Filed under: Lampsha Spins
UPDATE: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF OUR FAVORITE SNARKSTERS – PAVEL!
and of course RABBIT RABBIT!
So two Japanese art students and a pair of Italian twin brothers walk into an Italian restaurant…and out comes Blonde Redhead, more or less. The band was formed in 1997 after a chance meeting at an Italian restaurant. One of the art students dropped out and the result is the trio of Kazu Makino who is now married to one of the twins, Amadeo Pace and are now based in New York (Brooklyn I believe). You with me so far? Let’s continue on to the music (but first check out the Band’s site above which is artsy cool).
After a bit of a scuffle, I am featuring the video for the song 23 from their new album of the same name. My five year old son, Julian wanted to feature “that scary song”, Melody from an older album which you can find on the Band site above:
Of course, for a quick musical review, head on over to Blonde Redhead’s MySpace.
That’s it – blondes, redheads, brunettes, whateva – have a great weekend!
~ DJ LAMPSHA
Head on over to HUMOR-BLOGS.COM where you can tell them we also know how to have a good time!
BY now, many of you are aware of the fact that we don’t do much cooking. We’re pretty sure many more of you would also know this, if you’d bothered to read yesterday’s post. But that’s beside the point. The point, for we’re thawing it out, even as we type, is that we go to great lengths to avoid preparing anything more complicated than, say, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and/or cheese quesadillas. That said, we’re no strangers to our kitchen — it is, after all, where we keep our dishes. Not to mention our take-out menus, which currently sit in a drawer filled with those quaint thingies people use to keep from burning their hands when taking stuff out of the oven. But, as is too often the case, we digress.
IT recently occurred to us (a minute ago) that June is technically a “big” month for weddings. Matter of fact, we were invited earlier this month to the nuptial celebration for the person who used to groom our dogs. Unfortunately, we were unable to attend, what with the need to find a new groomer, and all. Still, we sent a lovely gift, in hopes it would be found useful to the happy couple as they trotted away into the sunset of wedded bliss. And yes, we sent cooking utensils, because we think everyone should have his/her kitchen crammed with as much useless junk as we do — none more so than two lovebirds recently united in marriage.
PERHAPS we should have included the following 1949 video, because it’s virtually “crammed” with Helpful Cooking Tips that seem surprisingly… kinky. Cream. Fold. Soft ball stage. Beat. Kneading the dough. Simmer. Loss of juices. Marinate… Just because we don’t spend an inordinate amount of time in our own kitchen doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate the sexual undertones associated with cooking terminology. Or overtones for that matter. In and/or out tones, too. That said, some of the terms used to prepare a variety of delicious dishes are almost as hilarious as some of the less-than-delicious dishes we’ve prepared over the years, in an effort to give the illusion of being “a good wife”.
AS you’re about to see, the honeymoon is over for Tim. As far as we can tell, it’s just about over for Margie, as well.
NO Margie, your cake didn’t turn out so well, and neither will your marriage. Like that wreck of chocolate congelation you tried to whip up, you’re headed for a big, messy fall. Oh, no doubt you’ll manage to keep Tim from finding out about your terrible cooking skills for a while. Heck, follow our lead and you may never have to open your oven again. No Margie, not that oven — you’re still a newlywed, you dumb bitch, that oven should be opened 24/7. No we’re talking about take-out, something you’d know about, had you bothered to read our post yesterday. But that’s beside the point, Margie. No, not the “point” at the ends of your perky breasts. Yeesh, Margie, keep up. No, not that kind of up, Margie, Tim’s not even home yet. Margie, why do we think there’s something you haven’t told us? Or Tim, for that matter? Apparently you’re not as innocent as you appear. As we were saying…
TIM may never realize how much you suck in the kitchen (another thing you failed to mention, Margie?), but he will find out about the time you fooled around with Marcos, the milkman, and be “upset”. He won’t take kindly to that fling you had with Ramon, your gardener, either. And trust us, Margie, Tim will be more than a little chagrined, when he learns the true nature of those lube jobs you were getting from your mechanic, Bubba. But the indiscretion that will send poor Tim racing out to file for divorce, is the one that resulted in the birth of your first child — exactly 9 months after you got back from the “girl’s only get-away” you took with Judy and Babs, to that Sandals Resort in the Caribbean. Nonetheless, Margie, we predict you’ll land on your feet (and/or back, as the case may be), and ultimately make millions penning a “how to really cook” book, entitled “I Knead Soft Balls”.
Can ya smell what’s cookin’ on Humor-blogs.com?
AS many of you know, some of us are big fans of Mexican take-out. Not just “big” fans, mind you, but MUY GRANDE fans. We love it, and we don’t care who knows… unless it happens to be some poor schmuck standing behind us shortly after we’ve had a particularly tasty bean burríto. But we digress, as so often happens when we start reminiscing about bean burrítos and/or that guy we “inadvertently” offended the other day.
THE fact that we really hate cooking helps to explain our passion for take-out. Fortunately, we happen to like many different kinds of cuisine: Mexican, for sure, but we also adore Chinese, Thai, and Italian, to name but a few ethnic variants. Oh, and if someone delivers it, chances are pretty damn good it’s gonna wind up in our house and/or on our dinner plate at some point in time. But our real passion is for Mexican comida (that’s food for those of you who no habla Español). Black beans, rice, corn and/or flour tortillas, salsa picante… mmm. Makes our mouths water just thinkin’ about it. As you might imagine, there are a number of Mexican restaurants in the area that we enjoy, but only a couple we’re especially fond of. One that’s poco un más (a little more) basic and one that’s poco un más, um, gourmet. Not fansíco schmansíco gourmet, mind you, but definitely more upscale than, say, el mucho más basic Taco Bell.
THIS restaurant — let’s call it Ole Mole, because that’s its name — happens to be our Very Favorite. But the other one is muy delicioso, too, so we order from them often, as well. In fact, we laugh nervously whenever we head out to pick up food from this “other” restaurant, because it’s practically next door to Ole Mole, which means there’s a chance we could get caught. Sometimes we duck in the car while speeding past our beloved Favorite, in hopes the owners and/or staff don’t catch a glimpse of us, and realize we’re getting ready to “cheat” on them, by feasting on some other chef’s tasty fare. Needless to say, by the time we sit down to eat, our mouths are happy, but our nerves are frayed.
IMAGINE our surprise, then, when we called our “other” favorite Mexican restaurant the other day, and ordered our “other” favorite dishes — dishes that are not available at Ole Mole — and were told they weren’t on the menu. Imagine our confusion, when we argued over the phone with Señorita Order-taker, by saying something like “What the hell? We order this at least once a week”, and were told “Is it a special order? Because we don’t offer plain enchiladas, only enchilada suizas, with chicken.” Imagine our embarrassment, when — because we were, by then, very frustrated and hungry — we angrily demanded to speak with the manager, who recognized our voice and asked us point blank “Since when do you eat enchiladas? What happened to verdura tacos, arroz con frijoles, y empañadas?”
GULP. That’s when it occurred to us that putting our two favorite restaurants’ numbers next to each other on speed dial was a huge mistake. HUGE mistake.
SADLY, that’s not the end of this pathetic tale. Imagine our utter and/or total humiliation when we tried to order from our favorite Thai restaurant the very next week, and were told “Pad Thai? ¿Usted ha ido loco? PAD THAI??” and then got cussed out mucho más en Español. That’s right, we did it again. Suffice it to say, our favorite restaurant tried to break up with us after that incident, but we’re hoping to win it back by showing we can — and will — remain faithful. As far as Gabriella y/o Rosíta are concerned, anything we’re eating these days that’s NOT on their menu, is being lovingly prepared at home, by our own two hands. And we’ll do our very best to stay true, because we’re not food sluts, dammit. Still, we do get pretty hungry. And we don’t like to cook. Thank goodness Taco Bell is on the other side of town, otherwise, at any given dinner time on any given night, we’d be up Río Shíto without a burríto.
¿Dónde podemos encontrar Humor-blogs.com? ¡Necesitamos reír, pronto!
We all have said it, we all have felt it and looking into the mirror, it takes serious delusion plus some altering medication to believe otherwise.
The other day I read a tag-post on our very own lampshade lady´s site. And it made me think. What did I do 10 years ago? Yesterday seems to have gone so quick, last week certainly flew by and don´t even get me started on where June went and if it even made an appearance.
10 years? A lot has happened. Some of you had kids and saw them going to their first school day, some of you opened your own company, some of you met someone and went down a different track than you thought you would…10 years is a major step into the next leg of your life. Granted, some of you still watch the 257th re-run of Star Trek epsiode 37 , series 15 “The escape to Nemisis” in your mom´s basement … but hey, whatever beams you up!
This goes out to all that have done the best with what they were given at the time.
Here´s my top three countdown of the things that made my last ten years worthwile, a little scary and absolutely necessary:
• 3) I moved to Iceland in 1997, leaving behind hurt, no prospects and an amazing pair of red rubber boots! I found my family herre, lots of hope and realized the rainbow had more colors than just red.. although I´ve never been a huge fan of orange, it looks quite lovely next to yellow.
• 2) I figured I was just smart enough to move above the low expectations my birth environment demanded of me and reading a book wasn’t as hard as I thought it´d be, so I enrolled in the university and even did well. Don’t worry, I won’t turn Narcissa on you … after all it was my mom that dragged me kicking and screaming to the sign-up. She is so pushy, someone needs to talk to her and with all that education she is insisting that I mow the lawn. What?
• 1) I discovered myself…learned that you can’t please everybody, someone is bound to not like you. Having your thoughts, opinions and feelings makes you you. And once you actually stop self-deception, the people that are compatable with your complex structure of weird inclinations, will see and make you shine. Although when they start to demand you polish your shoes, it´s time to branch out!
This makes me happy, it all mattered in putting me right here, typing this..10 years well spent, I think!
Now I encourage you to take a minute and look back over your last ten years, what´s the first thing that comes to mind and are you willing to share?
Would you look at the time? I have to run…!
Filed under: crummy letters
IT’S official. CRUMMYJOEL is now in the “system”, which means our funny friend can post on a more frequent and/or regular basis. Which means our funny friend has to post on a more frequent and/or regular basis. Which means oh please oh please oh please post on a more frequent and/or regular basis, CrummyJoel, because we love these crummy-but-not-really letters of yours, and since our “other” funny friend, DIESEL, is busy selling t-shirts and/or making book pitches, we need you. Not that we didn’t need you before, mind you, but now we’re kind of desperate, in that clingy way we get sometimes. Not “hang on to your pant leg for dear life” clingy, mind you, but “oh sure we could make it without you, but puh-uh-leeese don’t force us to try” clingy. We know you hate that, and we hate ourselves for getting that way, but what can we say? Oh sure we could make it without you, but please don’t force us to try! Uh, heh heh. All this to say… CrummyJoel is now in the “system”, and all is right (and/or write) in our world. Also, from here on out, he’ll get no special treatment (and/or set-up) from us. What he writes is what you’ll get, which you’ll find out for yourselves, as soon as we let go of his pant leg. ~snuppy
*** *** *** *** *** ***
Dear Crummy Driver:
Just the other day, I was wondering to myself what it must feel like to merge onto the freeway on a Big Wheel©. Now I know. I realize that a vehicle as large as yours might take some time building up to highway speeds, but considering you were driving 85 mph on side roads methinks you could have been a bit quicker on the uptake when joining interstate traffic.
As is always the case not only were you able to merge with absolutely no problems (leaving the clusterf&^k to the line of endless traffic that had built up behind you), but you immediately felt the need to move to the left-most lane of freeway traffic. Which would have been fine, except for the fact that you swerved in front of 14 vehicles in the process. Oh, and the fact that you immediately set your cruise control on approximately 36 mph.
After negotiating the merge mess you left me with, I finally made it over to the fast lane. And by fast, I mean “36 mph”, because by that time you were leading the charge. I would’ve given anything for you to move right and let the faster traffic (me) pass. When you finally did, little did I realize the nightmare that your changing lanes creates. Hey, next time you get into your car, do me a favor and find those mirrors. You know, the ones you use to put your makeup on. Notice that if you take your face away from these mirrors long enough, you can actually see the traffic behind you and therefore avoid recklessly careening directly into their trajectory. Of course, this would mean that your makeup would have to get applied in some place other than your car at some time other than when you are on the interstate. A sacrifice, yes, but perhaps one that is best for everyone involved.
Quite honestly I was surprised you had time for the makeup, what with everything else that was going on in your vehicle. The main deck of the Enterprise had less activity than your driver’s seat. Between your makeup, coffee, CD karaoke, and cell phone, I swear you must have sprouted an extra arm out of the middle of your torso to keep it all going. By the way, do the size of cupholders match the size of the vehicles they occupy these days? I didn’t realize that had Starbucks started selling their coffee by the silo. Then again, I didn’t realize that Chevrolet had started selling aircraft carriers, either.
Eventually, we became separated and I can’t say that I was sorry. Of course, the reason we were separated is that I took heed to the warning that the left lane was ending in 2 miles. I got over to the right lanes, as I was specifically instructed to by multiple signs containing very large flashing LED lights and the scruffy gentlemen with orange vests and flags. I’m pretty sure you got out of the left lane approximately 10.6 inches before it ended. I wouldn’t know for sure as I was a ways back, a location reserved for people who follow traffic rules and dictated by those people who stay in lanes until there’s only 10.6 inches to spare. Thanks.
Next time, please do us a favor and take public transportation. Maybe you could earn some tips with your CD karaoke.
PS: humor-blogs.com asked that if you are going to flick cigarettes out your car window, could you try not to aim for our sunroof? Thanks.
PERHAPS some of you know about the small-yet-not gathering we were invited to over the weekend, that was less tête-à-tête than soirée. That is, if by “soirée” we mean “not an elegant affair in a private home, but a large cacophonous group of normally quiet bloggers, assembled at one table in the middle of a Manhattan restaurant”, which, of course, we do. That’s right, many of us were treated to the joys and/or noise associated with the aforementioned gathering Saturday afternoon, and don’t ya just know we’d like to tell you about it? And don’t ya just know our heads are still swirling with the overall thrill of the whole affair — so much so we’re pretty sure we won’t be able to do justice to the event? And don’t ya just know we’re gonna try anyway, because that’s just how we are?
BECAUSE we’re nothing, if not ADDled at any given moment of any given post, this may seem a bit… convoluted, if not flat out confusing. Do your best to keep up, that’s what we plan to do:
DOUG! Wow. The curmudgeon! Cool. Oooh, a curmudgeon with blue eyes. Very cool.
YOUNG woman at the end of the table with the amazing hair but who’s name we didn’t get, and who shall be referred to, from here on out as: Debbie! Nice to meet you! You’re in my chair.
AL! Where’s yours and Doug’s wife? And why are you and that guy sitting next to you wearing matching shirts?
Al’s friend in the matching shirt! Howdy! Pleased to meet ya! (Didja catch his name. No, did you? No. Started with a “k”. Ken? Karl? Keith? Kirby? Kevin? Koby? Kurt?)
PIA! Keep flashing that brilliant smile of yours my beautiful friend, and we’ll have to put our sunglasses back on.
SAR! Who knew they made stilettoed tennis shoes? And what’s up with deleting your blog?
GINA! Yay! Hooray! It’s my dear NBFF! I missed you!! What’s that? You don’t feel well? Uh, maybe you should sit over there, next to “Debbie”, she seems, um, lonely.
TALI? Beautiful girl! Aren’t you glad your mom dragged you with her to this thing? Are you having fun yet?
NEVA! Now isn’t that special? Purple toenail polish to match that toe you stubbed yesterday. Clumsy and colorful, who knew?
JOEL! You mean to tell me driving an hour and a half into the city on a Saturday isn’t your idea of a “good time”? Go figure.
DUDE/girlfriend/bub/missy, i am SO happy/thrilled/unnerved to finally meet you! You’re exactly/so different/slimmer/bigger/taller/uneven/younger/older than i thought you’d be!
Love this restaurant! What a terrific vie…
Well yeah, we were this close to buying one, but we heard they could…
MIZ B‘s reading today was fabulous! She sounded just like Pat, the Cat lady… color me impress…
Seriously! Sit over there, “Debbie”, this is my chai…
Can I get a drin…
TEH PENGUIN would have so much fun with this grou…
When did you get here?
I just flew in this morning, boy are my arms tired.
No seriously, I had some kid hanging on it for, like, the last 3 hours of the flight. It’s still numb. Stupid little bastard…
Should we order something now, or wait until…
Richmond is very lovely, but so hot in the su…
…and then he said “Beavers and Ducks!”
IN other words, we had a grand time, despite the fact that we were allotted exactly 5.29 minutes to chit and/or chat with each and every person sitting at that long-ass table. Not that we’re bitter, mind you. No, in fact, we’re just grateful to have been included. We managed to snag a hug or two from everyone, eat a tasty roasted vegetable and goat cheese quesadilla, sneak one fried onion sliver off Al’s friend’s (Kyle? Kent? Korbin?) plate, and, uh, slip out before the check arrived. How was that NOT a perfect afternoon, we ask no one in particular, especially those of you who weren’t there? Truth be told, the only “difficult” moment occurred when some of us left before some of the the others. Hard enough to say goodbye, but we were more than a little jealous of those who stuck around, because we knew they were about to be treated to one of Al’s fabulous tours of Lower Manhattan. Lucky bastards. We’re guessing even Al’s buddy, ol’ whatsis name (Klyde? Klark? Korey?) enjoyed himself beyond the words he couldn’t get in edgewise.
Tomorrow’s post is bound to be more, um, lucid. After all, it’s being written by a blogger who wasn’t in Manhattan and/or at that table over the weekend. That said, there’s a veritable bloggerama-ding-dong goin’ on 24/7 at Humor-blogs.com.
Filed under: Lampsha Spins
This will be quick and to the point. I have to be out the door, I don’t feel well and I’m meeting up with a favorite group of blogger buddies today. Wah. When I don’t feel well, I make silly mistakes and delete things and then I get cranky…well crankier than I am as I don’t feel well.
Considering my eyes are looking a little glassy, this group’s name is perfect – Bright Eyes. Check em out:
Here: The Group’s site
And here: in a video of the song, Four Winds, from their new album, Cassadaga:
That about sums it up. Hope you enjoy and while you’re at it, have a great weekend.
~ DJ LAMPSHA
Everyone’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at Humor-blogs.com.