Who's your inner rock star? Find out via this test, courtesy of Ally. Mine is Tommy Lee. (Hmm. The depths of my new-job business have caused me to neglect announcing that Ally has started blogging again. Wow, I suck.)

Cradle of Filth to cover goth legends on new album: I discovered Cradle of Filth through the ever-helpful monthly CMJ music sampler. They are truly frightening in a hysterically funny way. Their music is a hilarious mish-mash of every goth cliche you can think of, from the frenetic guitar licks that sound like they were recorded at the bottom of a well to the overbearing drums to the "You can't be serious!" vocal flailings of the lead singer. Despite all of this, some people take them seriously. What a terrifying world we live in.

I'm really looking forward to hearing exactly what they intend to do that Sisters of Mercy song. I may need to put on some Depends before listening to it, but listen I will. TANGENT: Looking for a link for Depends Undergarments led me to this. FEAR.

Ministry release greatest hits album: I will go on the record now and say that I will not take any Ministry "greatest hits" compilation seriously that doesn't contain "Effigy (I'm Not An)", "Revenge", "Cold Life", "Everyday Is Halloween", "The Nature Of Love", "All Day", and "Over The Shoulder". (This isn't even taking into account that the vast majority of their post-A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Taste.. material is COMPLETE AND UTTER GARBAGE. "NWO" is a screaming pile of overrated poo. If that song hadn't had the Ministry name on it, people never would have paid it any attention.) Big points for including the 1000 Homo DJ's track, which shows exactly how shoddy, disposable, and completely deserving of rejection and ridicule latter-era Ministry really is.

Twitch is still their best album by miles. I wonder when Al will figure this out for himself and stop writing crap.

Love and culture: This past weekend my wife and I, along with another friend (see previous entry), attended the wedding of a good friend from college. Let me tell you, if you ever get a chance to go to a Nigerian engagement ceremony, go. It's fanastic. The bride's family gets to make the groom's family do all sorts of goofy things, including:

- begging to come into the house where the ceremony is;
- begging to come into the room where the ceremony is;
- begging to sit down;
- presenting the bride's family with the WORLD'S LARGEST YAMS;
- making the groom kiss the bride's mother's feet;
- making the groom prove his physical prowess via calesthenics;
- breaking into spontaneous Yoruba songs about the bride and groom;
- etc.

Also, people were wearing the PHATTEST robes/gowns on the planet. Andre of OutKast would break down and cry if he were to walk into a room full of Yoruba in fancy dress because he would no longer be the one everyone thought was so fresh and so clean (clean). More amusement was has by all when the bride's family attempted to palm random women off on the groom to see if he REALLY wanted their daughter, although it was somewhat shocking to see that one of them was MY OWN WIFE. (It was worth it to see the slightly shell-shocked look of terror on her face as they bantered back and forth over her, though. One could almost read the words, "What if they decide I'm good enough for the groom?" spelled out in beads of sweat across her cute little brow. Fortunately (for her), they decided that her exposed legs were disrespectful and sent her away. Tee hee.) Another bonus was that just when my stomach started to rumble and my eyes began to glaze because I couldn't understand a word of what was going on, they brought us heaping plates of Nigerian food. WE GOT TO GRUB DURING THE CEREMONY. This is a tradition that Western civilization needs to adopt post-haste. How much easier would it be to sit through that 3 hour Catholic wedding if the ushers passed out bags of Smartfood and Mountain Dew?

The Western ceremony paled in comparison, although we were complimented on our singing. (THAT was a SNAFU; we sang Neil Diamond's "Marry Me" a capella. Eek. Fortunately, my lovely and talneted wife flipped it on them with some Schubert "Ave Maria" [also a capella, but really purty] and Shania's "From This Moment On" at the reception. Crisis averted!) The one thing that the Western service boasted was the presence of about 700 of the worst-behaved kids on the face of the Earth. I have never seen a situation where spankings needed to be handed out like party favors quite like this one. Kids were running around screaming, crying, knocking over each other and random things, and being all-around terrors DURING THE CEREMONY. How did the parents handle this? "Shh. Shh. Shh, honey. No, I mean it. Shh. Look at the lovely wedding. Shh."

STERILIZATION IS TOO GOOD FOR SOME PEOPLE.

The day was capped off at the reception, which was a joyous celebration of dance and music with more good food and bad kids. A Nigerian band (made up of three singers, bass, guitar-wired-through-some-effect/MIDI synth control-that-made-it-into-a-keyboard, and a drum machine that seemed to be permanently set to "calypso") was playing songs that alternated between Nigerian stand-bys (and no, I don't know the names of any of them) and made-up songs talking about how wonderful the bride and groom were. Every time the couple would take to the dance floor, guests would jump onto the dance floor and throw money at them, almost like a dollar dance that never ended. (Never in my life have I wanted to be Nigerian more than at that moment. Visions of the new stereo I would have purchased after my wedding danced in my head as ones, fives, tens, and twenties littered the dance floor.)

We shared a table with a woman who had a pair of 21-month-old twins who appeared to be in a toddler biathalon competion that, as far as I can tell, consisted of attempting to put my eye out with a pretzel followed by a full-bore sprint around the reception hall. This woman turned out to be a good friend of the bride's sister, so I decided to let her live. (I'm being overly harsh; the kids were really funny. At least, they were funny until they winged me with the pretzel.)

It was a great trip and a great wedding. I wish Abby (aka "Mrs, oh, excuse me, Dr Thang") and Dayo all the best.

Lookin' for a new love: After rolling with a friend from college down to the Philly area and back (actually some random place in New Jersey... Cherry Hill?), I've reconsidered getting a Rav4. I will now not be content with anything less than a black BMW 330ci coupe.

Rolling up 95 doing 95... oh MAN. Don't you love friends who allow you to drive their PHAAAAAAAAT new rides? Especially when they have radar detectors. Mmmmmm-butter.

My only regret is that Joei has to go to grad school, otherwise I'd cheerfully talk her into the pile of debt that vehicle (or one comparable) would entail. Who needs savings when you've got a Beemer? "Sim-simma, who got the keys to mah Bemmah?" I heart that car like a demon. My only consolation is that if someone scratches my Rav4, I'll merely be pissed as opposed to being honor-bound to hunt down and exterminate every existing branch of the offender's family. (Yes, the car is THAT nice.)

On the downside, it costs $20+ to fill the tank. A small sacrifice for such a lovely hunk of pure sex-metal. Note: I recognize that this is a very "Stupid American!" thing to complain about. Please don't deluge me with email telling me I'm whiny.

I wish I was serious about getting a BMW. Financial planning is your friend, but not mine. Boo-hoo.

Back to music: New job has kept me from updating as frquently as I'd like to, partially because I have SO MUCH catching up to do that I'm kind of swamped. Since I'm going to be out of town this weekend, I thought I'd throw a couple of NME links your way:

Hear'Say head back to London's G.A.Y. club night: Someone please tell me what G.A.Y. stands for.

Tabloid Hell: Poor Christina. The ritalin obviously isn't helping.

OutKast team up with Fatboy Slim on new single: Three years ago this would have been fantastic, exciting news for me. Now, I tremble in fear hearing OutKast pummeled into submission by a tired, lowest-common-denominator party beat mixed in with boring, obvious samples. Sigh.

Discuss.

"How big a tip did you leave?" Yesterday, Joei (my wife) got a call from a friend (who shall remain nameless) who had just gone to get her nails done. Apparently, the place she went to also gives massages. Joei was well on the way to developing full-on manicure-envy when said friend mentioned how good her breasts felt.

Joei said, "What?" She was confused by the apparent non-sequitur. However, Friend explained that the masseuse rubbed her breasts as part of the massage and that it felt really good.

Joei responded with, "She did WHAT????" Friend asked why Joei was so shocked. Joei, still somewhat incredulous, asked, "You paid some random woman to rub your breasts?" Friend, now a little unsure of herself, asked if it was unusual to get a breast rub when receiving a massage. Joei collapsed into fits of laughter, particularly when Friend insisted that she got the breast rub because she gave such a good tip. (I believe the exact quote was, "Well Joei, you might get your breasts rubbed too if you left a better tip!")

There was much hilarity over this the entire evening, particularly when we went over to Friend's house for dinner. Friend's husband described the entire situation as "a little gay", leading to the classic question, "Do you think it's gay to have another woman rub your boobs? Well, they feel great so I don't care... but is that kind of gay?"

I couldn't sleep for a while after we got home because I kept bursting into spontaneous laughter.

He's baaa-aack... Watch the return traffic dwindle as I try in vain to catch up at my new job.

So, whazzup y'all? Life has been hectic but sweet for your lucky lucky author, who has had the good fortune of stepping into a professional situation where his expertise actually mattters and the company is THRIVING. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! I am the king of kings! To celebrate, I purchased a copy of Lateralus by Tool. (Well, not really; I was gonna buy it anyway, but bear with me.) I've only heard the first three tracks, but my calm reasoned opinion is that this is the BEST FREAKIN' ALBUM OF THE YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I must see these guys live...

CONCERT ANNOUNCEMENT:

Sunday 5.20.01

Poem-Cees, Soul Sista, and Fertile Ground
The Black Cat
1831 14th St NW (few blocks south of U St.)

Another reason to love The Onion: I love it when someone taps into the mean, uncharitable things that float through the back of my mind and prints them out for the world, thus allowing to maintain my "really nice guy" facade.

Although, this post (and really 75% of the posts on this website) kind of torpedoes that image, anyway. Damn.

Pet Shop Boys albums to be re-released: I think this would be a good time to start transferring my Pet Shop Boys collection from vinyl to CD. One thing that will bum me out, though, will be if all of the B-sides are included with these albums since I just replaced my copy of Alternative yesterday (when I was mad, hur hur hur). On the other hand, getting various remixes will be cool, and Alternative doesn't cover Bilingual at all. (Many would tell me that's a good thing, but I do like "Se A Vida E" and "Electricity" a lot. Anyone who isn't full of happy love after hearing the Deep Dish remix of "Se A Vida E" is a true grinch.)

The Flaming List: I would be much more impressed by the inclusion of Roberta Flack's "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" if I was convinced that Wayne recognized that it was a different song from "Killing Me Softly".

Link stolen from Katherine. This is becoming a habit.

josh blog is back! And there was much rejoicing. (Yay.)

Burn, baby, burn: Yesterday's entertainment was provided by someone from the third floor strolling up to our office and notifying us that the BUILDING WAS ON FIRE. One co-worker asked me, "Hmm. The fire alarm hasn't gone off. Does this mean we don't have to go outside?" "Of course not!" I replied as I packed up my stuff and headed for the door.

At this moment, about 500 firemen and 300,000,000,000,000,000 firetrucks (complete with cool extend-o-ladders) materialized around the building. There was mildly bemused confusion as the fire department attempted to escort us out of the building and various co-workers would vanish so that they could quickly pick their noses before leaving the building.

Once we got outside, we discovered two things:

The "fire" was a smouldering garbage can in an office on the second floor.

The fire department told us that the building would not be reopened until the landlord fixed the "numerous fire code violations".

Various co-workers said, "WHAT? I left my keys up there!" I chuckled to myself and went car shopping.

As it turns out, the fire department will allow the building to be open from 9 to 5, so I guess the violations weren't too major. Still, it's amusing to know that I will be FORCED to leave work at 5 up until my last day Friday. I also marvel at how modern society has completely blunted the average American's sense of self-preservation.

Jill Scott hospitalised: As a singer, reading the words "lung infection" terrify me almost as much as reading "head trauma" or "coma". I sincerely hope Ms. Scott gets well soon, as she's one of the classier acts to emerge on the music scene in recent times.

BRUNSWICK BLOWS IT'S HORN! I was all set to make fun of this site for punctuation gaffes before reading the story. Recycled jokes that were stale when Benny Hill used them are piled upon each other in a puerile-yet-amusing mess that's breathtakingly inept and endearing. This gets my full endorsement, folks. Go waste a few brain cells.

Hear'Say star electrocuted on video shoot: From the Merriam-Webster website:

Main Entry: elec·tro·cute
Pronunciation: i-'lek-tr&-"kyüt
Function: transitive verb
Inflected Form(s): -cut·ed; -cut·ing
Etymology: electr- + -cute (as in execute)
Date: 1889
1 : to execute (a criminal) by electricity
2 : to kill by electric shock
- elec·tro·cu·tion /-"lek-tr&-'kyü-sh&n/ noun

Okay, I'd like to extend a hearty "Thank you" to the person who discovered my site via the phrase "Can I watch defecation?" You have given me a good ten minutes of giggly, giddy entertainment.

Wow, it's the last Monday at my current job. Looking around, I see a lot of junk I need to pick up. (I'm not going to be like a former co-worker who left, among other things, an Apple IIc behind when he moved on to another job.) Tonight my wife and I are going to do some prelimenary car-shopping. Right now, we're trying to decide between a Volkswagen Jetta, a Toyota Rav 4, and a Subaru Forester. If anyone knows of a particular dealership in the Boston area that has good prices or financing, feel free to drop me a line. Also write me if you know of a dirt-cheap 1 or 2 bedroom apartment in Cambridge, Somerville, or Arlington.

It's Time for Nudes And Weather: Norway must be one of the oddest countries on the planet. I mean, for reasons beyond the obvious ones.

No Doubt Nab Prince, Dre: Clearly, this is going to be the No Doubt album to buy. I've never been a huge No Doubt fan, but I'm not hostile towards them either. Adding Prince, Dr. Dre, Dave Stewart, Madness, The Neptunes, and Sly & Robbie to the mix is too intriguing for me to pass up.

As a complete aside, how scary is it that No Doubt have been together as a band for 14 years?