As if you really needed it, here you go. I've been riding my bike to the bar-prep class I go to every morning from 9-12:30 and I normally stop for lunch on the way home. While leaving Brown Bag Deli (BBD), one of my favorite lunch spots, I noticed a strange contraption parked against a bench. It was a Segway.

Have you ever seen one of these things? I mean, like, in person? They are awesome. Sure, I've seen them in magazines and on TV shows but i had never seen one in person. And just my luck, the owner was walking out of BBD, so I had to talk to him about it. I couldn't resist. There we were, a geek on a bike and a geek on a Segway outside of a sandwich shop, talking about how the Segway works, how it senses your body position and decides whether to go forwards or backwards, how it locks itself, how it runs on batteries and requires a nightly charge, how it has a running distance of 250 miles, how it saves gasoline for short trips to the sandwich shop...

And there is your proof. If you needed it.

I saw Pirates 3 and Spiderman 3. They were both lame. I know, I know. You're saying, "We could have told you that before you spend $9 each on them." Thankfully: 1) Dad spent the $9 for me and 2) I knew they would suck. The problem with these movies is the same problem every other 3rd edition of a movie has - too much of what you don't want, and not enough of what you do - namely, fresh ideas. These guys are running on empty. Can't think of a good plot? Add more bad guys. Can't think of any more cool twists? Make the story more confusing and hope it looks like a twist. Ugh. At least Kirsten Dunst and Keira Knightley are hot.

I also saw 28 Weeks Later, which scared the shit out of me. I don't see scary movies. I don't like them. I don't like gore. It's not the violence that bothers me, it's the cutting-off-of-body-parts and heart-stopping screams and general twisted story-lines that make me squirm. Case in point: the last "scary" move I saw was Stephen King's "It" when I was 14. I didn't sleep for weeks and I have a permanent dislike of clowns.

For 28 Weeks Later, I sat in the back row and drank the beer that my friend and I snuck into the theater, and I still couldn't handle the movie. I basically buried my face in her shoulder. She called me all kinds of names. I deserved it. Whatever. That movie was messed up. I'm never going to think of London in the same way.

I rode my bike to class the other morning (in the 90 degree heat) and walked into the lecture hall to find it warmer than usual. Since my internal body temperature was already at 175 degrees due to the bike ride, I was especially disappointed to hear the administrator announce, "Sorry, some transformers blew and half of the power is out. There isn't enough power to run the A/C or the projector, so class is canceled for now. Please check the website for updates."

Screw you guys. I'm hot and sweaty. I need A/C, and I just rode here to learn about Criminal Law, or something. It was right about then when I heard some classmates chant: "RE-FUND... RE-FUND... RE-FUND...." Gotta love it when a bunch of to-be lawyers start bitching about getting ripped off.

Maybe. Maybe not. Bear with me.

I saw Blood Diamond last night. Leo the Sleazebag was actually cool. I'm not that big of a Leo fan, mostly because he plays a pretty boy most of the time, but I was impressed with his performance as a sleazebag in this movie (reminded me of his neurotic OCD Howard Hughes portrayal). But of course he couldn't remain the sleazebag throughout the entire movie, so without giving anything away, let's just say Leo redeems himself. Kind of. Inadvertently. By no fault of his own.

As for Leo's accent, I though he was trying to cop a South African accent, in which case it would have kind of sucked, because my brother-in-law's family is South African and I know what South Africans sound like (Hello love! Oh deah, that does sound o-ful. You must be famished, yeh?). Turns out Leo was not supposed to be from SA, he was supposed to be from Rhodesia, which according to the World Atlas of Particleman did not exist until last night. Here it is.

Rhodesia is present-day Zimbabwe, which happens to be the place used to denote things that are prohibitively far away. For example, if one of our friends goes on a world-wide tour of far-off places, they are "probably in freaking Zimbabwe by now." Zimbabwe is basically a term interchangeable with "BFE." You might not know what BFE means if you're not from Texas, in which case I will have to explain it in a separate post.

Also, Jennifer Connelly is hot. Leo should have totally made out with her.

Posted by MPB:

Does P-man even need pinch bloggers anymore? Methinks not. Ever since the summer began, he has been blogging quite prolifically. However.... seeing as he doesn't get out much anymore, I thought I'd blog in my two cents about happenings outside of the silver screen, so hear ya go...

Friday night I paid homage to drunken debacles past and went to see Reckless Kelly at the Bluebird in Denver. These guys used to play all the time in Austin, one of those bands you could probably see three nights a week if you were so inclined. And, as I had seen them a few times in Austin, they hold a certain nostalgia for me, as do many things Austin (Trudy's mexican martinis, the Greenbelt, and Barton Springs to name a few).

I'll be honest, they aren't a great band, but they are a good band, and they play loud and usually throw in cool covers. A local Denver band called the Railbenders opened up for them. I had seen them before, and enjoyed that show as well.

So, right off the bat, I noticed that the lead singer for the Railbenders was sporting a Reverend Horton Heat shirt. Nothin wrong with that. I had forgotten that they had sort of a rockabilly twist to some of their songs. They also have an upright bass thats painted bassboat red. Nothin wrong with that either. I also learned that the band members own this bar in Denver called Bender's (never made the connection). Bender's is distinguishable by its huge freakin mural of Johnny Cash on the outside of the bar. Mark that as three checks for this band before they even launched into the first song. Perhaps their most endearing trait is that they are unabashed rip-off artists. They have a song called "Whiskey Rain" thats alot like Willie Nelson's "Whiskey River", another song called "I-70 Westbound" thats pretty similar to Pat Green's "Southbound 35", and yet another song called "Southbound" that sounds alot like the Reverend. Perhaps their greatest contribution: a country cover of "Sweet Caroline". To be honest, they don''t get bogged down with "originality" or "artistic expression", they focus on the important things, like putting on a good show and keeping the crowd happy. I respect that.

To be honest, the Railbenders sortof stole the show. I went to see Reckless Kelly dredge up some Austin nostalgia but was successfully sidetracked by the Railbenders (pun intended). As for Reckless Kelly, they were only ok in my opinion. There were a few high points, including a cover of "Revolution" by the Beatles, but they never seemed to dominate the stage. Or maybe I had too many shots of Jack washed down with PBR (both were on special) by the time they came on (which is entirely possible).

In the end, I think the group I was with all had a whiskey-soaked good time. I lost my wife somewhere between the concert and my house (which is walking distance from the Bluebird). She came home to find me passed out on the rug in front of the front door snuggling with our basset hound Chloe. I think that says alot about how much fun I had.

So if the Railbenders are playing near you, go see them... and leave music snobbery at the door (they do own a bar with a Johnny Cash mural on the side).

-MPB

I have this friend in Dallas. He's 26. He has two BMWs, a motorcycle, his own condo, and a bunch of random toys and gadgets to add "fun" and/or complexity to his life. He also has three degrees and is one of the smartest people I know. The other night, we had one of those conversations about life that makes you sit back and say, "I need a drink." Here are a couple excerpts cleaned up for your viewing pleasure. Words in [brackets] have been replaced for something less lewd. He gave me permission to post it. Names have been changed. Keep in mind Dallas Guy is more jaded than the average 26-year-old. He's a little on the bitter side for living in the same city his entire life.

(9:04:35 PM) Dallas Guy: so now where do I go?
(9:04:44 PM) Particleman: whereever your heart desires
(9:04:44 PM) Dallas Guy: if I had a plan I'd go do it already
(9:04:51 PM) Dallas Guy: or hell, if I had a goal
(9:04:56 PM) Dallas Guy: I can make plans
(9:05:08 PM) Particleman: tell me about your ideal week
(9:05:13 PM) Dallas Guy: I was always goal driven for everything my whole life
(9:05:19 PM) Particleman: regardless of location or cost of living
(9:05:24 PM) Dallas Guy: and now Ive met all my goals
(9:05:46 PM) Dallas Guy: my ideal week is one where I go solving
problems all day long and I never do anything repetitive
(9:06:09 PM) Dallas Guy: and then I go home and [sleep with] some hot chick that argues with me about politics and tries to put me in my place
(9:06:27 PM) Particleman: you want marriage
(9:06:47 PM) Particleman: and a cool job
(9:06:54 PM) Dallas Guy: but not to some dumb jewish chick that was raised to be a trophy
(9:07:14 PM) Dallas Guy: I want a smart ambitious girl that's out to prove her d*ck is bigger than mine
(9:07:45 PM) Particleman: but you didn't dispute the original statement
(9:07:48 PM) Dallas Guy: and the cool job, I think I know the route on
that, its just timing now
(9:07:49 PM) Particleman: you want marriage
(9:07:52 PM) Dallas Guy: I do
(9:07:56 PM) Particleman: you want it now?
(9:08:10 PM) Dallas Guy: not necessarily
(9:08:17 PM) Dallas Guy: in the next 3 years though
(9:08:35 PM) Particleman: thats what you think. you are totally in your quarter life crisis
(9:08:55 PM) Particleman: you are sick of the daily grind and are just waiting for the next cool thing
(9:09:55 PM) Dallas Guy: It's totally a quarter life crisis
(9:09:59 PM) Dallas Guy: in a bad bad way
(9:10:20 PM) Particleman: you bought the cars, the motorcycle, the toys, the crazy trips to far off places
(9:10:37 PM) Dallas Guy: that sounds more like a midlife crisis
(9:10:48 PM) Dallas Guy: thats what makes mine unique
(9:11:06 PM) Dallas Guy: most quarter life people are busy trying to find something stable to call home
(9:11:25 PM) Dallas Guy: I'm tired of the stable and craving anything else which is the midlife crisis
(9:12:26 PM) Dallas Guy: its like a desperate attempt to convert the fruits of my previous labor (salary, savings, freedom, etc...) into excitement for my otherwise uneventful life
(9:12:40 PM) Dallas Guy: only to be left with an uneventful life and lots of toys
(9:13:09 PM) Dallas Guy: I should probably talk to some 50 year olds about their midlife crisis
(9:13:17 PM) Dallas Guy: and their personal resolution to it
(9:14:05 PM) Particleman: i disagree. you have the new young-professional quarter life crisis
(9:14:36 PM) Particleman: your life turned into that of a 40 year old and it freaks you out. 9-5 job. house note. car note. traffic. monotony. boring job. you miss the excitement of being young(er) and without obligations and responsibilities
(9:14:59 PM) Dallas Guy: I guess thats it
(9:15:04 PM) Dallas Guy: so how do u fix it
(9:15:39 PM) Particleman: leave dallas. find a better job and/or move to a new place. just don't carry your problems around with you. and realize there will always be obligations and sh*t

...

(9:18:24 PM) Dallas Guy: right after I bought my place i realized that this was the beginning of the end of my life
(9:18:35 PM) Particleman: nothing is that permanent
(9:18:54 PM) Dallas Guy: it's like the people at work. they all have the same life as me
(9:19:15 PM) Dallas Guy: they have a job, some random hobbies, some loans, and whatever
(9:19:22 PM) Dallas Guy: some are married, some have kids
(9:19:31 PM) Dallas Guy: but in the end it's slavery to a system
(9:19:48 PM) Dallas Guy: and we do it so we can buy bigger houses and fancier cars
(9:19:53 PM) Particleman: give me a break. slavery my ass.
(9:20:09 PM) Dallas Guy: indentured servitude sound better?
(9:20:21 PM) Particleman: you're useless man
(9:20:30 PM) Dallas Guy: I really think I would be happy living in a jungle
(9:20:36 PM) Dallas Guy: or the side of a mountain
(9:20:44 PM) Dallas Guy: killing sh*t to eat when I got hungry
(9:20:57 PM) Dallas Guy: and otherwise banging some [sexy] jungle chick
(9:21:16 PM) Particleman: can i put that on my website?
(9:21:22 PM) Dallas Guy: put what
(9:21:30 PM) Particleman: your jungle thing
(9:21:32 PM) Particleman: that's funny
(9:21:33 PM) Dallas Guy: sure
(9:21:53 PM) Particleman: lol
(9:22:00 PM) Particleman: my site is too clean for that
(9:22:06 PM) Dallas Guy: u gonna keep the [sexy] jungle chick
(9:22:20 PM) Dallas Guy: you can use nicer words

And so I did.

I went to Khan's Deli, a sandwich shop in Rice Village, on Monday to give them a try, and it was not a good experience. This is what happened.

I order a turkey sandwich and move to the register to pay with a credit card, when I see a "cash or check only" sign. It would have been nice if they put the sign at the "Order" counter to put people on notice of what the payment situation is, but whatever. I ask if they take check cards (I know it was a long-shot), and the guy, who appeared to be the owner, said no, but that i could walk to the Walgreen's down the street and use the ATM. I figure that since the sandwich guy hadn't really finished the sandwich, that i'd just come back another time when i had cash. At which point the owner called out to the sandwich guy, "Hey, this kid doesn't want his sandwich, he doesn't want to walk half a block to the Walgreen's to get some cash. He's one of those yuppies."

By this point I'm already at the door when I hear him call me a yuppie. We exchange some words across the restaurant and it doesn't end well. It was not what I'd call a pleasant customer experience.

I sent this story to one of my friends who took (and passed) the bar last year, and she had this to say:

You just had what we call a "bar encounter". This is something that you would normally let slip off your back and walk away; however, since you are studying for the bar, you take offense and eventually tell the guy to f@#k off. "Bar encounters" occur frequently during bar preparation. It is recommended that any "bar studier" refrain from contact with the general public and venture out only when absolutely necessary. Contact with "other bar studiers" is permitted, but the length of such contact should be kept to a minimum.

While that may be true, the owner had no reason to get all smarmy with me. The ironic thing is that his sandwich shop is located in Rice Village, which is about as yuppie as you can get in Houston, and his entire client base could be labeled "yuppie," so if it's yuppies he doesn't want to serve, he's going to have an empty restaurant.

Posted by MPB:

I have an ongoing struggle with the indie-rock genre. Sometimes I think I just don't have the patience for it. For a long time most of my listening was devoted to punk and twangy alt-country exclusively. Somewhere along the line I started listening to more indie rock. Since then, I have amassed a relatively diverse and geeky music collection. Problem is, I'm not sure I really like any of it anymore. For example, I recently obtained a slew of new cd's from the Denver Public Library. The list is as follows (you're allowed to check out 7 at a time):

1. Broken Social Scene - Self Titled
2. Broken Social Scene - You Forgot it In People
3. Broken Social Scene - Bee Hives
4. The Rosebuds - Night of the Furies
5. The Twighlight Sad - Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters
6. The Besnard Lakes - The Besnard Lakes are the Dark Horse
7. I forgot the last one. because it was just. that. good.

Now, the reason I went and checked all these out is two-fold: 1. I am a rampant music pirater (At least I admit it, don't act so high and mighty!), 2. I read that each was the greatest cd ever, or of the first half of 2007, or out of Canada, or some such thing.

Aside: the DPL is the music pirater's best friend

Anyway, getting to the point (is there one?).... I listened to each of these cds and I can say that I pretty much dislike each and every one. Of the lot, only 2 have remotely grown on me so far. I think a big part of this is timing, some are ok in the morning on a long drive by myself. When I listen to them in the afternoon, no dice. And when I listen to them in the presence of my wife or carpool friend, that get turned off almost immediately (by the passenger).

Yet, according to an army of hipsters, each of these is brilliant, magical, or at the very least very good. I just don't get the connection. Maybe someone can explain it to me? Are there vast insights into the nature of life and humanity awaiting me with further listens, or can I just give up on this genre as a whole? I'm starting to lose patience....

This is the ninth edition of the "things that happen to you while" series.

Things that happen to you while on route to, at, and on route back from a wedding in Abilene, TX:

1. You drive through a bunch of small towns inhabited by people that probably consider a "home" to consist of no less than 100 acres.

2. You decide you should give up city life and get yourself some la-yand out in the country. It really does look like a nice lifestyle. Sure beats the hell out of sitting on 59 every day.

3. You meet (or re-meet) the groom's childhood friends who were an excellent group of people who you had a great time with.

4. With the groom present, you trade stories about the groom with said group of friends about his various and sundry exploits with women over the years. The groom turns red and buries his face in his hands. Only then do the really good stories come out. Almost every story starts with, "HEY, oh yeah, remember that time he..."

5. You watch one of said friends attach a ball and chain to the groom's ankle and give the key to the bride.

6. You drink a lot of beer. A lot. A really really lot. But somehow you don't get drunk, which could be a good or bad sign depending on your point of view.

7. One of the friends bought the bride and groom a Sony Playstation with a game called Guitar Hero. You try it out, and marvel at how much more difficult it is pretending to play guitar than actually playing guitar. You also marvel at the zen-like state of concentration exhibited by two of the groom's and bride's friends who are Guitar Hero experts.

8. You run into one of the groom's friends who you met when you lived in San Antonio and worked at "that company." You discuss all the crazy and stupid things the company did, and he updates you on all the crazy and stupid things the company is still doing. You're glad there is consistency in the universe.

9. You get to see your friend who you convinced to go to law school when you lived in San Antonio get married to a girl who went to law school with him, and you wonder what would have happened if he had gone to the school you advised him to go to instead of the school he actually went to. He probably wouldn't have met that girl, and he probably wouldn't have gotten married this weekend, and he probably wouldn't have looked like he was about to pass out for the thirty-six hours before the ceremony. "Dude, you're sweatin' like a mofo. Stand under this vent and have this beer. You need it."

10. As your friend is standing at the altar saying his vows, you silently pray and hope that he and his wife enjoy a lifetime of happiness and success. L'Chaim!!

10.5. You also pray and hope that he doesn't start using the excuse, "I'm married and boring now" to get out of trips to the bar and whatnot. It's not gonna fly. Like any good relationship, ours was founded while drinking, and it's important that we adhere to that standard.

Dallas Guy has decided to join us and he brings with him his signature form of cynicism and wit. He has chosen the moniker "The Evil I" (his name starts with I). For details, see what wiki has to say. I don't think there will be any national geographic jungle chics in these posts, but I can't guarantee it either.

9/11 changed the way we fly. New risks created new needs in the way of security for airports and airplanes. We have since become experts in a ritual of undressing and unpacking while standing in line we call going to the airport. We have also learned how to pack based on rules as to what needs to be checked luggage and what the security drones will want to see so we can make the experience as painless as possible.

On Friday I went to the airport at 8:30 am for an International flight that would leave at 10. I was tired and cranky and finally made it into the new terminal that looks like a giant shopping mall with everything from bars to fancy restaurants to a liquor store with no bottles costing less than 80 dollars. As I wandered to my gate with plenty of time to spare, I noticed a poster that said in big letters, "Why You Need To Get To The Airport Two Hours Early" and in much smaller letters a lot of text below it. As fate would have it, I was dying to know why I had to wake up at 6 am for a 10 am flight. When I got close enough to the poster to read it, I realized that it was a listing of every store, restaurant, and service at DFW airport very similar to the maps you see in malls. In effect, I have to get to the airport earlier so I can have more time to spend more money. As you can assume, this attempt to be cute in advertising was not exactly giving me the warm fuzzies, but it did get me thinking.

Have you ever looked at the list of items you cannot bring on an airplane? You can't bring tweezers, but you can bring, or even buy in the terminal, a nice pointy sharp metal pen. You can't bring wire, but we all have strong shoelaces. No liquids or creams, but as much powder as you want, and if you get thirsty, you can buy some water in the terminal. Fun science fact, most creams and liquids are made by mixing solids and water in factories, but I digress.

My point is this. The list seems arbitrary. If I want to hurt people, I'll find a way to do it, even if I can't bring my tweezers on board. Before someone calls Homeland Security on me, I am not saying we should do away with security. I do wish that the security measures made more sense and wasted less of my irreplaceable time. I also will not claim to know how to do this or what the right thing to do is. That s a very complicated problem and I do not think anybody is saying otherwise. Luckily it seems that there are some smart people working on it because there have been no significant attacks since 9/11. What I will say is that arbitrary and ever- changing lists of reactionary regulations are not making anything any safer, they are only making it harder for people to fly. Finally, for all the talk of taking security seriously, it's absurd to have an airport advertisement saying that the security measures exist for airport vendors to be more profitable. Does the airport really need to fuel my cynicism about the government beyond its current state?

-Evil I (formerly Dallas Guy)

I've been studying at Rice University on and off since I started law school three years ago. But never did I know that they were hiding not one, but TWO pubs on campus. One is easy to find. It's in the basement of the student center and is intended to be the "undergrad" hangout.

The other pub, however, took more work to find. I had only heard rumors of it from a friend, who only heard rumors of it from a friend on his Ultimate Frisbee league. This other pub was named Valhalla, which brought to mind Norse mythology, Vikings, horns, swords, plunder, blond women, gigantic ships, and beer. When one of my study-mates mentioned that we should grab a beer after studying at Rice one day, I remembered that infamous "other" pub. We set out to find this mysterious Valhalla.

Guided only by instructions from a Rice student and our keen second-sense of alcohol, the three of us searched for the pub. We were told to look for a building that looks like a lecture hall (um, this is a university campus) by a bus stop with stairs leading up to the entrance. Except that we're not supposed to take the stairs. We're supposed to proceed around to the side of the building and locate a door leading down into the basement of the lecture hall. There, so said the Rice student, is where we will find Valhalla - the "grad student" pub. I liked it already. Grad students. People who were as jaded about education as were are.

We expected to need a password, maybe a special saying, like at a speak-easy, to gain admittance to the pub. You know - knock twice, scratch three times, pound with your fist. Maybe we'd have to bring booty from our last voyage.

Valhalla was exactly where it was supposed to be, and it looked exactly how I had imagined. It was kind of dark, it smelled of old building, beer, and maybe some BO. It was small, there were pictures on the wall of various Valhalla partiers and Rice events dating back to the 19-teens, including photos of JFK's famous moon speech at Rice Stadium and the G7 Summit. And there was, of course, a Viking helmet displayed in a glass case at one end of the room. The curved ceiling and old piano in the corner buried beneath various board games and knick-knacks completed the experience. We had found it - Valhalla was ours.

Not really. But it was fun. The beer selection was excellent, as were the prices. $1.25 for St. Arnold draft? Done. $2 for Blue Moon? Deal. I handed the proprietress a credit card. She looked at it, looked at me, and said, "Oh, this is Valhalla. Cash only." Of course. Let me go find some gold coins I picked up in Newfoundland.

While there, my friend struck up a conversation with an older couple sitting at the end of the bar by themselves. We got to talking, and turns out they had been Valhalla patrons for 25 years, and had owned Shakespeare's Pub in Houston for 16, having recently sold it.

Go on - check out Valhalla for yourself. If you can find it.

I spend a lot of time complaining about how hard it is to meet interesting new people. I spend even more time complaining about how they all seem to get married and have kids and get lost in the land of "I hope you find someone so you can be as happy as I am" right before I never hear from them again until one day they want me to go to their kid's second birthday party even though they forgot me for the first birthday and forgot to call me for my own; not that I am bitter or anything.

Last weekend I went to True Colors, a concert promoting gay rights, with a straight friend and two lesbian couples I had not met. Aside from getting to see Erasure, Cyndi Lauper, and a 30-something overweight guy in a mesh shirt and hot pants with a wedgie, I also discovered lesbians. Not the ones in porn or confused college girls with broken hearts and seeking alternatives to evil men, but honest to goodness girls that prefer girls. One in particular is a Doctor, has 6 cars and a motorcycle, she likes beer, she likes to check out girls, and she is generally the perfect guy friend I've always wanted. The best thing about her is that her girlfriend won't change her and I doubt she will be having kids any time soon! We exchanged numbers and I hope that this relationship will flourish into something fabulous, but I wont get ahead of myself.

-Evil I

all the kiddies sing for you.