Offensive Auto Roundup

As I was trekking my way down I-5 in the 8 HOURS it ended up taking me from NorCal to LA, I had the opportunity to observe some prime examples of automaking at its most hideous.

Here, in no particular order, are some cars that should no longer be allowed on the road.

1. The Honda Element. My friend Natty, visiting from Argentina, saw one in a parking lot. She was shocked. "What is that?? It looks like a fridge!" Seriously, now. Why would anyone want to drive a box? [Close relative: the also-boxy Toyota Scion.]

2. The PT Cruiser. It looks like a British black cab met a hearse and had a baby and tried to pass it off as something new, but at the same time, "retro!" Ooh, baby boomers loooove the PT Cruiser! Its so nostalgic! Nostalgia for what? A time of ugly cars? Sick. It's so ugly, it hurts my eyes to look at it for too long. The worst is that eggplant purple that seems to complement the hideousness of the body so well. People who drive this make me angry. It's like they are a cult of jukebox-listening, sock-hopping freaks who are relishing the idea that they are part of an exclusive hot rod club. They are probably listening to Buddy Holly as they drive.

3. The Aztec. Pontiac made this SUV and I have never forgiven them. I used to drive a Grand Am, so its not like I have no love for the Pontiac, but I was apalled, I repeat, apalled, that the Aztec passed all the requisite car-making greenlights to get designed, manufactured, and sold on the free market. But more appalling, and certainly more distressing, is that fact that somewhere, someone thought to themselves, "hm, I'm going to buy a new car today." And came home with an Aztec. For shame.

4. Hummers. Of any make/model. I'm sorry, but nothing screams "inconsiderate, self-important prick" like these 11-miles to the gallon monstrosities. Why the fuck would anyone need a military-grade vehicle for their everyday life in suburbia? Moms, you don't need an all-terrain army vehicle to drop the kids off at their 0800 soccer tournament. And can we talk about the fact that they are ugly? This is only enhanced when their idiotic owners make creative choices like bright emergency yellow.

Holiday treats

OK, can we talk about the fact that over the past couple weeks, approximately 1 metric ton of cookies, cakes, muffins, tarts, cupcakes, caramel popcorn, candy, brownies, pies, christmas-tree-shaped rice krispie treats, and various other assorted fatmaking treats have been delivered to my office and subsequently found their way into my stomach. Literally, the sweets and crap are overflowing out of the JB kitchen and into reception. While I know I really shouldn't complain about the deliciousness of all of these generous goodies, I am beginning to feel a bit like Gretel walking into the JB Gingerbread House each morning to go to work. I just get tubbier and tubbier and basically wait for my inevitable fate to be basted, thrown in the oven, and served up for dinner.

What can I do to prevent this?? Self-control? PLEASE. Any of you the least bit acquainted with the HJ know the whole "self-control" option effectually phased itself out after freshman year in the dorms. I believe "hedonism" is the word. Some have gone so far as to liken my eating habits to that of a goldfish. A goldfish, for those not familiar, will continue to eat if there is food in front of it, without stopping, to the point that it could ostensibly eat itself to death. I fear that my goldfish-eating tendencies are reaching critical mass. Clearly, relying on the strength of my self-control isn't going to do shit.

So, excercise right? This morning I actually woke up at 7am and took a 30-minute jog around the neighborhood! Great, right? I also ate some chocolate-orange cake, a cookie, and a piece of chocolate, all before lunch. I would have to run a 10k each morning to work off what I eat in the course of a day in the office.

So, maybe when I leave the office and go home for the holidays there will be some relief from all of this food madness? Oh no. Think again, my friend. I am going home to visit my parents, specifically, my MOM. Who, while admitting I am getting a bit "softer" as of late, will feed me to the point that I can eat no more. We will eat. A lot. Which is, honestly, the most fantastic thing I could ask for. I love food, right! My mom makes the best lasagna, we go to Chinatown for dim sum, lunch up in wine country... are you kidding?? It's going to be the best!

Until suddenly, it's January. The food drunk has worn off. And my jeans no longer fit.

Fuck.

Fire up the oven; Hansel - I'm not going to make it.

Hey ya!

Hi Andre,
So, when you came into the office the other day, I felt like we had a moment. I mean, not that you don't have "moments" with people all the time, probably every day. But yes, I think we both felt that undeniable connection as you glided through the office, we locked eyes, and you peeked out from beneath your stylish cap.

I believe the only verbal culmination of all this was, "hi".

Wow, I mean, it was so sudden, I didn't really know how to respond! I mean, we come from such different worlds! Here you are, international superstar, hip hop phenom, burgeoning movie star, and here I am, behind a desk, lowly assistant, can't even afford to move to Venice and get a dog. But something happened the other day, you probably can't explain it, goodness knows I can't. But I think we both know that on some cosmic level it was meant to be. If only in that moment.

I'm sorry the harsh realities of our circumstances have to keep us apart, Andre, but sadly I think that is just the way the world works sometimes. Maybe in another life, this would have had a chance. But it just can't work, I'm sorry.

I hope you understand.

If however, you do not understand, and think we should face the odds no matter what, you can reach me at work between the hours of 9am to 8pm, or on my cell anytime you like.

Positivity!

When things inexplicably seem to suck, it is time to look on the bright side and be positive.

1) The email I received from JQBL today saying that Tim Farmer and his team of losers won the bowling league. Man, that pissed me off. Looking in the bright side, however, I am not bald, and I don't wear bowling shirts from 40 years ago and think I am the shit. For this I am grateful.

2) When someone you hate emails you, not a personal email, but a forwarded joke that is not even funny. I take solace in the fact that from all evidence, they still reside outside of the state, and still have an underdeveloped sense of humor. I am further glad that my humor is not impaired.

3) Christmas is upon us and I have to buy presents. Malls are full of crazy people. I thank the inventor of the internet and online shopping. Bless you.

4) I got a new cookbook today. Food is delicious. For this, I rejoice. OK, and the fact that I can afford food. That's good. I can afford food because I have a job. Having a job is really good, plus my boss just had a baby, so maybe more time will open up so I can actually cook something out of my new cookbook. Spectacular!

Wow, I really feel much better. If you like food too, and you are someone that I don't hate, I would be happy to make you something delicious that we could share. I think my landlord is fixing my fireplace. Ooh, look, #5! Fixed fireplace for the winter! So we could have a nice little fireside dinner. Would you like that?

Did I just turn my dismal day into a holiday dinner party invite? Why yes, I think I did. Hooray for positivity!

P.S. Don't cross me today, I am in a bad mood. For my pending dinner party you can bring wine.

Black Wednesday

Today is a dark, dark day. Last night, Off in the Corner suffered its most harrowing defeat to date, and was knocked out of the JQBL playoffs. After making it to the elite eight, and despite the enthusiastic support of our fans, we succumbed to a bitter loss. Today, I have a new sworn enemy, and he goes by the name of Tim Farmer.

Tim Farmer is the new face of evil. He wears a retro-style bowling shirt. He doesn't have any hair. He has a ball towel.

How did he get so many strikes? Did he go by himself to the bowling alley everyday after school in high school because he had no friends? Did he sign an allegiance with Satan? Is there some evil power in his crappy ball towel?

Whatever, Tim Farmer, you know what? You made it to the next round of playoffs, but do you have the awesomest team in the league? Does your team high five until their hands are hurting from the force of the slap? I don't think so. If I am correct, you are the only one on your team with that lame ass bowling shirt. Whatever happened to unity, Tim Farmer? Answer me that.

Off in the Corner is just starting. We will be back, and our vengence will be directed towards you. We will be hungry to win next season, and you will be crushed. Because good guys win in the end, Tim Farmer, thats something we will prove to you next season on the lanes.

Playoff time

Today we got the standings for regular season play for JQBL. Your plucky heroes in pink are currently in 4th place. 4th place! Not only that, but upon reviewing the stats, we are also the only team to have a perfect attendance record. Sparey Poppins and her destructive score last week? I mean, 170 raw score?? Come ON!

So our strategy remains much the same. Our first face-off is against LMB Partners. Not to talk too much shit, but seriously? One of their players showed up for 10 out of 20 games. At my school, 50% equaled an F. Sorry guy. Also, what does your name even mean? LMB? Lame Mommy Boy Partners? Or is it some allusion to boy band acronyms? Either way, weak.

How they train: not showing up to games, scoring less than 800 + handicap
How we train: duct-taping 40s to our hands, imitating cars at fast food drive-thrus, general ferocity conditioning

OK, we need to focus. Enough slander of the other team: we have to get our heads back in the game. It's sudden death, and that means no f-ing around. Seriously, its go time. We are NOT about to go out like a bunch of punks.

We have one week, I repeat, ONE WEEK, to rest, practice, pray, meditate, train, whatever. When we get back from our fatty turkey meals, there is no turning back. I love you guys; now it is time to bring home the gold.

GO OFF IN THE CORNER!

A post... of nothing

I'm sorry, its Friday.

By Friday, all brain cells that haven't already checked out by Wednesday (Wednesday being the new Thursday, which was the new Friday) have also been depleted or used up in some futile endeavor like, composing writer's lists, or ordering lunch. So now I have for you, nothing.

If you are pissed off that you are reading this right now, you may direct your anger to Eric Luther Ling, who when informed that I had nothing to post today, actually suggested that I post exactly that. "Well, there's your post right there."

Here is the resulting post. I'm sorry.

In other news, who is doing Edward 40 Hands tomorrow night? I have never done them before, so I am starting with two forties of Bud Light. I know, it is weak. But I am old now. I'm 25. This is the same liver that supported me through a freshman year of jello shots and beer bongs for three consecutive quarters at UCSB. I am not an alcohol workhorse, people!

OK, I might be a workhorse, but these precious organs have served me so well since my drinking career began a legendary 10(?) years ago, can I really afford to abuse them now? Good God I am old.

I think I was better off with nothing...

Kelly Clarkson: yes.

10 things I would like to say to Kelly Clarkson:

10. Thank you, Kelly Clarkson, for singing what the rest of us have been thinking all our lives.

9. I love you

8. Miss Independant? Fuck, that is a good song.

7. Since "Since You've Been Gone", have you really found that you have been getting what you want?

6. Sometimes I think you should stray from the sidewalk... but you probably already know that, because it's like, the point of the song...

5. Hazel is a good eye color, especially when used for hiding tears/emotions. Not like I would know, my eyes are just plain brown.

4. Does Paula look scary in real life? Were you ever afraid of Randy Jackson stealing your lunch?

3. Don't get too skinny. You're hot, and if you like food a little too much, well you know what? That makes two of us.

2. Clay Aiken? Bitch, pleeeease.

1. I forgive you for From Justin To Kelly

Only the best night of the week...

Yes, once again it is Tuesday. and that means one thing:

BOWLING, BITCHES!

But this week it is bittersweet, as it is the last week of regular season play. Thankfully, Off in the Corner has been devastating our opponents lately, so we are all but ensured a spot in the playoffs. Now don't misunderstand me, its no time to get cocky. Playoffs are rough, and insidious dirty tricks will likely abound. Just because Off in the Corner is an upstanding team of morally upright sportsmen does not mean that other teams also act accordingly. Therefore, I have outlined some of the tenets that have made us so successful and a model team.

1) High-fives. All the time. Between rolls. After rolls. During rounds of drinking bowling pin-shaped beer. After lacing up our bowling shoes. When Jeffy kisses his guns.

2) Dancing. Yes, constant dancing. It totally psyches out the other team, plus, keeps us 'warm' for our next roll. And please, with skills like these, it would be a crime not to share them.

3) 4 team members = 4 beers. No exceptions. Well, barring that one time when I had bird flu, and that other time we had a 'guest' so we had five beers each. But I think the 5-beer time I bowled like 36. In any case, it is not bowling without our delicious bowling pin beers. Oh yes, soon my pretties...

4) Our team is 50% Asian. 50%! Plus, we have taught Jeff not to hate Asians any more - a big step! I think this alone speaks to the bond our team has, defeating racism with nothing more than a heavy ball and community shoes.

5) Our infamy and status as a team. The pink shirts, the ritualistic slap of the door post as we enter, our supreme awesomeness overall... don't think we don't know y'all are jealous. But please, don't hate. Off in the Corner is all about love. We don't want anyone beating Off in the Corner tonight or any other night.

Go team!

Hiking

Hiking. Why.

OK, so I went out for a hike on Sunday and I was prepared to go and conquer "the mountain". Now, first of all, what the hell was I thinking after a night of lemon drop shots and red bull vodkas, washed down with Jack in the Box at 3am? I wake up one morning and I am a spelunker? I blame you Kat, if you are reading this. Always motivating me to do "active", "adventurous" things. You know I am just not built for that sort of thing. Regardless...

So we start climbing, I'm feeling good. Fresh air. Random wildlife [and let me clarify, this is in Pasadena, so like lizards, birds, and large beetles about do it]. Then it gets hot. Like, really fucking hot. So I drink water. and I'm still climbling. And while I can see the bottom, and yes, its really pretty and like, small looking, I still can't see the top.

This goes on for two hours.

One member of our fearless party starts to fall behind, bless her soul. So while some are pressing onward, we still can't see the top, the sun is setting, we are a man down, and I am beginning to think the mountain is roughly the height of infinity. At the same time, Lance Armstrong and company are like, pushing past us on their mountain bikes at a stupidly incomprehensible speed and North-Face outfitted senior citizens are passing us on their way back down from the top.

The top, which we didn't make it to.

We asked one of these intrepid geriatrics exactly how much further up it was, to which we were informed, "well, its about another half hour to the 2.7 mile mark [fyi, NOT the top] so if you don't have any more water I'd say that's something to consider." Oh, the smug look on his face as he brushed past us. Yes, I get it. You are old and in better shape at 60 than I am at 25.

So today, I am sore (is it really a good sore?) and still tired, and I don't even have triumphant photos to show for it. So in conclusion, hiking: would I go again? Perhaps. But not unless I know I can get to the top, and if that means I have to start by climbing up something a little less ambitious like to the top of the parking structure at the Arclight then so be it.

Senior citizens be damned.

In defense of Gobbles...

So after I posted my now infamous "dog and a bike" manifesto, I received some feedback from some haters who deigned to tell me that "Gobbles" is not an acceptable name for a dog.

First of all, Gobbles the beagle may not even be born yet for all I know, so I am forced to defend what may be my as-of-yet unborn puppy. You are disparaging the name of a dog that hasn't even been born yet. How can you people looks yourselves in the mirror?

OK secondly, as to the claims that my dog will be a Nazi, I simply say: no. Gobbles is the name of a lovable beagle puppy, friend to people of all races and creeds. Not to be confused with Joseph Goebbels, chief propagandist and leader of the third reich. Lets examine the differences:

• Goebbels: best friend is Hitler. Instrumental in the execution of the holocaust, he kills himself and his family rather than face consequences for atrocities committed during WWII.
• Gobbles: likes meat-flavored biscuits and smelling other dogs' behinds. Best friend is his soccer ball shaped chew toy. Also enjoys long periods of having his belly scratched.

Again, very clearly, not the same.

Next point of contention: the assertion that the name Gobbles calls to mind the eating of food, gobbling, or Thanksgiving. And what, might I ask, is so wrong about these allusions? Also as previously discussed on The Heathernet, food is a glorious thing. Thanksgiving is a celebration of that glory. Hence, Gobbles, who will undoubtedly be a little fatty like his owner, will have a perfectly suitable and apt name.

Finally, 'Gobbles' sounds like 'Goblin'? Please. Which one of us has not had their name turned into some lame play on words in junior high by kids who are now working as cashiers at their local Savon? No name is free from this kind of abuse, and as my dad would say, it builds character.

Gobbles, never be ashamed of who you are. I wouldn't name you Gobbles if I thought other puppies would make fun of you at the dog park. You have a lovely name. But is that what counts? What counts is here, in your heart. You have to be yourself.

[And please please don't prove me being wrong by being a Nazi.]

I love you!

Spotlight: lunch

Isn't lunchtime the best? Taking a brief respite from the madness of phones, meetings, filing, dealmaking, faxes, and the like to sit down to what one hopes will be a fantastic meal and a well earned break. Sadly, this honor is not something normally bestowed on me during my typical workday.

But not today!

Today the illustrious Devo 4 (my squad of hard-working development team members) left the phones on voicemail as the bosses were all out to lunch, and took a field trip in the runner-mobile.

While we were initially startled by the shining orb in the sky (which we later learned goes by the name 'sun'), our eyes began to adjust to the light and we squinted around in search of the restaurant. Once we got there, the normally fearless Devo 4 were uncharacteristically disoriented.

"is that a menu?"
"wait, what's going on here?"
"seriously, I don't understand, do we order here? is that tuna?"

After the initial confusion, I tried to calm one member of the posse down by pointing him in the direction of his familiar friend and old standby, the turkey sandwich. This backfired.

"What? I don't want you guys giving me crap because 'ohh, Jeff's having a turkey sandwich: a-gain!' I'm getting the pasta salad." Well, imagine his surprise when he found out the pasta salad contained his mortal enemy, blue cheese. That's when it pays to be loyal to the friends who have been loyal to you. Lesson learned.

So, we sat out on the patio, with all the suits that work in the area, and overall enjoyed a perfectly lovely lunch. In fact, we took to it so naturally that the time literally flew by, and it was soon time to race back to the office before our bosses discovered we had breached the borders of the compound. Sigh. Until next time, elusive lunch...

Meet Off in the Corner

Bowling.
A sport of champions. Only true, hardcore, renegade competitors can ever experience the beauty that is aggresive bowling. Thats where Off in the Corner comes in.

You see that photo above? Look at those hardened expressions: we are ready to fucking crush people. Oh, you thought I was kidding? Think twice, fool.

Scared of the people in the photo on the right? Well you should be, because they are the stuff nightmares are made of. Mary has a lethal throw that reverbrates through the entire bowling alley. Eric just looks at the pins and they evaporate. You have not prepared to get served like this.

In all seriousness, dancing aside, we are the baddest team ever to emerge out of Pico's mean Bayshore Lanes. So watch your backs, bitches. I'm already bored of warning you.

-Fatty McGutterpants

A dog and a bike

I've come to the conclusion that all I need to be happy is a dog and a bike.

I've tried to deny it through other means (dulling my senses with alcohol, liaisons with questionable gentlemen) but really, I think I have found the answer. So now to put it into action, right?

Now, living on a main 6-lane thoroughfare in the dead center of LA and working 12 hour days have both been interfering with my goal. The following are factors that I think could improve my chances of achieving happiness:

1) quitting my job. Would improve hours I could spend with Gobbles (my future Beagle) tho it might significantly limit what Gobbles could eat. Plus bike maintenence would be difficult without income.

2) moving to Venice. Gobbles would have lots more room to play, plus, he could run alongside me as I pedal my way down Abbot Kinney. I'm not sure that Gobbles would necessarily enjoy the beach tho, he/she(?) might not take to the water... we'll take things slowly...

3) having a roommate who could spend time at said Venice house during the day to look after Gobbles and still bring home enough money to help split the rent. Preferably a nice looking boy who could also adopt the role of cuddle buddy. Acceptable lines of work: writer, artist, carpenter, landscape architect, architect architect, chef, independently wealthy trust fund heir, grass-roots activist, composer, other. Unacceptable lines of work: actor. model. etc.
[note: if you are a 'heterosexual' male and drive over an hour in order to get a haircut, you can consider yourself in the same category as gentlemen in the aforementioned occupations]

4) Getting a big payday for all the hardwork I am putting in so I can afford a fancy alarm system for my sweet bicycle and the finest in doggy day care.

Gobbles, have no fear. I am already saving my pennies for a bike and a deposit on a little beach cottage for us.

Food: A love letter

Sometimes when I am down, I forget what's important to me. You know who never forgets about me? Yes, food: you.

Remember that night at the sushi restaurant in Santa Barbara? Or the magical time we had over Thanksgiving a few years back? These memories will be with me forever, treasured, as our relationship continues to blossom...

Food, you have always been there when I needed you. You don't judge. If I look like crap and am in a bad mood, do you reject me? No, rather, you are there to embrace me. Do you care that sometimes I demand too much of you? Not at all; in fact, you are often there with open and loving arms, offering me more. Sometimes I don't even have to call: you are already there.

So let me just explain, that while I have tried my best to hold back, or even take some time apart, I can say with some confidence that I will never leave you again. After lunch today, it became all too clear: you are the love of my life.

Never forget that.
hj