Have You Picked Out Your Summah Gum Yet?

Havin' a Summah w/ Zooey Deschanel from ZooeyDeschanel

7th Avenue Film Series #1

These Magic Headphones Are Basically the Ringu Of Awesome

Oprah: Still THE WORST

Chiara informs me that, on Oprah, a man who worked for the show was asked how working on the show had changed him.

His response was, apparently, that he began to use the word "cute" and that straight men do not otherwise employ this adjective.

Of course we don't.

When i see a very very small puppy trying very very hard to stay awake and failing, the only word that struggles through the murk to the forefront of my mind is:

"FOOD"

Because I like to have sex with women.

Duh.

Above, yet another thing for which I simply CANNOT imagine an adjective. Huh. Weird. Is "Football" an adjective?

Hey Jeff, Got Any Lifehacks?

I have definitely told all you guys about eating cheetos with chopsticks, right?

You can thank me forever.

7th Avenue Film Series #0

Chiara, Insult Comic II

Today, after The Colbert Report, when Tosh.0 came on, Chiara, who has apparently been fortunate enough to have never seen the show, said:

"What is this, The Soup for morons?"

Sometimes A Neckbeard Is Just A Neckbeard

Dreamt last night that I had accidentally shaved my beard off.

The razor just sort of slipped and then one side of the beard was lower than the other, so, to make it even, I had to shave a bit more on the other side, went too far again, etc. Eventually, I just shaved off the whole damned thing.

Well, technically, I dreamt that I shaved off everything save for the mustache and the part on the underside of my jaw, leaving me with a hideous and bushy neckbeard that I, for some reason, didn't remove.

I was forlorn.

When I woke up, it took me a while to realize it hadn't really happened.

That'll Do, Planet Earth, That'll Do

Seriously, you guys, the National Geographic Photo Of The Day is the greatest RSS feed you could possibly subscribe to.

This Horseback Riding Mustache Makes Some Very Interesting Points

In Which I Proselytize For Pastry

These three kouing aman have enough butter and sugar to drown a horse made of butter and sugar

Occasionally, when I can resist it no longer, I talk myself into going over to Les Madeleines for the Kouing-Aman.

What's that you say? You've never had (or heard of) the Kouing-Aman at Les Madeleines?

Gather 'round, you philistines.

The Kouing-Aman is like a little fist-sized orgasm forced to wear the body of a pastry. It is too rich and buttery and sugary to be believed and has probably ten thousand layers of pastry dough. It is fabulous beyond fabulous and it is really difficult to find. They come from Normandy, but here, in Salt Lake City, you can have the best ones available in the United States, apparently.

Many (most) patisseries won't even bother attempting one, I'm told, but Les Madeleines makes hundreds every day. And they're sold out by noon or so, most days.

They're exorbitantly expensive (five dollars a piece) and they only let you buy six unless you give them three days notice in advance, but GAWD, they're delicious.

They'll ship them all over America; they are one of the great secret pleasures of SLC. Also, they will make your heart explode.

Do you want to know how many calories are in one Kouing-Aman?

Wrong. No you don't.

If you are in the neighborhood, go get one or four. If you tell them I sent you, they will say "Who?"

When It Is Raining And You Are Sitting In A Parked Car Under A Large Tree

Eternal Summers, SAFE AT HOME from ADeBruin on Vimeo.

This Is Basically The Same As Carl Jung's Red Book, Only With More Beanpoleghost Dancing and Dragon Insideoutification

This Man Is A Professional Bryan Ferry (Do Not Attempt to Bryan Ferry At Home)

Breaking: Cool Things Still Cool

Summertime And Chiara Is Coming Home

Gnothi Seauton

The jewel case said Bryan Ferry, but the CD inside was Neil Young.

Librarian: "But you wanted the Bryan Ferry or the Neil Young?"

Me: "I'm wearing a sportcoat; which do you think?"

Wisdom Of The Ancients

One of the things that it is very important to remember is snacks.

The Hard Reset

Sometimes when the icebergs are being dicks and swallowing up everything so you can hardly get out of the house and all the buildings in all the cities in all the world have become Chick-Fil-A's, it is necessary to do a hard reset of the universe by opening the windows and playing this song very loud.

I must have had to do six such resets in the last four years or so and, what's worse, they're coming closer and closer together as the problem accelerates.

It used to be that, when you did a Queen Bitch Reset, you could go a few months before even a single Chick-Fil-A showed up, uninvited, and the icebergs started to creep into the streets and parking lots and shopping centers and bedrooms. Now, even though I just reset the universe a few hours ago, there are already literally thousands of Chick-Fil-A's clogging up the cities and towns.

Maybe I need bigger speakers or something; I dunno. Hopefully, we have our best David Bowie scientists working on this problem even now. Hopefully they remember the problem from when I reset the universe earlier. Hard to say.

Anyway, word to the wise.

Three Versions

1. It is the endless Wednesday night that we will all find ourselves in eventually, where you are driving with the windows down and it is summer and it is the middle of the desert in western Nevada. The moon is slowly colliding with the earth and you taste whiskey in your mouth and this is the song on the radio forever.

2. Or, maybe it is Madrid and it is 2:37 AM and there was a girl (or there wasn't a girl) and you are drunk and this song is playing on the big, soft headphones and you are looking out at the streets and they are all wet, even though it never rained.

3. Or, it is July and so hot that people sleep outside on balconies. You are swimming in a swimming pool with a green light at the bottom, on the left, and then the Maharal (or someone dressed like him) comes and rubs one letter (a single letter!) from the word written in candle ash on your forehead and then you are asleep and you don't exist, but this song is still playing and you are still under the water.

Wednesday Night Blues

Sometimes, when the horned owls outside your door are so thick that going out to the all night market for a sixpack and a raw steak is just impossible, it helps a bit to get in a bathtub filled with dirt and listen to this song on a radio that you have set on fire.

Some Things Are Perfect (And This Is One Of Them)

This Is A Beautiful Room In Which To Make Robot Music

Sometimes A Cartoon Ass For Four Minutes Is All A Video Needs To Be

Obama: Ultimate SWAG IV

Obama: Ultimate SWAG III

Obama: Ultimate SWAG II

Obama: Ultimate SWAG

Sumer is Icumen In (Finally)

May Day 2011

May Day used to be a big deal in this country. Hell, May Day used to be a big deal, period. People used to decorate and have parties. Girls would wear white dresses and dance around the Maypole wearing flowers in their hair. I don't know what the men did. I guess they watched.

We like to watch girls.

May Day is a fertility festival (aren't they all?) celebrating Maia, a Mother/Spring goddess (for whom the month is named) and Nature in its generative state. Maia (mother of Hermes) is the same as Flora is the same as Maya (virgin mother of the Buddha, just saying) and even sort of Mary (whose month the early Christian church made May, probably to co-opt the festivals of pagan Europe).

The holiday is related to Whitsuntide and to Beltane and to Walpurgisnacht and the Floralia. All the different cultures have festivals at this time of year. Or had, anyway. Christianity never saw a fun thing it couldn't try to ruin.

Sigh.

In the old days, they got up early on May Day to go out into the woods and wash their faces in the dew (seriously) and gather branches of hawthorn trees and then they'd come back into town, singing and decorating and whatnot. Then, you know, the maypole dancing (because, in those days, girls were into phallic symbols) and then the fornicating in the woods.

Basically, a good time had by all.

May Day, in my secular paganism, is the third big deal holiday of the year (after Candlemas and Easter). It is a festival of Springtime in full bloom. It falls halfway between the equinox and the solstice, so it is also the holiday celebrating the cusp of Summertime. On May Day you can start to think seriously about putting away the sweaters for another year.

Also, in my May Day festivities, we don't get up early and wash our faces in the dew. That dew is motherfucking COLD.

If Chiara were here for May Day this year (she's in Italy), I'd name her the May Queen. She'd wear a white dress and I'd put a crown of flowers on her and everyone at the big May Day party would have to pay her a compliment. She'd probably hate that. She'd like this bit, though - the Queen of the May just watches the other people dance, she doesn't dance, herself.

Chiara likes to watch other people dance.

We'd put up a big pole of some kind and have a bonfire and get drunk and think about sex and then, later, and not in the woods (because of how the woods are COLD) we could have actual sex. May Day is that kind of a holiday to me. I dunno. Seem like the best reasons I can think of for a holiday.

And, as ever, the main advantage of my secular paganism is the predictable scheduling of everything. You always know when you'll be having a party. None of this "first Sunday after the first full moon after the equinox" nonsense, like with Christian Easter.

So, come to my May Day party next year, I guess. Wear white and bring some flowers and a bottle of wine. I will provide the funk music and cheeseplate. That is all.