywood, Van Nuys, Reseda, West Adams, Panorama City, Northridge, Inglewood, etc.  When I first moved to L.A., I slept on my uncle's couch for a month while searching for a room to rent.  I quickly found this new condo-owner in Reseda on Craigslist, and she invited me to stop by and take a look.  When I mentioned it to my uncle, he told me that a lot of people say that Reseda's the ghetto.  Well, after driving around the area for a bit, let's just say that if Reseda's a ghetto, L.A. residents need to keep their asses in California because they have severely lost perspective with the rest of America. 

Ghetto =/= working class neighborhood.  Ghettos are severely economically depressed areas often inhabited by members of a specific ethnic group.  And believe it or not, those ethnic groups can be and are Latino, White, Asian-American, Arab-American, and Native American, as often as they're Black.  Never seen an Asian-American ghetto?  I have a buddy in Houston who would be happy to point them out to you anytime you want to stop by for a visit.  Check the U.S. map for any major cities in Western Kansas known for their slaughterhouses.  They're certain to have quite a few.  Hey, they may not be American, but feel free to venture up to Vancouver.  There are plenty of CBCs* living in ghetto neighborhoods up north.

Personally, I view ghettos as areas hit extremely hard by the economy in a country where the government doesn't give a shit about anyone living there who isn't white and middle-class to help rectify the situation.  These areas deserve our help, not our disdain.  But hey, that's just my conscience talking.  Please feel free to continue the elitist wankery.  I wouldn't want you to feel any less enlightened than you've already convinced yourself that you are.

***

Okay, so let's set aside that reality for a moment.  I know how uncomfortable it makes some of you.  The most important fact I want to make clear with this slang term is this: Ghetto =/= anything that isn't middle-class Anglo-American approved.  It is when this usage creeps into polite conversation it conjures racist overtones.  I had a particularly interesting weekend where I found myself in a number of conversations with people I either didn't know or only knew as an acquaintance.  And in 3 of these conversations, I heard a white person use the term "ghetto" in a derogatory and/or slanderous manner.  I'll only address 2 of those instances here because I'm still deconstructing the third.

The first semi-pleasant conversation came to a brief halt while I was speaking to a young, white, Jewish male at my favorite coffee stand in NoHo.  We'll call him Ben.  Ben and I were talking about, among other things, the lack of clubs in the NoHo area.  I said that I'm kinda glad there aren't that many because the last thing I want to see is NoHo turned into a wannabe-Silverlake/Los Feliz.  Goodness knows they're trying to do just that.  ::shudder::  But then I asked young Ben:

Me: What ever happened to the Bank Heist around the corner?  That club that was open for a minute.
Ben: I heard it attracted the wrong kind of crowd.
Me (bracing myself): What do you mean? 
Ben: I heard that a lot of ghetto people started showing up.
Me (mentally counting to 10): That's odd.  This doesn't seem the kind of area that would attract a crowd like that.
Ben: I know, but maybe it's because there's so few good clubs in the Valley.

Did I stop and correct Ben about the number of clubs in the Valley, particularly how there are considerably more than he thinks?  No.  Did I stop and tell him that there's plenty of places that truly ghetto folks would love to hang and it isn't anywhere near the NoHo Arts District?  No.  Did I explain to Ben that my interpretation of the slang term was clearly different from his because no one who would ever describe themselves as ghetto would be caught dead at the Bank Heist?  No.

Why?  One: I'm a coward. And I try to avoid conflicts, especially face-to-face ones.  Two: I'm too nice.  Believe it or not, my contrary nature is often offset by my desire to not hurt people's feelings, even when they need to put their egos aside and be schooled on their possibly unintentional asshat behavior.  Three: Educating privileged white folks about their racism is a full time job foist upon people of color (POC) that tires us to the point of exhaustion on a daily basis.  We have to pick and choose our battles every time we engage anyone who is not a member of our own ethnic community.  And the higher POC move up the social ladder, the more often we are saddled with the imposition of #3.

Listen.  I sincerely doubt the folks partying at the Bank Heist were ghetto at all.  He or his friends or [insert white hipster/yuppie/jackass] probably walked into the club, saw that the white folks chilling there did not significantly outnumber the POC -- it seems that anything less than 8 to 1 causes alarm -- and labeled the venue as GHETTO.  I'd wager good money that this person or persons didn't observe any ghetto behavior, slang, style, etc.  And here's the tricky part: "ghetto" is ALL about behavior.  It's the only way you can label anyone as such.  If you would label both Lil Kim and Ashanti as ghetto, you don't know what the hell you're talking about.  If you think both Jay-Z and Kanye West grew up in similarly ghetto nieghborhoods, you don't know what the hell it is.  If your white male neighbor blasts music at 2 am on a late Saturday night and you label him "an asshole," but when your black male neighbor on the other side blasts music at 2 am on a late Saturday night and you label him as "ghetto," you not only don't know what you're talking about, you're a racist dipshit who needs to check him/herself.

No, I won't sit here and delineate everything that deserves to be labeled "ghetto" and "not ghetto" because I haven't the time and Marlon and Shawn Wayans already did that.  But let me say this, when POC, particularly African-Americans label someone as ghetto, it is by and large a reference to that person's behavior.  I like to call it, "Now, you know your Mama raised you better than that" behavior.  It's roughly the same POV that most white folks have of, dare I say it, rednecks, shitkickers, good ole boys, and poor white trash.  (And no, those groups are not the same thing.)  It's a term used to refer to people who are thought to have no class.  Please note, I didn't say lower class or low class, I said no class.  Toby Keith is as redneck as the day is long, but Toby Keith is richer than anyone reading this blog right now.  Jay-Z was born and raised in New York's Marcy Projects, but Jay-Z can buy and sell everything you own fifty times over.  Your income does not determine whether or not you're ghetto, your behavior does.

And I'm not sure if white people who use the term with abandon to describe anything related to working class people and African-Americans know this.  I once heard Amy Sedaris refer to using a teaspoon to curl your eyelashes as "kinda ghetto."  What?  Seriously?  Okay, I adore Amy, but someone needed to hip check her on that one.  Again, working class is not the same as abject poverty, and having the common sense not to blow money on an unnecessary beauty device when you have a reasonable, convenient alternative is not ghetto.  I'll take frugal or cheap, but not ghetto.

***

The second instance where the slang term "ghetto" made me bristle as it spewed from the mouth of a white person occurred on Sunday.  Briefly, during a friendly conversation, I was asked which dance classes I'm currently taking during the week.  I replied one Hip Hop class on Saturday and 2 Jazz classes on Wednesday.  This somehow prompted the question of whether I ever have to do a move or step often referred to as poppin' (not to be confused with the breakdance move) in my Hip Hop class.  I said yes, if the number calls for it.  Then, in a moment of confusion that I'm still trying to decipher, I hear in a derogatory tone that that move is "ghetto."

Pause.  Scratch head.

Um, wasn't Hip Hop borne from the streets of New York ghettos in the late 1970s?  Wasn't Hip Hop used as a way for people raised in the slums and ghettos of New York and New Jersey to express themselves about their environment?  Isn't it continually used all over the world as a means to communicate the same frustrated and passionate experiences shared by those who live or lived in similar environments?  Thus my confusion.  Why is a dance form created by those who live in the ghetto, set to music created by those who were raised in the ghetto (some of them, not all obviously), somehow derided for being "ghetto."  That's like saying, "I can't stand the Polka.  It's just so Slavic."

Then, in the next breath, the same person expressed an appreciation for Krumping.  ::long sigh::  Why do white people who seem cool always have to harsh your squee with such ass-backward-ness? 

Did I tell him that the poppin' move is one of the first steps you learn in Clown Hip Hop and Krumping?  No.  Did I ask him how he could have contempt for a "ghetto" dance move, but appreciate Krumping, another dance form created in the ghettos of South Central Los Angeles?  No.  So what did I do?  I mentioned that I was interested in Krumping as well, but I felt that I better start off on something a little more generic.  I also pointed out that Miss Prissy from the Rize documentary teaches classes at my dance studio in NoHo on Thursday and Sundays.  Then the subject was changed.

See my previous mentions of cowardice, kindness, and battle strategy.

Yes, poppin' is a ghetto move.  And when executed well, it can light up a Hip Hop routine.  It can also be worked seamlessly into a Jazz, African, Tap, Afro-Fusion, Burlesque, and Latin Ballroom performance.  It's not inherently bad or vulgar.  I understand the incessant appearance in booty shakin' rap videos may lead you to believe otherwise, but again, I think that interpretation carries the same racist overtones reminiscent of a time when Rock 'n Roll was called "jungle music" and Jazz music was banned from radio programs because it led to the "corruption of youth."

If you've never seen poppin' done right, check out this dude on YouTube.  I don't know many women who can move that well, even at DR's dance studio.

ETA: Damn.  Sugar Britches removed his video from YouTube.  For anyone who didn't get to see it, he was really something else.  Oh well.  I'll leave the video code embedded just in case he decides to make a comeback.  In its place, I'll use this example from one of the gazillion contest entries for the "Pop, Lock and Drop It" online video competition that Huey ran a year ago.  If you don't know what I'm talking about, consider yourself blessed. 

Anyway, here's one of the better entries.  This sister really put her thing down.  I'm going to play the envy card and say it's the sneakers on the carpet floor that helped her out.  In an alternate universe, I'm just as good.  Anyway, for a proper example of poppin' (or booty poppin', as it is sometimes called in its unabbreviated form), pay close attention to the vid between the 13-15 second mark.

So take that move and watch it go from poppin to krumping to poppin around the 44 second mark in this vid:

Again, I'm just a little confused how you can find the first vid dance unseemly, but the second vid dance makes you want to take lessons.

In the end, I know I can't stop anybody from saying anything they want to say.  But by the same token, no one should be allowed to silence my protest as I'm subjected to ignorance and prejudice.  I think what it boils down to is this: Are these people bringing enough positives to offset the negatives?  In other words, do I really want to have a relationship with someone who maligns my culture, while in the same breath claims to be my friend.  My 31 years of experience tells me the answer will be "no."  I have to put up with family and work colleagues who let their bigotry show when you least expect it, but I shouldn't have to put up with friends who do the same.  In that area of life, you have more of a choice.

I guess we'll see what comes of it.

* Canadian-Born Chinese

I realized I haven't posted in a while about my various life-related comings and goings, and I know that many of you have felt that your lives have lost all meaning during that time.  Well, have no fear, I'm back to regale you with wondrous tales of my adventures.

Okay, I may have built this up a bit too much.  Sorry.

Hmm, let's see.  What have I been up to that isn't birthday related?  Well, I've been spending money like crazy, and now I fear that as I enter the month of April, I'll be dining on spam, pork rinds, and Ramen noodles until things plateau again and I get back on budget.  Although, I haven't been completely frivolous.  I went ahead and filed my taxes at the end of February (All by myself for the first time!  Yay me.), so much of that money I spent was tax refund dosh.  Otherwise, I'd be in serious trouble right now.  As opposed to slightly serious, mildly sardonic trouble.

It sucks that most of that money is already gone, but I'm happy it was there to take care of the things on my Must-Do list.  Such as?  Car drama A: Smog check #1, smog check failure led to diagnostic exam from janky mechanic who told me that both of my catalytic converters were shot (yes, I have 2) and would cost $840 (front) and $975 (rear) to replace, second diagnostic a week later from a different mechanic revealed I only needed a major tune-up, not a new cat-converter, paid $175 for the tune-up, and passed smog check #2.

But wait, there's more.  Car drama B: Studied for CA written driver's test, gathered documents for registration, ignored boss's asshat behavior regarding taking time off during a busy shipping schedule, prepared backup story to address any evidence as to why I've lived in L.A. for almost 4 years, but am only now getting my CA driver's license and car registered, crossed fingers, said a prayer, dealt with a motley crew of not-so-interesting sitcoms personalities for 2-1/2 hours, passed driver's test, received license plates, and left the DMV 5 minutes before 5pm on the Friday before my Indiana driver's license expired on Tuesday.

And breathe.

Update: I received my driver's license in the mail last Thursday. Why does Califas mail them instead of giving them to you at the DMV like most states, I do not know.  Always have to be special, doncha?  I hate the photo.  I've never hated my license photo before.  I don't photograph well anyway, so I don't ever expect much.  And so far, there wasn't anything horribly grotesque about my license photo before, so I felt lucky.  Until now.  For some reason, I look freakishly orange against the blue background.  I swear I look like a member of the George Hamilton Excessive Tanning Society.  I've decided to continue carrying my Indiana DL and using it for ID purposes.  I don't need some smart-ass doorman asking me why I look like an Oompa Loompa.

Hmmm, what else? 

Oh, as a birthday gift/tax refund splurge, I bought a new cell phone.  My main objective was to get a better cell phone plan because I kept going over my minutes and crying uncle when the bill was due.  So that was more important than a new phone, but since I had the dough, I thought, "What the hey?"  I researched a few companies because T-Mobile is run by asstards, but none of the other company's plans and networks really suited me.  So I stuck with the asstards.

I bought the T-Mobile Shadow in copper.  Ta. Da.  Not bad, 'eh?  Yes, it's T-Mobile sad answer to the iPhone, but I kind of like it.  Although I use a Mac at home and my 3rd gen iPod nano is freakin' adorable, I have no interest in owning an iPhone, or more importantly, I have no interest in paying $400 for iPhone.  The Shadow does a lot of the same things as the iPhone, but for a third of the cost.  Now, this would be a huge boon if I had a PC and could actually use some of the features that they both share.  But I don't, and honestly, I probably wouldn't even use most of those features if I had a PC.  When did I become important enough to need access to my e-mail at all times?  Who am I, Spielberg?

More than likely, I'll use my Shadow for the phone (bluetooth & headset), text/picture messaging, digital camera, video camera, and mini-address book and calendar.  I could shell out an extra $20 per month to access e-mail, the Interweb, Yahoo Maps, send and receive MS Office docs to work on, and other unnecessary crap that I wouldn't make time to use, am not important enough to need, and couldn't be bothered to figure out if I did.  So yeah.  I have the option of using those features sometime in the future, but without the giant price tag of $400 hanging over my head to make me feel like a dingus if I don't.

Plus, the video capture function?  Fracking awesome.  Love it. 

I could've gotten a Blackberry, but I don't like having something that everyone else has.  And by everyone, I mean people with more discretionary income than I who can identify with almost every entry on Stuff White People Like.  The biggest drawback so far is that the online reviews about the battery are dead on.  The battery is one of the shortest I've ever seen in the history of cell/pda/wi-fi devices.  Seriously, I have to recharge this thing once every other day.  Boo.  Asstards, thy name is T-Mobile.

Other than those fascinating escapades, ladies and gents, I've just been sticking to my usual routine: work, dance, sleep, repeat.  Not that I mind, really.  Work's been draining, but not as horrible as it once was; dance has become more fulfilling now that I'm mixing it up with jazz and hip hop, and sleep ... well, sleep could use a little help.  I still have a long To-Do list, but until my money rights itself, I'll try to stick to things that don't require much cash.

Well, except for the next 4 weekends.  Oops.  I almost forgot.  This past Saturday, I kicked off about 4 weekends of busy-ness-ness.  Our lady in song, Ms. Madeline Wright debuted on the Don't Call Us Tori showcase this weekend at the Karma Coffeehouse in Hollywood.  I thought she had a pretty good turnout for a Saturday night.  I intended to arrive at 8pm for the whole show, but my head developed the beginnings of a migraine around 5pm, so I took some Excedrin TH and a nap.  Both helped, but they pushed me slightly off schedule.  Anywho, I showed up to quietly cheer the kid with a scooter and take photos of her shindig.  The photos are still on my desktop, but I'll shoot them over to Maddy this week so she can put them up on her site or blog if she wants.  The files are huge, unfortunately.  The ones I compressed came out really well (as seen here), but the others that I didn't compress before I sent them to my e-mail account are going to need a more skilled hand than mine to render them view-worthy.  I'll leave it to Madeline to work her magic.

I thought she performed a good set.  My favorite number is "Pacific Tide," or as Chris would say, "The song dedicated to him and only him."  :-)  The only thing I would've changed is moving the second song to maybe the fourth or fifth song on the set.  After the cool opening ditty about your roommate, the new song you followed with kind of slowed down your momentum too soon.  Although, I did see folks stop typing on their laptops for your set, moreso than for the chica who went on before you.  So what do I know?

I, unfortunately, missed the SCB show on Thursday at the Hotel Cafe, but the guys have a gig down at The Troubadour on Santa Monica on Wednesday night.  I don't think they've ever performed there before, so you know I have to go and show 'em some love.  As for the weekend, the 6th is supposed to see me and Katrina and a small team of Sherpas driving up to Mt. Baldy for a wee bit of sightseeing and lunch.  Then, on Saturday, April 12th, I will be getting my geek on at Grand Slam in Burbank, where I will fawn over Michael Hurst and Kevin Sorbo on stage together for the first time since the 2000 Herc/Xena convention.

The following weekend, it's going to be me and Keisha at the SuperFest Hip Hop concert at the Gibson.  However, it's probably not a good idea to say that until I actually buy the tickets, which I haven't yet because I was waiting until I got paid on Monday.  ::ducks flying chair::  But here's hoping that stays on the calendar.  And if not, I can always try to console myself with cheap tickets to Chris Rock's No Apologies tour the following week.  Wait, wasn't I crying broke at the beginning of this post?

Anyway, I think that's enough of my wacky adventures and incessant tedium.  I need to get off of here and get back to work.  And by work, I mean reviewing this post for typos and then hitting enter.  :-)

You knew it was coming.  Don’t act surprised.  :-)  S’up, ladies and gentlemen. 

Yes, it’s that highest of holi days.  Got any plans for the occasion?  No?  Blasphemer.

Now, I’m the first to acknowledge that the month of my birthday deserves to be a 31-day celebration in and of itself, but until I can pass that legislation through Congress, I’ll have to settle for celebrating it in increments throughout the month of March. Specifically, the week leading up to and the week following my birthday is when I usually get my fun time in, but with work, money, and life being what it is, I’ll have to take what I can get. 

So how am I celebrating this year, you ask?  Well, let me tell you.

I already did my 31st birthday bash on Saturday night when I lured 8 unsuspecting Angelinos out to the Outback Steakhouse in Burbank for dinner and incessant yammering.  Don’t worry. They all survived.  (I think.)  At least no one went home limping.  So, I’ll take this time to thank Katrina, Josh, Keisha, Heather, Sebastian, Alice, Tiffany, and the one and only Jen for taking enough pity on me to break bread at the steakhouse where I only order pasta and chicken.  ::waves hi from West LA::  I especially want to thank Heather who schlepped all the way to the East Valley from Manhattan Beach. I had a really good time, ladies and gents. I know I couldn’t finish off the Bloomin’ Onion or the Caramel Cheesecake, but my waistline is grateful.

And hugs to those who couldn’t make it out to my shiny shindig: Madeline and Kathy.  Maddy, I hope your show went off without a hitch. I’m sure I’ll catch you around town sometime. And I know I mentioned in my thank you card that Kathy was off getting her geek on at the Paley festival, but it was the Wizard World convention instead.  It was Katrina who had a chance to go to the Paley panel for Pushing Daisies, not you.  My bad.  But I hope you had a good time at Wizard World.  Also, for those who don’t know Kathy, she also has a ticket to Thursday’s Buffy Reunion as well. I expect a full report and photos in your LJ, Miss Missy. Pinch Nick Brendon’s butt for me.  ;-)

As for the holi day itself, I stayed up late last night watching Death at a Funeral just so I could do a little happy birthday jig at midnight and open my present from my Mommy.  (Yeah, I still call her Mommy. Wanna make sumthin’ of it?!)  She bought me 2 CDs: Pink’s I’m Not Dead and Angie Stone’s Love and War.  I’ve had the Angie Stone CD on my wishlist forever, and my mother said that ¾ of the songs on Pink’s last album remind her of me and the kind of stuff I say all the time.  I won’t lie.  The lyrics to "Leave Me Alone (I’m Lonely)" crack me up because they sound like they were stolen from all the deleted portions of my daily conversations when people start to get on my nerves. I’m still listening to the album, but so far, I keep going back to listen to “Stupid Girls” and “U + Ur Hand.”  “Conversations With My 13 Year Old Self” hits pretty close to home too, but I’ll save that for another post.  Oh, for anybody who frequents the Hotel Café here in L.A., take an ear to “The One That Got Away” and tell me if that song doesn’t sound like it would be perfect for an HC audience. Maybe it’s because she mentions a hotel café in the song (which I'm not sure if it's the one here in Hollywood or not), but I swear she dips into her inner Janis Joplin and pulls out a melody that would feel right at home in the old HC.

Movin' on.  Even though we’re behind at work (when are we not?), I’m not working late today.  I refuse.  As a matter of fact, I’m leaving early.  I’ve been meaning to go see The Bank Job since the weekend it came out, but my Saturdays and Sundays have kept me running on fumes with the whole car legalization bit and starting a new dance class. Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention, I’m legal-ish now. I finally got my car registered in the state of California (And the crowd rejoiced. Yay!), and I started taking a Beginner Hip Hop class on Saturdays.

Anywho, back to Statham-y goodness, I’m leaving work today about 5pm to catch the 5:35pm Bank Job at Culver Stadium 12.  That’s right.  I’m a rebel.  I’m only putting in a 7-hour workday today. Take that!  I'll show my inbox and to-do list who's boss.  Of course, that rebellion might have slightly more sting if I hadn’t put in a 9 ½-hour workday yesterday.  Oh well.  I may be a nerdy pushover on the remaining 365 days of 2008 (leap year), but not today.  Yeah, that’s right.  Take a moment to appreciate the maverick-ness.

Other than that, I don’t really have anything fun planned until next Thursday, on the 27th.  SCB are doing a show at the Hotel Café (I believe the kids are calling it a “gig” these days), and I’m going to go and pray that I don’t crack the new doorman in the teeth.  Douchebag.  (Seriously, that guy takes his job way too seriously.)  I might take the time to catch Meet The Browns this weekend, and who knows what else might come up on my radar. The important thing is I’m not depressed about my job, my life, or my finances right now.  And I can’t think of a better birthday present than that.

But so as not to appear ungrateful, I want to thank all the birthday card senders (both online and in RL) too.  Katrina also gave me a pretty pale blue scarf that I think instead of wearing it, I’ll use for decoration in my living room.  I have an idea for a new bookcase that I plan to buy with my tax refund money.  And Heather gave me a Target gift card that I think I’ll use to finally buy that bamboo plant I’ve been meaning to get from their Garden Center store.  I already have the vase for it and everything.  But instead of putting marbles in the bottom, I think I’ll use wood chips.  Decisions, decisions.

Well, enough of this fascinating detail.  Feel free to drop me a line if you want to know more.  I know you do.  ;-)  That reminds me.  I have to send Keisha a link to the V100 Superfest old school hip hop concert.  That’s the OG concert at the Gibson Amphitheater next month that I want to go to, and I asked her if she was interested.  The lineup includes MC Lyte, Big Daddy Kane, BBD (why?), Slick Rick, Doug E. Fresh, and Biz Markie.  But I’m not including that as part of my birthday celebrations. That’s just good natured funnessness.  (Yes. That is a word. Look it up.)

Okay, that’s it for now, peoples.  Have a happy and blessed Kelleah Day!  Don’t drink and drive. 

I'm still around, folks.  Just a little too busy to sit still long enough to blog about anything.  I promise to scribble something down soon.

 

 

 

P.S.  Fifteen days until my birthday!!!   And the town rejoiced.  Yay!