Victims of the Galvatron

In all my mooning over Twilight I have completely forgotten another weekend highlight, which would be the activities of Saturday night.

Around 5 pm I cracked open a bottle of wine (Oooh, Charles Shaw! I thought, before realizing it was Trader Joe's infamous Two Buck Chuck) and by 7:30 pm was headed to the first bar of the evening, in Venice. It was the start to quite an epic night, including a venture Downtown, extended sweaty dancing at our favorite Hollywood bar, oddly(perfectly?) named Happy Ending, and culminating with a late night stop at In N Out, where I realized I truly have lived here for more than a year when I can perfectly rattle off my order in a drunken state (Cheeseburger Protein Style, Fries Well Done). And by the way, when I tell other people we made this Venice-Downtown-Hollywood venture (in bed by 3 am), they look at me as if I told them I started the night in Boston, made a quick appearance in DC, then finished the evening in New York.

Anyway, the highlight of all this was, without question, the trek downtown, where rather than go to one of the many classy/hipster establishments, we met up for a birthday party at a... strip mall. Yep. There we were in Little Tokyo, at a karaoke bar with an odd combo theme of Christmas and a French dinner party. Seriously, there were Santa Clause hats adorning the walls yet all the Japanese waitresses--who spoke little to no English, which made it very difficult when ordering drinks, I might add--were wearing slutty French maid outfites. It was strange.

However this bar seems to have something of a following, if not for its incredible karaoke (all the music videos matched up with songs that appeared to be oddly gathered clips taken from a Japanese soap opera about roaming the street wandering... or something) but for its speciality drink THE GALVATRON. What is this Galvatron, you might wonder? Well, why should I explain it when you can learn all in this PHENOMENAL video. (Seriously, this vid is worth your while.)



In other news, Galvatrons appear to be quite harmful to your health, as we witnessed various participants in this drinking ritual succumb to its dangers later (i.e. drink throwing, vomiting against walls). But the song makes up for EVERYTHING.

That Time I Fell in Love With a Water Cooler

Saturday was a good day. I woke up. Went to a yoga class. Came home. Made some eggs. Showered. Sat down with Roomie #1 and popped in a disc of Friday Night Lights. Opened a bottle of wine. Got drunk. Four hours later (and a second bottle of wine) we went on a raid to a friend's house. Had some beers. Hung out. Shot an audition tape for our friend's friend (only in LA). Came home. Made grand plans to go out and make out with a boy (NOT THE SAME ONE, COME ON). Popped in another disc of Friday Night Lights whilst discussing said grand plans. Passed out before midnight. Woke up on the sofa around 12:30 am disoriented and feeling wine hungoveryish (just made that word up, go with it) and consumed mass quantities of fresh, delicious water.

OH YEAH.
THAT'S RIGHT.
I FORGOT TO MENTION THE BEST THING EVER ABOUT SATURDAY THAT MADE ME 100% HAPPIER AND COOLER (both in degree and social status), DESPITE THE FACT THAT THE ONLY MAJOR ACTIVITY I DID ON A SATURDAY WAS A YOGA CLASS AND RATHER THAN MAKE OUT WITH ANY BOYS, BOTH MY ROOMMATE AND MYSELF GOT WINE DRUNK, WATCHED EPIC TV AND PASSED OUT:

WE GOT A WATER COOLER.

Okay. So yes, that was an unnecessary use of capitalization (and after re-reading it was VERY confusing, apologies) but LET ME TELL YOU (here I go again), that having a water cooler AT HOME is the best thing ever. First of all, I AM SO HYDRATED I have pee to all the time and especially when I wake up in the morning and that is A VERY GOOD THING and there is nothing better than waking up in the morning and relieving your bladder. I also enjoy waking up and putting on chapstick. (I am not at all surprised there were no make-outs with boys in my recent history, are you?).

Secondly, I can have about eight cups of tea a day (OR MORE! IT'S UP TO ME!) with no hassle, thanks to the glorious water cooler. Which means I am going to be really energized, or really calm, depending on what kind of tea I choose to make, like right now--OMG I AM GOING TO BREW MY MOST FAVORITE OF THE CELESTIAL SEASONINGS VARIETY, Sleepytime. Which is also the name of one of my iTunes playlists.

And finally, WATER. IS. AWESOME.

Henceforth, thus I shall visa via decree that the water cooler has changed my life for the better.

OK, chill, I get that this may perhaps, in theory, be wonderful but probably is doing something terrible for the environment or the economy (or probably both, because let's face it: everything today is totally fucking over BOTH the environment and the economy) but goddamnit I make like NO money and work pretty hard (okay, I work moderately hard) and just want some delicious cold water at my leisure and YES it's home delivery which further supports my theory that people in LA are excessively lazy and now that I have lived here for a year (OMG A YEAR!) I have become the very thing I so often mock (an Angeleno? HELL NO. NEVER. Maybe a little). BUT ALLOW ME MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH OUR WATER COOLER.

I'll let that tirade marinate. And now I am going to watch an episode of The Hills whilst I enjoy some fresh tea (thank you water cooler, love of my life) and cry while I watch Lauren Conrad make massive quantities of money for doing NOTHING. NOTHING AT ALL.

P.S. Obama 2008

No drugs were used in the creation of this blog post. Only water. But apparently you CAN get drunk on water. Someone told me that once.

The Way Life Should Be

Tonight, at 11:30 pm I am taking off for MAINE (via Washington DC and a really annoying almost 2-hour layover). I am SO EXCITED. OMG. SO. EXCITED. SO.

I’ve been counting down the days to my trip to the GREAT STATE for what feels like forever. I haven’t been home since Christmas and couldn’t be more thrilled to take a 4 day vacation to Vacationland.

The thing I am most excited for? An Italian. I am not talking about some random man of European descent I might come upon wandering the streets of Portland. I am talking about a sandwich. And not just any sandwich. THE BEST SANDWICH EVER. EVER.

The Italian is the perfect combination of the following:

Sub roll
Ham
American Cheese
Green peppers
Pickles
Olives
Salt & Pepper
a little bit of oil & vinegar
and a lot of perfection

Most people also get theirs with onions and tomatoes, but I choose not to. The other debate is regarding the olives because the Italian seller of my youth, Town Landing Market, down the street, makes their Italians with black olives whereas Maine’s favorite chain sub-and-pizza shop Amato’s uses kalamta olives. I think I prefer Town Landing, but mostly for the idyllic setting and nostalgia.

In any event, my mouth is salivating at the mere thought of this delectable taste of heaven and I’ve instructed my father to pick up at the airport, sandwich in hand, and I don’t care that it’s 10 am and I haven’t eaten since I was in LA, I WANT THE SANDWICH.

Other Maine treats I can’t wait for? Too many to count. (Worth mentioning are fresh blueberries, fresh seafood, homemade Moose Tracks ice cream, Moxie, and really just oh so many Italian sandwiches).

True to the large sign you pass on I-295 heading North from Boston: Maine, The Way Life Should Be.

An Open Letter to the Inventor of Hot Tamales

Dear Sir (or Madam, but maybe wouldn't it be cool if maybe one day using “sir” it could really be anyone you are addressing, kind of like how it is on Battlestar Galactica? That is a great show. Do you watch the show sir? I recommend that you do),

I am writing you for a very important cause. A cause that I hold dear to my heart. That cause is to say THANK YOU. I believe in Thanksgiving. I believe that once the Pilgrims and the Indians (I think now they are called Native Americans. No, no now they are American Indians. Actually I am not so sure. I am lacking in political correctedness but I make up for it in my love for THANKS) sat down to dinner together and they broke bread (or rather, tore at it) and thanked each other. So, with that I write.

Thank you for inventing Hot Tamales. They are my most favorite of all candy, followed in no particular order by the following:

Twizzlers
Good n’ Plenty (anything that supplants “and” with “n’” is genius)
York Peppermint Patty

But really Sir Inventor, I feel that you need to know that my love for Hot Tamales far surpasses my love for many other things, including the following (in no particular order):

Yellow highlighters
Alarm clocks
High-heeled shoes
Kleenex (which I love a lot)

This week I have purchased a pack of Hot Tamales almost daily (I say almost because my memory is poor and I think there was one day I did not buy one of these small packs, but I am not sure, therefore to preserve my credability I must include the word ALMOST). Around 4 pm I seem to regularly develop a craving for those succulent cinnamon treats.

In the world of cinnamon treats, by the by, you win. Red Hots have NOTHING on Hot Tamales. Fire balls are overrated. Cinnamon Altoids are a joke. A JOKE.

I especially love Hot Tamales because sometimes when I am eating them they are so cinnamony they hurt and it is a strange sadistic experience. (Please note I am using sadistic in the LEAST sexual way possible. That is to say, it is not always a pleasant experience to eat these Hot Tamales because they are so HOT. But this makes the experience memorable and delicious. Thus it is sadistic. It is painful and awesome. Actually I am not sure I know what the definition of sadistic is. If you know, would you kindly share?).

Sir I implore you to explain to me the idea behind your slogan “Get Fired Up!” It’s genius! I am so fired up about Hot Tamales right now. They are both fat and calorie free, and certainly, as your packaging informs me, a cinnamon-charged candy.

I especially enjoy the package with a net weight of 2.12 ounces, or 60 grams. It is the perfect snack size. And it is under $1 which is really quite wonderful as I do not have a multitude of accessible funds, or as I like to say “I have negative bones.” That saying might not make much sense to you but trust me, it means I do not have a lot of cold hard cash. I bet you do. Why, you invented the most delicious of all delicious cinnamony treats, and perhaps candy in general (I say perhaps because I am not a statistician, and therefore cannot make bold claims I cannot support. I am a man of my word)!

Sir, beyond giving thanks I would also like to offer my services. I would like to put THIS on the table: I would be so happy to be a quality control taste taster. I do not know if there is current need for this, or if perhaps you have control over this (maybe after your invention you moved onto other candies? Say, were you the inventor of Mike and Ikes? Is your name Mike? OOH IS IT IKE? I bet it's Ike. Mike & Ikes are okay. Similar to Hot Tamales but less good).

If you have need for quality control taste tasters feel free to alert me of this need. I am ready and willing at your service to taste test and control quality. I know what makes a good Hot Tamale.

Regards,
John Stamos