Poptarticus

I have some questions. Firstly: Is This Hot?

NOT. This is the contestant who is not afraid to use her sexuality? The one who shook her ass on camera in her audition tape? Man, she is butt-ugly. She’s all crosseyed and shit. Plus, to make matters worse, she’s a PASTRY CHEF WHO ISN’T VERY GOOD AT MAKING DESSERT. Hmmm. The whole situation is a little sketchy.

Mommy, Otto did something bad and I’M GOING TO TELL. Oh wait, I’m not going to tell. I’m going to huff and I’m going to puff and then, I’m going to get ELIA to tell.

Lame.

Second question. WHAT IS UP WITH SAM’S HAIR?

Dude. At least Midgely had the good sense to cover his up. Also, you look way too serious all the time.

He did it! That sound you hear is the bitching and moaning of the millions of people who HATED JEFFREY.

Laura was robbed! (Bullshit.) Uli was robbed! (Well, maybe.) Michael sucked but he’s so young! (Uh, yeah.)

But Jeffrey got it and he deserved it so la, la, la.

I’ll write more about Top Chef later but for right now, this morning I had the craziest dream that I was ON Top Chef. As a CONTESTANT. Also I was MAKING OUT WITH HAROLD. I love dreams! Anyway, it was almost a complete episode, with snarky comments like “I can’t believe two of the chefs are actually making out when they are suppose to be cooking” and lots of video footage of said making out. Also, me and Harold were a team but I was in charge of table service, and had to put a bowl of soup on a table that was already set. Unfortunately for me, a napkin was askew, and the judge got a little nasty about it. I was like, I didn’t actually SET this table, but let’s face it, if I wasn’t making out with Harold, I probably would have noticed the askew napkin. I woke up before the judging, thank god.

Anyhow. I will write more about the actual episode of Top Chef later but for now, the Yes No and Maybe:

Ilan D. Hall: YES! He WON!
Sam Talbot: YES! He won the quickfire. I LOVE him and hope to have some dreams about him soon.
Marissa Churchill: Maybe. She was looking pretty confident in the quickfire for a pastry chef.
Otto Borsich: NO. Not if he keeps running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off.
Cliff Crooks: WHO? Not sure I noticed him.
Suyai Steinhauer: Sadly, being cool did not help her. She is already OUT.
Michael Midgley: Maybe. If he lays off the Bud Light and flies under the radar.
Mia Gaines-Alt: Maybe. Knows frogs legs, but does she know tripe?
Josie Smith-Malave: Maybe. She’s everyone’s lesbian big sister.
Marcel Vigneron: Yes. Sadly, I think this guy is going all the way. I could be wrong, but he has a bit of a Stephen air to him, without the fun. Speaking of Stephen, where are the wine geeks? No sommeliers? What a drag. Also, this guy is lame.
Elia Aboumrad: Yes. She is a little too serious though. Give the girl a Bud Light.
Emily Sprissler: Maybe, but give the girl a Bud Light, also some mascara.
Frank Terzoli: Maybe. If he has any Bud Light, please don’t let him near a karaoke machine.
Betty Fraser: Yes! She’s everyone’s helpful mom.
Carlos Fernandez: Ugh. No. Have you ever slept with someone and then after, felt feelings of revulsion? I have, and that is how I feel about this guy. I can’t believe I ever liked him once, I must have been drunk.

Now I am off to eat some frog leg and chicken liver cakes. NOT!

In two days, a killer night: the finale of Project Runway AND the first episode of Top Chef 2.

WHO will it be? I think everyone pretty much knows who I want to win, so I won’t go any further there. But there has got to be a reason only one of them is smiling. Right?

Anyway. On to Top Chef. Most of the contestant videos are up on BravoTV.com and here are my pre-vision predictions.

Ilan D. Hall. Anyone with a weird name and a funny haircut stands a chance to make it about half way even if they kind of suck. He’s a bit young though. Favorite ethnic food is CHINESE? Wrong answer, go to the back of the line, I take it back about what I said about names and haircuts.

Sam Talbot. Kind of a dork but cute and has a lot of experience. Solid, like Harold. Also hates salmon and I hate salmon too! So he’s got that going for him, for me, at least (besides the cute part even.) A contender.

Marissa Churchill. A pastry chef. Unless every possible stroke of good luck hits her, she has absolutely no fucking chance making it to the top three. She could, I guess, be one of those uber anal pastry chefs who never party and therefore, won’t show up for a challenge hungover, whereby she could win with a pastry wrapped oyster with a passion fruit glaze. Still, I predict she won’t make it past five or six challenges.

Otto Borsich. This guy will either make it all the way or will get booted within two episodes. He is half Italian and half Hungarian (that is quite a volatile combo) and his favorite food is PORK. Gotta love a guy who knows himself. He has a ton of experience and will either be a really great guy or a total dickhead. We shall see.

Cliff Crooks. Snore. That’s all I have to say. He might get pretty far because he is so boring that no one will even notice him or his dishes, thereby never being on the top or at the bottom. Congratulations, you have made it to the next level, because no one noticed you.

Suyai Steinhauer. Love her! Want her to go to the top three out of sheer coolness. She’s funny and hot and used to be a vegan but now she eats meat. She loves eating with her hands. I love her.

Michael Midgley. Homeboy is a line cook in Lodi, California, the heart of Nowheresville. He wears flip flops from Walmart and loves Big Macs. He doesn’t have a chance in hell. I give him three episodes unless, like Miss Pastry Chef, he gets handed some serious luck.

Mia Gaines-Alt. Oh wait a second. I was in error when I said Lodi was the heart of Nowheresville. Actually, OAKDALE, where this chick is from, is the heart. Lodi is like, the spleen or something. I don’t know which one is worse, the heart or the spleen, when referring to a place in this manner. Anyway, she at least has her own place so she might get a little farther, even though her clientele are “cowboys.”

Josie Smith-Malave. I foresee her saying “multicultural” too much. Loves sandwiches and also, condiments. She’s really loud and looks kind of scary so I think she has a good chance.

Marcel Vigneron. He doesn’t seem too creative but says he has an experimental palate and likes exotic ingredients. Also likes collard greens? And sour gummy candy? Hmm… he may have the name/haircut thing on his side. But then pops off stuff like “Bell Peppers are over-utilized.” Really? Where? At Round Table Pizza? The Greek place down the street? Ah, the young.

Elia Aboumrad. Another crazy name, but she has tons of experience in France and now in Las Vegas. Plus she is Lebanese but grew up in Mexico and I doubt she will throw around the word “multicultural” too much. From the first impression standpoint she seems a very strong contender, and she is only 23! I don’t see her showing up with too many hangovers, but I also don’t see her being a bitch about everyone else’s.

Emily Sprissler. She hates mayonnaise. She pronounces Gyro “jie roe.” She will eat bad tiramisu. She doesn’t stand a chance.

Frank Terzoli. He’s from San Diego, and I’d like to support the home-town boy, but… Well. He does have experience, but he hangs out at karaoke bars. His favorite food is ravioli, which is a plus. His explanation of Italy, not such a plus. But whatever, I’ll root for him just because he is from San Diego, even if he is sort of a dork.

Betty Fraser. She has her own restaurant and she makes “California Comfort Food.” Sounds good to me. Has never been to Europe, wants to go to Barcelona to eat tapas. Homegirl, give me a call and I’ll tell you some better places to get tapas. She is the “Dave” of this season, but with a really short skirt. I foresee a soggy nacho or two for sure, but I think she has a chance to squeeze in to the top despite her goofball star earrings.

Carlos Fernandez. HE’S been to El Bulli. HE has his own restaurant. HE is a good looking dude. HE is this season’s Harold. HE will make it pretty far.

Also, I think there will be a Tripe challenge. That’s it for now.

My brother’s 40th birthday is tomorrow and I just want to get this in today in case he checks in the morning:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOM! YOU ROCK.

Last year I had my 40th in Sicily, with people I love. This year Tom will have his in Belgium, with people he loves. I wish I was there, but I can be there in spirit. Yum, frites taste GOOD.

Anyway Tom, if you get this (or Kasch if you read this print it and bring it to him) I want to say I love you and I am proud of you, little brother. Have a fantastic day.

All my readers feel free to leave Tom a little birthday message of your own. ESPECIALLY the ones who know him…

Something a little crazy happened yesterday. I have a six-CD changer in my car, but for the past few weeks I have been jumping around from Radiohead’s The Bends to Spoon’s Kill the Moonlight (sometimes I listen to “Jonathan Fisk” over and over just so I can listen to Britt’s little moan at the beginning) and Eels’ Beautiful Freak, ignoring the other CDs in there, pretty much. So yesterday I am driving around San Diego, a beautiful Saturday morning, and Takk comes on. After one minute, maybe two, of listening, I was suddenly gripped by this overwhelming sense of sadness. It was, well, almost crippling, and I almost had to pull over. Instead I kept driving, all over OB, stopping at stop signs and sitting there not knowing what to do and what the hell this was all about.

For a while I played with it in my mind. Just like everyone else, I am worried and scared and horrified by what is going on in the world, but it wasn’t that. I am really super bummed that I probably can never take wine or water on an airplane anymore and I am really not looking forward to flying through London in October if I have to check my cameras and carry my passport around in a plastic bag. But this is not freaking me out so bad I can’t breathe.

So finally it dawned on me. Takk. Nancy. Duh.

Nancy Lytle died suddenly a year ago last Thursday, and I wrote about it, but it was an angry piece, and I pulled it down. I think about Nancy all the time, and of course thought about her Thursday night as I sipped on many glasses of wine at the Vine (always the self-medicator, me.) But the sense of loss and sadness that gripped me yesterday was so overwhelming, and it was Takk that brought it on. Because one day after Nancy died I drove to Hollywood to see Sigur Ros at the Avalon, and heard those songs for the first time - the record wasn’t even out yet.

The music in my car brought me back to a grief a year old. It was the craziest thing. The heart, the mind. Crazy. Once I understood, I forced myself to listen to the entire record, and I drove all the way over to Pacific Beach and back. I drove and listened and tried to process it. It was a major relief when it was done and The Bends came back on.

I really, really miss Nancy. I am crying right now. But Brian has promised to play The Eraser and Gimme Fiction at the Vine later, because it is Sunday. And that is something to look forward to.

Today was Mr. Brian O’Loughlin’s birthday. I can’t say much more than: it was immense.

We drank so much good wine it was obscene. Also I ate half a ham sandwich. I’m not gonna use that word. I’M NOT GONNA USE THAT WORD.

Oh, whatever. I can’t help it. It was AWESOME. Happy Birthday Brian!

I’ve been wanting to do this for oh, so long.

Novocaine for the soul
You’d better give me something
To fill the hole
Before I sputter out

ANYWAY. It’s been awhile, mostly it’s been kind of crazy around here. Not really crazy so much as HOT and just, well, SUMMER. It seems that summer sort of takes away from introspection. Summer and introspection don’t really go together, do they? Plus my apartment is a little sweatbox and I can’t hang out in it for too long. Though, it has sort of cooled down a little.

Summer. It seems as if time really accellerates when summer comes. There is, well, just so much going on, and it makes everything fly by. I highly recommend writing a blog, since you can actually go back to weeks or months or years prior and see what the hell you did. Did I spell accellarate right? Fuck.

Summer is sweat, the crack of the bat, the feel of something cold on your tongue when you are hot, sand in the bathtub, too much energy, not enough energy, not enough real sleep. Because sleeping in the heat is way hard, of course. Corn. Summer is also, corn.

I think I have been spending too much time at the Vine. But it is really fun down there.

And tomorrow I am going to see Muse at SOMA. I have mixed feelings about this show, but only because I truly hate SOMA. How about this: SOMA IS THE WORST LIVE VENUE IN SAN DIEGO. There, now I will get at least fifteen google hits a day. It is really an awful place to see a show, but I really want to see Muse, even though compared to The Eraser Muse’s new record Black Holes and Revelations sounds sort of superfluous and overambitious. ME: the new minimalist. All because of Thom Yorke!

Well, it can’t be anything but good since I am so scared of it. I do love that crazy Muse.

The other night I dreamed about a friend I lost about a year ago, because of a stupid misunderstanding and also, the cruel manipulations of someone else. I can’t believe it has been a year, and it is weird that I dreamed about him now. Mostly because I have had time to get over it, and with the shit that is going on in the world today, I just have to say: there is no room, or reason, in the world for this kind of meaningless bullshit. Seriously. We should all just concentrate as much as possible on the positive as we can right now. There is absolutely no room in the universe for any kind of negativity. Did I spell negatevity right? Fuck.

Ladies, get thee down to the market to pick up the new issue of Rolling Stone. Not for this:

But for this:

Believe me when I tell you, that the photo of Johnny Depp inside the issue is AMAZINGLY HOT. GOD BLESS AMERICA. France, too. The question is, does he like Radiohead?

So here it is 4th of July already. I went down to the beach at 9:00 A.M. and it is already packed. OB Street Fair is for the locals. July 4th is for, well, everyone else (it seems like.) The cops have their ticket books out, many cans of Coors Light are cooling, the mayo is already getting rancid, and copious amounts of sunscreen are being applied. Yippee. It’s a long, long time until the fireworks.

So the Mudsharks shredded at Winstons on Sunday.

I kind of wish I could go on tour with them. Next year, I have to make that happen. I could get a laptop and I could document the tour on my blog. Would that be cool, or what? It would be a different kind of vacation, that’s for sure.

Have a great day and try to stay out of trouble. Heh.

A little about yesterday.

Wonderland. This is sort of bizarre but: a few days ago I had a blog entry titled Wonderland. I pulled it down (as I do from time to time when my writing is boring and trite) but it was there. And then I go to the OB Street Fair yesterday and there is this arrow that points to Wonderland. And just today, someone actually SAID to me LAST NIGHT WAS LIKE WONDERLAND.

So what the fuck up with all this Wonderland stuff? It’s a mystery to me.

Whatever. It’s weird but I have to move on. Practically Levitating, I am not. I’ll save that for tomorrow.

So the day itself was pretty chill - it was cloudy and overcast here, and I was on a mission to stay sober until night.

This is some of the crew from The Vine partying at Shawn’s as I made my way to the beach. Actually they are ALL from The Vine, except for that dude to Renee’s right. I don’t know who that guy is.

I mostly hung with Brian, Shannah, and Emma at the beach.

Emma is such a cool baby. She’s a little bundle of awesomeness (with some pretty meaty thighs, as well.) She’d be the coolest baby in the world, if it weren’t for my nephew Ryan. As it stands now, she runs a very close second. I can’t WAIT until Emma and Ryan get married and have kids that will be so cool that they will basically rule the planet. The Spawn of Brangelina will look like friggen Oompa Loompas compared to Ryan and Emma’s kids.

OK I know that is a pretty crazy idea, but you never know.

So… made it over to Shelter Island in excellent condition, and the Pink Martini show was really fun. I will say right here and now that Humphey’s is a lame venue for this kind of show, because for the most part you are not allowed to stand up and dance. However, knowing this, Mark and I didn’t even go to our seats but instead, stood by the little cement wall where security will let you hang out if you can’t sit still. So there was me, Mark, and two other people behind us standing and dancing a little, and then all the seats filled with prosperous white people sitting down behind us.

It was killer though. Someone told me later, it was the best concert they had EVER seen at Humphrey’s. And these people get these subscription packages and go to many, many (populated by the yuppified set) shows. Pink Martini are just totally and completely awesome and they have this new (at least new for me, I think) cellist that totally rocked my world - Brant Taylor. Man. He almost stole the show from singer China Forbes last night, but this could be because he was on my side of the stage. Funny how a passionate Cello playing nerd can suddenly become the hottest guy in the universe.

It was windy, and the palm trees around the outdoor theater were blowing around, and I never looked at a face behind me, because I as close as I could possibly be. It was kind of magical.

After the show I saw Thomas who owns the wine bar in Portland (he was also really great last night) and the first thing out of my mouth was “THAT CELLO GUY. STRAIGHT OR GAY?” Man I can sure be obnoxious sometimes.

So. I am now exhausted because due to a few turns of events I didn’t go to bed until really late and I also have a hangover today. Tomorrow is Radiohead and because of said turns, I am not in the same mood I was two days ago. In one moment, everything can change completely, and I feel like in my life these one-moment changes are like a domino game and there is danger around every corner.

Having said that, if Radiohead plays one of the following tomorrow (or Tuesday or Friday) I will be a very happy woman: Lucky. Pyramid Song. Black Star. Just. Like Spinning Plates. How to Disappear Completely.

There are a lot more but I won’t bore you with more until Tuesday.

Today is the 5th anniversary of www.slowtrav.com and the Slow Traveler’s Community. Trish from Baton Rouge put together this little collage of us all hanging out in front of the Sorrento webcam. Crafty!

The Slow Travel Community is AWESOME. For those not in the know, Slow Travel is travel utilizing vacation rentals (like villas and apartments) instead of staying in hotels. Also, Slow Travelers take it SLOW. Like, two weeks in one place. For lazy people like me, Slow Travel was a way of life before there was ever a name for it.

The creator of www.slowtrav.com, Pauline Kenny, has really done something remarkable - she has somehow created a place that not only brings people together, but keeps them together. I have made SO many friends through the message board, www.slowtalk.com.

I already posted this on slowtalk today, but here it is again. I am on a couple of music message boards and recently I posted an invitation for some Radiohead fans to come by and eat some food here the day before the first Radiohead show. Someone accused me of being a murderer and a rapist! As if! I’ve just been to so many cool Slowtrav gatherings that it didn’t even occur to me that inviting strangers over is weird. At least on Slowtrav, they know I am not a rapist, just a drunken slut. (Just kidding. Maybe.)

Ruth and I could not have written Chow! Venice without the Slowtrav folks. Well, we could have written it, but we might not have sold any, or at least it would have been harder. They are a very supportive group. They also like to drink wine and party. I feel very honored to be among them.

So, Happy Anniversary Slowtrav! Because of Slowtrav, a gazillion journeys have been more colorful and way richer. And for that, we are all very thankful, because an enthused traveler is a citizen of the world and a better person all around. Plus they are better lovers. Right? Right!