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Je T'Aimais, Je T'Aime, Je T'Aimerai

Amanda did this on her blog and it looked like fun so I thought I'd give it a go too. Big ups to AJ for the idear.

Without further ado, I lend my answers to fate and Itunes. Hope this makes some semblance of sense...

What does next year have in store for me?
Carnival Town - Norah Jones...MMmmmokay, worth pondering, I guess.

What does your love life look like?
Just a Dream - Griffin House....That's not exactly reassuring. Maybe I should quit now. I feel a pandora's box of fortune telling opening here.
What do I say when life gets hard?
Something - Musiq (Paul McCartney cover)....Hahahahaha, hard to argue with that one.

What do I think of when I get up in the morning?
My Stupid Mouth - John Mayer.....(faint chuckle)
What song will I dance to at my wedding?
Forever - Ben Harper.....Awwwww., diggin' that (A single tear trickles down the cheek).
What do you want as a career?
Save The Best for Last - Me First and the Gimme Gimmes (obviously a cover of the Vanessa Williams song)......I don't know what this one means.

Your favorite saying?
I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Deathcab For Cutie.....Eh, sure why not.

Favorite place?
I'm a Mountain - Sarah Harmer....Mountains are cool, sure.

What do you think of your parents?
Twilight - David Gray.....Searching for any interpretation other than the unsettling, morose one.

Where would you go on a first date?
Lose You - Pete Yorn.....Hahahahaha, exactly. Tou-frickin'-che.

Describe yourself.
I Am the Highway - Audioslave.....Fuckin'-A right I am.
What is the thing I like doing most?
It Don't Matter to the Sun - Rosie Thomas (Garth Brooks cover)....It don't matta to De Jesus, either!

The song that best describes the president?
For a Dancer - Jackson Browne......Bit of a stretch.

What is my state of mind like at the moment?
Rain - Ben Taylor Band......Deep, man. Very deep. I'm the last person that could answer this question, but wouldn't this be much more fun stoned?
How will I die?
Winter - Joshua Radin.....Uhhhhh, can ya give me a specific year or decade with that? Maybe it's just saying I will be cold, which, as I understand it, we all will be when we die.

The song that will be played at your funeral?
Faded From the Winter - Iron and Wine.......I have been known to wallow at times, but this seems like a choice anchored in melodrama.

The song you'll put as the subject?
Je T'Aimais, Je T'Aime, Je T'Aimerai - Francis Cabrel (Frenchie)......."You asked for it, you got it, Toyota."

Okay, not too bad. Somewhat entertaining, I think. Probably more fun for me than for you, but try it yourself.

Posted by j.h.k. at 3:57 PM 2 comments: Everybody Wins

So I know you've been waiting with baited breath to learn of my decision in the critical Lunch-or-Darfur Dilemma. I shall keep you on edge no longer...

After hours of careful deliberation and soul searching, I chose to go to the Cheadle/Darfur thing-a-ma-jiggy. At the end of the day, I couldn't justify choosing the lunch as the garlic bread will be there tomorrow and for a long time after that.

BUT! As it turns out, fate would reward me. When I told the boss I wasn't going to be able to make it and why, she simply asked what I would like them to bring back for me.

A WIN-WIN! Yaaaaaaay!
Posted by j.h.k. at 3:13 PM No comments: 

The following column ran in the LA Times Calendar Weekend section today and I agree with it so much that I am posting it here as well. I think you probably already know where I stand on this, but here's a sista backin' my up.

H8 cyber mssgs; they R 4 losers

By Cindy Bertram, Special to The Times
April 26, 2007
WHEN was the last time someone sent you a letter? I'm talking about a real, handwritten letter in an envelope, with a stamp, delivered by someone in a blue uniform. Or the last time a friend called you on your home phone?

Go anywhere these days and chances are that you will see a person head down with a cellphone or a BlackBerry in his or her hands, fingers flying. Walking down the street, driving in our cars, sitting in restaurants, shopping at the grocery store — we're all staying connected without actually connecting. At some point during this ever-expanding Electronic Age, actual human interaction has been short-circuited.

I realized long ago that e-mail is definitely not my friend. Often without thought, you can dash off a message before even realizing what had just been written. E-mails are great for business. Send a colleague a note, schedule a meeting, plan a lunch — all are fine and very safe. But e-mail spells disaster in relationships. I never seem to send the right kind of message. I write differently than I speak, and my tone is misinterpreted almost every time. I am constantly pulling my cyber-foot out of my cyber-mouth.

And text-messaging is even worse. Now every two seconds my cellphone buzzes with a one-word gem that a friend has sent. Don't they realize that I am being charged 10 cents every time they send "Whassup?" And it's not just limited to people my age — my 67-year-old father actually sent me a text message to wish me happy birthday. He even figured out how to send it from his cellphone to my e-mail. I couldn't decide if I was impressed with his tech savvy or sad that I wouldn't hear him sing "Happy Birthday" off-key this year.

In relationships, text-messaging is the new phone call. I recently dated a guy — for almost two months — with whom I never actually had a real phone conversation. Our entire communication was through e-mails and texts. While proving to be fun and exciting at first, it just ended up really making my fingers hurt. When I decided to stop seeing him, I let him know with an e-mail (of course). His response: "I deserve a phone call. Message sent from my BlackBerry wireless handheld."

Gone are the days of knowing if a friend was upset just by her "hello," or sensing if your date really liked you by the tone of his voice. These days, instead of real emotion, you are subjected to "emoticons."

One of my friends used the term "phone-a-phobic" today. Is it possible that we are scared of having "live" conversation? Have we gotten so used to the written word that we don't need to hear real voices anymore?

AND about that written word: I've had enough with the "C U L8R!" Written communication has become one big vanity license plate. I wonder if my old college English professors have also fallen victim to writing their e-mails in lowercase letters, with no punctuation.

Using e-mail to impart the news of life-changing events seems to cheapen both the news and the friendship. One of my girlfriends recently sent a photo of her hand to tell me she'd gotten engaged. Please give me back the days of waving your big, shiny rock in the faces of your jealous single friends!

I don't think I'm being selfish, or nostalgic, in my longing for the tactile. Opening my (U.S. mail) box to find a (printed) invitation to a party, or a (real) postcard from a friend's vacation, or a (scribbled) thank-you note from my nephew would certainly be attention-getting.

And, if next year Dad decides to call and sing, I'll be all ears.
Posted by j.h.k. at 6:07 PM No comments: You Make The Call

My friends, I am faced with a great moral dilemma. I have conflicting commitments/opportunities for lunchtime tomorrow.

1) Free lunch at the Smokehouse (home of the world's greatest guilty-pleasure garlic bread) with some friends from the show and their boss, her treat.

2) "A live discussion with Academy Award-nominated actor Don Cheadle and renowned human rights activist John Prendergast as they discuss their work in Africa at an Employees FIRST! event, Advocacy in Action: A Conversation on the Crisis in Darfur. Learn what you can do to help stop this human tragedy."

Are you feeling my quandary? I guess the obvious choice is the Darfur thing, right? How can I sell out human suffering for a free lunch? Then again, if you've ever had this garlic bread, you can sympathize with my pause. Rumor has it their secret is to sprinkle it with the cheese powder you get from mac & cheese.

I may end up sleeping on it, but I am fairly confident I won't be able to live with myself if I go with the lunch. Damn it.

Posted by j.h.k. at 9:57 AM 3 comments: 
Smells Like Teen Spirit (And Other Things)

I love it when a certain smell will get in my nose that reminds me of some place or some one. It's usually not a specific scent that I can pinpoint like "hey, it smells like hot dogs in here," but, rather, a combination of odors that triggers the sense's memory. For example, the craft service room on the stage of the show I work on smells exactly like my college dorm room--the normal smell that is, not the smell after a night of drinking. So every time I step into this room, it's a unique reminder of all the great times I had in college, sort of like a little time machine...with a well-stocked cereal selection and a kickass coffee maker.

There's a woman at work who wears the same perfume as an ex-girlfriend of mine used to wear, which was weird at first because I think we associate peoples' perfumes as being The Scent of Them. If you knew what the coworker looked like, you would think it was pretty funny because, suffice to say, she looks nothing like the former flame. Now it barely occurs to me anymore.

Another woman walked by me at the gym and I don't know whether it was simply perfume or perfume combined with soap, shampoo, and/or deodorant, but she smelled just like my late grandmother.

One of my favorites is when I get a whiff of that special bouquet of fresh roasted nuts, car exhaust, trash, and cigarette smoke and I think to myself, "Ahhhhhhh. New York."

Another one that's really strange is the smell of Christmas. Surely, there's lots of scents that we associate with The Season, (cinnamon, pumpkin, pine, etc.) but I'm talking about a scent that's not as easily pegged. I have no idea what it's comprised of; I just know it adds up to Christmas.

I was watching my favorite travel show last night as they journeyed to the French Riviera. One of the stops was at a perfume factory where you could design your own custom fragrance. They had these guys there that make the perfumes called Le Nez (Nay), French for "the nose," who can differentiate and identify approximately 6,000 different smells just by taking a quick sniff. I think I shall keep one of these guys on my staff so that whenever I happen upon one of these mystery memory scents, they can bottle it for me.

Actually, strike that. Half the fun is the surprise of the whole thing...kind of like in "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" when they were in the wormhole of time and had no idea where/when they would find themselves next.
Posted by j.h.k. at 9:53 AM No comments: --We went up to Solvang/Los Olivos last weekend for an open house at our favorite winery. Damn it if it wasn't the perfect day for it. Just gorgeous (said with an Australian accent). These hills had always been brown on previous trips.

--I bought my first suit on Friday. It's in the tailor's hands as we speak. What is it about a suit that makes me feel more like a man?

--Finished off A Long Way Down on Friday as well. Thoroughly enjoyed it. An entertaining, breezy read. Now I feel like going on a book binge. I'm thinking about either The History of Love or Revolutionary Road as the main focus but there's all these short story and non-fiction options that are calling to me as side-reads. I must exercise discipline.

--There really is something to be said for spending time alone. We often focus on spending "quality time" with parents or friends, but I feel like time by ourselves is not often given that same attention. I had a couple day/nights last week where I was out and about all by my lonesome and, no offense to friends or lovah, but I couldn't have been happier. I had typed out a big, long paragraph about this but then I realized the value of personal alone time becomes somewhat ironic and maybe even cheapened if you have to blab about it to everybody.

--I don't like being around guys that are much taller/bigger-framed than me. I've been more aware of it lately, that walking behind some 6'5" guy who's not only tall but just a huge-framed guy makes me feel small and frail. Is this what it's like for short people every day of their lives? Man, that's suffering.
Posted by j.h.k. at 10:20 AM 6 comments: 
As if I needed another reason...

Great news, everybody (Click me)!
Posted by j.h.k. at 5:20 PM 3 comments: It's that most specialist of days that comes but once a year, friends...It's Free Cone Day! Yaaaaaay! A free ice cream cone for all comers between the hours of noon and 8 pm at your local Ben and Jerry's Scoop Shop! Not a bad deal, I'd say.

Upon checking their website for my nearest Scoop Shop, I also stumbled upon the Ben and Jerry's Flavor Generator. You can create your own flavor! They won't make it for you, of course, but you can still have the fun of dreaming it up. I guess it's kind of like a screenplay in that way. My flavor has a cream base of sweet cream and cake batter, chunks of chocolate chip cookie dough, toffee, and peanut butter cups, and a swirl of maple cream. It's a little cluttered, I know, but, hey, I'm a complicated man. I have dubbed my new flavor "Urge to Splurge."
Posted by j.h.k. at 4:58 PM 3 comments: 
Lord, I was boooorn a ramblin' maaaaan

--I can feel it coming...My entire nose is becoming a zit.

--Nothing says Friday to me like a good, spicy discussion of racial relations. How about you? If you haven't already heard, a lot of MLB players will be wearing number 42 on Sunday to honor Jackie Robinson. Except for those included in a team-wide switch to the number, only one white player has decided to wear Jackie's number as part of this tribute, the Diamondbacks' Eric Byrnes. I give him a lot of credit for doing this. Why aren't more white players paying tribute to such a brave American man? Do they not realize how Jackie's breaking of the color barrier has affected their lives in a positive way even though they are not of the race he helped to liberate? That's pretty naive, isn't it? Or does the reluctance to wear his number come from the same nervous place that makes a lot of white people literally afraid to discuss anything remotely related to race for risk of being called a racist? Regardless, I think it's great that Byrnes is doing this and I hope next time that more players of various races will join in.

Still on the subject of race, here are two columns that I thought made fresh and valueable contributions to this whole Imus-Rutgers fiasco (they're the same ones from the Sports Guy's blog if you're already current with your Simmons):

Jason Whitlock in The Kansas City Star

Michael Wilbon in The Washington Post

--There's a ton of movies out that I want to see...okay, maybe more like four, but four can feel overwhelming when you don't actually go that often. Anyway, one of them is "Shooter." I'm not really sure why. It looks pretty average if not completely lame and yet I'm in for some reason. At least I come out feeling good either way, right? If it sucks I'll be saying, "See, I was right. I knew it looked weak." If by some chance it turns out to be good popcorn-munching escapist entertainment, I'm also covered..."See, I just knew there was something about it that was luring me in." Whether or not I actually go to see it, I am instituting a new personal policy in regards to movies:

I shall not see any movie that features a shot of someone walking in slow motion as something explodes behind them.

Because, really, isn't that just a dead giveaway of the logical leap the filmmakers are asking you to take in the movie? If there's an explosion and they fall to the ground in instinctual fear, that's fine. But if it's the whole thing where their expression remains stone cold business-like because they are expecting the explosion, I'm sorry, I gotta be out on that.

--"The Bourne Ultimatum" comes out this summer...I saw the poster last weekend and learned that it's set in New York. This is disappointing to me. I love NY as much as the next person, but a big part of the appeal of this international thriller series was the international part.

Speaking of this movie...I am sick and tired of other movies blatantly, openly ripping off one of "Bourne's" signature lines, "...bring this fight to your doorstep." I think I have seen it used at least twice in the action genre in recent years after the first "Bourne" movie. How do you do that? That's like plagiarizing the "I Have a Dream" speech...I think people are gonna notice.

--I don't think I could ever walk by an open tub of Red Vines and not have one (or five). If someone said they would kill me if I took one and I knew they meant it, I'm fairly certain I'd go down in a Red Vine blaze of glory right then and there. I am powerless against them. Maybe I shouldn't be publishing this fact.

--I am on a post-karaoke high this morning. Last night I rocked the following songs:

"Love on the Rocks" by Neil Diamond
"She's Every Woman" by Garth Brooks
"Blister in the Sun" by the Violent Femmes
"All for You" (with Todd) by Sister Hazel
"Two Princes" (also with Todd) by the Spin Doctors
"Sweet Baby James" by James Taylor

--What the hell do I want for lunch today? This question has plagued me for two hours and I have gained zero ground. I need help and not just with lunch.

--Wait, Wango Tango is this weekend?!?!?! How did I miss this?!!

--I really think I could ramble on like this for a couple more hours but, on my honor, I feel I should try and do something resembling work before lunch. Ciao!

Posted by j.h.k. at 9:47 AM 2 comments: Have you seen this man?

His name is Joe and he is one of my bestest buddies. I have not seen him for three weeks. He doesn't answer his phone, doesn't return voicemails or e-mails. Nuttin'. I fear for his well being. If you know his whereabouts or have any information that may lead to him being returned to us, please call The Find Joe Hotline immediately.
Posted by j.h.k. at 9:56 AM 3 comments: 
It's Peanut Butta Jelly Time! I really, truly never thought I would say this...but I had forgotten for a little while how good a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is. I used to have one for lunch every single day. Hell, my softball team was named after this simple yet delectable sammich! I never imagined I could forget. That is, until today when, for the first time in a few months, I sunk my teeth into this All-American classic. I realized then what I had been subconsciously missing in my life for far too long. God bless the PB&J.
Posted by j.h.k. at 3:14 PM 2 comments: 
Oxygen, anyone? --I gave up wine for Lent this year. Talk about sacrifice. Last night I was reunited with my long lost love and I perhaps had one glass too many as today I am severely sluggish. As in Ug.

--Big ups to Rachel Ray. Not only is she hot, but her recipe for Spring Stuffed Chicken turned out to be quite a delight.

--At Aroma on Friday, I noticed a young man wearing a pair of chic black, thick-framed glasses...with no lenses in them. I don't mean they had non-prescription glass in them (that would be bad, but not completely unheard of), no no, they had nothing. Just air. Just when I think I have seen it all, a tool like this guy comes along.

--Occasionally, I have what I like to call LA Moments. An LA Moment to me is a moment when I find myself doing something that perfectly fits the stereotypicaly weird LA image, something that I would normally make fun of someone else for doing...like wearing glasses with no glass in them. Well, I had an LA Moment on Saturday night at the wrap party for my show when I found myself sitting and partaking of....an oxygen bar. That's right, I was sitting there with a tube up my nose suckin' in some high quality, eucalyptus "flavored" O2. I did it for the gimmicky fun of it, okay?! Back off! There was a little sheet there, listing the bevy of supposed benefits of the oxygen bar, with hangover prevention a major highlight. I'm not sure it did a damn thing, but it was fun I guess. Kind of like having a party from a hospital bed, only with booze and mood lighting.

--Man, last night's was a season-saving episode of "24." The greatness of it was really pronounced when watched in conjunction with the suckiness of last week's episode. Really just brilliant stuff. The whole nuclear-launch-as-a-bluff-calling-tactic thing, faaaaantastic. I was outraged when it appeared the writers were having President Palmer inexplicably reverse his stance on the launch for no better reason than to make viewers gasp, despite it making no sense at all. It reminded me of something the "Heroes" hacks would pull. But oooooh no, the "24" crew was just toying with us, finally using our 5 seasons of viewership to their manipulative advantage! They rope-a-doped us and it was awesome! Not to mention they finally gave Jack Bauer his balls back!! It was getting quite disturbing how little he was involved in recent episodes and then finally last night we get the old Jack Bauer back, personally taking out Fayed's team and then killing Fayed with his bare hands, thus securing the remaining suitcase nukes!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!! And now the fuckin' Chinese want a piece? Bring. It. On. Biatch!

--Dammit, I have rarely needed a nap as badly as I do today. I'm not sure I can actually be here today. Although sleep has not been exactly pleasant of late. I have been having some seriously fucked up dreams, from full scale nuclear attacks to my being diagnosed with stomach cancer (by a dentist no less) to watching people brutally beat each other whilst stealing my car, it has been an upsetting series of slumber. I still think I'd like to take my chances though.

--Saw "The Lookout" over the weekend. It was good.

--Got a new CD that I am digging, "Safe Away" by Denison Witmer. Some whiny moments, sure, but still intimate goodness more often than not.

MMmmmmmokay then. Happy Tuesday.
Posted by j.h.k. at 10:00 AM 8 comments: 
Stop The Insanity!

Every morning when I walk into the kitchen here at Dunder-Mifflin Burbank, there is at least 4 minutes left suspended on the microwave timer. First of all, leaving time on the timer is a pet peeve of mine so, of course, I clear it whenever I see it. But also, it vexes me...In the world of microwave cooking, how can you routinely overestimate your needed time by 4-5 minutes? With a conventional oven, sure, I could see it, but a microwave? Are we defrosting a cro-magnon man here? Four minutes is inexplicable. Let's see, how long should it take to heat this bowl of Quaker Instant Oatmeal? Hmmm....Eight minutes oughtta do the trick....(2 minutes later)....Wow, look at that, it's already done! Of course, the best part about the whole thing is the name of the department in which all of this madness occurs......"Estimating."
Posted by j.h.k. at 9:26 AM 3 comments: 
"I'm in a glass case of emotion!"

--Baseball is back(!), the Angels are undefeated, and I could not be happier. Well, that's probably overstating it, but I am very very pleased.

--I love Ikea. Love it. What I don't love is being charged 5 cents each for the plastic bags used to carry my affordable solutions for better living to my car. That's right, they are charging people for the fucking BAGS! I think Congress needs to step in here and restore sanity at this retail giant.

--Speaking of ridiculous charges/prices...went to Dodger Stadium for the first time this season on Friday night. Do you know how much parking is now? $15! Up 50% from last year. Do you know how much a large beer is now? $11!! E-lev-en!! Compare that to $6.25 at Angel Stadium. I mean really, Frank, that is just ridiculous.

--What's the rule on consecutive days wearing the same pair of jeans? 3? 4? Whatever it is, I might soon be pushing the limit. I just love this pair. Second all-time only to one other pair which have a gargantuan hole in the crotch (currently patched but wearing thin again).

--I do enjoy those Starbucks CDs. The Chet Baker one is outstanding.

--Summer concert season is rapidly approaching and I am wondering how much do I really need groceries and electricity. A shift in priorities might be imminent.

--Tonight marks the return of "The Shield!" Between that, "24," "House," and Angels games, my TV-watching is entering a glorious couple of months.

--So much to do, so little energy to do it.
Posted by j.h.k. at 1:03 PM 3 comments: