I Ran (So Far Away)

I've never really been an athlete. In high school gym class, my girlfriends and I would hide out in the bathrooms during weight training or stroll around the track while reading magazines. I played rec league softball in college, but mine was more of an organizational role-- sure, I caught a few balls, hit a few, but I was never a clutch player. And prior to this summer, I'd never run a mile in my life.

But now I'm sort of a runner. Okay, so I took most of August off. And most of September. And really only started running again last week, during which I accidentally underestimated the distance of a particular route and wound up running through East Atlanta in the dark of night. Bad news. Point is, I took up running back in June, and after sporadic training and my first 5K at the end of July, I guess I can officially say I'm a runner.



A lot of people like running because you don't need any equipment-- a pair of shoes and, presumably, clothing, but other than that, you can travel light. I need more than that. Without my iPod strapped firmly to my arm, I'm useless. Being alone with my thoughts is nice and all, but I can do that while lying in bed at night. If I'm supposed to be propelling myself forward at warp speeds in a big circle for the sake of exercise, I need tunes.

I consider myself to have pretty great taste in music. It suits me, at least. But I can't run to Iron & Wine, and Mumford & Sons really doesn't get my blood pumping. You know what does? Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, pure pop nonsense.

My running playlist features such gems as Ke$ha's "Your Love Is My Drug." Paris Hilton's "Stars Are Blind." Britney, The All-American Rejects, Cobra Starship, and more than several Taylor Swifts. My "power song" on my Nike+ is Christina Aguilera's "Keeps Getting Better." There's something about an auto-tuned, up-tempo Top 40 number that makes me run harder, better, faster, stronger.

So what am I complaining about? Nothin'. I can't really bring myself to feel guilty about these pleasures. The running shoes go on and the girliness comes out, but hey, whatever gets me through that next mile, right?

What do you listen to when you work out? Surely you've got something on your playlist that can out-embarrass mine. If not, maybe you can recommend something a little less ridiculous for me. Ideas?

TIME TRAVEL

If I could travel time, I would totally bang all the olde timey, pastey white princesses. AW YEAH. Then I'd kill Charlemagne so that my bloodline STOPS EXISTING.

The present day is going to suuuuuck when I'm done fucking with the past. Just sayin'.

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Awkward Moments: Hey DJ Play That Song!

Life is full of awkward moments, and over the next couple of who-knows-how-long’s I plan on exploiting those moments for my own personal gain. Maybe, if you’re lucky and I am remotely as entertaining as I think I am, you may get something out of these as well.

You know what I find incredibly awkward? Other than Matt… YES! The “Oh, you have to hear this song” moment. Doesn’t matter what end of the moment you are on; it is always awkward. Let’s split this up into two players. Player A will be the person introducing the new song/band and player B will be the inductee.

Player A, it's your turn. Holy crap! It is a great idea for you to show your new bestest friend in the whole wide world that catchy song you fell in love with way too long ago to really be respectable. Surely this person with whom you have such an intimate connection will completely adore this heavenly music with which you have an almost spiritual relationship. Just hit play and life will be perfect. Wait for it… wait for it… oh shit, this was a bad idea… wait for it…

Come on Luigi (player B), step up to the plate. Smile and nod, smile and nod; if you share things in common you will be better friends/lovers/besties! Of course this buddy you share so much in common with will play you a song that you immediately connect with. Uh… I'm sure the intro was just a little off; once the chorus gets here, you are totally going to be into it. Uh… well, just nod your head and smile until the song is over. Uh… this song never ends.

A or B… it is awkward because nine times out of ten, the song just doesn’t connect. Maybe it's because when something gets hyped to another person, it just makes them downgrade it in their minds. That, or you have horrible taste.

Trick Or Treat

You know Rule 34? That if it exists, there’s porn for it? Well I’d like to add a corollary to that rule: Rule 34.1—if it exists, someone is wearing a sexy version of it as a Halloween costume.

Now if Mean Girls taught us anything, it’s that once you’re past trick-or-treating age, Halloween tends to be not much more than an excuse for girls to get all dressed up in revealing clothing and call it a costume. Few girls can resist the allure of looking real hot, guilt-free, and it’s fun to dress up. But sometimes, it’s taken a little too far.

Like this, as posted a week or two ago on Geekologie:



Why in the world would there be a sexy Chewbacca costume? Well, because of Rule 34.1, that’s why. There’s surely a sexy Darth Vader costume out there somewhere, and I think we all know what a sexy Princess Leia costume looks like.

Leprechauns are well-known for their sexiness, right? Apparently they can be.



Of course, in this case, the company called it a “Sassy” Leprechaun costume. They’re rebranding.

What about this sassy Viking?



Scandinavia is pretty cold and the sea spray on those big wooden boats can be chilly as well—I know these things; Maelstrom is my favorite ride at EPCOT—so I think she should at least bring a light jacket or a blanket for her legs.

Or one of my favorites-- sassy Robin?



It’s probably a good thing Robin didn’t wear this costume in any of the Batman movies—the gay rumors are bad enough as it is.

Got a sweet tooth? Who doesn’t? Indulge your inner dessert-lover as a sexy Three Musketeers. No, not a sexy Musketeer, of which there are three—I actually mean a sexy Three Musketeers.




Of course, some costumes just really can’t—or at least, shouldn’t—be sexified. I would advise against any of the following, lest you border on inappropriate or at the very least, too ridiculous.

• Sexy Obama
  
• Sexy Chilean Miner
  
• Sexy Dwight Schrute
  
• Sexy Dora The Explorer
  
• Sexy Bobby Cox

As for me, I’m considering doing my tricking and treating as the Hamburglar this year. A sexy Hamburglar? Well, we’ll see. It is Halloween, after all.

Note: Full disclosure-- I've been a sexy nurse and a sexy zebra, and I one day intend to be a sexy Wonder Woman, so I don't judge! I suggest everyone dress as something awesome that they look real hot in. Then we'll all be happy.

RT: Philly [WARNING: PHOTO DUMP]

So Mikey and I hosted RT: Philly this past weekend. I would imagine that most of our readers know what RT: Philly is, but in case you don't: Rooster Teeth is a production company responsible for an online machinima series called Red vs Blue. On the Rooster Teeth website, a very significant community has developed over the years within the site forums. RT: Philly is a gathering of RT users that is intended to showcase user generated content. Basically, it's a conference of creators -- writers, artists, crafters, etc -- where Rooster Teeth is the common denominator, the thing that brought us together in the first place.

The build up to the event seemed to take a long time; there was a ton of planning, but of course it all just breezed by... Part of me wants to recount the events, but there's really just too much to try and cover, too many details. Plus I don't want to be writing this update forever. Suffice it to say this: there were a few hiccups, but all in all it was an awesome weekend, and I'm already excited for next year. Not to gloat, but Mikey and I totally nailed it on Saturday (the main event), and being surrounded by other creative people was great. The Rooster Teeth community is full of talented folks creating unique content; I hope that even more people come out next year to showcase the projects in which they are involved.

Again, I don't want to go on and on. I'm sure that jokes from this weekend will end up becoming posts on here later on, so I will just put up some pictures from the weekend, along with a link to others. [Note: These pictures are from Virginia and our friend Sarah, and I tried to order them chronologically.]

A view from the balcony of our venue:


Our fantastic table:


Virginia's fantastic table:


Setting up:


HEY EVERYBODY, WELCOME TO TT.TKO


Chris O'Brien, writer of the webcomic [citation_needed]:


Steff Deschenes, author of The Ice Cream Theory:


Jozef Garcia, director of "RvBTO 2007" and co-host of the Javaheads podcast:


The whole guest panel playing Q&A Jenga:



TT.TKO at the after party:



Jeff and Vicki performing live:


TT.TKO hanging out with Jack Edathil, host of Late Nite Jengajam and co-founder of RT: Philly


HNNNNNNNNNNNG with Cusworth:


I see you.


On Sunday, there was a de facto TT.TKO photo shoot. Here are some highlights.

Mikey and Mattie trade places:


Hardcore parkour!


Popping lips:




Phew. To see a handful of others, check our Photobucket album.

let's just round out the weekend...

So after the blitz-weekend that was RT:Philly, I thought it might be relevant to show those of you that were there where we ripped off half of our jokes.

TING TING!!!!

Daily WTF

I mentioned that I have a new job in my last post. Well, our office is located in Midtown Atlanta, on W. Peachtree. There are plenty of places to eat around there, but I’m new and still broke, so I’ve been bringing turkey sandwiches and baggies of pretzels and applesauce and the like. It’s like school all over again, only less fun.

In any case, yesterday was the first day I ventured out of the office for lunch. One of my roommates works down the street from me, and the other drove up to meet us both. They told me to meet them at Colony Square, which is a big complex with lots of offices and a food court and stuff on Peachtree. Now, wouldn’t you think that W. Peachtree would be the west end of Peachtree? You’d be wrong. They're different streets. I walked a good bit (well, a few blocks) farther than I anticipated in my uncomfortable-yet-cute heels. But I digress.

After a delicious Chick-Fil-A Spicy Chicken Sandwich with the roommates at Colony Square, I hiked back to the office and diligently began to work (maybe). A couple of hours later, one of my coworkers Skyped me—“There’s a jumper on top of Colony Square,” she said.

Yikes. A Google News search yielded nothing, not even on the Atlanta Journal Constitution site. So we took to Twitter to find out what was going on (which is in itself an interesting commentary on how social media is the best new breaking news source, but that’s for some other time). @ajc had tweeted about the jumper, as had several individuals. Apparently, someone was sitting on the edge of the top of the building. They’d closed off Peachtree (not W. Peachtree, mind you) and everything.

An hour or two went by before I thought to check for updates on the story—back to Twitter. This time, though, this is what I found: "@ajc Yes, it is. He agreed to come down to meet TI. RT @edelvil: @ajc Did TI really talk that boy from jumping off?"

I’m sorry; what?

Now, a day later, we have a bit more information. According to the AJC, it was indeed Atlanta rapper T.I. to the rescue Wednesday afternoon. He heard about the debacle on the radio and rushed to the scene in hopes that he could help. Which, apparently, he could.

T.I.: Superman’s true secret identity? In any case, he can do whatever he likes.

Re: Fight Club

Who wouldn't want to punch this face?

FIGHT CLUB

Who would you like to see in a fight? GEORGE BUSH VS OBAMA? HAHA. TOPICAL HUMOR.
Anyway, I think we all know that, ultimately, my dad could beat up your dad.

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Adult Content

Maybe you know, maybe you don't, but I just started a new job. My first grown-up job, actually, working at a marketing firm. It's only my second week and already I wonder if waking up early and sitting in an office all day suits me. I can't blog for a living, though (yet!), so up I get and in I go, every day.

When I was little, I never dreamed of working in marketing for a living. No, I didn't imagine I'd be writing press releases and SEO tags all day, but I wasn't one of those kids who wanted to grow up to be the president or an astronaut or a cartoon character or something ridiculous, either. I had a few other ideas in mind:

• Pro Figure Skater

Truthfully, I wanted to be Nancy Kerrigan (minus that nasty knee injury). But since the position was already filled, I would have settled for becoming an Olympic champ in my own right. Problem is, I had never ice skated before. Other problem is, Olympic-caliber athletes have generally been training since birth. Other other problem is, they get up really early in the morning, and I like to sleep in. It just wasn’t in the cards. Which is probably for the best, because while I’m pretty stellar at Rollerblading (and look pretty awesome doing it, of course), I still fall down an awful lot on ice. My cutting edge dreams just weren’t meant to be except briefly, at a Career Fair theme party in college.

• Professional Singer

This followed along the lines of my figure skating aspirations, in that I wanted to do something for a living that I can’t even do for free. Anyone who has accompanied me to karaoke knows that while I’m not the worst singer in the bar, I’m not likely to get a standing ovation. Only the occasional notes are hit. I love karaoke, and I think I make up for my lack of killer pipes with my enthusiasm, but there’s no record deal in my future. I’m not getting discovered singing Tom Petty at the Clermont Lounge. As a kid, though, I don’t think I fully realized that I’m not a singer. I was in chorus. I tried out for solos in the school musicals and never understood why I always got the speaking parts instead (the biggest speaking parts—oh yeah, I was quite the thespian in the 5th grade). Now I know why.

• Reporter

At some point or another, I began to want to be a journalist. I don’t remember when the dream developed from generic reporter to magazine journalist, but the general idea stuck with me at least through most of college, ever since which my degree in Magazine Journalism has primarily been used as a placemat. I doubt I’d be the blogger I am today, though, if it weren’t for those long-form feature writing classes. Regardless, the journalism I participate in these days is primarily of the citizen variety.

• Lawyer

Reading too many John Grisham novels and watching way too much Ally McBeal in the 8th grade contributed to this pipe dream. I was even pre-law when I started college, and you know, it wasn't so out of the realm of possibility that I would have gone to law school. I just didn't really feel like it. When you're pre-law your freshman year, they devote an inordinate amount of time to talking you out of it. "It's nothing like it looks on TV!" they say over and over. "You're hardly ever in the courtroom! It's all research!" You mean it's not going to be like Legally Blonde all the time? Well then never mind. I'm out.

So I'm none of those things right now. Not by a long shot. And I'm not sure I know what I really want to be when I grow up-- maybe the president. Maybe an astronaut. Maybe a cartoon character. Or maybe I won't give up on my dreams after all. Maybe I'm destined to earn a gold medal or a gold record. For now, I'm just going to keep paying the bills, and maybe one day my childhood dreams will be realized.

You know what I don't get? Cats and boxes

Why cats love boxes. They just really love the hell out of boxes. Have you ever noticed this? I'm certainly not complaining. I adore cats, especially cats in boxes. I don't, however, understand their ardent appreciation of cardboard.

My hypothesis is that it helps them feel safe. It gives them a place to hide, a place to be warm... It's all about security, I think. And I guess it gives them a space demarcated as their own. (Those claw markings clearly indicate the owner of the box.)

More than that: it's also a look-out. From their box-vantage, they can see and hear all that occurs within their purveyance while staying "enclosed" or "hidden" in their cardboard shelter. I use quotations because often times the box is not closed. In fact, my cat Gwenevere has lately found sanctuary within a box that is actually completely open (see pictures).

And that's part of what I find so interesting. Clearly, an open box is not any safer than just being out in the open, but there's something happening in their cute kitten (all cats are kittens, shut up) brains that makes them think otherwise. Or perhaps they're merely looking to claim land for themselves? Cat psychology 101. I'm not a cat whisperer, so I don't know.

I also don't get why cats love sitting on paper.... Any of you ever thought about these things? These are important questions! The questions of our time!




I will leave you with some video of an awesome cat named Maru. The first one demonstrates his love of boxes; the second one gives you an introduction to his whole world (it's a little longer).

Eat Pray Love

Maybe one day I will learn to read, but my school hasn't caught on yet that I can't. (Please don't tell them. Thanks, Internet, you're a pal.) So how am I typing this? HahahaGET OUT OF MY TUBES. No, just kidding; GOOD QUESTION. I'm dictating to my creature/fiance. she kan reed gud

Mikey and I discuss the things that keep us going. HINT: not batteries (Well, I can't speak for Mikey.)

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WTF Happened Weezer

You may not know this, but music is important in my life. Really, I'm a big fan of music.

In particular, I'm a big fan of Weezer.

Hearing the blue album for the first time was a pretty revelatory thing for me. I was in middle school, and discovering a lot of new music on my own. This was during the dot com explosion, but my family was rocking a 14.4 modem, so the internet was basically molasses. A lot of my music came from the radio, coupled with time spent in used CD stores. I had heard Buddy Holly many times over, and always enjoyed it when I heard, but didn't know who it was. I was browsing a local CD Warehouse when I saw an album with a blue cover prominently featuring four goofy-looking dudes and the word "Weezer." Finding the band name funny, I checked the back and realized this was "that Buddy Holly band." I had some allowance saved up, so I figured... why not?

Honestly, it didn't seem like a big purchase at the time; I had no idea what to expect, so I didn't make much of it. My sister wouldn't let me change the music in her car, and that was fine.

A year or two prior, I had received a nice CD player. Three CD changer, two medium-size speakers, remote control, a variety of different pre-set equalizations along with a customization option, the works. Suffice it to say I was impressed with the quality of the product, though it may be paltry by today's standards. Anyway, I got home and innocently popped that blue CD into my CD player, completely unaware that my life was about to change, truly.

Finding the correct words to describe my feelings while listening to that album is difficult. From the celebratory surf-rock of Surf Wax America to the brooding emotionalism of Say It Ain't So to the epic build and release of Only in Dreams, Weezer's blue album perfectly encapsulated my feelings as a child on the brink of defining himself in his own terms. Perhaps you think I'm being high-falutin, and perhaps you're right, but regardless you can hardly overstate the sheer awesomeness of the blue album. Every song is catchy, every song is accessible, the whole album is just fluid and perfect.

Then I went to high school. Middle school is a hard time for most everyone, and the transition to high school is not necessarily any easier. Granted, I had a good high school experience overall, but I spent most of my freshman year trying to determine who I was. (This was predominantly subconscious, but clearly the kid walking around in blue and white striped knee socks or white pants with rainbow pinstripes has manifested this process externally.) During my freshman year I found out that Weezer had some 4 years previous released a follow-up to the blue album, Pinkerton. I bought the album by the end of the week.

Pinkerton held its own revelations for me, but not quite on the scale of the blue album. Pinkerton was different. It was strange. It was funny. It was abrasive and sexually frustrated. The solos were spazzy, the guitar lines angular. The whole album had a raw emotional feel, but it was touching and intensely personal. A great record for teenage boys, truly (and girls, too, but I always like to identify with lead singers). This album didn't leave my CD player for a solid 4 months, without exaggeration. I listened to it almost daily; even now it frustrates me how short the album is.

Weezer had pulled me in completely. They were my default favorite band for years following.

But some things had happened between Pinkerton's release and my purchase of the album. Matt Sharp, the bassist, left the band. Sales for Pinkerton were lackluster. Rivers Cuomo, the lead singer and primary songwriter, retreated to Harvard for a while. These were things I did not know.

Weezer's next album, the green album, was due out in May of 2001. Pinkerton had only been in my possession for a few months when I found out about the new album. I bought the green album the day it was released; I still remember walking the half-mile or so to the CD Warehouse near my high school.

Unabashed, super-polished pop rock. To me, that sums up the green album. Suffice it to say I was taken aback by Weezer's apparent face lift. Their personality as a band had changed. My theory has always been that Rivers took the poor sales of Pinkerton quite personally given the.... personal nature of that album. So he wrote songs that were less personal, more vague, and somehow less meaningful. Don't get me wrong, I still like the green album, but it obviously lacks the same quirkiness and charm of their first two records. And sure, I defended the album and the band vociferously, a trend that continued for the next couple of records in fact (perhaps against my better judgment), but the green album definitely left me feeling short-changed. It was a short album, but that wasn't the real problem. I just didn't understand how a band I loved so much could release such a seemingly flat album. My feelings on the album were mixed, at times hearing it as vapid, at other times lively but prosaic. Where was the dynamism? Where was the emotion? Where were the theatrics? (Pinkerton was based on Madame Butterfly, after all.)

Again, I like the green album. And in fact, my opinion on the album has changed dramatically over time, and especially in comparison to their more recent releases.

Next was Maladroit, which I liked a lot then and still like now. I think perhaps I knew that Weezer would never be what they once were, and I accepted it. Of course, they had also shifted stylistically again. This time they traded polish for distortion. Maladroit was more distorted, but also stilted and oblique, at least musically. Solos were everywhere. Huge bass lines. Crunchy guitars. (Well, except for Death and Destruction, a much lighter number in roughly the middle of the album.) They were reverting back to the abrasive sound of Pinkerton, but of course didn't get there, and they never would have.

Then I went to college, and then came Make Believe. But I'm not going to go into detail here. Or for the subsequent albums: red album (their third self-titled album a la blue and green album), Raditude, and the most recent, Hurley.

It's hard to say exactly what occurred between Maladroit and Make Believe, but it wasn't very good. Ultimately, Make Believe was forgettable. Actually, everything after Maladroit is forgettable to me. What happened? Did I grow up? Likely. Did Weezer not grow up? Also likely. But who changed more, me or them? Granted, Make Believe and its successors had a few good tracks, but also some really horrible ones. We Are All on Drugs. Really? If the title is any indication, and it is, this will be no good. The quality of songwriting has been, to me, relatively dreadful except in a handful of places. The music has been good albeit unremarkable.



Of course, I own all their albums. And I've listened to even their more recent albums many times over -- save for Hurley, which I've only listened to a couple times. I wouldn't listen to them if I didn't feel something for them. But am I just fooling myself? Can't I just let go and have fun and enjoy the music for what it is? I like to think I can. Or am I just cynical and jaded?

Measuring their impact on my life would be difficult. Those first two albums, in particular, represent and sum up a lot of my high school experience and, ultimately, myself. And while I know I'm a sucker for nostalgia, Weezer is quite clearly a different beast these days. So what the hell happened? Who changed more, Weezer, you or me?

Update: Weezer recently announced some tour dates for their "Blinkerton" tour.