Monday, December 12, 2011

Boooooo, Ghosts. Boooooo!

What is the deal with these ghosts, eh? I mean, why is it that when we hear of places being haunted it is always ghosts scaring people to death. Look at every movie ever made (Casper being the only exception. I bet that wimp never got laid). Just what in the world do ghosts have to be so angry about? They died? Big whoop. Why be an asshole? Why? Let’s look at the advantages of being a ghost, shall we. We shall. Okay, first off, um you can fly and teleport travel everywhere. That right there is like the biggest deal sealer for me. And what do you do, ghosts? You waste it. You stay in the same lame ass, old ass house where you died, or lived. Lame! If you need more proof than that that being a ghost is cooler and better than being a human, um how about this? You don’t have a physical body, therefore, you do not feel physical pain. No cramps, no toothaches, no migraines, no ‘just got kicked in the balls’, none of that stuff. Still need more? Okay, okay. I’m pretty sure since you don’t have a physical body, and ghosts don’t usually travel in packs (it’s a lonely life for ghosts) you don’t need to and wouldn’t date, be in relationships, be married, or any of that mess. That means no emotional pain. No drah-mah! Let’s recap, flying/teleporting? Yes. No physical pain? Yes. No emotional drama pain? Um, yes please. Oh and also since you have no body and nobody you don’t even have to stress over your appearance. I mean what more can ghosts ask for?

Now, if and when I’m a ghost (because if I remember correctly, we all get to be ghosts when we have unfinished business, and with all the time I spend YouTubing and just sitting around reading and listening to music, I will no doubt have lots of unfinished business) I would be using my ghost powers for good. I would be like a ghost superhero (if there already is a ghost superhero, do not tell me about it, and go back to reading your comics, nerd. Ha) I would use my flying and teleporting abilities to travel the world. Because, let’s face, that will probably be the only way I’m gonna get to see the pyramids of Egypt. I am the 99%. I mean, who would wanna stay in the same old ass house and haunt people in the future who have nothing to do with you? Get a life, ghosts!
Isn’t haunting just so exhausting anyway? Like, my therapist, astrologist, and spirit guide (don’t judge me, they aren’t really real anyway) all agree that all those bad, negative feelings are really just bad for you. It’s best to bury the hatchet while one still physically can. Let bygones be bygones (what else can they be? Bacon?) And leave all grudges behind. Just be nice. You don’t have to be Casper, but be a nice ghost. So, I wouldn’t get back at my enemies. They would’ve all died before me anyway. And I would not haunt poor innocent people, because I have “ghost issues”. No. I would, however, prank the hell out of loved ones I left behind. Hahaha! Oh man, I’d prank them so hard! Haha!! I would tell you what those pranks would be like, but if you are a loved one of mine, and you are reading this, I do not want to ruin it for you.
Also, the only haunting* I would do would be inside a rugby or soccer locker room and Ryan Gosling’s bathroom.

In conclusion, ghosts, if you are reading this, just calm down, relax, take up ghost yoga and stop being so angry and scary and asshole-y, ghosts.

That is all.



*Lurking around. It isn’t weird if you are a ghost.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

More BFFs and Baby's Daddies

Yet another installment of people who should love me as much as I love them.
This is I believe the fourth one. I lost track. But remember this one, this other one, and this one also.

Come on ladies, let's hang out and watch Bridesmaids together.


Laura Marling



Annie Erin Clark



Feist




Come on dudes! Let's do this.

Ewan McGregor



Joseph Gordon Levitt



This Guy (I dunno who this guy is, but I want him. Ha!)

Friday, November 25, 2011

Things that have made me cry today...



*Disclaimer: (Before my family starts to worry or something) 2011 has been a pretty freaking cool year. I have had a lot to be thankful for. Here's hoping next year is even better.*

I have been totally bumming it today, watching daytime, eating things that I will regret tomorrow, marinating in my own juices (you are all welcome for that one), etc. etc. No Black Friday shopping for this gal. This broke gals. But that's ok. From the looks of it, being broke has saved my life today....or possibly the lives of others. I can be ninja crazy sometimes.
All this tv watching has been a little emotional, to be quite honest. So I turned off the tv, and decided to spend the rest of the night you tubing music videos and/or porn, and listening to music so loudly that my neighbors will wanna get invited to this gangsta's party. But before I get on that, here's some of the things I have cried over, and I swear I'm not even pms'ing...I think. Where's my calendar?

Things that made me cry today:

- The assholes at the local news show surprised a nurse with the early holiday visit of her Soldier husband. What asses?!

- The one commercial where the dude in the army gets a book with a recorded reading by his kid (don't remember if it's a boy or girl. That's not important)

- The burn victim on Dr. Drew.

- Maury's DNA results show. So many daddies, so little time.

- Multiple universes!!

- Re-watched Queen of the Damned and realizing I have the soundtrack and am still kinda really into it. Ugh. Tricky and Korn are on that, you guys. (Full Disclosure, I have two Korn cds. Double ugh!)

- Re-watched before Sunset. Need I say more?

- The commercial where the bubbles are talking and are friends and one of them pops and the other one is all "nooooooo" and crying and then pops. It always gets me. Such a metaphor for life.

- Jillian Renynolds is still on tv.

- The preview for one of those CW shows came on where all the people are gorgeous and then I contemplated where my life went wrong, and then remembered the multiple universes and how maybe in one of them I'm on a CW show. Then I remembered that I remembered the theory of multiple universes, and got all existential again.

- The commercial with happy women, dressed stunning while eating chocolate.

- The people pepper sprayed in that one Walmart probably didn't get their Xbox.


No, TV has not been kind to me today. This is why I stay away from it most of the time. And, as I tell myself every night between my nightly prayers (aka jam sessions)why I don't need to upgrade to something flat and big, and cable-y.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Signs of a Music Addiction

I have always been in love with music, but I am pretty sure that as the years progress that love became an obsession and then a full blown addiction. And I’m completely okay with that. It is an addiction that keeps growing and shows no signs of slowing down, let alone stopping.
In case, you, reader, are wondering if you may also suffer from this but are not very sure, here are some of the signs…

- Have considered selling furniture/appliances to go on a shopping spree at Amoeba.

- Making a pros and cons list on giving up eating so you can use money for groceries at Amoeba instead.

- Forego shopping for things you need (like clothes, and shoes, etc) because one of your favorite artists is going on tour…again…for the third time…in the same year.

- Overdosing every night on E*

- Doctor? What doctor? I’ll just listen to this “Feel Better” playlist on shuffle and I will get better.

- Can only give and receive advice in the form of song lyrics.

- Have music playing at least 21 hours a day. (I prefer KCRW on my radio while I sleep, until the 3am news)

- 90 percent of your wardrobe is band t-shirts.

- Tattooing your body with band logos.

- Your time spent youtube-ing live music performances/music videos > your time watching online porn.

- Will never not refer to your “awesomeness” as jelly and/or milkshake.

- Have a different song assigned as a different type of ringtone for every notification and every contact on your phone.

- Wait until the good part of said ringtone to come on before answering your phone. If you lose the call, they will leave a voice mail and then you hear THAT song.

- Tune boring/gossipy/whiny people out by singing a song to yourself.

- Name your unborn children after your favorite songs.

- Hear a song. Like it. Learn to play it. Repeat.


Etc. etc. etc.

If this sounds like you or someone you know, we should totally hang out and probably get married.

Also, I would like to thank my enablers/dealers: Sophia, Kathy, Ariel, Jason, my bro, and everyone at KCRW. I have put you all in my will and/or saving a kidney for you.


*E = Esthero, Ellie Goulding, Elizabeth Powell, Elisabeth Maurus, Emily Haines, etc. etc.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

My Guitar Heroes

Everyday that I wake up and I don't have to be on a stage somewhere later that night making noise with my guitar is a big fat fail. Yes. A big fat fail. It's not so bad though. I mean, I have a pretty big imagination and I have rocked out many a times on my living room to a crowd of imaginary fans. Since my neighbors have never called the cops on me, I suspect I must be pretty alright. Now, since you, reader, have not seen me rock out, you will just have to take my word for it. Just the other day I was so into it that I continued playing after the sun had set and I could not see a thing, except for the little red light that indicated the amplifier was on. Then I heard a noise and got scared, and quickly turned on every light in the apartment. Turned out the noise was a G#m that I was playing. I guess you can say my own rock'n'roll-ness scares me sometimes. Go ahead. Say it. I'll wait....

I have always loved music and anything to do with music, more than anything else in life. (Cookies & cream ice cream come in a close second) I can play a little of a couple instruments. I started with violin when I was a kiddo, and I know my chords around the keyboard. And judging from the way I have been banging my hands on the steering wheel and desks, I am a pretty decent drummer. However, guitar has been my weapon of choice for a lot of years now. Don't ask me how many, because I can't find my calculator anywhere.

I just wish I was as awesome as the following three ladies, whom I absolutely admire and sometimes contemplate building a time machine and being born one of them instead. Don't ask me how that will work because I cannot find my calculator anywhere. Let me put it to you this way, if I were a zombie, I would most definitely eat their brains. Was that too creepy? Well, whatever. If you 've never had tacos de sesos, you do not know how delicious it is what I just said.

These are totes (ugh! I promised myself I'd never use that word) my guitar heroes.
And if you click on the video link and watch, you will see why.

Lizzie Powell (Land of Talk)




Annie Clark (St. Vincent)



Theresa Wayman (Warpaint)



In conclusion, Why wasn't born awesome like them? Le sigh.

Friday, September 9, 2011

I wanna hold your hand, but after you cut your nails.

I have always been a short nails type of lady. Ok, if I can be honest with myself and everyone who finds themselves reading this, I bought a copy of the Spice Girls first album when it came out, and I am really no lady. Not that the two things are connected, I’m just trying out the honesty thing. Also I enjoyed the album. Still do. Ok that’s too much truth in advertisement.

I have only had my nails long for two occasions in my life, one time to be fancy, and the other because I was bored. Both times ended with blood and pain and tears and scars and did I mention blood? I finally realized that long nails are not for me. Ever. I have accepted and embraced this about myself, why can’t you? (Mom and ladies at my office) When I say short nails, I mean I cut them as soon as I see some white. I have just never been able to understand why anyone would have long nails. Now, I’m no scientist, but I do pretend to be one to get me some boys to the yard. It never works, but does that stop me? No. Do I cry about it? Never…in public. I decided to take the scientific skills I attained in the 6th grade science fair out for a spin. The question was simple: “What are the advantages of having long nails?”

Armed with a pair of sunglasses to conceal my staring, my undivided attention, and a can of pepper spray in case the situation asked for it, because let’s face it, this is LA, I watched several subjects. After much data recorded (mentally), I came up with the following conclusion(s):

Advantages of Having Long Nails:

-Scratching feels good. It takes less time to satisfy an itch.

-Weapon. In a fight, if used correctly, they can almost be like your very own natural shank.

-Guitar pick. I can’t do it, but I’ve seen girls (and my great grandfather) play guitar with them a lot easier.

-Longer/taller fingers. I know what you are thinking and yes, the longer/taller middle finger wins the flipping-off off.

-Scooping. When cooking, eating, cleaning your ear wax, snorting your crack, etc. etc.

-Flossing.

-Popping pimples.

-Opening mail.

-Fat-free snack when anxious.

-Finding the start of a roll if tape.

-Getting out of doing things because you just “got your nails did.”

In conclusion, if you have long nails, we're cool, but we don't need to shake hands.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Wanted BFF and Baby's Daddy: The Prequel

Before there was Wanted BFF and Baby's Daddy (and obviously before there was Wanted BFF and Baby's Daddy: Part Deux because that's how prequels work. It is before the sequels because it is before the original. If you still aren't sure how it works, open a new tab and google it now!) comes Wanted BFF and Baby's Daddy: The Prequel.

These ladies and I need to talk music whilst braiding each other's hair:

Esthero


Sia


Nina Persson


Anne Litt


These men and I should kick it:

Simon Pegg


David Boreanaz


Ethan Hawke


Paul Walker



Hey, You can be a part of this list too.
Just send in your photo and top three reason why, and also some money, and cookies, and a pony to:

"Hey, YC, I am cool too! and I have a pony for you"
P.O. Box 1234
Los Angeles, CA 90065

Please send pony with food and toys, or whatever it is ponies do for fun.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Non. Je ne l'ai pas besoin. J'ai déjà fait pipi moi-même en plain air.

French is neat. I don’t remember when it was exactly that I fell in like with the language. I’m not ready for love yet. I’m keeping my options open. There are plenty of other languages in the language sea. No rush to settle down with just one. Maybe it was that my high school only offered Spanish (eh, I know that one already), Japanese (heard horror stories of both the teacher and the difficulty of learning it), and French (pretty, pretty French), that the choice was kinda made for me. I knew I liked wine and cheese and maybe, if I can be honest with myself, I just wanted to learn the correct pronunciation of “voulez- vous coucher avec moi?”, not to whore it up, mom, but really to open up my karaoke choices by going for Lady Marmalade for once. (Note: unless singer in Rock Band counts, I have never karaoke’ed in my life. Not that I wouldn’t. I just have not been in the position to do it)

“I learned three years of French too,” I said to my coworker when I was trying to convince her we should speak French in the office so we can, in a way, talk in code when speaking in front of others. You can see based on how I said this to her that I should’ve had English class a little longer.

“But you sound French-y, and I have forgotten a lot of it already. I never practice.” She resisted.

“Thank you! Can I tell people I’m actually French and not Mexican then? And also, I haven’t had French for a lot longer than you. You graduated like, what, yesterday? And my high school reunion is next year—woah! I think I need to go cry in the restroom,” I say to her dropping the idea of secret conversations in front of people at work. All I wanted was to feel like what the nail salon ladies feel when they talk to each other in their language while they do your nails. Was that too much to ask for?

Those who have heard me speak French, have given me the compliment “you sound French-y.” I’m pretty sure, though, that to a French person I must sound horrible. I totally lucked out with the teacher. Mrs. Fundukian (I wonder if she has a facebook) was the best! She was the reason why I still remember a lot of what I learned…well, also that I talk to myself a lot in public and I do it in French so people can think I’m crazy, but also French.

What I remember most about class were the dreaded presentations/conversations we had to do all the time. No one liked those. The one that sticks out in my memory the most is the one we did when we were learning the vocab for things found and used in the bathroom. I don’t recall who was in my team, but I remember it was all girls. Immediately I thought of making our presentation be about how all the other girls had dates to go to and were rushing in and out of the bathroom to get ready, while I kept getting pushed last in line and I really had to pee (little did I know this was foretelling of my adult years). For those old classmates who may be reading this, if you remember my pee dance during this, I will have you know that I have perfected that dance. I was even a finalist on “So You Think You Can Pee Pee Dance” but the show never got picked up by the networks. For those of you who weren’t in my French class, our presentation ended with me suddenly standing very still and upon being told that the bathroom was all mine, I replied “Non. Je ne l'ai pas besoin. J'ai déjà fait pipi moi-même en plain air.” I don’t think you have to know French to know what happened there.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Wanted BFF and Baby's Daddy: Part Deux

From the people who brought you Wanted BFF and Baby's Daddy comes the sequel "Wanted BFF and Baby's Daddy: Part Deux"

In a world where awesome people are scarce. (Let's face it, most people are pretty mean, and also boring.)

These ladies need to stop messing around and hang out with me.

Sloane Crosley


Mindy Kaling


Amy Poehler


Kristen Wiig



These men need to all marry me and become brother-husbands...or whatever the 'sister-wives' male equivalent is, that is what they need to be.

Ryan Reynolds


Chris Evans


Jamie Cullum


Jimmy Shaw




If you feel that you have been snubbed once again and would like to be considered for future BFF/Baby's Daddy lists, write to:

"Hey, Y.C., Why not me? and here, have this money."
P.O. Box 555
Los Angeles, CA 90027

Send in your best photograph and top three reasons why you should be considered.
Also, no more cookies. I'm trying to eat healthier, and turns out, I make even better decisions when people give me money.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Nobody messes with tall people.

I am not an anthropologist, per se, but I’m pretty sure no one messes with tall people. I know this because I am a tall person. I have always been taller than your average Mexican. At 5’8” I feel pretty confident that I have a physical advantage to intimidate most people just by standing next to them. I know what you are thinking, you’re thinking “Why am I reading this?” and “5’8” isn’t that tall.” And to you I say, ‘oh but it is tall.’ Next time you see me, just try and put me in a headlock, if you can reach that high, and see what happens. I should probably also mention that I am scrappy and kick like an octopus. Octopuses…octopussies?...octopusii?...do a lot of kicking because they have 8 tentacles that are like legs, so don’t argue with my simile. If it will make you feel better, reader, I will then say ‘I kick like a spider.’ They have 8 legs, right? That’s a lot of kicking. If you ask me, Spider Man should’ve also had extra 6 legs come with his super spider like powers. Think of all the ass kicking he could’ve done at once. All three movies could’ve been cut down to just one. But I digress.

Now, I know I am still a girl (and always will be; stop panicking mom), and just because I am tall doesn’t mean walking around the hood after dusk is a smart idea. Not unless I’m looking for a good workout, however the event turns out. I purchased what I thought was a rape whistle, but turned out to be one of those whistles used for hunting that calls forest animals. I tested the whistle in the park once, and let’s just say should a Disney character ever try to rape me, or should I ever attend a ball and need a last minute dress/make over, I am covered. Help is just a whistle blow away.

In conclusion, here are some of the neat advantages of being tall…

- Kicking someone in the face is very possible. No karate training needed.
- Doesn’t matter who you are standing behind at a concert. You will have a good view. (Ok, it may matter who you stand behind. Some drunk assholes can ruin it for everyone.)
- You can ride all the rides.
- You can reach all the high places in kitchens/grocery stores/libraries/etc. If you are smart enough you can make money by charging a small fee (No pun intended) when small people ask you to reach something for them. (ok, pun intended a little…and I apologize)
- You can high five the heavens...if said heavens were real.

Furthermore, has anyone thought of Millipede Man?

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Note to self: Imghn bring aawrk sixteen fhjnsa???

“I have got the most horrible handwriting in the history of handwriting.” I announced to the office upon finding a post-it note and trying to decipher what past-me was trying to tell me. I cannot, for the life of me, read back notes I make to myself on a post-it without taking at least 15 minutes. Notes that I title and underline to highlight importance.

“Hahaha! Yes, you do,” replied a coworker almost immediately, “which is funny because you are an artist (bless her heart for that) and you have a steady hand. You could never tell you have crappy writing looking at your art.”

I stretched out my hand with my palm face down (palms have faces?) right in front of my eyes, almost to the point of becoming cross-eyed, and held my breath for a more thorough and accurate inspection. Steady as…a…um a thing that is always steady. This made my coworker laugh a little more, but before I could rip her a new one for laughing at my distress, I went back to the more pressing matter at steady hand. What was on that post-it? Since it is on a post-it, I know it is work related. I only use post-it notes for work related messages to my future self. And since some words (using that term very loosely here) are underlined, I know this is an important message. After some time looking at it, I threw in the towel and figured “If it’s *that* important, I will remember later.”

I never thought I would be the type of person who would need to write down memos and notes-to-self ever. Me, who always wakes up on time without needing an alarm, who remembers every colorful detail of my dreams, who remembers every word said in conversations that happened ages ago with people I no longer keep in touch with, who remembers what I wore for my baptism (nice little white dress) even though there are no pictures, but I can assure you, it happened. It’s just that so much shit happens in the office on a daily basis that I need to remind myself of things in colorful sticky note form. Plus it makes my desk area look all pretty and rainbow-y.

To give you an idea, reader, of what my handwritten notes look like do the following: grab a pen or pencil or any writing utensil of your preference, and now grab it with the hand you don’t usually write with (your right hand if you’re lefty, your left hand if you are normal. Ha. I kid, you lefties). Then put on a blindfold, and provoke a seizure, and then write.

I have a theory on why I have such awful handwriting. It’s my mind’s fault. It works at a speed that would get me a ticket if my mind was driving around a school zone. My hand cannot keep up. One time, it actually dropped the pen and slapped me on the forehead then flipped me the bird. I’ve tried to be neater with my writing. I’ve even gone as far as practicing my ABCs in the windows of spare time I may have in the office. Bullshit! That’s bullshit, we all know I twitter/fb/text during those opened windows. But I have tried to be a little neater. Though my neatest handwriting still looks like that of a child's who has just learned to write his/her name. My personal memos/notes I write on the palm of my left hand. It may be the repetition of having to write on my hand after every time I wash them that helps me remember. But it is also the case that this repetition becomes practice, and by the third time I’ve written the memo/note on my hand it has become legible. Be warned, notes written on your palm could be seen by others and you may want to keep those private matters, well, private. One time I went to high five my coworker on a job well done only to be left hanging and given a look of disgust and confusion as he read my imminent future on the palm of my hand: “Get tampons and ointment.”

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to avoid doing what you gotta do.

One of my horoscopes today (I say "one of" because I get my horoscope from different places that are all clearly on different pages) said I will be having a great night. It promised meeting an important new person. It promised that I will be feeling happy with what surprises tonight will offer...oh and that I should watch my money (watch it do what? I do not know) Well, tonight is laundry night. Why my horoscope feels more excited about laundry night than I ever do is beyond me. Or maybe it is that my horoscope is trying to make me feel better by lying to me. Telling me that things are gonna be better than just waiting around for things to rinse and dry, and having to fight for a dryer against the woman who feels that putting one item in there will save it for when her load is done washing and ready to dry.

I hate laundry! Hate it with a hating passion that I have only experienced when my coworker plays Hotel California in her office (next to mine) hundred times in a row. UGH! Part of it may be because I hate having to wait around. Waiting around is the worst waste of time ever. They say patience is a virtue. Well those people who say that never had to wait for their favorite artist to finally drop a record and then announce a tour, or the clock to strike 5pm, or for corn to pop. Another reason may be the people I encounter at a laundry mat. Never not annoying. However, since I sometimes wash in the laundry room in my apartment building, I think it is more than just the annoying people. Perhaps I feel like it is beneath me? No. I would not want or trust anyone else to handle my delicates, but enough about my love life, ha. Perhaps it is that my mom spoiled me by always getting it done for me? Maybe. Maybe it is all of the above.

Discussing tonight's events with my coworker's daughter (who comes in for the summer to help out around the office) I realize that I will go to great lengths and postpone doing laundry.

Coworker's daughter: "Hey, it could be worse. You just do your own laundry. There's eight people in my house. That's a lot of laundry."

Me: "True. But that doesn't make me feel better about having to do mine. It just makes me feel bad for you having to do all that."

Coworker's daughter: "It's not so bad. We have a system."

Me: "Screw the system!"

Coworker's daughter: "You really hate it that much? Ya know, if you keep putting it off you only make it worse on yourself."

Me: "I will always try to put it off as much as I possibly can. Once I drove to Target to buy a new pack of underwear instead."

Coworker's daughter: "You did that to avoid doing laundry?!"

Me: "Hey, sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do to avoid doing what you gotta do."

Monday, April 25, 2011

I Sure Wrote A Lot About Not Being Able To Write

Words are tricky little things, aren’t they? I find it ever so hard to find the right words to represent what my mind is trying to express. My mind works way too fast anyway. This is why, when speaking, there is a lot of tongue tripping, slurring, and multiple usage of ‘fucking’ before an ‘awesome’ or ‘amazing’, masking the fact that I don’t really know that many adjectives, or words really, thus adding the ‘f’ word and calling it “passionate emphasis”. Well, that and also I’m always a little drunk.

I have the most admiration and respect for writers. No wait, musicians first, then writers, then artists (as in painters and what not), and then bakers...email me for the full list. Writers are neat, n’est-ce pas? In fact, I would say they really aren’t 2nd place on my list, but 1st place as well. The musicians I love and admire write their own songs. Band leaders, singer songwriters, people call them. I call them Gods, and sometimes on my nights of confusion and romantic fantasies, I call them Lovers. I have always been addicted to music. I like to think that I do have a pretty eclectic taste in music, and when it comes to what I love it has to have a great voice, great sound, and especially great lyrics. The Greatest Trifecta, if you will.

I play music. My instrument of choice is guitar (electric and acoustic, and sometimes both at once. I’m not a player I just... yes, actually, I am a player. Ha.) I don’t know if I am very good, but boy do I love it. Yes, boy, I really fucking do. I could spend hours just playing along with my favorite songs or just putting chords together in an attempt to make something of my own. I have tried to write my own music. After so many years of playing, how could I not? However, I am afraid I have a bit of A.D.D. when it comes to writing a song. I can never seem to stick to one long enough to finish it. I quickly move on to another riff that could very well be another song all together... or maybe it’s the intro to a tv show. Everything I make either feels bad or like it may sound like something else to me. Perhaps it is the case of ‘we are our own worst critics’, or perhaps I should just never quit my day job. My very unfulfilling, sometimes stressful, low paying, horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day job. Have I digressed enough?

I was hanging out with a new friend this weekend, who is a very talented singer songwriter, though modesty prevents her from admitting it. She had with her an acoustic guitar and two new songs. I felt very privileged to be hearing these brand new songs, and to possibly add something to them. After I heard them, I was in awe. “They are very good. I don’t have the talent to add anything good to them. I am not worthy,” are things that went through my head. But more than feeling like my guitar skills weren’t up to par, it became clear to me that I couldn’t write lyrics to a song. Her words are simple yet brilliant and mine are always very plain. Trust me. I wrote a verse to a song I wrote weeks ago and it was super lame. It would fight crime if its super lame powers weren’t, ya know, lame. I also realized that if I had been blessed with the gift of a singing voice, I would quickly hide behind covers of songs I love so as to say “I agree with what the singer songwriter is saying in this song, and it may or may not have happened to me too.” Perhaps there is a little fear of putting myself in a vulnerable place (because, let’s face it, most of the good songs are about some type of hurt), but it is mostly, I think, that my words would not be good enough. Needless to say, I crossed out ‘writing lyrics’ off the list of things I can do.

I love music so much, so so so very much, so much that I would marry it and not cheat on it even if I was drunk one night and angry because we had a fight. If I can’t make it, the list of music related careers/jobs/hobbies/etc. is a little shorter. I have a friend (Yes, mom I have a friend. You can break open the bottle of the bubbly and bake a cake) who is a writer/music journalist/awesomeist. She has the coolest job in the entire world (Next to rock star of course. Although she is pretty rock star in her time off, I am sure). She gets to meet and interview musicians/artists, listen to tracks/cds/EPs/LPs before the world gets to so she can tell us if they are good or no good. Always listen to her advice when it comes to music, is what I have learned, and also when it comes to books. Every time I hear one of her stories of the time she interviewed a favorite artist, I cannot help but imagine myself for a second doing what she does. I say for a second because, judging from the times I met Lizzie Powell and Ellie Goulding (Not on the same night. That would’ve killed me), I would not be very good at speaking to these people that I love and admire. My interviews would go thusly:

Me: “Hi! It is so awesome to meet you!

Them: “Hi. Nice to---“

Me (interrupting): “I am a huge fan!”

Them: “Oh. Thanks. I--.”

Me: (interrupting again): “I swear your last album was amazing!”

Them: “Thanks. Um. Do you have any questi---“

Me: “I love you!”

Oooooorr they would be more like:

Me: “Hi.”

Them: “Hi! How are you? Nice to meet you.”

*Silence*

Them: “Do you have any questions?”

Me: “um…uh…”

*Silence*

Them: “Are you crying?”

Me: *whimper*

Scary stuff, I know. I also imagine I would be terrible at reviewing music, based on what I say when people ask me about what an artist I love sounds like. My music reviews would go something like this:

Good Review: “This album is fucking awesome! If you don’t have it already go get it! *insert artist/band name here* is fucking amazing!!! Everything they do is fucking awesome and fucking amazing! I fucking LOVE them!!!”

Bad Review: “This is fucking crap! Might as well have been done by Fergie and called Hotel California. It makes me want to hit people.”

So, yeah. Let’s cross off music journalist from the list as well.

For the last year six months three days and some hours, I have been reading quite a lot. I’ve been reading books, magazines, newspapers, posters, cereal boxes, street signs, gang signs, instruction manuals, menus, public restroom walls, people’s vibes, but especially books. No, not Twilight or Harry Potter and such, nor any downers like the ones we read in high school. Um, really Mr. V?! You want us to read Winesburg, Ohio during the most emo time of our lives?! I might’ve missed the point of that one with all the comparing I was doing between myself and the grotesque people of the town. The main character in that book was a writer, was he not? Oh why not me!?! All this reading is making me want to write. I used to write when I was younger. It wasn’t very good, so naturally it has all been dumped long ago. I don’t even remember what I was writing about because I don’t think I have anything interesting to say, she said in her 20th blog. Ha. It was probably real awful fiction. With a lot of ‘fucking’ in them… err not the act, the word. Ya know, because I use that word a lot. Ugh. Wrap it up Y.C.!

In conclusion, I would like to say thank you to all the good writers out there (emphasis on ‘good’). Anyone who finds it easy to put words into songs, or into paper, pages of magazines and books, screenplays, scripts, etc. and such, is my personal hero. I heart you, and I shall heart you forever. I am in awe of you and quite frankly a little envious of your talent. Sleep with one eye open, because I will break into your house and attempt to steal it, realizing that it is impossible to steal talent, I would end up taking your iPad/laptop and cd collection.

In another conclusion, more things in life should be written by Sloane Crosley. Word.

Monday, April 18, 2011

To Coachella? or not to Coachella? That is the question that I may have an answer for.

Looking at all those Coachella pictures and reading the recaps today (Ssshh don’t tell the boss I slacked a little during my working hours) made me realize that I will not very likely be in attendance for a music festival like Coachella and it goes beyond my being kinda poor (woah, that is the first time I have said those words. Suddenly feel very thirsty). Hmmm car payment? Coachella ticket? That is depressing. Ok, so not exactly Sophie’s choice, but still a choice nonetheless.
This year I was fortunate to be able to watch some of the performances in the comfort of my own desk chair, in comfortable temperature, with the right lighting, and no judgmental eyes during my self-slow dancing during Ellie’s set. (I know what you are thinking “her music isn’t for slow dancing, and I am pretty sure there is no ass smacking in slow dancing” but let me ask you this: “Can you not tell my mom about this? Thanks!)
List of reasons I wouldn't attend a festival if I could afford it is, coincidentally, the same list of things I don’t particularly enjoy about festivals (of music or other) which includes, but is not limited to:
-A lot of walking/standing. I can't even do that at Disneyland very well. I am lazy, old, and lazy;
-The crowds. I don’t do very well with all those people around me at once. It could be dangerous for them;
-Camping out. No thanks. I am not an overnight camper type person. It’s not the bed that I need, it’s the showers…err um not that I NEED showers, I just need them. I desire them, I don’t require them. I think. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m pretty sure I don’t smell bad, most of the time. Plus I need somewhere to flush away the sin I eat; and last but not least
-I have come to the conclusion that I don’t like to share my music addiction with that many people. I like my shows to be intimate and with a high number of awkward glances shared with any and all band members. I feel like Sia's cellist still needs to call me.
Now, does anyone have Lissie’s number? I wanna ask her to come play a show in my living room.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Feed the Senseless




Wow. They really went all out on this one huh? I find this commercial ridiculous.
Now I'm not a cat, per se, but I am pretty sure cats don't have any taste buds. If they did, they wouldn't use their tongues to clean their asshole and asshole adjacent parts.
Also, why are there purple turkeys and red cows? Clearly, the only two answers for that are that Cat's are colorblind, or this Friskie's blend mix has a whole lot of crack.

In conclusion, I dunno why they spent so much money on making this ad. Everyone knows cats like to fast forward through commercials.

Monday, February 14, 2011

All you need is love but all you are gonna get is this blog

It is Valentine’s Day today...or how we Mexicans know it as “Dia del Amor y la Amistad”. Yes we acknowledge friendship, separately. Why we separate love and friendship (because clearly the "Amor" part in that is not only for romantic partners, but also for parental, siblings, coworkers, extramarital affair lovers, pets, grandparents, neighbors, etc. etc.) probably makes more sense to me now than say a year and a half ago…but that is another hilarious story for a whole ‘notha blog, another time.

The purpose of this blog is not only to wish everyone a Happy V-day…and for some of you jerks, a VD day. Yeah I said it, what! But really to express something that kinda bugs me come every Valentine’s Day. No, it is not the overly exaggerated display of love and “I love you” products nearly everywhere you go. Nor is it seeing everyone get gifts and calls and gifts and candy and did I mention gifts from their loved ones. No, I do not feel anything negative or sad towards Valentine’s Day. This is not a sad day for me, what with being single. I don’t feel especially losery and lonely and that no one loves me today just because of what the day represents. I mean I feel that every day, rain or shine. Pffft.

In all seriousness now, my problem is kinda with the complainers. The “This isn’t a real holiday. It was created by card companies” people. To them I ask: What is so wrong with that? What is so wrong with promoting love and affection and gift giving if only for at least one day of the year?... and yes, most will say “you don’t have to wait for Valentine’s Day to show your love. You should do that every day." Well, yeah, no one does that every day, especially the people saying that. When was the last time you sent chocolates or flowers or an “I love you” teddy to your spouse, mom, best friend, etc. ‘just because’ and not on a day that happened to be an anniversary, or birthday, or Xmas? Or because you weren’t looking for a potential pelvic buddy? or because you wanted to get out of the dog house? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

So to all you haters of Valentine’s Day I say, quit being a sour puss. I'm sure there's at least someone out there who loves you. That's one more person then the number of people who love me. Womp Womp *gulp gulp* Pffft! If you only hate on the holiday because you are too cheap for a gift, you don’t have to buy things. Just be nice, creative, kinky, or all of the above.
And with that, I would like to wish a happy Valentine’s Day to all, and to all a good night…and to some a great night *bah wah chika bah wah*.

All my love,
Me

P.S. I understand it can be a difficult day, dare I say, scary for some of you independent girls out there, but fear not. Here's a "How to" for yous...

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Wanted BFF and Baby's Daddy

The following people need to contact me as soon as possible...


These ladies need to stop wasting their time and be my BFFs.

Liz Powell


Lissie Maurus


Ellie Goulding


Emily Haines




These men need to impregnate me, or die trying.

Patrick Watson


Ryan Gosling


Andrew Barr


Clive Owen



If you feel like you should be part of this list, write to:

"I Should be Rocking 'N' Rolling with Y.C."
P.O. Box 5142 (<--not my pin number, i promise)
Los Angeles, CA 90028

Send in your photo and top three reasons why you belong on this list.
Also, some cookies. I make better decisions while eating cookies.