A couple friends and I are attending a super sweet event today. Since we're one day removed from Memorial Day, you'd think that we're going to the Veterans graveyard by UCLA and paying our respects. Maybe we're going to the VA hospital and visiting the heroes that ensured our freedom and independence. How about taking my lazy ass to the Military recruitment center and signing up to fight for the dear ol' U S of A? Nope - I ain't doing none of that. Today is the day that I attend an art show celebrating the 30th anniversary of "Ghostbusters."
"Ghostbusters" came out in the Summer of 1984. I was just a wee lad but I remember seeing it in a movie theatre with my Camp Chai camp mates. I remember eating popocorn. I remember being scared of Slimer. I remember being in awe of the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man. I remember having a crush on Sigourney Weaver. I remember wanting to be Bill Murray. And I remember laughing my little balls off whenever Rick Moranis appeared on screen. Up to that point, I had never seen another movie that was as funny and exciting as "Ghostbusters." And I had seen "Grease 2" twice by then!
"Ghostbusters" was a game changing movie. Groundbreaking special effects, top notch comedy, edge of your seat suspense, and family friendly with a little edge. It's one of the few movies that kids and adults can see together and both enjoy it just as much as the other. My brothers and I dragging my father to this movie wouldn't have made him hate us forever. That only happened after we took him to see the Andrew Dice Clay classic, "The Adventures of Ford Fairlane." I don't think he's ever fully gotten over that.
As I gear up to go see some art, it occurred to me that I'm not very well versed in the art world. I've been to the Getty museum out here and checked out a few museums in Europe a couple years ago. While in Paris, my lady and I went to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa. It was very cool to see the most famous painting in the world but I bet it won't be nearly as cool as seeing Annie Potts answering a phone on Canvas.
I haven't seen "Ghostbusters" in years but I imagine it still holds up. The cool part about this art show is that it'll make me want to watch the movie again. After all these years, it should feel like visiting an old friend. Hopefully it won't be like that old friend who did lots of drugs in college and remembers weird details of stories that didn't actually happen. I don't care what Sammy says, I never mistook his walk in closet for a bathroom and urinated all over his neatly pressed suit the night before the Fraternity Formal.
I am excited to bear witness to this historic art event and I hope it's as exciting to me as the first time I saw the movie. Even if it's not that great, it still has to be at least twenty times better than "Ghostbusters 2." What a piece of crap.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Running Errands
My days are generally spent at home staring at a computer screen, writing and reading, with the frequent interruption of dogs barking at someone or something out the front window. My office is in the back of the house, so jumping up and running down the long hallway, past the bathroom and the kitchen, through the dining room and finding myself in the living room yelling at two pooches who have literally been barking at absolute nothing is about the only relief I get. Being holed up in a small room on the bottom right of a Four-plex apartment, sitting at a desktop computer and trying desperately to come up with the next "Seinfeld" can be take its toll sometimes. Luckily for me, every now and then, I get to run some errands.
Most people I know feel very burdened by having to take care of the "real" things in their life. Grocery shopping, picking up laundry, vehicle maintenance, getting your hair did, returning the twelve pack of boxer briefs to Target because they "rubbed the wrong way" are just a few of the many expeditions you'll be forced to do throughout the month. It all sounds annoying but when my options are continuing my diagnosis of Cabin Fever or going to drop off two full boxes of VHS tapes at Goodwill, I'll take the latter every time. As a matter of fact, in one of those boxes is a copy of Eli Roth's directorial debut, "Cabin Fever" so it just feels right.
Today is going to be a great day because I have three things I have to do. Ahhh, take it all in, THREE whole things. I can't wait for the day to begin. These are relatively small and mundane things but it may as well be Disneyland for me. This will be, like, two and half hours worth of time eaten away from my day. That's almost three hours that I won't have to be cramped up on in my place, trying to avoid eating another sleeve of graham crackers. Three hours! That's almost as much time it takes to wait in line for Space Mountain!
I'm going to start my super busy day with a quick jaunt over to pick up some laundry. The cleaners near my place is called Celebrity Cleaners. I assumed it's called this because it's close to Hollywood and has framed autograph pictures from their "celebrity" clientele. Celebrity is in quotations because I don't think you'd consider the third lead in a Cialis commercial a true celebrity. I hand the ticket to the person behind the counter and then get to watch the roller coaster of clothes weave their way throughout the shop. All the while, Cialis commercial actor's headshot is staring right at me, making my boner go down.
Once I get the laundry, it's off to my Pep Boys appointment. I have the fortune of taking my lady's car to get an oil change and fresh new wiper blades. This is a great way to spend a Tuesday. Sitting in a dirty cramped waiting room, drinking stale coffee, watching Judge Judy and reading a Motor Trend magazine with the Cover Story, "Most Efficient Cars of 2008." It's either that or an old People Magazine with the headline, "Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston: Nothing Gets in the Way of Hollywood's Most in Love Couple." I think we all know by now that there is definitely something that can get in the way of this couple, and this thing no longer has tits.
After the Pep Boys lube up my sweetheart's front parts, it's off to Trader Joe's. Grocery shopping can be irritating but it's one of the few joys in my life nowadays. That is, grocery shopping at a big store with ample parking is. The Trader Joe's in my neighborhood is a monstrosity. There are about 20 parking spots, but generally about 100 people shopping. Most of your shopping experience is sitting in the car waiting for someone to leave the store. If this isn't bad enough, you'll also have Eduardo, the parking lot attendant constantly yell at you to "Back up, Senor." The only comfort I get is from the 80's station on Sirius satellite radio - As long as there's a chance to hear Tommy Tutone then I'm a happy man.
After all my responsibilities are taken care of, I'll return to my home with a true sense of accomplishment. My tuxedo is clean and neatly pressed, my freezer is full of Trader Joe's "Mini Mint Ice Cream Mouthfuls," and my girl's car is running smoother than Angelina Jolie's vacant booby bags. It'll be a real productive day!
Most people I know feel very burdened by having to take care of the "real" things in their life. Grocery shopping, picking up laundry, vehicle maintenance, getting your hair did, returning the twelve pack of boxer briefs to Target because they "rubbed the wrong way" are just a few of the many expeditions you'll be forced to do throughout the month. It all sounds annoying but when my options are continuing my diagnosis of Cabin Fever or going to drop off two full boxes of VHS tapes at Goodwill, I'll take the latter every time. As a matter of fact, in one of those boxes is a copy of Eli Roth's directorial debut, "Cabin Fever" so it just feels right.
Today is going to be a great day because I have three things I have to do. Ahhh, take it all in, THREE whole things. I can't wait for the day to begin. These are relatively small and mundane things but it may as well be Disneyland for me. This will be, like, two and half hours worth of time eaten away from my day. That's almost three hours that I won't have to be cramped up on in my place, trying to avoid eating another sleeve of graham crackers. Three hours! That's almost as much time it takes to wait in line for Space Mountain!
I'm going to start my super busy day with a quick jaunt over to pick up some laundry. The cleaners near my place is called Celebrity Cleaners. I assumed it's called this because it's close to Hollywood and has framed autograph pictures from their "celebrity" clientele. Celebrity is in quotations because I don't think you'd consider the third lead in a Cialis commercial a true celebrity. I hand the ticket to the person behind the counter and then get to watch the roller coaster of clothes weave their way throughout the shop. All the while, Cialis commercial actor's headshot is staring right at me, making my boner go down.
Once I get the laundry, it's off to my Pep Boys appointment. I have the fortune of taking my lady's car to get an oil change and fresh new wiper blades. This is a great way to spend a Tuesday. Sitting in a dirty cramped waiting room, drinking stale coffee, watching Judge Judy and reading a Motor Trend magazine with the Cover Story, "Most Efficient Cars of 2008." It's either that or an old People Magazine with the headline, "Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston: Nothing Gets in the Way of Hollywood's Most in Love Couple." I think we all know by now that there is definitely something that can get in the way of this couple, and this thing no longer has tits.
After the Pep Boys lube up my sweetheart's front parts, it's off to Trader Joe's. Grocery shopping can be irritating but it's one of the few joys in my life nowadays. That is, grocery shopping at a big store with ample parking is. The Trader Joe's in my neighborhood is a monstrosity. There are about 20 parking spots, but generally about 100 people shopping. Most of your shopping experience is sitting in the car waiting for someone to leave the store. If this isn't bad enough, you'll also have Eduardo, the parking lot attendant constantly yell at you to "Back up, Senor." The only comfort I get is from the 80's station on Sirius satellite radio - As long as there's a chance to hear Tommy Tutone then I'm a happy man.
After all my responsibilities are taken care of, I'll return to my home with a true sense of accomplishment. My tuxedo is clean and neatly pressed, my freezer is full of Trader Joe's "Mini Mint Ice Cream Mouthfuls," and my girl's car is running smoother than Angelina Jolie's vacant booby bags. It'll be a real productive day!
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Get out of here, Yellowjacket!
I heard a little buzzing sound this morning while I was working in my home office. No big deal, there are a couple of windows where the desk is situated, I hear sounds of "wildlife" every now and then. The buzzing was a little annoying but not nearly as annoying as the whiny voice of the man who lives in the apartment next door who is constantly answering the phone and then yelling at whoever is on the other line. Wife, mother, son, daughter, telemarketer - it doesn't matter, this dude loves to yell. The buzzing is actually comforting compared to Mr. Loud Whiny Voice so no big deal. That is until I discovered the buzzing was coming from... INSIDE THE ROOM!!!!
It turns out that the buzzing I was hearing is from a wasp or hornet or whatever those scary looking, winged bastards are outside my window. Now, I'm not a big fan of insects anyway but I'm especially not a fan of insects that have the capability to cause me physical pain. These mofo's have stingers! I might even be allergic to them for all I know because I've never been stung by anything ever. Not by a bee, a wasp, a hornet, a scorpion, not even a jellyfish. The closest I've ever come to a sting was when I saw The Police's Reunion Tour on VH1.
Normally in a situation when a tiny flying pest is in my apartment, I do what any strong heroic man would do... I scream, run into the other room and cry to my girlfriend until she takes care of it. It was truly a scary day at the Schwartz/Silvi abode because my girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. She had some sort of thing she has to do on Mondays thru Fridays from 9 AM to 6 PM. She calls it work, which sucks for most people, but if your life is shared with me, every opportunity to get out of the house is like Club Med.
I had to take matters into my own hands so I quickly jumped up out of the chair like I was on fire and looked for anything I can find that will let me smash the buzzing asshole. Well, I didn't exactly jump up quickly like I was on fire, I actually stood up frighteningly slow. Not that it was so slow that it was scary, more like I'm scared so it's slow. I found a shoe and knew I had to take care of the flapping prick. I wanted to approach rapidly and with confidence, but instead I approached like I was drunk and disoriented. I looked like a first grader at a children's birthday party after they had been spun around before walking up to hit a pinata.
The wasp had made it's way to the door in the front of the room. It was circling around and not landing on any surface that would've allowed me to whack it. Every now and then it would land on the light fixture which was no mans land for the shoe. If I had hit it, it would just bust the light, shattering the glass lamp and the lightbulb all over the floor. It would also give the insect a chance to get away while I would be forced to walk around on broken glass as if I were Annie Lennox.
Since the culprit wouldn't leave the safety of the light fixture, I thought of a way to get it to move without having to be too close and therefore too scared. I was holding the left footed shoe so I grabbed the right footed one and threw that close to the light, scaring the wasp and making it fly off the light. Success!!! Well, it seemed like success, but it actually made the fluttering dickhead fly right at me. In a genuine moment of panic, I was able to duck under the kamikaze wasp and it made it's way to the wall by the windows. I raised the shoe above my head and marched straight ahead to show the insect who was boss. I was scared, confused and bewildered but I knew that the nightmare would not be over until that wasp was beaten like Jay-Z in an elevator.
I inched closer and closer to the aerial assassin, shoe held at perfect ninety degree angle, and was just about to pounce when the small-scale shithead found his way on the window screen. The screen is even worse than the light fixture! There is no way to blast that bitch into oblivion while he was on a window screen. Even if I attempted to, it would work like a trampoline and I would have just flung the fucker into my face. The only thing I could do was close the window, trapping the twat between the screen and the glass. I was prepared to just wait and watch him die slowly, but then realized something... We have RAID!!! I grabbed the big black can of Wasp/Hornet/Flying Insect Raid and headed out the back door.
I walked around the corner cautiously, maybe our little bugger has friends that were patiently waiting to sting whatever asshole comes around the corner. Maybe the whole thing was an elaborate scheme to get caught between the window and the screen and then have the gang attack whoever shows up to Raid them. "He can't take us all!!!" they'd say in their stupid insect language as they fly at me like the Galaga arcade game. I turned the corner and there was no other bug there. Just our little nemesis trapped like Cherie in a refrigerator from that episode of "Punky Brewster."
I sprayed the crap out of that dude and it felt good. I now have the taste of insect blood! No hornet can stop me! I'm going to throw punches at each and every one of you. Wasps, hornets, and flying insects, meet your new worst nightmare - Solange Schwartz!
It turns out that the buzzing I was hearing is from a wasp or hornet or whatever those scary looking, winged bastards are outside my window. Now, I'm not a big fan of insects anyway but I'm especially not a fan of insects that have the capability to cause me physical pain. These mofo's have stingers! I might even be allergic to them for all I know because I've never been stung by anything ever. Not by a bee, a wasp, a hornet, a scorpion, not even a jellyfish. The closest I've ever come to a sting was when I saw The Police's Reunion Tour on VH1.
Normally in a situation when a tiny flying pest is in my apartment, I do what any strong heroic man would do... I scream, run into the other room and cry to my girlfriend until she takes care of it. It was truly a scary day at the Schwartz/Silvi abode because my girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. She had some sort of thing she has to do on Mondays thru Fridays from 9 AM to 6 PM. She calls it work, which sucks for most people, but if your life is shared with me, every opportunity to get out of the house is like Club Med.
I had to take matters into my own hands so I quickly jumped up out of the chair like I was on fire and looked for anything I can find that will let me smash the buzzing asshole. Well, I didn't exactly jump up quickly like I was on fire, I actually stood up frighteningly slow. Not that it was so slow that it was scary, more like I'm scared so it's slow. I found a shoe and knew I had to take care of the flapping prick. I wanted to approach rapidly and with confidence, but instead I approached like I was drunk and disoriented. I looked like a first grader at a children's birthday party after they had been spun around before walking up to hit a pinata.
The wasp had made it's way to the door in the front of the room. It was circling around and not landing on any surface that would've allowed me to whack it. Every now and then it would land on the light fixture which was no mans land for the shoe. If I had hit it, it would just bust the light, shattering the glass lamp and the lightbulb all over the floor. It would also give the insect a chance to get away while I would be forced to walk around on broken glass as if I were Annie Lennox.
Since the culprit wouldn't leave the safety of the light fixture, I thought of a way to get it to move without having to be too close and therefore too scared. I was holding the left footed shoe so I grabbed the right footed one and threw that close to the light, scaring the wasp and making it fly off the light. Success!!! Well, it seemed like success, but it actually made the fluttering dickhead fly right at me. In a genuine moment of panic, I was able to duck under the kamikaze wasp and it made it's way to the wall by the windows. I raised the shoe above my head and marched straight ahead to show the insect who was boss. I was scared, confused and bewildered but I knew that the nightmare would not be over until that wasp was beaten like Jay-Z in an elevator.
I inched closer and closer to the aerial assassin, shoe held at perfect ninety degree angle, and was just about to pounce when the small-scale shithead found his way on the window screen. The screen is even worse than the light fixture! There is no way to blast that bitch into oblivion while he was on a window screen. Even if I attempted to, it would work like a trampoline and I would have just flung the fucker into my face. The only thing I could do was close the window, trapping the twat between the screen and the glass. I was prepared to just wait and watch him die slowly, but then realized something... We have RAID!!! I grabbed the big black can of Wasp/Hornet/Flying Insect Raid and headed out the back door.
I walked around the corner cautiously, maybe our little bugger has friends that were patiently waiting to sting whatever asshole comes around the corner. Maybe the whole thing was an elaborate scheme to get caught between the window and the screen and then have the gang attack whoever shows up to Raid them. "He can't take us all!!!" they'd say in their stupid insect language as they fly at me like the Galaga arcade game. I turned the corner and there was no other bug there. Just our little nemesis trapped like Cherie in a refrigerator from that episode of "Punky Brewster."
I sprayed the crap out of that dude and it felt good. I now have the taste of insect blood! No hornet can stop me! I'm going to throw punches at each and every one of you. Wasps, hornets, and flying insects, meet your new worst nightmare - Solange Schwartz!
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Spring Cleaning
This last weekend was spent doing the most fun thing anyone can do with their spare time. No, I'm not talking about raiding my girlfriends make-up cabinet and dancing around to Culture Club's "Karma Chameleon." I'm talking about cleaning out and organizing the closets in my apartment.
Last week I was really looking forward to the fun, laid back activites that we had planned. Long walks with the dogs, watching playoff basketball from my couch and a round of golf. Sounds like a great relaxing weekend. That was, of course, until my girlfriend decided that she should clean out and organize the closets. By the way, when I say she decided that SHE should clean, I really mean she decided that WE should clean. SHE and WE sound very similar but they mean very different things.
We started with our hallway closet which is mainly towels but there are a few things scattered about: bedsheets, pillow cases, purses, an old Wham! cassette tape and winter clothes. We live in Los Angeles so that explains why our winter clothes were tucked away in some closet with little access. I live in the '80's which explains the Wham! tape. Our first order of business was to move the winter clothes into a big bin that we could keep in the garage. Again, we never have to wear these clothes. The only reason we have them is because we sometimes spend a few days of winter in Minnesota. If you've ever been to Minnesota in the winter, you understand why we need a super heavy coat, gloves or mittens, knit caps, scarves and thermal underwear. If you've never been to Minnesota in the winter, it's the equivalent of living in a large freezer where the ice cream is very friendly and can't stop talking about Joe Mauer.
Once we finished the hallway closet, we tackled the bedroom closet. The bedroom closet is generally where the co-habitants hang their clothes in blissful harmony. At our place, my girlfriend has the ENTIRE closet and I get to hang up my clothes in the the other room. It works out though because she needs room for Casual dresses, formal dresses, tank tops, T-shirts, jeans, pants, skirts, sweaters, shoes, belts, workout clothes, leggings, jeggings and possibly other stuff that ends in 'gings. I understand that she needs a lot of room but she should be able to share with me. After all, how much room do two pairs of jeans and seventeen T-shirts with the Dallas Mavericks logo really take up?
After we finished our, ahem, HER closet, we took on the daunting task of cleaning out the dining room closet which is... (cue scary music) THE CLOSET UNDER THE STAIRS!!!! (cue Vincent Price evil laugh from the ending of Michael Jackson's "Thriller"). Now this closet is legitimately scary. It is filled with old clothes, old board games, old sports equipment, old boxes, old fans, old space heaters, old vacuum cleaner, old boxes of old photos, old bags filled with old wrapping paper, and a very old smell. This closet smells dirty and grungy like how Kurt Cobain would've smelled. Actually it smells more like how Kurt Cobain would smell now.
Once cleaned and organized we were able to pack up six huge bins we bought last week from Target. We would've filled up all nine bins, but we were missing three of the lids that were sold separately. I was in charge of making sure we had all the corresponding lids to each of the bins we had purchased. I, instead, spent my Target time buying week old Easter candy instead of properly counting the lids. In my defense, they were selling Reeses Peanut Butter Bunnies, Cadbury Mini Chocolate Eggs and Sweet-tart Ducks for half price. What's a Jew to do? Also, what the f#*k do ducks have to do with Easter?
The boxes were packed up and ready to move into the garage, but first we had to make sure the garage was cleaned. The garage is as much fun as the "under the stairs" closet but with the added pleasure of bugs. Anytime I had to put my hand behind something in the back of the garage to move it, I imagined myself in "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom." I am not a fan of insects, I find them repulsive which is why it doesn't surprise me that "insects" and "incest" sound so similar.
All in all, it was a job that had to be done. The closets are clean and organized. It is now possible to see the items we have without having to move through the closet like we're heading out into the Amazon. We can walk in and smoothly grab all the stuff we need whether it's dog food, the vacuum cleaner or an autographed poster of Duran Duran, all the important things in life.
Last week I was really looking forward to the fun, laid back activites that we had planned. Long walks with the dogs, watching playoff basketball from my couch and a round of golf. Sounds like a great relaxing weekend. That was, of course, until my girlfriend decided that she should clean out and organize the closets. By the way, when I say she decided that SHE should clean, I really mean she decided that WE should clean. SHE and WE sound very similar but they mean very different things.
We started with our hallway closet which is mainly towels but there are a few things scattered about: bedsheets, pillow cases, purses, an old Wham! cassette tape and winter clothes. We live in Los Angeles so that explains why our winter clothes were tucked away in some closet with little access. I live in the '80's which explains the Wham! tape. Our first order of business was to move the winter clothes into a big bin that we could keep in the garage. Again, we never have to wear these clothes. The only reason we have them is because we sometimes spend a few days of winter in Minnesota. If you've ever been to Minnesota in the winter, you understand why we need a super heavy coat, gloves or mittens, knit caps, scarves and thermal underwear. If you've never been to Minnesota in the winter, it's the equivalent of living in a large freezer where the ice cream is very friendly and can't stop talking about Joe Mauer.
Once we finished the hallway closet, we tackled the bedroom closet. The bedroom closet is generally where the co-habitants hang their clothes in blissful harmony. At our place, my girlfriend has the ENTIRE closet and I get to hang up my clothes in the the other room. It works out though because she needs room for Casual dresses, formal dresses, tank tops, T-shirts, jeans, pants, skirts, sweaters, shoes, belts, workout clothes, leggings, jeggings and possibly other stuff that ends in 'gings. I understand that she needs a lot of room but she should be able to share with me. After all, how much room do two pairs of jeans and seventeen T-shirts with the Dallas Mavericks logo really take up?
After we finished our, ahem, HER closet, we took on the daunting task of cleaning out the dining room closet which is... (cue scary music) THE CLOSET UNDER THE STAIRS!!!! (cue Vincent Price evil laugh from the ending of Michael Jackson's "Thriller"). Now this closet is legitimately scary. It is filled with old clothes, old board games, old sports equipment, old boxes, old fans, old space heaters, old vacuum cleaner, old boxes of old photos, old bags filled with old wrapping paper, and a very old smell. This closet smells dirty and grungy like how Kurt Cobain would've smelled. Actually it smells more like how Kurt Cobain would smell now.
Once cleaned and organized we were able to pack up six huge bins we bought last week from Target. We would've filled up all nine bins, but we were missing three of the lids that were sold separately. I was in charge of making sure we had all the corresponding lids to each of the bins we had purchased. I, instead, spent my Target time buying week old Easter candy instead of properly counting the lids. In my defense, they were selling Reeses Peanut Butter Bunnies, Cadbury Mini Chocolate Eggs and Sweet-tart Ducks for half price. What's a Jew to do? Also, what the f#*k do ducks have to do with Easter?
The boxes were packed up and ready to move into the garage, but first we had to make sure the garage was cleaned. The garage is as much fun as the "under the stairs" closet but with the added pleasure of bugs. Anytime I had to put my hand behind something in the back of the garage to move it, I imagined myself in "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom." I am not a fan of insects, I find them repulsive which is why it doesn't surprise me that "insects" and "incest" sound so similar.
All in all, it was a job that had to be done. The closets are clean and organized. It is now possible to see the items we have without having to move through the closet like we're heading out into the Amazon. We can walk in and smoothly grab all the stuff we need whether it's dog food, the vacuum cleaner or an autographed poster of Duran Duran, all the important things in life.
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