The evening of Wednesday last i Caltrain'ed it to the city to meet up with Veronica. We then Mini'ed over to Potrero Hill and the Brava Theater for Women, where Mexican alternative diva Ely Guerra was playing a special acoustic set. Upon entering the very attractive theater, we saw the playbill at left. Score one for the Brava.

Having never heard Guerra's music and being impressed but not particularly wowed by other rock en español artists, i had no idea how the show would play out. However, considering that after the show rock en español became my third most listened genre of the week, i guess you could say i was pleased. Guerra's voice rails between mousy, Cranes-like tones and overwhelming, almost operatic levels of passion and strength. As put somewhat cornily by the producer that introduced her, "Ely has the voice of an angel, and the heart and lungs of a lion". The acoustic setting suited her quite well, allowing her voice to soar over fundamental guitar pieces. Upon listening to her most recent album Sweet & Sour, Hot Y Spicy the next day, i was surprised to find some of her songs bearing an electronic slant, which coupled with her voice reminded me quite strikingly of Morcheeba. Finally, to throw my inevitable dash of sexism into the review, she's also really freakin' hot. My ultimate indoctrination into Spanish language music then led me to finally rip Veronica's Cafe Tacuba cds, and to get my hands on some interesting music i'd heard on MTV2 by Kinky.

Car troubles put a damper on an otherwise pleasant weekend. I had a molecular imaging seminar and dinner on Thursday night, and expected to miss Veronica completely as she was planning on seeing the new Coachella documentary followed by an evening at the 'Scene. I wrapped up the post-seminar dinner at the wonderful Fuki Sushi in Palo Alto around 10pm and headed home, retrieving my jacket from the coat check. Forgetful old me had unfortunately left my cell phone in said jacket, and when i got in my car and had a look at it, i found i had a staggering 20 missed calls. Something's amiss. Turns out Veronica had come home to change before the movie, and while heading back up to SF her car had lurched violently on the 280 on-ramp, after which an array of warning lights came on on the dash and the car lost most of its power. She succeeded in getting it back home and sadly had to forgo her evening plans. I had a look at it when i got home and thought i heard something funky when revving the engine.

The next morning we arose early to take it to the service guy at Mini of Mountain View. By this time even the "service engine soon" light had gone off, and the car seemed to be back to normal. The service rep couldn't find anything awry with a quick visual inspection of the engine (a little too quick, we thought), and said that it seemed fine and to bring it back if the problem recurred. Famous last words. That night on her way home Veronica experienced a more forceful version the same problem, this time on the 280 entrance at Brannan and 6th in San Francisco (the Mini appears to dislike 280 on-ramps). She called Mini roadside assistance and, after convincing the dense dispatch person that there was indeed a 280 on-ramp at Brannan and 6th, got the car towed to the nearest Mini service location, which happened to be the Mini of San Francisco dealer. Being Friday night, all the on duty guy could do was put the car in their lot to await the reopening of the service department Monday morning. It's a bit unbelievable that a brand new car with only 1500 miles on it would be experiencing these kind of problems, but a quick web search reveals that this isn't an isolated problem. It was amusing checking the car into the service lot, with the rep asking Veronica what the license plate number was, and her replying that it didn't have one yet. I drove up to the city to fetch her and we had a late Chinese dinner at Yeah! in San Carlos before turning in early.

Naomi and the freshly back from the UK Geoff swung by Saturday afternoon to take our minds off the car. Geoff tried in vain to find a copy of Moto GP 3 to satisfy his motorcycle racing urges, while i picked up a used copy of the renowned PS2 adventure game Shadow of the Colossus. We then had dinner at BJ's in San Mateo before letting N+G pass out at our place while V and i hit Jenz's "uniform party" in San Francisco and moved on to check out the last hour of Leisure. We returned home to Tara and our slumbering guests at 3am, finding that in our absence the dog had happily made herself a nice bed on the pullout couch next to Geoff and Naomi.

Despite having two talks and a portion of a grant to write from scratch by the following day, i succumbed to the temptation of a Lighthouse Cafe breakfast and joined V, N, and G to head to Sausalito. The primary reason for the trip was so Geoff could stop by the Yamaha dealer in San Rafael to pick up his shiny new Yamaha R6 motorcycle, or as he dubbed it, Black Betty. Quite a pretty bike. After briefly admiring it, i coerced Veronica into returning home so i could get a move on on my work affairs. I sat down in front of my laptop at 5pm, and wrote the last words of the grant section around 1am.

Monday was destined to be hectic. In addition to having an 8am meeting to finalize the aforementioned grant application with my coinvestigators, our new division director had organized an afternoon retreat at which i was moderating a session and giving two 20 minute talks. And to throw more fuel on the fire, V and i were both eagerly awaiting word from the Mini dealer regarding the problem with her Cooper S. Unfortunately, due to the chaos of the dealer's phone system and their inability to return messages, we didn't find out until the afternoon that they weren't going to get to V's car until the next day. Veronica actually had to go down to the dealer to gain this information, getting in a heated exchange with the service rep who tried to give her the runaround regarding the car's problem and giving her a loaner. On the up-side, both the grant meeting and the retreat went swimmingly, the latter concluding with a division dinner at Buca di Beppo.

This morning we're still trying to extract service and information from the San Francisco Mini dealer. Posts in various Mini enthusiast web logs have taught us that this problem is not an uncommon one. The cause is a bit difficult to glean from these internet reports, but the most popular explanation seems to be improper functioning of the electronic throttle control in the engine. However, i just talked to the Mini service rep and he told me the fault codes they got from the car's computer has suggested there may be a leak somewhere (although i wasn't quite clear in what line), so they're trying a smoke test. He said this diagnosis is consistent with Veronica's description of the problem, which they can't really duplicate because it's an intermittent thing. We'll see what clues this test gives us. I mentioned the throttle control thing to them but they're going based on the fault codes in the car's computer at this point.

So V's got my Jetta and i took Caltrain this morning. I don't mind ... i got to listen to my iPod for a half hour while on the train and then the Stanford Marguerite shuttle. If i didn't know any better, i'd swear i sat behind a young José Mourinho on the Marguerite.

For no logical reason, the theme to I'm Alan Partridge makes me want to live in England.

All the buzz is about the forthcoming announcement of the lineup for this year's Coachella festival. I'm trying to stick to my guns regarding my no-festival policy, but V is pushing hard for me to join her there. The preliminary lineups i've seen haven't wowed me at all ... except the rumor regarding a possibly reunited My Bloody Valentine, which seems to have died down. Frankly i'm amazed that the Coachella ticket pre-sale happened before the confirmed lineup was released ... but then i guess the pre-sale caters to people who aren't as discerning as myself. Discerning ... yes ... that's a good word.

To be honest, i'm not nearly as interested in music that makes me feel warm and fuzzy as in music that makes me wish a giant gaping chasm would open in the earth below me and swallow me whole.

on a thousand islands in the sea i see a thousand people just like me a hundred unions in the snow i watch them walking, falling in a row we live always underground it's gonna be so quiet in here tonight a thousand islands in the sea, it's a shame and a hundred years ago a sailor trod this ground i stood upon take me away, everyone, when it hurts now from my head to my toes from the words in the book i see a vision that would bring me luck from my head to my toes through my teeth through my nose you get these words wrong you get these words wrong, every time you get these words wrong, i just smile but from my head to my toes from my knees to my eyes every time i watch the sky for these last few days, leave me alone but for these last few days, leave me alone leave me alone

And the 40,000th song to be added to my iTunes library is ...       "Whisper Pitch", the first single from Stereolab's forthcoming album Fab Four Suture!

A thought finally pushed its way through my addled brain the other day. Unfortunately it wasn't anything useful, like "how to generate a million dollars of funding per year for my lab", and instead was the marginally useless "why the Legends are called the Legends". I realized that their first album Up Against the Legends sounded like Phil Spector producing the Jesus & Mary Chain, while their second Public Radio bore an uncanny resemblance to the early work of the Cure. Legends? Could frontman Johan Angerård be paying homage to his influences by assembling a band to continue their styles, lovingly deemed the Legends? Are the similarities to classic artists not theft but flattery?

I'm smart.

The Knife makes some truly haunting electronic compositions on their new album Silent Shout, and i mean haunting in the "send chills down your spine because you feel trapped in a horror movie" sense. Maybe it's because the guy on the album cover looks straight out of The Hills Have Eyes. Or because i keep expecting Alex and his droogs to stop by for a bit of the old ultraviolence.

The Mini is down at the dealer getting "perma-plated". Supposedly this involves applying a teflon-like coating to the interior and exterior that guards against scratches and crap accumulation, but Veronica has taken a lot of flak for apparently agreeing to buy the stereotypical expensive and useless "undercoating" from a car dealer. We'll see how it works. I hope they wash the car before putting this stuff on ... i don't want to preserve its current layer of dirt for posterity.

Being somewhat (?!) of an anglophile, i'm a bit disappointed to see the whole Sven Goran-Eriksson as England national team manager episode coming to a close in the way that it is. To recap, Sven continued his string of very public boo-boos by making crappy comments about nearly all the players and managers in England to an undercover reporter, posing as a rich Arab intending to hire Eriksson. Given that the man has done basically nothing in major tournaments during his tenure (a quarterfinal appearance in the 2002 World Cup was his pinnacle, and has been mostly supplanted by more vivid memories of his tactical ineptitude in Euro 2004), he really deserved to be fired. However, fears about the impending 2006 World Cup in Germany and the ability of the squad to cope with a manager change at the last minute forced the English FA to reduce his punishment to having him resign after the tourney. However, he'll now be a lame duck manager in Germany, and the question is whether the squad will put their eggs in his basket if the going gets rough. He's no wizard of strategy, and it may be all too tempting for the players to write off their chances and blame him if they underperform. It's a damn shame, because England have a fantastic squad at the moment (Rooney is brilliant, Lampard and Gerrard are the engines in midfield, and Terry and Campbell are both rocks in defense), and this may be their best chance in recent years to capture a major trophy. At this early stage, i have to say it looks as if Brazil may be walking away with the cup. Again. I'm hoping for some surprises ... another solid showing by the U.S. perhaps? (possible) The young Netherlands squad making some waves? (doubtful) An African nation finally challenging for the title? (debatable)

As bitter as their rivalry with Chelsea was last year, and as heated as it may get next month, i have to say that Barcelona play some majestic football. Although they don't put a strong emphasis on defense and accordingly get embarassed at the back on occasion, they are offensive masterminds and can brilliantly and fluidly dissect even the stingiest of back lines.

Pre-sale tickets for the annual Coachella music festival go on sale tomorrow. The lineup hasn't even been announced yet. Rumors have included reunions of funky drug-mongers Happy Mondays (Shaun Ryder looks like a preserved, decapitated head in that Gorillaz video, i can't imagine him in full body) and noise merchants My Bloody Valentine. The latter might actually get me to go. V is trying to talk me into going if only to just chill at the hotel/rental while they hit the show(s), seeing as i'm not too keen these days on standing in a field for 8 hours baking and buying $7 water to hear one or two bands that will probably be coming to my doorstep eventually anyway.

I've never played any of the much-acclaimed SOCOM games on the PS2, and SOCOM: Fireteam Bravo on the PSP isn't making me think i missed much of anything. It's a decent co-op shooter in the style of Rainbow Six 3, but nothing super fantastic. I'm actually getting a bit peeved that the order i really want to give to my computerized teammate is never one of the options. I imagine the multiplayer is more engaging, maybe i'll give that a whirl sometime. If i can handle the inevitable "man, you suck!" comments from twelve year olds. Which reminds me, there is a brilliant video circulating the internet of a nine year old playing some FPS online and forgetting to turn off his mic while screaming at his mom to get him chocolate milk. Possibly fake, but i'm sure similar diatribes are heard in Halo 2 deathmatches quite frequently.

Turns out the touch screen Alpine head unit i've got my eye on is not available in stores until late spring/early summer, so my dreams of upgrading the car stereo are on hold for now. Oh well ... my Sirius is keeping me plenty happy at the moment.

Before i get to the weekend, i have to praise Editors for their wonderful show at Popscene on Thursday night. V and i picked up Jenz and Dionne in the Mini before heading to 330 Ritch. Despite Popscene kingpin Aaron's repeated assurances that the show would be sold out, i maintained my doubts as i was unsure where all these people had heard of Editors ... they're not in regular rotation on the radio, and i haven't seen them on MTV2 either. Nevertheless, the bay area audiophiles did show and the venue was full, although not quite the same kind of crunch as when Kasabian played their anniversary party. The dashing four men who make up Editors came on just after 11:30pm and launched into "Lights". The volume was a not quite loud enough for my liking, but the band sounded great. The guitar dynamics from the Back Room were represented very effectively live, and frontman Tom Smith's voice resonated wonderfully. To be my nitpicking self, i did think the drummer had some problems keeping time ("Fall" began at an inexorably slow pace, and accelerated and decelerated randomly thereafter), and something weird happened during "Munich" when Smith abandoned the lyrics during the central breakdown. But all in all they fully met my expectations.

Not being a regular club kid these days, my 2am Thursday wreaked havoc on my Friday. I presided over our biweekly journal club, but was ruined for the afternoon. When i got home, i collapsed into bed and awoke only to order a late night pizza from our local Brick Oven.

V's employer was conducting inventory on Friday and Saturday mornings, so after being at their Palo Alto store at 5:30am on Friday, she again rose early (7am, a little better, but not much) on Saturday to count shoes at their San Francisco warehouse. I leisurely arose around 9:30am and did some minor tidying before showering around 11:30am. I had arranged to meet V in the city after she finished, which happened earlier than expected at noon. As V had picked me up from work the day before, my Jetta was still at Stanford so i walked through the rain to Caltrain. Naturally my umbrella was in my car, so i was forced to use Veronica's old Sanrio Bad Batz Maru umbrella ... something on which i feared commentary from fellow pedestrians. Luckily none came my way. I read Holy War (i'm through the motivation and state of Europe before the first Crusade, but now the author has chosen to skip ahead to the formation of Israel to draw modern parallels ... i'm a bit confused but i'll plow forward) on the train, meeting V at 1:30pm. We did a bit of sale shopping at Paul Frank (another polo for me, as well as a black hoodie ... sorry Geoff, i couldn't resist) and had a look at swanky shoes for me at Arthur Beren before leaving downtown to fetch Jenz at her work. Our threesome then had an early dinner at V's old favorite Thailand Restaurant in the Castro. We got in more shopping around Castro St., including me getting yet another track top, this one bearing Spain's colors, crest, and a big block ESPAÑA across the back. Wearing this you'd think i support Liverpool ... ha ha. After a quick drink at Trad'r Sam's to introduce Jenz to its Polynesian charms, we then headed over to the Marina for our friend Donald's going away party. A few rounds of drinks were followed by a late night slice at Pizza My Heart, before returning to an irked, dinnerless Tara in the wee hours. She forgave us as soon as her food bowl was filled.

We had invited my parents over for dinner on Sunday, so i went food shopping during the early afternoon's Denver/Pittsburgh AFC championship game, after seeing the early tit-for-tat in the first quarter. I decided on Rachael Ray's grilled chipotle T-bones with cilantro lime butter, along with some sauteed veggies, mashed potatoes, and salad ... a very yummy recipe that's not too complicated or involved. I returned home to find Pittsburgh soundly beating the Broncos. As i'd expected all season, sooner or later the real Jake Plummer was going to doom the Broncos, and although it took a while, he finally did return to his old mistake-ridden, ineffective ways. I prepped the food before sitting down to watch the late afternoon Seattle/Carolina NFC championship. While the pundits had all predicted yet another huge game for Panthers receiver Steve Smith, the Seahawks had other ideas. They regularly put two if not three or four men on him, basically telling the Panthers "if you want to beat us, you're going to have to do it without him". It worked to perfection as Smith quickly got frustrated, and quarterback Jake Delhomme looked lost without his primary target. The folks arrived around 4:30pm and brought some yummy grilled polenta cakes and salami to munch on while i finished din-din. Tara whined away while we ate, but she was finally satiated when my dad put some spare steak in her bowl. After relaxing with some coffee, my parents headed back to Fremont and i whiled away the rest of the evening returning the house to order and playing a bit of SOCOM: Fireteam Bravo on the PSP.

The city accelerated their repair schedule as it concerns our house, so as i left the house this morning at 7:40am i was greeted by two workers readying the street for cutting in order to repair our broken sewer pipe. We'll see how the situation has progressed when i get home this evening ... they've given every indication that the job can be completed in a day, but i have my doubts.

Revolver may be the best shoegazing band that no one (ie, me) ever heard of.

Haven't yet exited my über-domestic mindset. God help you if you leave your clothes on the bedroom floor or don't use a coaster on the coffee table.

I'm getting that upgrade bug with my car stereo. The Alpine touch screen head units are looking mighty nice ...

I just need an action figure of Professor Farnsworth from Futurama and the rogues gallery on my desk (Stewie, Mr. Burns, Professor Frink, and Dr. Evil) will be complete.

Editors are playing tonight at Popscene, and i'm pretty excited. Off to SF once "the sun goes down on a broken town and the fingers bleed in the factories. Come on out tonight, come and see the sight, of the ones you love and the ones who love."

I may be over the NFL. It's still good for lazy Sunday entertainment, but i am in no way compelled to watch it. I suppose i'm still good for the Super Bowl every year, but my weekly picks are going to get further and further off.

Kind of like the way i left my relationship with the NBA four years ago.

Speaking of the NBA, does anyone have sympathy for this nitwit fan who's suing the Davises for $1+ million for assault and slander? A privileged rich kid gets a dressing down (no beatings delivered) by an NBA center for harassing the player's wife in the stands? So he gets his daddy to find a hotshot lawyer so he can sue the both of them? What a crock.

Just as i'm beginning to like Santino, he's going to get booted off Project Runway. Dammit.

My Jetta has washed away all thoughts of a new car for me. Yesterday i had to drive down to Santa Clara then all the way back up to SF during rush hour, and thanks to Sirius and my iPod i quite enjoyed the whole trip.

The city has given me a tentative date for our sewer line repair: next Thursday. I'm finally getting the sense that things will be fixed. Although at this point i've given up and started doing laundry and letting the overflow accumulate around the clean-out line in our front yard.

Pitchfork's reviews drive me up a f@$#ing wall, and yet i keep going back to see what they have to say. I'm a butthead.

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On Friday evening Geoff, Naomi, and Millie came down from Sacto to visit. I left work around 4:45pm so i could get home and do a whirlwind cleaning. I surprised myself and managed to tidy the entire house by the time they arrived. We had a late dinner at Red Robin and picked up some sundries before coming home and devising a drinking game to accompany a viewing of my Eurotrip DVD. We settled on drinking whenever someone said "Micke" (including the male derivation "Mike") or "Frommers". After maybe an hour i was the only one still playing as everyone else had passed out (unfortunately from tiredness and not drunkenness). I went along with the masses and called it a night.

Geoff arose at 4:30am to head down to LA for the weekend, while i got up around 10am to tidy from the evening's festivities. Once i get the house in a state of cleanliness, i become fanatical about maintaining it ... until the tide of mess overwhelms me and i give up. I had everything back to nice and tidy and had showered and beautified myself by the time V, Naomi, and Millie arose. As i was the one ready to face the world, i was nominated to deliver breakfast from Stacks. We watched old episodes of Project Runway on TV as the girls gradually worked their way through the bathroom. While Naomi, Veronica, and i decided to check out the outlet stores in Gilroy, Millie stayed behind to subsequently meet a friend in SF. She later decided to head back to SF that night so we bid her goodbye. The outlets ended up being a mostly futile venture, as Kenneth Cole didn't have the shoe i wanted in my size, and the Puma and Adidas outlets were chock full of crap. We ditched Gilroy around 6pm and decided to hit Valley Fair on the way back. I didn't have any more success at the Kenneth Cole there, but V got some things from Lane Bryant and Victoria's Secret. As the Cheesecake Factory and California Pizza Kitchen were mobbed, we settled for dinner at the food court. Rubio's fish tacos are surprisingly good.

I again rose early on Sunday morning and turned into Mr. Housework, spending an hour cleaning the leaves and assorted tree clippings from our yard and driveway. While i had told Veronica it was her turn to bring back food, i yielded and headed out to fetch more Stacks. As the lazy afternoon progressed, i again submitted to my home maintenance urges and went out to buy groceries and other supplies. Instead of eating out i made dinner, consisting of a veggie pasta, garlic bread, and vegan meatballs from Whole Foods (a great suggestion by Naomi). In keeping with my new diligence, i washed all the dishes shortly thereafter. Geoff returned from his weekend in SoCal around midnight, and i welcomed him with a vegan meatball sub.

Geoff and Veronica were due to work on Martin Luther King Jr. day on Monday, but Naomi and i continued our residence and watched several more hours of Project Runway as well as Ocean's Twelve (pretty good, not quite capturing the rhythm of the first but worthwhile nonetheless) over a pot of coffee followed by vegan meatball subs (with mozzarella, defeating the "vegan" aspect) and blue tortilla chips and guacamole. We finally got our act in gear around 4pm and drove up to the city to first run another Ted errand (buying dog food for Tara), followed by shopping with Geoff at Banana Republic, Paul Frank (i snagged a couple of polo shirts and a T on sale), and Kenneth Cole (still no love). Our trio rescued Veronica from work at 7pm and dined at Gordon Biersch before bidding adieu to G+N as they returned to Sac.

Faster Pussycat just isn't as interesting now as they were in high school. Maybe it's because these awful sex pun lyrics are not flying under my radar anymore. My god, this is worse than the romance novel bit from Naked Gun 2 1/2: "she moaned as he thrust his purple headed warrior into her quivering mound of love pudding." I've moved on to the Rakes now, their new century Gang of Four sounds are much more engaging.

While V stayed in the city after work for shenanigans with Jenz, i came home to feed Tara and contemplated my evening. I toyed with the idea of catching the 7pm showing of Steven Spielberg's Munich in San Mateo, but a quick check of the traffic report and assessment of my energy convinced me to relax at home. I had some leftover pizza for dinner then made a pot of coffee, set myself up in pajamas under a blanket on our armchair, and made it movie night.

First up was a DVD i got for Christmas from my sister Hilary. Dig! is a documentary concerning the rise of the Dandy Warhols and the fall of the Brian Jonestown Massacre. The former rode to indie stardom and European commercial success, while the latter squandered their talent amidst endless internal squabbles. Having come of age when the Dandys were just releasing their first album (i remember being invited to a house party they played in SF circa 1996), and when the BJM was a San Francisco standard/circus, this was right up my alley. In fact, i was surprised to see an old friend playing guitar for the BJM in older footage ... and to see his exit from the band as he and head BJM lunatic Anton Newcombe got into a roll-on-the-floor fistfight during an industry showcase gig.

Let me say from the outset that i never really rated the Dandys after they signed to Capitol Records and left their older, less commercial roots behind. Having disclosed that, i found the movie a bit oddly constructed. It was apparently conceived and directed by an independent filmmaker (as evidenced by the early footage where she approaches BJM centerpiece Anton Newcombe), but is narrated by head Dandy Courtney Taylor. This omnipresence of the Dandys' viewpoint flavors the entire film. In truth, the BJM is way more interesting than the Dandys. Anton is the classic rock'n'roll tragedy, a tortured genius à la Syd Barrett who emerges with a revolutionary vision but can't find the common ground needed to convey it to the masses. He is in a sense admirable for steadfastly (and violently) refusing to adjust his thinking to allow mass consumption. Granted, he's got massive problems with substance abuse and mental illness, but that doesn't change the fact that he uncompromisingly made brilliant and groundbreaking music. On the other hand, the Dandy Warhols emerged from Oregon, made a good/great indie record (Dandy's Rule, OK?), then signed to a major label and lived the rock star life producing album after album of ho hum cheeky rock/pop. What's interesting about that story?

The ongoing debate of the film lies in the friendship and competition between the two bands ... who stole what from who, who maintained their credibility, etc. Courtney wants you to believe that the Dandys signed to Capitol and unwillingly went along with their formula for mainstream success, letting the label pick their singles and make $400,000 videos of them directed by Dave Lachapelle. The band didn't want to, but this was how they were going to get their music out. Of course later you see footage of Lachapelle relating an argument he had with Courtney where the Dandys frontman screamed at him, demanding they reshoot his closeups. Courtney's narration in the second half of the film, as the Dandys achieve commercial success in Europe, becomes increasingly pompous as he talks about how fast their records are selling. They celebrate their stable upbringings, stating "we're the most well-adjusted band in America". Meanwhile the BJM fights, reworks its lineup, fights some more, makes tons of great albums on shoestring budgets, and flirts with success before sabotaging itself. Anton claims "i am not for sale". The music is there, but the stability is not. Anton and Courtney, close friends from the beginning, initiate a rivalry that the BJM quickly takes past the tolerance of the Dandy Warhols and their burgeoning rock star attitudes. The song "Not If You Were the Last Dandy On Earth", released on the BJM's 1997 album Give It Back!, is an obvious swipe at the Dandys and their hit earlier that year "Not If You Were the Last Junkie On Earth". The non-Courtney Dandys express a lack of indulgence for Anton's antics, comments that ooze pretension and judgement. Keyboardist Zia McCabe amazingly remarks "they actually did the drugs we were singing about", a comment that sums up the Dandys distance from rock'n'roll. Guitarist Peter Holmstrom comments on how the members of BJM never seem to be able to have a home, a car, and a career at the same time. The Dandys increasingly become occupied with measuring their success in material terms, and distancing themselves from the rock'n'roll mentality and way of life that they supposedly embody. The key scene occurs when the Dandys stage an unannounced visit to the BJM's LA house/squat to conduct a photo shoot. It was ostensibly Courtney's brilliant idea, but as the BJM's Matt Hollywood remarks, it's obvious they did it to make it look like they were living this crazy lifestyle and partying like mad.

That observation makes me think that Courtney, who obviously respects Anton's impenetrable genius, has decided to attach himself to it in an attempt to gain some kind of artistic credibility. It failed, for me at any rate. At the close of the film, Dandys guitarist Peter lambasts Anton for his failed musical revolution, claiming that in order to lead a revolution you have to emerge from the underground and get your message out. True enough, although i would say that the act of emerging from the underground is not more important than maintaining the ideals of the revolution. What artistic causes have the Dandy Warhols inspired? Still thinking? So am i. Meanwhile, Anton's colleagues have gone on to form B.R.M.C. and the Warlocks, and have produced bands from the Lilys to Beachwood Sparks. He has inspired a revolution, shaping the face of U.S. indie rock despite his personal lack of success.

All i know is that Take It From the Man! is one goddamn brilliant album, and the Brian Jonestown Massacre encapsulates a time in my life when everything was vibrant, friends were everywhere, and crazy shit happened.

i wish that you could see
you stay the same as you have always been
'cause you're wonderful
you live in a lie 'cause it makes you happy
you do what you like, if you want you can ask me
what i know is i never knew nothing
so i know that i need to learn
where to go? oh wo wo wo

Phew!

Well after taking copious notes on the first feature of the evening, i switched off the DVD player and fired up Roman Polanski's 1974 film noir homage Chinatown on the tivo. I put down the notepad for this and instead immersed myself in the twisting thriller. The story and acting are excellent. Jack Nicholson and Faye Dunaway in particular put in enthralling performances. This is the kind of tale that Hollywood just doesn't make anymore, a thinking man's movie that doesn't beat you over the head with clues and presents a realistic ending that doesn't cater to the industry's current "good guys finish first" ideal. Although the depressing climax didn't really put me in a cheery mood for bedtime.

Tara and i hit the hay around 12:30am, me sufficiently contented with my evening's viewing.

Why is it that hot dogs from a cart are one of life's sublime pleasures, while the mere thought of food served off the back of a truck disgusts me? Too many wheels?

Finished Gun last night. I was about to get seriously peeved that my character abandoned his arch-nemesis alive (albeit pinned under a boulder), instead of exacting some more bloody vengeance. However the bastard eventually did get his come-uppance so i was satisfied. The last mission was a bitch. It takes something away from a game's realism when your strategy to beat an opponent is "shoot them in the head to make them throw the dynamite, then shoot the dynamite". Shouldn't shooting them in the head achieve the desired outcome all by itself? I finally noticed that the main character in Gun, Colton White, sounded suspiciously like titular hero in the recent Punisher game ... a theory validated by Gun's end credits.

I miss the little scrapper. Green eyes and all.

What game to play now? I'm on the last story mission in Grand Theft Auto: Liberty City Stories, and i'm not one to hunt down every last challenge to get a 100% rating, so that will soon be laid to rest as well. Winning Eleven 9 comes out on February 7th, boasting online play via Xbox Live, so that will surely keep me busy. No interest in the Xbox 360 yet, other than from a purely "i must have the latest and greatest console" perspective. There's no really eye-catching games for it yet, so i'm happy to wait and reap the benefits of any forthcoming price drops. I'm at a point in Guitar Hero where any further progress is going to take some serious practice, and the thought of effort is turning me off a bit. Although playing "Ace of Spades" on hard is a very satisfying challenge. As usual, nothing on the GameCube or Nintendo DS to interest me. V has claimed the DS as her own now that it's got its own incarnations of Animal Crossing (oh no, not again) and Mario Kart. She also got the Tamagotchi descendant Nintendogs, but hasn't tried that out yet. Nintendo's recent moves have suggested they're giving up on trying to out-tech Microsoft and Sony, and are instead focusing on innovation. Or, more commonly put, gimmicks. The controller for their next-gen console, code-named Revolution, is a remote control-looking thing that is motion sensitive, meaning you can play a baseball game using it like a bat, or play a platforming game making your character jump by flicking the controller. Might be interesting. But then Nintendo appears to be ditching third party support completely, meaning their entire game library will consist of Mario, Zelda, Samus, et al. And despite some bright spots (both GameCube Metroid games were great, and the Mario Karts are always fun), i'm really not interested.

I put the "SMFA champ" license plate holders on my reclaimed Jetta earlier this week, so i guess now it's official.

V is hanging around in the city after work tonight to hang with Jenz for dinner and Popscene, so it'll just be Tara and i at the homestead. Maybe i'll watch my Christmas present DVD Dig!, a documentary on the rise and fall of the Dandy Warhols and the Brian Jonestown Massacre, respectively. I've also got Jack Nicholson's 70's detective classic Chinatown on the tivo, i'm eager to check that out too. I spent most of yesterday evening writing new perl scripts for Veronica so i'm due some me time tonight.

No end of good music reaching my ears these days ... the aforementioned Youth Group and Tom Vek, older obscure but noteworthy acts like Sugargliders and Guitar, indie DIY heroes Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Slowdive disciples Engineers, and the new Mogwai record. Somehow i'm managing to check it all out ... must be writing lots of papers and grants at work. Ah yes, i am. Tom Vek gets more impressive every time i listen to We Have Sound, from the dance punk of "I Ain't Saying My Goodbyes" to the funky flow of "A Little Word in Your Ear" to the Mark E. Smith off-kilter delivery of "Nothing But Green Lights".

I'm in somewhat of a Chelsea funk at the moment. Our task in Europe is daunting, defeating Barcelona over two legs. Barça are playing unbelievably at the moment and boast a squad to rival the Blues, from all-world playmaker Ronaldinho to Argentine teenage phenom Lionel Messi to Cameroonian hitman Samuel Eto'o. They'll put our stingy defense to the test. If anything, the Catalans' weak spot is their defense, so it will be up to Crespo, Drogba, Robben, Lampard, Duff, et al. to capitalize. Can we do it? I have my doubts, but will put on my brave face. In England, we're 13 points clear and the media has more or less taken the thrill out of our march towards a second straight league title. United are improving and lurk in second, remaining the only team to defeat us this term, while Liverpool have finally figured out how to win in the Premiership and are mounting a challenge after a mediocre start. But i really can't see Chelsea dropping 13 points to give our rivals a chance at the championship. It's all a bit blah for me right now. Wealth breeds boredom, apparently. I'm sure when the pressure games begin, starting with the Champions League on February 22nd, my interest will kick up again.

I've enjoyed the first three days of the Howard Stern Show on Sirius, although technical glitches have limited my consumption to maybe an hour total so far. On Sunday night i went out to my car and set up my Sirius unit to record Howard 100 from 3-8am (6-11am east coast time, Howard's typical morning slot ... although it is broadcast on Pacific time on Howard 101, i figured i'd just get it saved early and go from there). I'd skimmed the manual and noticed the phrase "the player will wake up to record if it's not powered on" and thought all was well. I came out at 7:30am the next morning to go to the weekly radiobiology meeting and found the player still blissfully asleep. Turns out i'd missed the qualifier in the manual that the unit must be in the home dock (which i haven't purchased, yet) to wake up automatically. Doh. I could leave the unit on all night in my car, but i have fears of how much of my car battery that would suck up ... i don't want to be calling AAA every morning. I'm basically resolved to buy the $100 home dock now, but unfortunately they're sold out everywhere. So i'm getting my Howard when i can ... it's been worth it. George Takei is announcing this week, and i could listen to him laugh all day long. All in all Sirius has been a very good investment in my first few weeks of experience with it. It's making my iPod languish unused in the car glovebox. It's odd hearing profanities come into the show now. Not that they make me uncomfortable or anything ... it actually helps make the show feel even more like a casual conversation. It's just bizarre since Howard has been forced to use phrases like "doody", "pleasure yourself", and "f'ed" for so long, it's a shock to hear more common euphemisms rear their heads. But that's a good thing.

V got her own auto gadgetry installed yesterday at the Mini dealer. They added an iPod adapter to her car, actually the same Alpine unit that i have in the Jetta, allowing her to listen to and control her Nano through the stock Mini stereo. She's giving that a whirl this morning, as i took her car down to Mountain View yesterday to have the work done. I can't say how great it is to have my Jetta back. It makes my morning and evening commutes (however brief they may be) that much more enjoyable. The Mini meanwhile is definitely Veronica's car. It certainly looks and drives great (that thing accelerates like a bat out of hell ... it's got low-end torque coming out of its ass), but i just don't feel comfortable when in the driver's seat. It doesn't fit me, persay. No disrespect intended ... it's just not the car for me. Veronica's been telling me for two years everything that's wrong with the Jetta so i think i'm entitled to a little retribution.

Got to the final boss on Gun last night, and believe me by the end of the game so much f@$#ed-up s@$# has happened to you that you are seriously motivated to kick this guy's ass. However for some reason the game's difficulty spikes for this final battle and i can't seem to beat him down. I'll be trying again tonight after picking up Tara from the groomers and her long overdue bath.

Been picking up and enjoying lots of comedy albums lately, from classics like Steven Wright to newcomers Mitch Hedberg (R.I.P.) and Jim Gaffigan. The latter had me falling out of my chair yesterday afternoon with his high-pitched self commentary interspersed throughout his sets. "Hooooot pooooockeeeetssssss ..."

The latest episode of Flavor of Love was on last night. Veronica says she may have to stop watching it, but i can't believe that ... how can you turn away? This is train wreck city! Everyone there is clearly out to get Flavor Flav's money, although what makes them think he's loaded, i have no idea. New York is the resident bitch, and fills the part beautifully. When asked why she doesn't get along with the other women, she responded "I don't know ... maybe they're jealous, because i'm so awesome". Couple a competition for a C-list celebrity's affections with a bunch of contestants who are facing a quick return to the ghetto if they get kicked off, and you've got gold! I give it another week or two before the frequent catfights (there was an argument between Rain and New York last night that continued in screaming hysterics for two full minutes) turn physical. And Flav cuts the crap and just starts screwing everyone, assuming that hasn't happened already and VH1 edited it out. I'm curious if any of these women have heard of Public Enemy, let alone being able to quote some lyrics. Maybe that should be the final showdown, a karaoke contest where one girl performs "Bring the Noise" while the other does "By the Time I Get to Arizona".

I realized yesterday while getting the Mini tricked out that i am now someone who bought his wife a car for Christmas. Weird. I've got that Seinfeld episode going through my head now where Jerry helps Babu improve his restaurant ... "I am a kind man. Who else would do something like this? Nobody. Nobody thinks about people like I do. All right, snap out of it you stupid jerk. What do want, a nobel prize? I am such a great guy. I am special. My mother was right. Very good? No, not very good, very great. I am very, very great.". *head swelling*

The Flavor Flav Bachelor-esque show Flavor of Love is hands down the best thing on television (at least until the new season of the Venture Brothers arrives). If you doubt me then you obviously haven't seen it. Giving nicknames to all the contestants? The clock ceremony?!?! To quote the Guinness ad, BRILLIANT!

A bit odd, since the actual Bachelor premiered last night and is unadulterated s@$t.

The weekend was good. Not mind blowing or earth-shattering, but a good solid "good". Got in some grocery shopping, a trip to Home Depot to get the necessary parts to rectify our substandard gutter downspout, placement of a few Grant's ant stakes in our crawl space and subsequent delight seeing those poor ant fools swarming to the bait, and a trip down to V's new favorite mall Valley Fair for a bit of shopping at Kenneth Cole ... a swanky pair of pinstripe pants and two shirts for me ... i guess it's my favorite mall too then. I got some cleaning in around the house as well, moving Tara's now unused kennel to the back of the yard to free up space in our driveway and tidying the kitchen, living room, and bedroom a bit. Tara's got two ear infections so i'm back to torturing her by putting eardrops in twice a day. Ear "drops" may be a bit of a misnomer, as to ensure she doesn't shake it out i end up dousing her ears with the stuff and rubbing it in with my fingers. Fairly disgusting ... V refuses to participate. The medicine usually helps her quickly, which i'm hoping is again the case as she's seemed a bit under the weather lately. Maybe if she stopped eating everything she can find. I left a new box of tropical green tea bags next to my computer bag on Sunday, and after we returned from Valley Fair found she'd torn it up presumably because it smelled so damn nice. Luckily Tara didn't ruin all of them, probably because she quickly learned that tea doesn't quite taste like it smells.

I'm about 80% done with my Christmas gift Gun for the Xbox. I love it, although V and her distaste for westerns can't stand listening to it while i play. I'm playing on the normal difficulty setting and it's not really a problem avoiding death ... probably should've played on hard but seeing as i'm almost done i'll keep going. The story is interesting, and the gunfighting and horseriding mechanics flow very well so it's been a very enjoyable gaming experience. The cutscenes are brutal ... i just got through a scene of my ally being tortured by having his teeth pulled out with pliers, and remember the earlier shot of my prostitute friend getting her throat slit. Not to mention the dismemberment that occurs when you blast someone with a shotgun at close range. Definitely an adult game, one to pull out after Ana's gone to bed or back to Iowa. Speaking of adult games, i appear to be approaching the close of Grand Theft Auto: Liberty City Stories. It's been a worthwhile entry in the GTA canon, a worthy debut on the wonderful PSP, although it hasn't grabbed me like any of the previous three console incarnations.

Okay, Harry Potter is officially over for me. It's all J.K. Rowling's fault. How can i be expected to show any interest in a work of fiction when the author is saying things in real life like "[i promise to] guard the time allotted to writing as a Hungarian Horntail guards its firstborn egg"?

Every now and then the typically repetitive and commercial-laden Subterranean on MTV2 is good for something ... i'm checking out the most recent albums by down under James disciples Youth Group and London-based indie rock guru Tom Vek, and both are holding their own.

Our drain saga continues, although at this point i think it's more apt to call it our Redwood City saga. I called the city drain inspector yesterday and left a message asking about the status of our request to get a camera inspection. He returned my call this morning, saying that the inspection had been done (?!?!) and that a repair had been scheduled, which might not happen for another couple of weeks. What did the crew find? He didn't know. What kind of repair is scheduled? No idea. Who should i contact to keep tabs on the upcoming service? They'll call me. I guess it was good news, but why do i still feel uncertain that we're any closer to fixing the problem? Oh yeah, that's why ... dumb question.

Eager for some new recreational reading, i continued my history bent and picked up Karen Armstrong's Holy War: The Crusades and Their Impact on Today's World at Barnes & Noble. I watched the four hour History Channel Crusades documentary recently that piqued my interest, and this treatment appears to embody both a medieval history as well as continued observation of religious aggression in the Middle East through the present. I'm only 30 pages in, barely through the summary of the origins of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, but it's been a decent overview so far. I just checked Amazon to get the full title of the book and saw many reviews that slam the author for her pro-Muslim bias. However, i hear enough anti-Muslim tirades in the media so i quite welcome reading something that tilts the other direction.

The saga of our drain continues. Yesterday morning i called the city utilities service desk first thing, eager to resolve our plumbing problems after they'd been closed for the New Year's holiday since December 30. They agreed to send a plumber right over to assess the situation, so i left Arlene to deal wtih them while i returned to work. Arlene called me around 9:30am to tell me the guy had arrived, and she had related to him the findings of the Rescue Rooter technician. He apparently immediately scoffed, claiming they didn't know what they were talking about and just wanted my money. Without doing anything, he pronounced that our drain was fine. Arlene had to coax him into having a look, which only reinforced his already made-up mind. After much debate Arlene convinced him to agree to have a city plumber come out with a camera snake to repeat and either confirm or deny Rescue Rooter's investigation. I finally got in touch with the guy who schedules those this morning, and he tells me that we're 15th on the list and should be serviced in 2-3 weeks. Great. Assuming that inspection validates the previous diagnosis of a broken drain line, we'll then see how long it takes for them to come dig up the street and replace the pipe. Looks like we're doing laundry at my parents for a while. On the up side, the city plumber did locate the clean out line in our front yard, so we could leave that open and just have the drain back up into the yard. Although that may be a bit gross for any poor soul who wanders by.

I was called a redneck over the holidays, not without some irony. Alan had lined up a row of excess garbage bags along our hedge for collection, not knowing that our garbage service won't pick up anything unless it's in our garbage can. So they were out there for a few days. Our yard is also a bit of mess of leaves after the recent storms. I had just let Tara outside when a friend of our neighbor parked his truck and hopped out. Tara did her usual "run to the fence and bark furiously" routine, which prompted me to open the front door and yell at her to come inside. As the visitors walked over to my neighbor's house, i heard one of them remark "yeah, that's those rednecks next door". I was immediately incensed, but then realized the scene seemed to bear out that conclusion. However, these guys were visiting someone with a Harley Davidson plaque on his garage and a collection of lanterns on his porch, so this may be a pot and kettle situation.

I tivoed and watched a few good old movies over the last few days of my holiday. First was the original 1968 screen version of Mel Brooks's the Producers. It wasn't as side-splittingly hilarious as i'd hoped, but it was definitely a good flick. The inimitable Gene Wilder is priceless as the exceedingly neurotic Leo Bloom. Remakes of movies with Gene Wilder seem doomed to fail in my mind ... Johnny Depp didn't approach the subtle wit of Wilder as Willy Wonka, while i can't imagine the tepid Matthew Broderick doing justice to Wilder's Bloom. I also watched the 1947 adventure epic Sinbad the Sailor, featuring Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and a very young and very hot Maureen O'Hara. The story is quite interesting and distinct from other Sinbad renditions, depicting the swashbuckler as a devious charlatan who backs into adventure through a series of cons. Definitely worthwhile.

Ana and Arlene head back to Iowa this afternoon, saying goodbye after a final family dinner last night at Betelnut in SF with George, Lynda, Jessi, Naomi, and Geoff. As much as the little demon (an accusation she roundly rejected the other day) can push my buttons, i'll miss the energy she injects into our lives. Although i think Tara may be anxious to lessen the amount of poking and prodding she's been receiving, even with the corresponding decrease in people food that comes her way.

While Ana has become hopelessly addicted to Super Mario Sunshine (those withdrawals are rough, let me tell you), i've been delving further into Grand Theft Auto: Liberty City Stories on the PSP. I've now unlocked all three islands, and am roughly 50% through the game (i'm almost done with the story missions, but as usual there's a bunch of other stuff i have yet to explore). Maybe it's the PSP format, or my personal deemphasis of audio on the PSP, but this is the first GTA game on which i've skipped the cutscenes. I have little to no idea what the story is, i just go commit crimes. It's fun nonetheless ... it's great to return to Liberty City and reacquaint myself with locales from Grand Theft Auto 3, to speed around on my hijacked PCJ-600 performing insane stunts and kicking the crap out of anyone who dares to cut me off. When i have been able to wrestle the TV away from Ana, i've started playing Geoff and Naomi's present Gun on the Xbox. I had to shoo Ana into the other room during the ultraviolent opening cutscene of Indians scalping Spanish explorers. Gameplay is pretty good, and the story looks interesting, so i've got high hopes.

On the literary front, i finally finished Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything last week. It's an interesting popular summary of natural science, from the universe to earth to life. It took me a while to complete as i became bored during the later chapters, where Bryson spends an interminable period trying to convey the complexity of life on earth, particularly the number of different species and their accelerating extinction. The whole genus/family/phylum thing has never really caught my attention, and this treatment didn't change that. The discussion of the argument over man's ancestry i found was better treated on the recent History Channel documentary Ape to Man. However all in all it was a good read, a satisfactory summary of natural science for a widespread audience.

The bay area has gotten craploads of rain so far this winter, and the latest barrage shellacked us on the night of December 30. Arlene, Ana, Veronica, and i fell asleep to the pounding of rain on the roof. I heard the wind blow our chair off the porch somewhere around 3am. I arose at about 9am to feed the dog, and wandered into the kitchen to get her food, glancing out the back window. And there i saw a nice little four inch deep pond, maybe ten feet across, sitting in our driveway. I went out to inspect and was pleased to find the water hadn't reached the foundation of the house or the garage. However, i did see there was standing water in the strips of soil on the back and left of the garage, but they were relatively shallow and didn't concern me too much. I tried to remove some of the main puddle with a bucket, but gave up after ten minutes or so. Unfortunately a little later i ventured into the crawl space to survey the situation down there, and found four inches or so of standing water lining the foundation of the house. Eek ... everything i've read about water in the foundation has told me this is bad, bad, bad. I freaked out for a while about how much this was going to cost us, before observing that the newly emerged sun was quickly clearing up all the puddles in and around our house and a call to my dad told me as long as the wood posts were not submerged (they weren't) then the situation wasn't critical. Wet concrete foundation is not great, but the solution is to better direct water away from the house, which we can do ourselves relatively cheaply. Hopefully an ounce of prevention and the knowledge this happens only with the worst storms will keep our house healthy.

However, these continued home breakdowns have left me emotionally drained. Now i seem to fear the worst with every creak and other portent, and it's driving me nuts. We're putting up our new curtains today or tomorrow, and i have visions of walls toppling over when i put a screw in them. The only solution i can come up with is drawn from G.I. Joe: knowing is half the battle. It just sucks that i tend to always be reacting instead of proacting.

I'd come to grips with this latest catastrophe by mid-afternoon, but then a new dilemma presented itself. Veronica couldn't find the tickets for the evening's New Year's party at Mezzanine in SF, featuring Every Move a Picture, She Wants Revenge, and the Lovemakers. We spent an hour or so searching before succumbing to hunger and gathering the gang to head down to Santana Row for lunch and shopping. We had a look in Donald Pliner before stopping into a Mexican bistro. Veronica had tried to tempt Ana with promises of ice cream if she ate, but Ana struggled to stomach the fairly good quesadilla we identified as the most likely food source that would be agreeable to her. We let her off the hook and finished our soup, sopas, tamalitos, and carnitas, before moving a few doors down to Ben and Jerry's. We rotated through Cole Hahn, keeping the cones outside, before returning home to resume the hunt for the lost tickets. V finally located them around 7:30pm in a pile of cd's near the door. More stress under the rug.

Veronica and i left Arlene and Ana to their own New Year's devices and hurried up the 101 to Jenz's house for a quick slice of pizza, then drove downtown to Mezzanine. The club was packed, with the crowd at the bar four people deep. Kevin and i got the first round just as She Wants Revenge began their set at 11:15pm. They sounded pretty good, although the singer's posturing, ridiculously derivative delivery, and being from LA turned me off. Unfortunately the heat instigated a bad reaction in Veronica, and we absconded to the smoking/mash-up back room/open garage where she could get some air. Our crew (Jenz, Brandon, Kevin, Hakim, Doug, and Raffi) came our way before long and enjoyed dancing to the assorted mash-ups. We tried to go catch the Lovemakers' set, but the heat again sidelined Veronica and we soon found our way back to the back room. We decided to leave at 2am, with me snaking one of the mash-up room's posters featuring a photoshopped union of two pop star's heads. V wanted the particularly good one joining Annie Lennox and Dave Gahan, so i stripped it off the wall and we headed home, dropping Jenz and Brandon off in hopping North Beach and getting some Burger King before returning to the not-too-trafficky 101.

Today we're headed over to my parents to have some celebratory chili and make use of their washing machine while ours is sidelined by our plumbing problems. Happy 2006! I hope everyone's year gets off to a smashing start.