NEOBlog: Canonically Irrelevant

[EDIT] I know this looks funny on Firefox at the moment. I'm seeing what I can do to fix it.

You might say I left my heart in San Francisco.

After months of uncertainty, Jon and I finally managed to make it up to the Bay Area this past weekend, albeit not on a road trip, but in an airplane. This unfortunate situation led me to declare the road trip as officially starting when Andrew picked us up in San Jose, and lasted for about 30 minutes as he drove us to his Stanford residence in Palo Alto. It then picked up again by means of trains and buses the following day, and culminated in the drive from Millbrae to Palo Alto the day after that. Nevertheless, it was still a fun experience overall. What follows is a typical description of my adventures in classic Trip Report format.

Upon our arrival in Palo Alto, it became apparent that our sleeping space over two of the following three nights would be relative small and crowded. Andrew, of course, remained in his own bed, while Jon and I wriggled uncomfortably together on the ground in a totally non-gay manner, with about three inches separating us from a Brokeback-esque emasculation scene. Obviously with my known sleeping issues, I failed to achieve sleep and eventually moved out into the common room and crashed on the couch, unseating its occupant and effectively blocking off the path for those who had to wake up early.

The next morning I was stept on by Andrew on his way out for work, and thusly amused myself with a bowl of oatmeal while Jon sleepily arose from his restful slumber. Following our individual grooming we subsequently headed out towards the sparkling gem of a city that is San Francisco, utilizing a shuttle, commuter train, light rail, a streetcar, feet, and a bus before reaching our destination at the north end of the city. If you're interested, we took the shuttle bus from Stanford to the Palo Alto Caltrain station, from which we took the train to its terminus on the south end of the city. Following a brief stop at Quiznos, we boarded the MUNI N line around the ports to Market Street, at which point we took the tourist-laden streetcar F line down Embarcadero to Fisherman's Wharf. We then walked across Fort Mason and boarded bus 28 to the Golden Gate Bridge. If you're not interested, just forget everything you just read. At the bridge, I let Jon talk me into walking its entire length, which was interesting and fun except for the part where we had to make the return trip. By the time we returned, my feet hurt and I was hungry, however Andrew was finished with work and met up with us at chocolate haven Ghiradelli Square. Following a red meat-laden meal, we walked to North Beach, the Italian part of the city, checked out the hipster City Lights bookstore, and then continued on into the Financial District where I ostensibly attempted to locate a restroom for the public amongst the lofty skyscrapers. If you're interested, there's one on the 3rd floor of an Asian bank building across the street from the Transamerica Tower. There's also one in the nearby Starbucks, but the guy I was waiting for to leave the restroom is probably still in there.

Our endeavour ended at our hotel of choice (Ramada) in SOMA, which was split into two buildings across from each other with a sketchy street between them. Of course we were put into the secondary building. Following check-in, my dear friend Julia arrived in suburbanite minivan (driven by her friend Mira) and took us to the modernized Brea Mall of San Francisco, where we ate at a food court. After much pronging and speculation, she then took us to the best place she could think of for entertaining Orange County-based tourists: The Castro District. For those unfamiliar with San Francisco, Castro is the GAY district. My lofty Republican reader-base just left my blog. In Castro I experienced a new sort of shop, namely, the male sex shop. It was a life-changing experience to be sure. Following these mis-adventures we decided to leave for places north, and at the insistance of Mira, ended up with cereal and milk at Julia's midscale house. This lasted a short while, however with our hotel being effectively across the city, we were forced to leave relatively early and retire for the night.

In the morning I left Jon and Andrew at the Ramada and successfully tackled the MUNI system in an attempt to reach the Filmore District, which I hoped would be better than the president it was named after. Luckily it turned out to be so, and I met Julia at a non-chain coffee shop (read: NOT Starbucks) for an enlightening conversation on yuppies, city life, and male sex shops. I said goodbye to her for at least a month and a half and made my way back to Ramada, where I learned that Jon and Andrew had gone to said coffee chain themselves a little while earlier. As we left the city, I left behind fond memories and gained a somewhat confusing feeling over personal matters, which obviously won't be explained in a public blog. This isn't Xanga.

I can safely NOT recommend You, Me, and Dupree. I make mistakes, I know, and we should've seen The Devil Wears Prada. But I was in the mood for something light. The movie doesn't know what genre it's going for and as such fails to successfully court the Owen Wilson slapstick genre and the Kate Hudson romantic genre. Why Matt Dillon, after starring in the mildly good Crash, chose to go with this movie is somewhat bewildering, but all three actors did well. A really old looking Michael Douglas is in it too, but don't expect an American President. He's pretty much just an old douchebag. The movie gets a 5/10 from me. It's sometimes funny, and sometimes romantic, but not enough to really succeed in either genre.

As for the rest of the trip, it was fairly uneventful, with the highlight being a semi under the influence romp around Stanford at midnight, much to the chagrin of people attempting to study (on a Saturday, for that matter) in the library. Upon our return to the room, noisy party aftermath accompanied my desire to sleep, which had to fulfilled for our early flight the next day. On the way out, I declared the road trip over, and bid farewell to my Stanfordian friend for a few weeks, boarded the plane with Jon, and flew back to the shelters of Orange County.

But as I said, I left my heart in San Francisco. Read entire post...

Just wanted to let you guys know that my website has undergone a temporary face lift. That's all. Read entire post...

The image has nothing to do with the post, I just thought I'd make some reference to Italy's win in the World Cup.

I've seen three relatively new-ish movies recently, but I don't want to bog this thing down with movie reviews, so I'll just summarize.

Syriana: 7/10 (good story, interesting characters, but the viewer has to be fairly knowledgeable of the subject manner.)
Match Point: 8/10 (one of the most blatant genre shifts I've ever seen occurs 2/3 of the way through the movie, making this an interesting watch.)
Munich: 9/10 (I actually thought this was about the kidnappings, not the retaliation. Still, good plot and raises interesting questions about identity/morals.)

With that out of the way, we can get down to business. Alice is back, and I'm typing on her now. I'm happy I didn't have to salvage her for scrap and RAM. Unfortunately, I've lost everything from the past year or so, which was the last time I backed up anything onto NeoLab. So now I'm going through the painstaking process of rebuilding my music library from the past year on a fairly slow DSL line. Don't get me wrong, DSL is nice, but when you grow used to the T1 connection that's fed into the dorms, taking 30 minutes to download an album is malarkey. I could go to Best Buy and BUY the damn thing in that amount of time.

Here's some bands I think you should check out if you're into rock type stuff...

The 88 (Over and Over) --> probably best known for their single on their OC off of their older album, The 88 are a local band that really kick serious mainstream ass.
Air (Talkie Walkie) --> ambient, chill-out stuff. Plus they're French.
Ambulance LTD (LP, New English EP) --> talk about little known brilliance. These guys mix genres better than Roman Polanski. They got a new LP coming out soon I think.
The Arcade Fire (Funeral) --> badass Canadians who are gonna revolutionize rock.
Do Make Say Think (Goodbye Enemy Airship the Landlord is Dead) --> listen to this if you're into post-rock.
Joy Zipper (American Whip, Heartlight Set) --> what a find! Boy can these guys harmonize. They're from the UK and Heartlight Set really needs to be released in the States.
The Killers (Hot Fuss) --> these guys are played a lot but I really think they deserve more credit than they get. But not by MTV.
Mogwai (Mr. Beast) --> these guys blow my mind.
Muse (Black Holes and Revelations) --> this album comes out in two days. It's bloody amazing.
Of Montreal (Satanic Panic in the Attic) --> I don't think they're actually from Montreal, but they have a very vibrant and unique sound with totally BOSS lyrics.
Spoon (Girls Can Tell) --> a very raw sound combined with catchy melodies and lyrics make Spoon awesome. Read entire post...

Being genuinely wary of superhero movies, the recent take on Batman in Batman Begins has given me new hope concerning the direction of the genre. While to me Batman is much cooler and more believable than Superman, he still fits into the classic role of a DC superhero that really can't be topped by any other superhero icon. With that said, it's no surprise, then, that I went into the new Superman Returns with not only high expectations but also a genuine interest in the movie. Also, being directed by Brian Singer of The Usual Suspects fame (and X-Men) doesn't hurt.

In this fifth installment of Superman's adventures on film, our hero (Brandon Routh) has gone off to search for his home planet, which astronomers thought was still around. Having found nothing, Superman returns to Earth after being away for 5 years, only to discover that the world has moved on without him. Taking his job back at The Daily Planet, Superman slips back into his role as "mild-mannered reporter" Clark Kent, and discovers much to his dismay that love-interest Lois Lane (Kate Bosworth) has moved on as well, living with her boyfriend and having what appears to be his child, who is about 5 years old. Elsewhere, Superman's nemesis Lex Luthor (Kevin Spacey) has escaped prison and travels to Superman's Fortress of Solitude, steals a set of alien crystals and prepares to use them to create a living land mass off the coast of the United States, which will eventually destroy the country as it grows.

The film is not as campy as I make it sound - in fact it's not campy at all. Routh's performance as the new Man of Steel, supplanting the late Christopher Reeves, is genuinely heartfelt, and he fits the role well. Spacey should also be noted for his serious yet maniacal portrayal of Luthor. Like Batman Begins, the storyline and characters are presented very realistically, and it seems as if the filmmakers take great care in portraying Superman as more than a flat good-doer, giving him emotions and feelings.

One should go into the movie with some knowledge of the Superman mythos, as the movie does little to explain backstory and character relatioships, instead relying on its predecessors Superman and Superman II to fill viewers in. Indeed, the callbacks to the original 1978 film are evident in the easily-recognizable John Williams theme, the zooming title text, and numerous lines and other references. Again, like Batman, having not seen the other movies of the series I feel that I cannot fully appreciate these callbacks, however I'm sure someone more familiar with the franchise will.

There is little on the negative side in relation to this movie, however something that bothered me the most was the relationship between Superman and Lois Lane. Because Lois Lane has moved on, there now exists a weird sort of love-triangle between Lane, Superman, and her boyfriend that seems rather inhibiting. Also the kid annoys me for more reasons then he should. Lastly, something about the ending and the length of the movie had it going for Lord of the Rings status. I suppose I really shouldn't complain, though, because I'm sure this movie could have just as easily been another Hulk or Fantastic 4. It appears as though the 15 year wait for this movie, however, has helped the franchise, and with Spiderman returning next year and Batman the year after that, it seems like there's going to be a consistent 3-year cycle of good, faithful superhero movies.

Superman Returns: 7/10
(wonderful special effects and great entertainment, but still not really my genre) Read entire post...

Japan teen torches house, killing 3, over grades

"It's the SOUND that makes me punch INFANTS!" Read entire post...

So, I was going to update this blog daily with details of my travels around the glorious midwest, however my laptop went out of commission while on the plane. Needless to say, I am heartbroken and downtrodden. I only hope Alice can be fixed soon, because NEOLab (the old desktop) is a big old clunker. With that said, it looks like I'll be doing my trip report in flashback mode.

The aforementioned failure of Alice on the plane marked the beginning of the excitement that could only occur on a trip to our nation's armpit (in case you were wondering, Texas is the nation's groin). You see, I had not yet completed my last paper that was due last Friday by the time my trip got underway, so I planned to finish it on the plane and e-mail it out to my professor. With a dead laptop and no means of finishing (or retrieving) the paper from Alice's hard drive, I went into a panic. Fortunately, the Chicago Marriott I was staying at had a "business center" with Microsoft Word and internet access, so I spent the latter half of Thursday and early morning Friday re-writing and turning in my paper. This was further complicated by the fact that, for the first time in years, I received the blessing of airsickness. The fun of the airsickness carried over into the rental car, and whilst sitting in beautiful Chicagoan traffic (you think LA is bad? go to Chicago) I had to qwell my desire to hurl.

For whatever reason, the massive "luxury" Chrsyler that had been rented for the trip made me consistently nauseous when riding passenger. This reached its pinnacle about halfway between Chicago and Normal, IL (yeah, the town is called Normal), when my mother was forced to pull over and let my stomach have its way with me and the side of the highway. Anyway, I drove for the remainder of the trip and was just fine.

You may be asking what the hell I was doing in the Midwest. Well, I was visiting baseball stadiums. Starting in Chicago, then moving south to St. Louis, heading back north to Milwaukee, and finishing off again in Chicago. You may think this is crazy. Well it is. I don't advise anyone to ever travel to the Midwest (ok, maybe Chicago) ever, especially if you're and OC type person. The air is hot and humid, and rain falls in sheets. On my way north from St. Louis, I was driving along when all of a sudden rain came down in buckets. I mean BUCKETS. For a time I was literally unable to drive and had to pull over due to the density of the rain. Then, quick as it started, the downpour ceased. It's like God decided to fuck with the minds of all of the hapless people who made the mistake of being born in hickville. I'm sorry, but I'm a California person, and seeing weather like that makes me appreciate my earthquakes. Like hell if I'm going to be on "Tornado Watch." Speaking of earthquakes, whoever the hell designed to highways and roads in Illinois needs to be shot. There's so much gridlock over there that it makes a commute up the 5 at 6 o' clock look like a Sunday drive. It's not like you don't have space to widen shit out there, you're in the freaking plains.

Despite what my complaining may seem like, I did enjoy the trip. Milwaukee was an interesting town with absolutely GORGEOUS chesse. Cheese alone isn't enough for Wisconsin to upset Camarillo as my new favorite place, but I suppose it helps. I'm a sucker for cheese. Also, if you haven't been to the Arch in St. Louis, I highly recommend it. Although the attraction is a tourist trap, which I usually hate, anyone who has the balls to ride in a Mercury-sized capsule for 5 minutes (it took less time to go up the elevator in the much-higher Sears Tower) only to be trapped in a small walkway with a few tiny windows to look out of and not go completely insane is a hero in my book. Speaking of the Sears Tower, that's kinda cool too, but the Malaysians beat it in height by a few feet several years ago so it's not the tallest structure anymore. And I suppose the baseball stadiums were nice too.

Seacrest out. Read entire post...

I was digging around on my computer today and discovered a treasure trove of old documents from my Junior High and High School days. Anyway, in ninth grade I had to take Health class, and as part of the class everyone had to take care of a "baby" (a bag of rice) for a few weeks and do all sorts of stuff along with it. Amongst the files for the baby project I found the following gem that was an apparent writing assignment. It is written verbatim as it was originally.

"Dear friend:

Are you really planning to get married? You are only 15 years old! Don't you think that you are a little YOUNG for that? Getting married and having children is a big responsibility for anyone. I do not think that you are ready for the burden of caring for a child. Wait until you are at least 20 years old or until you complete college. Now is the wrong time. I wish you would reconsider this decision for the good of us all.

Sincerely,
NICK OCHOA"

I urge anyone who is considering marriage to read this plea from 15 year old me and say no to matrimony. Please, it's for the good of us all. Read entire post...

Because of all the anti-abortionist people protesting with their giant signs displaying the images of unborn, aborted fetuses on campus, this gem of a column I wrote for UCSB's paper, The Daily Nexus, went unpublished. Why? Well, if you're the Opinion Editor, what would you rather print, a column that dicusses the impact of the protestors or a column on how crappy local TV is? Nevertheless, I can still post my column here.

--
"As a loyal resident of Santa Barbara County for the past two years, I have learned to put up with a wide array of unique situations and occurrences. For instance, there will always be a steady stream of noise coming from Isla Vista on weekends. There are always going to be annoying tourists parading down State Street, with their bags of souvenirs and over-priced clothing, taking up valuable sidewalk space. The weather will always be about ten degrees cooler than in nearby sunny Los Angeles. The lagoon is always going to smell like a dinosaur shit and died in it. And you know what? That’s all fine and dandy. I can put up with such trite problems. There is, however, one thing that I cannot even begin to pretend to comprehend: the utterly horrible local television commercials.

"Unless you live under a rock or consider yourself too 'indie' to watch television, there’s no doubt that you’ve seen the utter crap that passes for commercials here in partly cloudy Santa Barbara. Let’s say you’re sitting down with your popcorn and beer getting ready to watch your favorite characters from The OC bitch about how shitty their rich, high school lives are, when suddenly, the local commercial block comes on. First there’s the dentist who, despite talking in a monotonous, serial-killer-esque voice, wants you to come into his office so he can look at your precious, valuable teeth. Next comes an ad for the Chicken Ranch, built on the one-joke premise of actors being dubbed over by ridiculous sounding voices telling the interviewer that they all love the Chicken Ranch. Let’s get one thing straight, Chicken Ranch; if you want me to come to your poultry parlor, you’ve got to dupe me better than that. Just when you think that commercials are over, up pops an ad for our esteemed newspaper, The Santa Barbara News-Press. I’m sorry, but do you think watching a guy make an ass out of himself by falling off a bike in front of his stereotypically suave boss is going to make me want to read your paper? And don’t even get me started on that damn metal detector.

"I’m all for advertising, that’s not my problem. My problem is that if I’m going to take a break from watching Kate and Jack deal with sexual tension in The Hatch (that’s a LOST reference for all of you non-followers out there), I’m going to want to be entertained. After the commercial, I want to be able to want to buy the product, vote for the candidate, or obtain goods and services at the location that I just wasted thirty seconds of my life watching an ad for. I don’t want to think about punching the 14 year-old kid who received a $5 gift certificate to McDonald’s and a case of Ritalin in exchange for being behind the camera for his or her father’s used car lot advertisement.

"It can’t be that hard to come over to UCSB or SBCC and find someone who’ll make a good commercial that doesn’t look like it was made by someone who 'filmed a matrimony one time in the 70s.' And while you’re at it, drop by our Dramatic Arts Department and pick up some actors. The people who 'act' in those commercials really need to stick to their day jobs. If acting is their day job, then they need to stop acting and start flipping patties at In N’ Out. Basically what I’m trying to say is that you need to get on the ball, businesses of Santa Barbara, because if you want me to buy your stuff, then gosh damn it, I want to feel like I just sat through The Godfather, not your six-year old’s first fencing match."
Read entire post...

As some of you who know me know, I have many adventures when I travel between point A and point B. A great many of those adventures deal with my frequent excursions between Santa Barbara and Orange County, my old stomping grounds. Let's just say that today, I had the adventure to end all adventures. Except maybe that time where my train was delayed for 2 hours because of a bomb threat. And the time it took my 5 and half hours to get home on a Wednesday. But...it still ranks pretty hight up there.

So this adventure started as any other Sunday commute back to Santa Barbara. After spending the day with my good friend Julia, I embarked on a series of freeways to eventually lead my back to the inevitable 101. It was on the 101 just out of LA, however, when I realized that...something was different. Something was...amiss, if you will. Indeed, as I entered Calabasas, I developed a hunger for something that I do not normally hunger for. I developed the hunger for TACO BELL.

If you've never had a beef and potato burrito from Taco Bell, you don't know what you're missing. Having one of those burritos, with their majestic blend of spices and processed meat and vegetable products, is like spending 5 minutes in clogged artery heaven. It was this burrito that I suddenly had a craving for. I resolved to stop at the first Taco Bell that I came across and order a pair of the delictable concoctions. Unfortunately for me, finding a Taco Bell off the 101 past Los Angeles is like finding a gay black Republican in Massachusetts. As I drove into Ventura county, I knew my chances were becoming slim. Would I really have to wait until I got to Santa Barbara, where there are an abundance of Taco Bells, in order to have my fill? Why were there so many McDonald's and Jack-in-the-Boxes? I decided to try my luck at a random exit. Gas, food, lodging. Surely there would have to be a Taco Bell at one exit.

My first attempt was rendered useless. I found, indeed, a Del Taco, but it was not Dan the Del Taco man that I yearned for on this cloudy evening. As I wandered through Thousand Oaks, my mind began to wander. What if there was no Taco Bell to be found? What if I had to settle for a Jumbo Jack or a...dare I think of it...Big Mac? No. I would not let that happen. And yet, as I got deeper and deeper into Ventura County, there was one thing that I knew for sure. Time was running out. I got off for the third time in a city I had heard little about: Camarillo. Being from the city, I had already formed impressions of the rural villages that lay on the outskirts of Los Angeles. Little did I know that this fine hamlet had in store for me. As I exited the freeway at Lewis Road, I discovered a quaint road that ran parallel to the highway. "What luck!" I thought to myself. Surely I would be able to find a Taco Bell along this corridor of businesses. As I turned the corner, I discovered a Jack-in-the-Box and a Wendy's. Undanunted, I continued along. Unfortunately, the word got narrower and less business-like. Shear horror came over me, the kind of horror that could only be felt by a prostitute in church. Panicking, I knew that the next corner I turned might be my last before I was forced to get back on the 101. The DAMNED 101, with it's lack of food chains visible from its lanes. Turning the last corner, however, I discovered the holy grail of my quest: The finest Taco Bell ever to grace my eyes.

And just then, it started to rain. And I started to cry. And that is why this quaint village of Camarillo is my new favorite place. Ever. Thank you, wise city planners and Camarilloans, for building a Taco Bell at such an opportune location. Read entire post...

The following appeared on my Xanga blog on January 26, 2005. I promise I'll post something current in a day or so, I've been bogged down with midterms. Until then, enjoy this classic.


These are Uggs. It is the latest fashion craze and can be seen everywhere in any type of weather. The most popular article of clothing that these boots are worn worth is, incidentally, a mini skirt, which of course makes perfect sense to be worn with boots. The result has created a rapid demand for this high priced commodity and has sparked many debates on the logic and sexiness (or lack thereof) of said boot/skirt combination. For those of us who simply can't see the logic and/or sexiness in the short-lived phenomenon, I have decided to create a little game to occupy your time. I call it... THE UGG GAME.

Here's how it works. First, you have to play with a friend. It helps to have a piece of paper and a pen. Next, walk around in a heavily populated area. For those of you at college, this will be easy, as there are plenty of people around. For every pair of Uggs you see, shout out "UGGS!" Whoever shouts first gets the points. Point breakdowns are described below. Simply whispering the word doesn't count, it must be audible. Play for as long or as short as you want, the person with the most points at the end of the playing period wins.

POINT BREAKDOWN:
Hidden Uggs (Uggs under pants): 1 point
Normal Uggs: 2 points
Fancy Uggs (you know, with the frills and dangely stuff): 3 points
Mobile Uggs (Uggs that are on a bike or skateboard or something): 4 points
MAN Uggs (Muggs): 10 points
Baby Uggs (Uggs on a baby): 10 points

COMBOS (Normal Uggs only):
Uggs and miniskirt: 3 points
Uggs and miniskirt on a REALLY cold day: 5 points
Uggs, miniskirt, tight sweater, blonde hair, and those huge sunglasses (must have ALL): 10 points
TWO of the previous combo walking together: 15 points
Yahtzee: 50 points

That's it, happy hunting! Read entire post...