Attack! Of The Ampersands

First.  I have to give a huge shout out to my hometown: Philadelphia.  We did it baby!!!  2008 WORLD SERIES CHAMPIONS!!  After twenty-eight years without a World Series win, and twenty-five years without any sort of title in any sport, the Philadelphia Phillies beat the Tampa (Devil) Rays in five games to take home the Commissioner’s Trophy. 

It’s a moment I will remember for the rest of my life.  I was (unfortunately) stuck in traffic on the 10 freeway trying to get off an exit to find a bar to watch the end of the game.  When the last pitch was thrown, I went ape shit in my car.  People around me changed lanes to get away from the commotion I was making in The Blue Flash: screaming out of open windows and blaring the horn.  The whole idea of the win didn’t hit me totally until the next day when I got to work and began looking through photos on Philly.com, to which, and I’m not afraid to say it, I began to cry.  If there was ever a time I missed being home, it was right then.  A moment suspended in time.  I received many text messages and photo messages the following Friday from the parade down Broad St. honoring our new heroes. It’s truly an amazing moment and probably one of the proudest of my life. 

Okay, I’m done being gushy.

Go see Zack & Miri Make a Porno.  The new Kevin Smith uber-comedy is another great piece of film from the legendary Jersey boy.  For those who don’t know, the story follows two below poverty-stricken friends Zack and Miri who are so broke they decide to get a group of friends together and make a little home made filth.  I don’t want to give too much away, but there is a moment in this movie, which is probably the grossest I’ve seen in a long time, but it’s also one of the funniest I’ve seen in a very long time.  I haven’t laughed that hard at a single joke in years.  The dialogue is true KS; completely juvenile, but laced with so many smart references, it makes you wonder how you can be laughing at a dick joke that alludes to an 18^th century philosopher. 

Saturday night I went to see She & Him at the Wiltern.  “She” is actress Zooey Deschanel (who is my number one) and “Him” is legendary guitarist M. Ward.  My friend Kathleen went along for the ride since I had an extra ticket.  Zooey has such a distinctive and amazing voice.  It’s not an out of this world, kill-your-kids-to-hear-her-sing voice, but it has this weird little… I can’t really put my finger on exactly what it is, but it’s definitely unique.  And very beautiful.  And M. Ward, well he’s M. Ward.  They played a killer set, I got to hear all of my favorite songs by the duo (and their backing band), and I fell in love with Zooey all over again.  I wonder if she’s single?

In case you’ve been in a coma for the last week, Tuesday was Election Day.  And finally after a long hard battle, Barack Obama & Joe Biden beat John McCain and his dumb bitch of a VP candidate Sarah Palin (pronounce paul-in b/c she doesn’t deserve to have her name said correctly) 364-163 in electoral college votes to capture the presidential victory.  I’m really excited for his term to start.  After the last eight years of complete hate and distaste and misery for our government and it’s leader(s), I’m finally excited and proud to call myself an Amerikan again.  Hopefully Obama can live up to all expectations.  Sadly, like any politician, he is going to have many people who are dipping their hands in his pot, and he’ll have to compromise one thing or another, but I feel for the most part, he will stick to his beliefs and help resurrect our country not only in face globally, but also internally (i.e. economically, etc.). 

And now onto the biggest ampersand of them all: Coheed & Cambria.  This week, The Avalon in Hollywood was hosting Coheed & Cambria’s Neverender phenomenon.  CO&CA is a progressive rock band from New York who bases their music and albums around telling one central story.  Each album from start to finish tells a different chapter of the larger tale. 

The Neverender is a four-night concert event.  Each night, Coheed will play, in order, one album, from start to finish, in it’s entirety.  I’ve been waiting for this show for about five months.  I had tickets to nights one and two. 

Night one was The Second Stage Turbine Blade.  I really want to give you the details, but the story is so involved, and you probably won’t understand it.  It’s a really great sci-fi story which I so complex, I can’t fathom how singer Claudio Sanchez conceived it.  It was an amazing, once in a lifetime show.  I got to hear songs I haven’t heard play since I first saw Coheed six years ago back when I was in college and first discovered them.  Songs like “Junesong Provision” and “Devil In Jersey City” sounded so amazing.  What’s crazy about the whole thing if you think about it is I’m sure when a band tours, they practice the songs they are playing on that tour and that’s it.  Coheed & Cambria had to practice and know every song in their catalogue. 

Night two was In Keeping Secrets Of Silent Earth: 3.  I didn’t make it.  My favorite album by one of my favorite bands.  The title track in fact, I believe, is one of the most perfect songs ever written, and I missed it.  “Al The Killer.”  Missed it.  “A Favor House Atlantic.”  Missed it.  “Three Evils.”  Missed it.  Fuck you.

The reason:

Due to Proposition 8 not passing in California, there was a huge protest down Santa Monica Blvd. during rush hour, so I became trapped on the west side.  In fact, the traffic was so bad, I was trapped at MTV because so many cars were stopped outside I couldn’t pull my car out of the lot.  It was a literal parking lot outside.  I couldn’t even drive home to Venice, six miles away.  After the first hour of seclusion, Sharham and I decided to walk down to Ralph’s and buy food and booze to keep us nourished at the office while we waited to leave. 

Now, I am in complete support of gay rights.  It’s totally stupid to pass a law disallowing a group of people from getting married if they want to.  But do they really have to protest during rush hour in Los Angeles.  The news was interviewing protesters who were getting beat up while marching and couldn’t understand it.  Look asshole: gay, straight, bi, tri, whatever.  If you were walking down the street, and I got stuck in traffic for four hours, I would probably get the fuck out of my car and punch you too. 

I am going to post part of my friend Pascual Murderface’s blog on the subject below.  He stated it best:

We actually made a state constitutional AMENDMENT saying marriage is between a man and a woman.  Since when is the constitution to be used for anything other than PROTECTING RIGHTS AND GRANTING FREEDOMS??  When did we decide it was ok to say what we're NOT allowed to do as citizens??  Show me one amendment in any constitution where it LIMITS freedoms rather than details our RIGHTS!

I'd like to hear a single, solid argument against gay marriage.  And stop using religion or tradition.  That's a personal thing.  The fact that I say fuck, shit, ass, twat, balls, cock, and motherfucker is pretty offensive to some people too, but they can't make me a second-class citizen for saying that stuff.

Mandated discrimination is deplorable and I sincerely hope all of you end up with gay children just to see how painful it is to see people you care about losing their legal rights and privileges.

~~~~~~~

I'll keep reminding you, if you want to use the sanctity and tradition argument, it's not gonna work til you agree that we should ban atheist, agnostic, buddhist, hindu, sikh, pagan, wiccan, disabled, impotent, safe-sex, etc marriages.  Those all soil the sanctity and go against the tradition of the judeo marriage concept.

Nicely put my friend.

I think that about covered the last week or so of my life.  Zack & Miri.  She & Him.  Obama & Biden.  Coheed & Cambria.  Prop 8.

Have a great weekend everyone.  I know I will.  RAD GIRL premiere weekend.  Everyone’s in town and we’re all going to get crunked.

Blood hungry, cannibalistic unfit family ties…

 

MD 20/20

I was at the Whaler last weekend.  Big surprise.  I know.  There was a very interesting gentleman who sat down next to my drinking partner Colby at the bar on this rather ordinary Sunday.  His name was Mad Dog.  Obviously it wasn’t his real name.  He worse cargo shorts, flip-flops, a Hawaiian shirt, and a red skull earring dangled from his left ear.  He had to have been local surfer dude back in the 70s.  He was with a woman who I am assuming was his new main-squeeze because they got into a little tiff about the women he used to date.  (Apparently she wanted to know about his old squeezes.) 

He ordered a drink which I can only assume he invented, appropriately titled a “Mad Dog.”  It was comprised of Jameson and milk.  Shaken, not stirred.  Not sure about you, but milk and alcohol doesn’t really seem to want to hang out in my stomach together, but this guy took like four of them right to the dome.

Anyway.  What struck me about this guy, and what sparked this posting, was his skull earring.  He had to be in his sixties, and he was still rocking it old school.  I love his commitment to style.  Neither age nor changing fashion would stop this man from killing it in his favorite stylee. 

The question I asked myself was (which many of you can presume): What will I be like when I get older? 

Can you imagine it?  Say I’m fifty-five years old.  Obviously I will still have any and all tattoos I decide to get plus the art I currently have.  But what about my earrings?  What if I decide to stretch them more? 

Imagine I’m still sitting at the Whaler, big holes in my ears, rocking cut off shorts, a tank top, nipples pierced, listening to loud and fast music, cruising around Venice on my bike on any one of the gorgeous Sunday afternoons which arrives during that decade of my life.  My local Venice compatriots still yelling “Mallick” as I enter, as if I was Norm arriving at Cheers just in time to have a cold Stella slide across the bar to quench my afternoon thirst.

Imagine my friends there with me.  Will Pascual still go by Murderface?  Will J-mar still be J-mar?  Or will he make all his contemporaries call him Jason?  What nicknames will come and go with the years?      

It’s very strange to look that far into the future and wonder where we will all be and who we’ll be friends with and who will be married and who will leave town for families or whatever. 

Whatever is about to happen, I’m not too worried.  Life right now can’t really get much better.  It’s another B-E-A-UTIFUL weekend in Venice.  The Phillies are playing in Game 3 of the World Serious, in Philadelphia.  (A little rain delay pushed the game back a few hours, but what can you do?)  It’s Mike C’s and Johnny’s last weekend in Venice before they head back to NYC to complete this season of Flight Of The Conchords, so we’re gonna hop some bars, grabs some beers.

I leave you with one simple thought:

GO PHILLIES!!!!

It’s like we never knew each other at all…

I've Said It Before...

…and I’ll say it again.  I hate hippies.

All I wanted was a sandwich. Just one sandwich.  It was late Thursday night.  I had just finished at the gym and wanted to hit up the Subway near Windward.  As I was locking my bike up out front, I watched as three high school aged, baggy pants, shaggy haired, Birkenstock wearing, male hippies wandered into the shop ahead of me.  I could tell as they passed me they were high.  Damnit. 

Inside, they proceeded to take their jolly-ass old time ordering.  Whispering to the gentleman trying to get their food together, it took them a good ten minutes before the decided what they wanted.  They couldn’t grasp the concept placing an order.  Verbs eluded them.  These three degenerate hippies-in-training talked amongst themselves in between each condiment and vegetable added to their sandwich.  It was painful. 

After ten minutes, finally, it came my turn to order.  It was a very simple request: Italian BMT, 6-inch wheat roll.  As I was sitting there, bullshitting with the man behind the counter, a full-grown hippie couple, both equipped with dreadlocks, walked into the shop.  The female yells out, “We’re just getting fucking water!”  No one prodded her, she just yelled.  One of the employees orders her leave immediately.  The woman yells something about “The Man” and reassures everyone in the Subway her and her man are just getting water.  The guy behind the counter tells me the couple often comes in and steals soda, and once came in to order a sandwich.  When it came time to pay, the guy said he had no money and tried to reach over the counter and steal the sandwich.  When he failed at his attempt to de-sandwich the ‘Way, he yelled profanities and shit about the Subway employees being instruments of The Man.  Yeh, b/c these two Hispanic guys working at eleven at night are single handedly holding these dirty, lazy ass mothers back from accomplishing all their life’s goals.  GET A JOB YOU DIRTY HIPPIES!!

Anyway, as the three pre-pubescent retards are discussing if they are going to eat-in or take-out, a young gentleman (see asshole) comes in looking for the bathroom.  He is instructed there is no public bathroom; read the sign in the window.  The dude then asks, “Well what about the bathroom you use?”  “That’s for employees only, and you don’t work here.”  Well, apparently that wasn’t what this little stoner fuck wanted to hear.  He proceeded to call both employees pussies and knock over a rack of chips on his way out.  Not to be defiled, I watched one awesome move.  One of the Subway guys picked up a whole avocado and whipped it as hard as he could at the back of the kid’s head.  It missed him by a pin’s width and clipped the side of the door as the little bastard ran out. 

The juvenile potheads finally paid for their food, making it my turn to pay for my sammy and get home for The Daily Show.  I step up to the register, and my sandwich is gone.  One of the little bastards took my sandwich.  At this point I am so annoyed, I’m blatantly talking to the guy behind me about how much I hate stoner hippies and how stupid they are, knowing this little pricks can full on hear me.  I inform the kid he took my sandwich, but he assures me that it was the one he watched get wrapped up.  He can’t focus on the lettuce being put on his sandwich, but he swears on a bible he picked up the right sandwich.  I ask him two more times to check and give me the sandwich back.  I point out there are four sandwiches on their table and only three of them, so they must have my food.  The give me what I presume is my sandwich back.  The Subway guy apologizes and I tell him not to worry about it; it’s not his fault lazy prick-hippies come into his store and treat him like crap.  I pay, and leave. 

Upon arrival back at The Hotel, I open my sandwich only to realize the little stoner gave me the wrong sandwich.  The damn kid was so high, he opened the wrapping of the sandwiches, checked them, and then still proceeded to give me the wrong sammy.  How high do you have to be to forget what you ordered thirty seconds after you sat down? 

Five dollars down the shitter.  Now I wish I wasn’t taking a month off of drinking.  If dealing with stupid hippies doesn’t make you want to pound a beer, I don’t know what does. 

To close, I feel bad that member of Dave Matthews Band who died.  My prayers go out to his friends, family, and band mates.  But maybe, just maybe, they’ll stop making music now, and these stupid jam band following, flower dress wearing, pot smoking, white-man hating, drum circle bongo playing, crown made of vines wearing, “I will work for marijuana” sign holding HIPPIES will go away.  Do something with your lives and stop complaining. 

Welcome to paradise…

Illadelph Stopover

I am currently watching The Sound of Animals Fighting live DVD “We Must Become The Change We Want To See.”  This super group has only played four live shows ever in their existence, and luckily, their final performance in Los Angeles was documented for historical reference.  The Skunk even proclaims, “You are the last people who see this forever.”  So far it’s pretty amazing.  Like watching the second coming of Jesus or something.  (And it also cements the fact The Skunk is the probably the greatest frontman of all time… The Ram kills it pretty hard too.)

Last weekend I made an unannounced trip back to my favorite city in the country, Philadelphia.  The only people who knew I was returning were my parents, my sister, Janine (Rin’s roommate shhh) and my buddy Todd.  My original plan was to document the whole trip on camera so I could make a nice little video about the whole extravaganza, plus I could give you people a nice visual instead of just having words for you to read.

I landed in Philly Friday around 4 PM where my good friend Caitlin picked me up at the airport.  Driving in pouring down rain and rush hour traffic, it took us about an hour to get from the airport to my sister’s new place in Manayunk.  Steph had dinner waiting; her roommate Colleen and her had ordered from a little Italian joint near their house and a spicy chicken wrap waited for me.

From there, we all got ready for the big shebang.  See the main reason for me coming home, besides to see my family, and besides the fact I haven’t been close to Philly since Xmas 2007, was a party Todd was throwing.  Back in July, during a phone conversation I had with Todd while I was at the Whaler, we decided Todd would throw a party and I would come home and surprise everyone.  Caitlin met us at my sisters, and she drove Steph, her boyfriend Joe, and myself to the party. 

I got everyone though.  I got them good.  Todd told Jamie, his wife, but that’s all who knew.  Oh, and Josh found out b/c Todd is an idiot and let it slip when Josh said he was bringing a case of Yuengling (“Perfect, Mallick will love that… uh wait.” Dumbass.  He hadn’t even started drinking yet.  Everyone was there though.  CW and his fiancé Alair, Josh, Todd, Jamie, Bill and Marie, Todd’s buddy Jesse from home and his girlfriend, Ben and his wife Kelley from Harrisburg, Josh Young from Bethlehem, and of course our tribe.  We all proceeded to get drunk on Yuengling and Maker’s Mark.  We all caught up, played beer pong, and made fun of Bill’s lack of work out commitment until about midnight before all the little kiddies started to fall. 

Caitlin drove the four original horsemen back to Steph’s where Steph and Joe went to bed and Caitlin and I stayed up until about 2:00 AM catching up on life. 

The Sound of Animals Fighting DVD is still pretty amazing.

The next morning I met up with Caitlin, her boyfriend Mike (who I am meeting for the first time??), Janine, and her boyfriend (lame).  We went to the Manayunk Diner and I do highly recommend if you are ever in the area, and looking for good diner food with great service, go somewhere else.  Seriously.  We should have gone to Famous Ray’s.  At least there you can get a milkshake with your breakfast.  We must have waited for an hour for our food, the waitress forgot to put in Caitlin’s order, or messed it up or something.  It was so terribly lame.  The food was decent, but not good enough to make up for the lack of professionalism at this place.  It put a few of the people there in foul moods, which sucked.  All in all though, it was good to see them.  Didn’t get to talk to Janine too much b/c her boyfriend kept leaning in like he was trying to prove to everyone he had a girlfriend and she was allll his.  Douche.  Mike was a pretty good guy; I feel like I met him before though.  He used to work at Iron Hill in West Chester, so I have a weird feeling I met him back in the Viva days. 

Not that it’s any kind of rebellious move, but I made it a point to stick like three RAD GIRLS stickers and two of Devon’s photo stickers on the glass windows of the Diner.  They can suck it.  (Those stickers can also be found all over Manayunk, North Philly, and Roxborough currently.)

Saturday afternoon I spent with my parents.  We first took a trip down memory lane and went back to visit La Salle, where both my dad and I went.  We bought like five hundred dollars worth of swag at the bookstore, walked the campus, and even got a chance to meet up with one of my old Comm. professors Brother Gerry whom I keep in touch with still on a semi-normal basis.  So much has changed on the campus since I’ve went there, let alone since my dad did.  They are building a new science center.  They added quad-dorms on the south campus, along with a second dining hall.  Part of 20^th Street was closed and made into a walkway for the students.  La Salle purchased part of Germantown Hospital for their nursing department, and a bridge over Wister is being built linking the two parts of campus.  The groundwork for the new grocery store has also taken place.  Crazy.  It’s like a real college now. HA!

For dinner, we walked the length of Manayunk.  It was good to see Main Street.  We made our way down to Kildares where we had a traditional Irish dinner since all of the Irish meals were on sale.  Unbeknownst to us it was exactly halfway to St. Patty’s Day.  Awesome.  The food was great, and it was good to see my parents.  I saw my dad two weeks prior, and my sister two weeks before that, but hadn’t seen my mom since Xmas. 

Saturday night I took it easy and met Todd, CW, Jamie, and Alair for a beer at Castle Roxx, which is a block from my sisters. After, I drove up to my old apartment at Summit Park and met with Kyle, since he missed the big party.  Not knowing I was in town, he went back to Pottsville for the night to visit his parents.  We hung out at the old place until about 4:00 AM (damn).

Sunday I woke up.  Steph made me breakfast.  Then I began packing.  I news-papered up two cases of Yuengling and stuffed five boxes of Tasty Kakes into my carry on for the trip back to the Left Coast.  I was like a drug mule for Pennsylvania goods.  The only reason I didn’t have soft pretzels is b/c they were cash only at the airport and I didn’t have any on me.

Other than the pretzels, the trip was a complete success.  Although, I never really got any footage of the party.  We all got too drunk and I forgot to film anything.  I haven’t gone through footage yet, so maybe there is something salvageable.  We will see.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Other news: 

My good friend Andrea Wasse (again) is getting huge.  Her song “Cold Feet” appeared on the CW show Privileged last week; she even had a bumper at the end with the voiceover saying her name.  She is currently writing with this guy Hunter from some band called AFI.  Her new EP Barflies and Lullabies will be out soon and I promise to buy everyone copies.  I’ve heard most of the songs and they sound fantastic.

There is a good chance Devon will be on the new season of Survivor.  She is going into the casting session on Monday.  (The woman in charge of casting is a friend of hers from Syracuse.)  Let’s keep our fingers crossed for her!

Going to see Pascual Murderface play tonight with his new band Groamville.  8:45 in Van Nuys.  If you read this, and want to go, gimme a call and I’ll tell you where and how much.

I’m re-watching the DVD now.  It’s that amazing.

We’re hanging from our ankles…

This Is The Song That Doesn't End

It’s been a while folks.  I know.  I’ve a good excuse don’t worry.  And a lot of good stories too. In fact, this post may take a few days for me to actually write (which of course in turn will probably lead to some more stories).

To begin, just so you all know why I’ve been MIA; I’ve been producing the new season of RAD GIRLS.  Segment Producing to be exact.  We began prepping back in late June in our cute little production office aka J-mar’s house.  We discussed skits, amped them up, re-wrote some, cut some out, pushed some aside for later, and had a lot fun imagining what the next few weeks were gonna be like putting all of these crazy ideas on HD camera.  J-mar, Clementine, Munchie, Ramona Cash, and I put together an ideal, precise schedule, which would not only work in perfect harmony with our locations, but also keep the creative juices at their boiling points.  This plan of attack would eventually be thrown right out the window, right along with my sanity. 

Our entire central crew was seven people: the three girls, J-mar, Chris aka Kwissy Avalon, and Benji, aka, Benji, and me.   Benji and Kwiss were our camera guys, but just as much a huge part of the creative process as any of us.  What made me so insane was that I was production.  Me.  I called and locked locations, got the permits, did the schedule, redid the schedule, threw out the schedule, got all of the releases, purchased and dealt with the props… um… yeh, anything I’m missing?  Basically what I’m trying to tell you is I did everything.  And worried about everything.  Benji has like twenty minutes of footage of me from on-set looking around with a worried look on my face, like a deer who just heard a branch break in the woods. 

The first stop on our trip was Santa Cruz.  Now, I don’t want to really give away any huge spoilers on the show.  You can get little hints by the photos I have posted on the Rad Girls website (I’m getting production photographer credit on the show as well).  I had never been to Santa Cruz before this, but let me tell you, it’s a pretty beautiful little town.  It’s not a place you pass on the highway; you actually have to make it a point to go “over the hill” to find it.  There are no chains there of any kind, so no fast food, no Starbucks, no nothing.  All good food, all the time.  I might even try to convince my parents to go up there to watch the Tour of California this year.  I know I am definitely going to have to make more trips up there to visit my friends, but also to enjoy this quiet little oasis.

To make us feel more at home, Benji was nice enough to let us guys crash at his house, which also happens to be the lodging for Dirty Penny, a modern day 80’s hair band.  Great guys; they usually stay at The Hotel when they come to play in LA.  They were out on tour across the country, so there was plenty of available beds.  What Benji failed to tell us was that while Dirty Penny was out touring the country, their merchandise guy, Crazy Kyle, and his 17-year old girlfriend, Dom, were keeping up the house, or rather not keeping up the house. 

I’m not a clean freak by any means, but it was like a flophouse in there.  Benji even didn’t stay there anymore, but rather opted to crash out over at his amazing girlfriend Lindsay’s place across the street (lucky guy).  I didn’t walk around barefoot once.  The kitchen was the worst.  Kyle and Dom would cook pasta for dinner, and then leave the dirty dishes, with leftover food in them, on the stove for days.  Fucking gross.  Dom didn’t clean the bathroom until the day before we left.  J-mar stayed in Benji’s room, which was exponentially cleaner than any other room in the house.  Chris and I stayed in DP’s room.  Three of the band mates lived together in the same room.  That room wasn’t so bad, it was a little rank from stale clothes and stagnant air being locked in there for the prior three months while the rockers had been away.  But it was home, and by Tuesday I was sitting on couches without covering them in plastic first.  And honestly, it added a little extra spice to the trip. 

All in all Santa Cruz was a great time, beautiful beaches, beautiful women, and beautiful bars.  I found my local spot for when I go to visit: The Bay Bar.  Munchie used to work there before she left for Rad Girls.  The owners Matt and Raylene were awesome, so awesome they let us take over for a night and film some stuntmen there (if you don’t know, you’re better off).  Also, the bartender James and I apparently share the same iPod. We spent a couple glorious nights down in Capitola (the little town near Santa Cruz where the Bay Bar is located) discussing the finer points of Thursday’s greatness and why Silverstein is always worth going to see in concert.

Next stop was Florida.  The guys were lucky enough to get the long straw this time and stayed in Clementine’s parents’ condo in Fort Pierce, Florida.  The Girls’ stayed in her parents sport yacht (wait, did we win or lose this fight?).  We spent ten days traveling up and down the coast of Florida from Fort Pierce, to Clementine’s hometown of Okeechobee, to Jacksonville, to the gorgeous shores of West Palm Beach.  Our good friend, and now fellow Rad Girl Jenny Jen Pants came and joined us for most of the Florida excursion. 

The highlight of my trip to Florida (or possibly the worst experience of my life, you can decide after reading this) was probably how Team Rad helped me celebrate my birthday.  The culmination of my birthday season (it begins on July 4^th) usually ends twenty days later on the 24^th, but thanks to Benji, J-mar and Chris, my birthday solstice began a day early and lasted for three whole days. 

Night one began with the guys and I drinking a case of Yuengling (the greatest beer on the planet) while hanging out with our good friend Jack Daniels.  Near the end of our bottle of Jack, I decided it was time for me to get some sleep because I had it in my head I was going to get up early and go running with Munchie.  However, the rest of the guys had other plans.  I don’t remember much except sheets being ripped off me and being beaten incessantly with pillows, including a few choice shots to the nuts.  This lasted from about 3:00 AM to 5:00 AM. Awesome.

The next morning, on my actual birthday, hung over as shit, I get packed and get the male squad down to the van on time, but the girls were running late.  So, to pass the time, Benji suggested we go have a “birthday beer.”  We head back up to the condo and Benji passes the lone Yueng-dog to myself, while he and Kwiss take Heinie’s.  J-mar turns one down b/c his stomach is upset.  Understandable.  Benji rolls camera on me I assume for DVD material of their Segment Producer’s birthday morning.  We “cheers” and I take a huge swig of my beer, and it doesn’t taste right.   Right off the bat I figure they’re fucking with me.  I guessed they put laxatives in my beer and I would have mud butt all day.  I refuse to drink another drop until they tell me the deal.  Benji agrees they were screwing with me; they allegedly put some left over Jack in my beer to try to have me fuct up for most of my birthday.  I am warily convinced to take another belt.  I do, and determined to guess what is wrong with my favorite beer (b/c trust me, I know what Yuengling tastes like) I swish the second massive gulp around in my mouth like a mouthful of Scope before a hot date.  I swallow and say aloud, “This definitely isn’t Yuengling” to which Benji replies, ”Yeh, that’s because it’s my pee!”  Awesome, again.

And it’s all on camera.

The best part was that after being wasted, and being beaten all night, drinking my friend’s urine the next morning, I get stuck driving to Okeechobee while the rest of the guys sleep.  Thanks team.

The night of my birthday I got a little relief.  After a nice dinner and amazing hospitality from Todd and Tina (Clementine’s parents), I am surprised with a Princess Party Cake from the Rad Girls.  This actually is pretty awesome.  Decorated with My Little Ponies and Barbie’s, with “Happy Birfday Mallick (GAY)” written across it, it was one of the funniest, and best, birthday cakes I have ever gotten.  Thanks everyone for a wonderful end to my birthday season.

Wrong. (Wrong meaning it’s not the end, the cake and singing were amazing and so sweet.)

Friday we traveled to Jacksonville to stay with our friends Shaun and Jennie Moss, a totally awesome married couple that is throwing a huge party for our arrival.  Held at a club on the wrong side of the tracks, they booked punk bands, built a wake-boarding pool, had open bar, and hired some amazing artists to take over the place.  Best part was my cousin Danny came down with his new fiancé Alecia came to hang out.  I haven’t seen Danny in a little over three years, and have never met Alecia.  I was hoping they didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.  I still had to work, but I wanted to catch up and make sure they were having a good time.  I wasn’t sure how conservative they were, because you know, we’re not so much.  The night was great, we had fun, had some beers, and save from somebody pulling a gun on someone else outside during a major battle royale, and us having to run out the back, it was pretty memorable.  Oh yeh, I almost forgot.  I was given one last gift from out friends Shaun and Jennie Moss: Jennie tried to give me a nice, tasteful lap dance, but goddamn Shaun got in the way and tried to lay his sack on my face.  Awesome, three times.

I must say it was probably the best birthday I ever had.  Great friends, great trip, (mostly) great memories.

A few more days were spent filming in Florida before we returned to LA.  A nice four day weekend full of drinking and The Hotel and The Castle and everywhere in between bridged our return from the dirty south and three final days of filming which included guest spots by actor Tiny Liston, porn star Mary Carey, and future (and actually present) boxing phenom, 13-year-old Matthew Vasquez. 

I got a little revenge on Chris on our way back from Florida.  I put a two-foot, double sided dildo in his camera bag.  I wish you coulda seen the looks on the airport personnel’s faces as the behemoth dong went thru the x-ray machine. However, it didn’t even come close to the look on Chris’s face when the security pulled him over to the corner to empty out his camera bag and proceeded to ask him if he packed the bag himself.  Dood.  We got him good.  He had to go back thru security and the x-ray machine.  They pulled everything out of his bag except the dildo b/c honestly I think they were scared to touch it.

Rad Girls was, and still is, easily one of the best experiences of my life.  The seven of us shared some amazing experience, and in our Santa Cruz PA Michelle I met an awesome party girl and in our LA associate producer Pascual Murderface I met another fellow lover of music and good friend.  The vacation that is Rad Girls will never end truly end, but I seriously hope for a third season b/c of all the fun I had.

With all filming done on my part, the Rad Girls off on Warped Tour for ten days, I got a nice little treat when my sister Steph and her boyfriend Joe came to visit for a long six-day weekend.  They landed Thursday morning and after food shopping, we spent the rest of the day at the beach before coming back and BBQing.  Most of the weekend we spent going through my usual routine.  Friday we went to the beach and I did a little surfing then we went down to The Whaler where Devon met my sister for the first time.  Saturday we rented bikes (well, I used mine) and we took a ride up to Pacific Palisades and back.  More beach time also.  Saturday night I took them downtown to meet Brian and Andrea and the rest of the La Cita Crew.  James, who just recently moved to 4^th and Main came and hung out as well.  She was a huge hit.  Sunday while I was getting some work done, my sister and Joe went to the beach and then we went down to The Whaler again for Sunday Funday.  During our evening session, I explained to Joe and Steph the small intricacies that make Cabo Cantina such a shitty bar to enter.  After a few cocktails at my usual watering hole, Joe wanted to see the bar I loathed oh so much.  As bad as the place was, my friend Jennie was working and she hooked it up.  Also, I met Bryan Callen, a stand-up comedian and original member of the Mad TV cast.  Very nice guy.  Monday was spent at the beach, but Monday night was pretty epic:  for my birthday, Joe bought the three of us tickets to go see the Dodgers play the Phillies up at Dodger Stadium.  It was AWESOME!  Dodger stadium is gorgeous and the game was a ton of fun, except for the fact the Phillies lost.  Still, it was a perfect end to a perfect trip.  Sadly, Tuesday morning brought their trip to a close and I had to say my goodbyes.  It was really nice to see my sister; I hadn’t seen her since Xmas and we had a really amazing and relaxing trip.

And then there was one last incredible hurrah with the Rad Girls, they got Chris, Pascual Murderdace, and I VIP tickets to attend the Sad Diego stop on Vans Warped Tour.  All I have to say is: awesome! (I know.  I use that word a lot. Suck it.)  I believe I saw twenty-two bands in like eight hours.  And the best part was with the VIP tickets, we had full reign of the venue.  I watched most of the acts from the comfort of the stage.  That’s right.  On the stage.  And this year there was an old school stage where I watched Fear, T.S.O.L., and the Germs (who I met and got photos with) standing right next to them.  Meeting the Germs was easily one of the most awe-inspiring moments of my life.  They are such a historical act.  And Shane West killed it.  He filled Darby Crash’s shoes well.  It wasn’t the same, but he killed it.  Really nice guy too.  Talked with Pascual and I for a bit after the show as well, and we were kicking ourselves not asking him to go drinking with us.  Damnit.  We filmed a couple of skits too with Rise Against (fuck yeh) and Reel Big Fish (double fuck yeh). Both awesome bands and awesome guys.

The night finished back at the hotel with all of us drinking with GBH’s tour manager.  The band was sleeping in the room next to the Girls.  Unfortunately for them, but fortunately for us, they left their room wide open with the key in the door, so we had an extra room to sleep in, I got us a couple new towels for The Hotel, and Chris ordered a bunch of porn on the bands bill.  (I actually didn’t watch; watching porn with three dudes is just a little weird).  Another great Rad Girls experience.  I don’t think I can go to Warped Tour ever again without a VIP ticket.  I’m so spoiled.

Go see Tropic Thunder.  I’m amazed Ben Stiller directed.  Also, see it alone for the fact, and I support this statement completely: it’s Tom Cruise’s best acting roll ever.  Easily.  No contest.  The casting is amazing; everyone is perfect.  I’ve seen the movie twice.  Besides the three hero movies releases this year, this movie is my favorite of the year.  Save for one little annoyance at the peak of the film, it’s perfect.

Keeping it all in the family, my dad took a two day detour on his way back from a week working in Idaho Falls.  He arrived in town Friday morning, and to accommodate my dad, I took him immediately to his favorite LA hangout:  The Whaler for beers.  He loves relaxing with a few Bloody Mary’s and Fat Tires while overlooking the beach.   We spent Saturday doing the same.  He loves how much Venice reminds him of Shenandoah, the town he grew up in.  How friendly it is, and how everyone knows everybody else.  And how the head sushi chef, my buddy Ed (the 2^nd shift) comes over for a few belts before starting work, then comes back once things are up and running. Both days were capped off with us watching the Phillies play the Dodgers and, spaaaaaanking them into submission.  We swept them four games straight. BONG! 

Friday night was Johnny’s going away party at Fish Co.  He’s leaving for four months to be a camera op on Flight Of The Conchords in New York.  Bastard.  I was excited my dad anted up and join us.  My dad finally met a lot of my friends like J-mar and AJ and Joe M. 

He flew out balls early Sunday morning, but it was great seeing him, if only it was like forty-eight hours, and catch up (since I also haven’t seen him since Xmas).  Good father-son times indeed.

I know it’s been a long one, but I’ve been busy.  Lastly, I want to plug my amazing friend ANDREA WASSE’S show this weekend.

The details are:

Saturday, August 30th,

8pm SHARP

@ Room 5

143 North La Brea Ave.

Los Angeles, 90036

Go see her. You won’t be disappointed.  I’ll be there taking photos.

 

 

 

Yuengling Just Got Better!!!!

AMERICA'S OLDEST BREWERY IS NOW THE 2ND LARGEST

by: Stephanie Lasota

D.G. Yuengling & Son Inc., Pottsville, is headed for the title of second-largest domestically owned brewery in the nation.

Anheuser-Busch has been the No. 1 U.S.-owned brewery since the 1960s, according to Peter V.K. Reid, publisher ofModern Brewery Age magazine in Weston, Conn.

The Belgian-Brazilian brewer InBev is to acquire Anheuser-Busch, the maker of Budweiser, for $52 billion to create the world’s largest beer producer.

The deal, announced July 13 and expected to be completed by year’s end, would end the St. Louis, Mo.-based company’s roughly 150 years of independence as an American brewer and move D.G. Yuengling & Son Inc. — America’s oldest brewery — to the No. 2 domestically owned brewery.

Boston Beer Co. out of Boston — maker of Samuel Adams— would be the No. 1 domestically owned brewery after the deal’s done.

The transaction is subject to the approval of InBev and Anheuser-Busch shareholders and other customary regulatory approvals, according to a press release from the company.

“Anheuser-Busch is an iconic company. They’ve been around for 150 years. A member of the Busch family had always run it even though they didn’t own a majority of the stock,” said Dick Yuengling Jr., president and owner of Yuengling.

“I think it will place Yuengling on a good place in terms of how they represent themselves in the market,” Reid said Tuesday. “They’ve always been the oldest brewery in the U.S. ... and not only are they that, but they’re still family owned.”

Boston Brewing Co. is publicly owned, Reid said.

According to Modern Brewery Age statistics, Boston Beer Co. produced 1,876,000 31-gallon barrels of beer in 2007 in 50 states. D.G. Yuengling & Son produced about 1,700,000 in 11 states.

“In the market that we’re in, we have a much greater market share than that company,” Yuengling said. “But as far as overall statistics go, Budweiser, Miller and Coors still dominate the American brewing industry.”

Miller Brewing Co. was acquired by South African Breweries in May 2002, while Coors Brewing Co. is a division of Molson Coors Brewing Co. The Colorado brewer merged with the Canadian Molson in February 2005.

City Brewing Co. — a domestically owned brewer in LaCrosse, Wis. — produced 2,098,000 31-gallon barrels in 2007; however, Reid said the business may include other contracted beverages in their numbers, like Mike’s Hard Lemonade and Smirnoff Ice. That detail makes Yuengling No. 2 instead of No. 3.

But like other breweries across the nation, the Pottsville company has to contend with the rising cost of grain, a vital ingredient in beer.

“We haven’t cut anything, no, we still make beer the way we used to but we’re in the process of raising prices just like the cereal companies have raised prices and so has every brewery in the U.S.,” Yuengling said. “It’s going through the roof, it’s horrible ... You have the government out there trying to use gas out of corn and all these breweries use corn or barley or wheat ... The saleability of corn because of the sale of ethanol is becoming easier, so farmers are switching.”

The barley, processed to become malt for the beer, is derived mostly from the Midwest. Demand for biofuels are causing a shortage for brewers, Yuengling said.

“Our grain prices have gone up and right now we’re absorbing it ... That’s a fast ticket to extinction when you absorb that,” he said.

Production fell 15 percent in 2006 to 180 million bushels, down from 211.9 million in 2005, mainly due to droughts in Australia and the Midwest and more farmers choosing to grow different crops like corn and soybeans, according to information from the Idaho Barley Commission.

Yuengling said barley price increases may translate to the consumer in a $1.25 increase per case or a $7 to $8 increase per keg or half-barrel.

“In 50 years, I’ve never seen price increases like that, but you can’t absorb it and you compound that with delivery costs, there’s no way you can absorb it,” he said.

Grain prices, which are listed at price per bushel, have been rising at least once a month, he said.

“We try to sell our product at domestic premium prices ... The price structure becomes difficult when grain prices explode,” he said.

The company goes through one railroad car of grain a week — about 170,000 to 210,000 pounds, Yuengling said.

You May Kiss The Bride

Abby is leaving us.  I know.  It’s a sad day.  But, she is moving on to a better place: Oregon.  And following her dream: going to beauty school.  And we’ll all miss her:  I assume.

But don’t worry.  Before she left town we (and I’m including the Hotel Staff and all extended family) threw one helluva going away party for her.  Technically it was a “Going Away Fake Bachelorette Party” for her. 

What we did was this:  Around five PM, I busted my ass to get Abby out of the house.  She was waiting around for Bruno to get done work so Bruno could show Abby her apartment.  (Abby was going to crash there for a week while Bridget was hometown bound in Dirty Jersey.)  I worked every angle.  I tried to convince her to go for beer (“we already have enough”), tried to get her to go to Subway (“but aren’t we having dinner soon), and tried to get to go for a walk on the boardwalk (“okay, I need some new sunglasses”).  Phew!

So I get her out, but not long enough for everyone to show up.  She needs to urinate, and is ready to walk back.  I had to convince her to walk around longer.  She almost killed me b/c I wanted to stay out and look at wooden bears and fish sculptures at this store, which we actually never went in to.  Bridget finally gets done work, and I drop Abby off there to check things out, while I go back and get ready for the big unveiling.  Everyone was ready to rock:  GT and Jen, Adam F., DarrOn, Jade, and J-mar. 

Abby entered the Hotel minutes later, and knew right away people were there.  Everyone proceeded to reveal themselves, while we set Abby up for the surprises to come.  We sat her down in a chair and handed her the first gift: a veil, of course.  It was her bachelorette party after all.  Next was the big one.  Johnny gave Abby strict rules not to move, nor touch or harass the person was coming to visit.  He pressed play on his iPod and the gayest music ever began to seep out of the living room stereo.  Johnny goes to the door, and swings it open to presumably allow a very handsome, and most likely well-endowed male stripper into the room.  However, upon reveal, there was no one there, and while she, and everyone else in the room was distracted, I (that’s right, my sexy ass) dropped trough and ripped my shirt off to unleash my red, velvet thong unto the world.  Abby lost her mind.  She laughed, got up out of her chair and ran away (which is rather disturbing, b/c technically she did get the very handsome and well-endowed man she was probably hoping for, just wasn’t expecting it from Mallick.)  Anyway, she sat back down and took it… er… enjoyed the rest of the show.  And hell, even yours truly made three dollars off what she stuck into my g-string. 

After that, present number three unveiled itself in the form of a stretch limo which would be taking us to dinner up in Malibu.  We drank our faces off on the way up.  We’re pretty lit by the time we arrived.  I think I ever drunk dialed my parents b/c I thought I made a funny by stripping down to my nut huggers and thought it was a good idea to tell them immediately instead of letting them find out in the tell-all book I’ll write after I become rich and famous and lose it all better on turtle racing. 

I already forget the name of the place we ate at, but the food was great.  Mexican food and pitchers of margaritas.  Yes please!  Upon completion of the meal, we loaded back into the limo and gave Abby her last present: a “Suck-For-A-Buck” t-shirt.  For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s a tee with lifesavers sewn on and gentleman (and I use that term oh so loosely) pay a dollar to pull off with their teeth.  The limo driver was the first one to go in for the kill.  Classy guy. 

With only a brief stop for some photos on the Malibu pier, we headed to Baja Cantina where another thirty or so people came to party with Abby on her unofficial bachelorette going away party. 

It was a pretty memorable night.  Abby had so much fun.  I could tell when she came up to me and said “Mallick, you need to walk me home now.”  At least that’s what I deciphered it as.  Everyone had fun and we all got to say one last good-bye to Abby before she headed for the great white North. 

Okay, time for me to go to bed.  I know you were all hoping for a little Rad Girl action, but I had to put this down on paper first.  It’s just too funny.  I am in the midst of filming this week in Santa Cruz and I promise to get a summation of this week up and running very, very soon.  Have a good night everyone.