Watty's Mental Detritus

Thursday's brew notes...

2012-01-14T03:49:00.000-08:00

I'm always looking to try new styles, even those that I'm not particularly fond of. I don't like ESBs (Extra Special/Strong Bitters) - you casual micro drinkers know this as Redhook's flagship brew. I don't like wheat-based beers either, but I did that Grand Cru and that was widely appreciated, so I guess I need to branch out if I'm going to start a brewery (2014 spoiler alert). So I made a compromise with myself and created an English Bitter. I named it Brit-Bit, because to be honest, I'm terribly amused with three things: a) Britney Spears' nickname is or used to be Brit-Brit; b) Britney Spears' toy chihuahua's name was Bit-Bit; and c) I'd love to see what would happen if the two could successfully breed. Okay, the entirety of that is false, but I thought Brit-Bit (British Bitter) was catchy in that very vein of celebridiocy (that's my word, copyrighted).

The usual suspect Jason showed up (and graciously bought the ingredients for the brew, probably around $28 - that makes five gallons, mind you), and our coworker, fellow bartender, and all-around good guy Marc showed up to watch the proceedings. We got the mash going (all-grain, baby) and cleaned up and sanitized all the necessary gear and bottles to bottle the "It's So Cold in the D" Belgian Imperial Brown ale that John (another fellow bartender that, sadly, no longer works in our unit) and I brewed as a collaboration between Marshall Brewing and Snoddy-Watty Brewery. Yes, John's last name is Marshall, and Marshall Brewing is a moniker I bestowed upon his excellent brews. Jason's last name is Snodderly. Those precious few of you reading this know me as Watty. Jason's wife came up with Snoddy-Watty....we were going to go with Watson and Holmes, but this is more fitting. Anyway, I'm digressing. The mash takes at least an hour, and after sparging (draining out the 'tea' that we had made from the grains and then rinsing them with hot water to flush out the rest of the viable fluids), it was time for them to go. Marc had to work at 5:30am - props for staying until 8:30pm when he had to drive back to West Seattle! Jason had something important he had to do with his wife the next morning (massages and French dining in Snoqualmie - pussy), so I had to do the entirety of the boil, the chilling of the wort (finished product), the filtering, the pitching of the yeast, and all the bottling by myself. Some partner, eh? I kid. I finished up around 11:15pm.

I'm curious as to how this beer is going to turn out. Not that I think it's going to be bad, everything went right. I used several ingredients that I've never used or incorporated before, and although I tasted the hydro sample (I will explain shortly), that's not a foolproof example of how the beer is eventually going to taste. For starters, this will easily be the lowest-ABV (alcohol by volume, or as you understand it, alcohol level) beer we've ever made. OG - original gravity, or the amount of sugars present in the mixture - was 1.042. For a quick reference point, water is 1.000. Anything above that equals potentially fermentable sugars, though you're almost completely unlikely to reach 1.000 once fermentation is complete (that would mean that all sugars were able to be converted by the yeast into alcohol, and that's very unlikely). After using a software program to figure out roughly where this beer is going to end up, I hit the target of 1.040-1.045 OG, and after fermentation bottoms out, I should be at about 1.012 FG (final gravity). If these numbers are correct, we use the quick equation of OG minus FG times 131 to get the ABV, and 1.042-1.012x131=3.9% ABV. Thank God. Two of our last three brews (the ISCITD Belgian Imperial Brown and last week's AG Oatmeal Espresso Chocolate Porter) are going to be upwards of 10% alcohol. Seriously, the ISCITD is 9.825%, and that's fact. I'm all for potent beer, but I want these to be something that my friends aren't afraid to drink, and something I'm not going to get overly fuckered up on.

Okay, to explain the term "hydro sample." When the wort (finished pre-fermented pre-carbonated product) is completed and cooled down to appropriate yeast-adding (pitching) temperatures (roughly 64-74 degrees F), a sample is taken and gauged by a hydrometer. This hydrometer, as I alluded to before, measures the amount of sugars in the solution. 1.000 = water, and anything above that is potentially fermentable product. Again, it's rare that you're going to reach 1.000 after fermentation is complete, but it's not unheard of, and some high-alcohol brews have been known to reach sub-1.0 readings. That just means there's a shit-ton of alcohol in them, as alcohol has a lower density than water.

I'm tired, and it's getting late. I'll make a post bringing all of you up to speed regarding jargon and whatnot. Thanks for following.

Chris

New beginnings?

2012-01-06T04:34:00.000-08:00

[listening to City and Colour (Dallas Green of Alexisonfire): "Comin' Home" on repeat]

This blog has offered me many idiotic ends. I've spewed more hatred on here than I care to remember. Those few of you that read this know what I'm talking about, and might have had the pleasure of reading some of the blog posts I've deleted. Those same people know that they were deserved, but I'm trying something else this year. I'm not going to delete my old posts, but I am going to try to drive this blog in a new direction. I've been brewing beer since October of '11, and I've been receiving excellent reviews on my recipes from my friends. I can't go further without mentioning Jason Snodderly, the guy I drug into it on my first brew, the guy who has been my mostly-faithful helper for brews (and drinking said brews!). I won't go into history just yet, but I've been wanting to speak on this evening's brew, and Facebook and Twitter are not an appropriate outlet at this time of night. I'm not good at Facebooking this time of night, because if I say something sarcastic, I'm asked a million questions. Here, you know to take me as I am. I've always been a semi-asshole but I haz gud intenshuns (lol).

Tonight I attempted to make an all-grain version of my (originally partial-mash) Oatmeal Espresso Chocolate Porter. Partial-mash means (for the layman, quickly) making a sort of tea out of specialty grains and adding a liquid malt extract that is made by another company. This partial-mash recipe that we have been drinking and giving out has received such good reviews by our friends that we're going to submit a few bottles of that brew into a local homebrew competition. It is honestly the best porter I've ever had, and probably ranks in the top 5 best beers I've ever drank.

Tonight's brew was a little more than a "bitch and a half." I expected Jason to join me, but after my visit to the beer supply store (Larry's Brew Supply in Kent, off 212th), he "called out" with a valid reason. Two coworkers of ours were rumored to join as well, but they also dogged out. Here I am, driving home with 14 pounds of just-milled grain and a 4 year old in the back seat, and I have to convert this into beer tonight or the grain will lose its freshness. It's already close to 7:00.

To cut things short, I spent from 8:15 pm to 2:30 am brewing this. That was never my intention, but with or without helpers it would have taken that long. The "mash" (making 'tea' out of the grain) took the expected 90 minutes with rinsing the grain (sparging), but that made more liquid than my brew pot could hold. I added the proper ingredients whilst boiling what "liquor" I could ("liquor" being the 'tea'), but I ended up with more than my pot could hold. That was a first. I had a couple boil-overs because I added the remainder when some liquid evaporated. The boil lasted over 2 hours. Most boils are 60-90 minutes. The boil finally started at 11:20...I didn't add the yeast to an appropriately cooled "wort" (finished boiled product) until about 2:45. Hello, clean-up! I've heard people say "If you want to brew beer, I hope you enjoy washing dishes" and it's true.

The finished product ended up at an original gravity (OG) of 1.08, which unfortunately means that it will probably end up around 9%, which I do not want this beer to be at. I will be tweaking this "new" recipe to what I want. I've only been doing this for less than three months, after all. I don't want people to be fucked up after one pint! I will delve further into my exploits (past and present) in further posts. If you're interested in trying my delicious beer, just hit a brother up. Thanks as always for reading, and keep posted for more.

Chris

focuspoint faithful....

2011-11-19T02:19:00.000-08:00

I have a simple question to ask you. Those of you that have followed the Facebook post to read more of my blog...don't. You don't want to tread here. That being said, I ask this question of you all.

I know that some of you are particularly fond of some of our songs...some of those in particular being 'Learning Curve' or 'Project O.' I have a two part question for you...what songs of ours struck a particular chord in you (no pun intended), and why?

I'm not asking this question to boost my or Paolo's egos, but rather because I'm finding myself stuck on a particular song lately, and I want to know why you feel linked to your particular song.

I've been on a big Alice in Chains kick lately, and though I've never been in the throes of a heroin addiction like Layne Staley was, I find a particular affinity for his defeatist bent in the songs that he wrote. The one that I've found myself really identifying with is "Nutshell" (and the Unplugged version of "Down in a Hole"). YouTube has the Alice in Chains Unplugged version of the song (I have the DVD of the whole Unplugged set), and this is the version that really sucked me into the song. I'm not feeling that I'd be "better dead," as he illustrates, but sometimes I feel that although I have this support group around me....I'm still on my own. I'm sure some of you feel this - ultimately, this life is ours to lead, live, and forge. Make your choices wisely, or hide the poor ones well. I'm far from being someone you should take advice from....and part of what attracted me to this song originally was a "misheard lyric" of "Myyyyy....gift of selfish rage" instead of "gift of self is raped" (the original lyric). But...there's a lesson to be learned here. We all have an identity. I've spent a lot of my life being many things to many people, least of which was my true self. I had a face I had to throw on when my mother forced me to continue being Mormon, I had a face I threw on when I got onstage (eased usually by a fair dosage of alcohol, I do have some stage fright). I have many faces, unfortunately. That doesn't mean your experiences with me have been fake. You all know me, some of you only professionally, some of you during the adrenaline rush after I got off stage, some of you intimately. I am, after all, the "good person" most of you see me as. I'm reading much to far into this song and since I've had a few, I'm delving into speculative regions. I've always been emotionally attached to music, and I hope that those of you who decided to check this out have evaluated your attachment to music as well. Thanks for listening, and I welcome any and all comments. Again, if you came here to read this post, and this post only, don't delve further into this blog. Thanks to everyone who has ever been a focuspoint fan.

Yours,

Chris

Time for the detritus to shine...

2011-03-28T03:16:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure that the few people that were following my blog that aren't subscribers are no longer paying attention (read: Danny's friends that were expecting me to talk more shit about Tiffany), so I'll continue. Yeah, it's late. Yeah, I'm slightly intoxicated. Let's move on. My birthday is on Friday. I'm turning 29. (sips on a glass of Kestrel's 2007 Syrah) I'm not so coooo with it. Tristan's turning 4 this September, and we're looking into preschool for him. We would have done so last fall, but li'l boy was a bit too smart for that. No point in investing in schooling when he already knows the course material. I'll take a little bit of responsibility for that (more because of his inherited big head), but most of that has to do with Allie's tireless mommyhood. We were separated from November 2009 until...last fall, when we started to work things out. I was officially asked to move back in on Valentine's Day of 2011, so technically it was for over a year. Counseling has worked wonders for us both. I was seeing a counselor for a few months before we decided to see the same counselor for the sake of our marriage. You'd think that there may be a slight conflict of interest there, but not really - most everything I talked about with him had to do with the relationship I had with Allie. Once we started seeing him as a couple, he really put me on the spot. And you know what...that was a good thing. Anyway, Allie has asked me to not be so forthcoming with information about us, so I won't be. Instead, I'll talk about me. And you know that's a subject I'm more than willing to expound upon. I am an alcoholic. It runs in my family. I've fed into it since I moved from smoking excessive amounts of weed to drinking excessive amounts of alcohol. I think what tapped into my familial tendencies derived from a simple equation: when you're young and you're smoking pot, once you're familiar with the drug, you tend to try to get as high as you can. Once I started drinking, I translated the same feelings to alcohol: try to test your limits, and until you establish them, get as 'party-time!' drunk as you can. Unfortunately, if you leave me to my own devices, it doesn't always, but sometimes will, get past that point. I've had more blackout nights than I wish to admit, and to be honest, I'm not going to remember the entirety of this post. I'm most likely to wake up tomorrow and remember I was at the computer, and then freak out about what I said. It's sad, isn't it? I'm coherent right now, but my first reaction tomorrow is going to be to delete everything I said while I was drinking, because I'm afraid I might have said something offensive. Yet, Chris, you're going to remember that you posted on your blog, and you're going to re-read everything you just said. And, yes, you're going to leave it up. You know why? Because you're being as real as you can be right now. Devolving into self-flagellation is not the direction I intended when starting this post, and I think I've done enough of it during my mental vomitus. My (our) counselor has suggested, because of Allie's response (which I may delve into in a minute), that I quit drinking. Because of this, and the discussions we've had during counseling, I'm quitting drinking shortly after my birthday. I say 'shortly' because I'm sure, much like celebrations of the past, my birthday is going to last a couple days. However, once I'm done, I'm done. I'll go out with you if you want, but realize I'm gonna be pounding Sprite (well, preferably ginger ale), and this doesn't mean I'ma be your DD when you're done obliviating yourself. Goodnight, people. Learn from me. Thanks.

Watty - friend, musician, husband, father...teacher?

2010-10-07T17:52:00.001-07:00

Yep, that's right. I applied to Ashford University's online program and am tentatively scheduled to start my BA in Social Sciences on the 19th. The idea of being an English teacher has been kicking around in my head for years, and I finally decided to just do it. I'm excited (and a little nervous). Turns out credits DON'T expire (thankfully the money that was spent on community college courses in my young-and-stupid years will still be worth something), and if I have the amount of credits I think I have, I'll probably be starting as a junior.

I've been trying to work on things with Allie and have been spending more time with her and Tristan. I'm cautiously optimistic - things seem to be going pretty well, and we've talked over some of the issues that led to the separation. I've also been trying to find a suitable counselor to talk to and hopefully sort out the nuts and bolts in my head that have been knocked loose. I've started with references from family and friends, but so far it's been difficult to find one that's available when I am.

Music has been put on an indefinite hold. I dink around on my guitar when I can (Tristan loves it when I do), but as far as the band goes, I'm still not talking to Danny. Practice is obviously more difficult (and slightly pointless) when you don't have a drummer. I've not had time for much of that anyway, seeing as pretty much all my time lately has been spent working or being with my family.

I'm still irritated about those two. It's hard to push past the uber-dramatic episode that they and I had, and I know for a fact that this will never be resolved. I'm not sorry for speaking up, and I know they will never stop speaking out, so I guess that's that. That's all I have to say on that subject.

I'm going to go watch a friend and coworker perform his stand-up comedy bit tonight since apparently Nana has Tristan over at her place :). Sounds like a great Thursday night thing to do.

Thanks for listening.

Meh.

2010-08-02T10:37:00.000-07:00

It's really hard to keep my mouth shut about what's been happening lately, but after a few times of 'trying to give a dose of their own medicine,' I'm just done with this. Done with arguing, done with listening to threats, done with swiping back. Just deleting everything and moving on.

Re-fire version 2.0

2010-06-23T02:10:00.001-07:00

I've tried a few times lately to get this blog kick-started back into life, and have ended up with posts which after sleeping on I felt were not quite of the caliber I intend on continuing this blog with. However, I have a lot to talk about lately, and most of what has happened since the last post I allowed to stay up calls for a 3-drink minimum.

Since I'm on my ninth for the evening, I think that requirement has been satisfied.

Back in November, Allie and I separated. I'm not going into detail as to why, just suffice it to say that it was my decision, and the dreaded 'd' word is still on schedule. I hold no ill will towards her, we still get along quite nicely, but it's just....done. She's a great mother to Tristan and a good person, but she and I just did not work out.

Back in March, I lost my job at QFC because I accidentally violated a very important company policy for which I was cited, had to go to court, and required to pay a very lenient fine.

(On a completely unrelated note, I'm listening to the Smashing Pumpkins' Siamese Dream album as I type this, and I'm on 'Quiet,' the second track, and it is epic.)

After going 'on the dole' as the Brits like to put it, I was unsuccessful in my attempts to re-enter the grocery industry. Things were not looking good for our hero. One fairly fuck-all day, I decided to enter 'bartender' into the Worksource search engine and saw a posting at the airport. I figured, "Fuck it, my stepmom works there and likes it, let's do the derrty dirty." I applied, and sure enough, I got an e-mail an hour later, and a phone call an hour after that, scheduling an interview. Lo and behold, it was for a position at the Anthony's in the airport, which is not RUN by the company I worked for previously, but happened to have a manager who worked with the GM of the Anthony's I did work for.

Bam. I interview. I know the product. I know the expectations. I know the jorb (no typo, Coach Z). I get the fucking job! I am now working at the busiest restaurant on the West Coast. That is not a typo, nor an exaggeration. Seriously, it's the busiest restaurant ON THE WEST COAST. The Thursday and Friday before Memorial Day weekend (which I was training during), the restaurant did $42k+ EACH DAY. That's what my grocery store did on a busy weekend day, and what the Anthony's I used to work for wished to do in a week.

My dad told me I had to put my last job behind me as soon as possible after reading a couple smarmy, angry Facebook posts about my last employer. Here's my last outburst, then. FUCK that company. I do everything I can to spend as little money at any Kroger, Fred Meyer, or QFC-affiliated company. I had nothing against them until QFC's head of HR decided he wanted to make an example out of me by not hiring me back. Their policy is to fire anyone who violates the policy I did, but they have rehired several people back after firing them. I was a rising star in the company, I made assistant store management within a year of being hired, and was never so much as written up or even verbally admonished for anything I did. I was being groomed for the next position above me when this incident happened.

Not only that, but Fred Meyer contested my eligibility for unemployment benefits AFTER I had stopped claiming them in attempts to make me pay back what I had been paid out just to fuck me over one step more. Thanks for wasting my time, and yours as well, since you lost.

Obviously, I'm bitter. However, because of this, I've been given a few choice opportunities, and I am much happier with my current situation than when I was when I was working for that company. I make more money now than I did as a senior journeyman at said store, and I have to work less hours. Not only that, I get to do the job I have loved most out of all the positions I've worked in my history, and I still get union-provided benefits for myself and my son. I've met some amazing people since I lost my job, and I see everything heading in a more positive direction now.

Time to shift into a different gear...music has been slowly progressing towards a different direction. I've spent a lot of my 'down time' working on songs-in-progress that Paolo and I have had in reserve, hoping for another LP sometime this year. We currently have about 13 tracks in relative stages of completion. Some are reworkings of our old band's songs, one or two are poignant Paolo love-ballads for his now-wife Amanda (they're good, I swear!), I want to cover an AAF song called 'What I Feel is Mine,' and we've got some riffs we've been trying to fucking work out that are finally working out. I'm trying to steer away from the Alright EP's overtly dark minor-key negativity in both my guitar stylings and my lyrical content. Though I was particularly content with the gutpunch that that five-track release sent into the musical solarplexus, it's time, as P-loq has said, 'to write something in a major key.'

Tonight's post has reached its end. I'll catch up more with you guys later. Thanks for listening.

Blog entry #2 for the day.

2009-11-12T03:40:00.000-08:00

I had more spoutings-off to....well, spout off.

A while ago, I bought a Sansa 4GB mp3 player, and spent quite some time ripping CDs and transferring the subsequent mp3 files to said player. Well, I have a lot of CDs (probably about 350 or so), and though not nearly all of them are on my mp3 player, a lot of my old faves are.

This is actually creating a large amount of discord in my head, mostly in my musical musings. I've moved on past the Our Lady Peace/Weezer-influenced "Project O," the Hoobastank-influenced "Project P," the Creed-y ballad "Unkind," and the Suicide Machines/Green Day-frenetic "Leave Me Alone" (yeah, good luck finding THAT, you'll have to ask a band member for a recorded version of it).....

...however, revisiting old faves has reminded me why I love music so much. A lot of these good ol' moldies have gotten me through some pretty distraught times (I find my solace mostly in musical interpretations of my feelings, including others' songs), most notably during the last couple weeks. A few new discoveries, namely Fall Out Boy and Emarosa, have been cathartic as well. Sometimes a good ol' bittersweet love song can strike the right chord in you, no matter what the situation. Anyway, I digress.

The discord lies in my desire to move past the angry emo-pseudo-metal tinge of our last release, the Alright EP, but to not entirely lose the basic tenets upon which we built those five songs. Wow, is that a mindfuck or what? The want to continue writing heartfelt, admittedly emotionally charged songs has been re-sparked because of my regression into my comfort bands, though to write another painfully wrought love ballad (even if it were to a nonexistent person) would make me have to answer stupid fucking questions about who I wrote it about. Why can't people just take lyrics for what they are? Quit reading into my shit. If I wrote it about you, I'd tell you. Otherwise, let it just be a song.

K, I gotta go to bed. Bye.

#24 is back!

2009-11-12T02:55:00.000-08:00

For all the naysayers that were saying 2009 was Junior's last year......really? Did you really think so? I called it! I knew Seattle wasn't stupid enough to call that his swan song! Granted, he's not the Junior we had in the '90s. Anyone who thought we got 'that' Griffey back is weetaated. His bat speed is slower (though he still has the sweetest swing in the MLB). He's bigger, and not necessarily in a good way. But yes, he is still George Kenneth Griffey, Junior, and he's still Seattle's golden boy. There was no fucking way, after the positive effect he had on the team's stats, the team's morale, and Seattle's love for baseball, that the Mariners were not going to sign him for one more season. He's got it in him. Granted, it's the same contract we gave him last year ($2m + incentives) and we're telling him that if we get young talent that surpasses his skill set, he has to bench. He's cool with that, cause he's Junior, and he knows that not only is he going to retire/go into the HOF as a Mariner, but that he will show these little upstarts what the sport really means to Seattle. And he'll give noogies to Ichiro. That right there shows his value :). I personally love the fact that he came back, IDGAF what the naysayers have to say. I got some key seats about 20 rows above home dugout at a game during the '09 season, and got some good shots of him leaning over the dugout fence chatting with the n00bs. I wanted to go down there simply to be a fanboy and thank him for his contribution to the team, but got skittish and decided to just let him enjoy the game without any distractions from the peanut gallery. The guy deserves to keep his head in the game!

Well, stress at work is getting marginally better. Our refrigeration system has slowly been getting replaced, and last night the beer aisle got refitted, which is a huge (and difficult) section of the store. Thank God that's out of the way, now I think all they have to do is one more thing and we won't have to be pulling stuff off shelves and all that nonsense every day. However, my freezer still looks like hot garbage because I keep having to put off working it, so that's not helping things. Grr.

I told you it wasn't all that interesting :).

K bye.

!@#$%^&*()!!!!!

2009-11-10T21:34:00.000-08:00

Yeah, the title, if you look closely, is every symbol from 1-0 with some extra exclamation points thrown in for good measure. Yeah, I've had a pretty high-stress last couple of weeks, and am only looking forward to more at work. Yay. Can I have another vacation, please? I just need to get away from all this bullshit and clear my head.

On another note, I need to get one of my electric guitars down to my apartment so I can start playing late at night. I have some songs to work on, and I can't play my acoustic when I get home from work. It'll also help when I finally get a USB interface that allows me to plug my guitar (or whatever instrument I deem necessary that can use a 1/4" plug) into my computer. Then comes some good recording software (probably Cubase) so I can record my music/vocal ideas and multitrack them. Paolo's been raving about being able to do so on his Macbook, and I really think being able to track along with my initial rhythm parts will help me write better and more well-prepared vocal melodies and lead licks (though I usually leave the latter up to Jeremy). Just a little longer....

K, I'm done. I can't really focus tonight, my mind's a mess. Another time.

Bye.

Auto-tune is ruining music.

2009-11-08T04:35:00.000-08:00

So I'm sure that all of you that listen to radio stations that play "R&B/Hip-Hop/Rap" have noticed the overwhelming glut of music featuring the 'auto-tune' effect (for the musically retarded, that's the computer-sounding effect on the vocals). Simpler variations hit the scene in the '80s in such hits as "Computer Love" and were reintroduced by Cher in the mid-to-late '90s, but are probably most popularized by the 'crunk' rap "artists" like Lil Jon and the Ying-Yang Twins during the early-to-mid '00s.

I used to make jokes in the studio to Scot about hooking up the auto-tune to my vocals so I could take less vocal takes. Read: jokes. Yeah, he made a comment then that I've modified and assimilated into my musical views:

Auto-tune is for completely talentless idiots. Anyone who jumps on the bandwagon is shamelessly exploiting the current fascination with what could be described as the music industry's Game Genie: an easy way to cheat your way into singing in correct pitch/tune, much as the Game Genie allowed early cartridge-run system video gamers to cheat their way into winning games they couldn't have otherwise, or were too lazy to work through the old-fashioned way.

Don't get me wrong, I have an NES Game Genie, and for a brief time had a Game Boy one as well when I was a pre-teen. I have used lots of cheat codes in my video game travels (as I play and have played much more than I care to admit). Some would compare Auto-tune to effects pedals that people use for their instruments. I'd agree with them, if the artists using them (and if it were conservatively) were actually playing instruments too. Panic at the Disco used it sparingly in "Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks," and I'm not gonna dog on them because they're not artists solely relying on their vocals (and sometimes minimal instrumental talent) to make music, as almost the entirety of the artists in the aforementioned genres do.

It's getting much later than I want to be awake for, and I'd love to rant further on this topic, but I'm sure I've exhausted all my relevant piss and vinegar and don't wanna devolve into shit-talking. Thanks for listening, and let's boycott all Auto-tune music so this shit goes away.

K bye.

I'm stuck in 1999!

2009-11-05T03:21:00.000-08:00

Yeah, so I'm creating compilation CDs (remember those? They're easier and much cheaper than iPod/mp3 player docks!) on the new Lappy. I am tracking through my 300-some-odd collection (ok, the 100 that I have ripped onto said Lappy) and am creating comps to listen to cause the 'next track' button on my car's CD player is much easier than finding "Music/Artist/Album/Song" on my mp3 player. While creating the "No Cheap Shots, Sucka" comp, I considered 'Crawling in the Dark' by Hoobastank. Yeah, it's old. Yeah, none of you have it any more. Yeah, that is the most seamless intro next to fp's 'Learning Curve' I've ever heard. Give it a listen. Or give me a blank and I'll burn the comp for you :).

K bye.

New lappy.

2009-11-02T01:37:00.000-08:00

Yep, got a new laptop. Allie and I had gone earlier in the week to Best Buy just to kind of price compare and loved the one we ended up getting. It's fast enough to do the things we want to do (blog, surf the internet, store/play music, and I'd like to get some music recording software and use it to produce music and record demos/ideas. This thing is pretty damn sweet. All the computers I've owned have been secondhand - you know, your parents/uncle/whatever gets a new computer and offer you the old one, which of course you accept because it's better than the old old one you are milking the last few drops out of. So to be the proud owner of a brand new machine is pretty cool. Getting used to the HD screen.

I dropped by Paolo and Amanda's to join up with their Halloween festivities last night and had a fun time. We went to Engine House No. 9 on 6th in Tacoma and ogled the costumes (sadly, as I had come from work, I was not dressed up). Some people were pretty daring - there was a chick sporting some big feathery angel wings aaaaaand that was pretty much it, besides her lacy bra and panties. And for some reason her boyfriend was getting irked at all the attention she was receiving - hey, buddy, if your girlfriend is gonna sport her underthings in public, especially in a bar, she's gonna get some attention. Paolo was a nattily-dressed skeleton, Wes was a Top Gun pilot, Scott and Courtney Chaffee dressed as Bill Murray and the gopher from Caddyshack, and I'm not quite sure what their friend Sarah was aiming for. I guess she was just dressing nicely. She is from Australia so of course after a few beers I try my accent on. I'm sure people love it when you mimic their accent....meh, she took it in stride. I have a habit of doing that - some of my friends know that I love to impersonate and take pride in nailing accents and voices, so....yeah, it's fun. We went back to Paolo's and he, this guy Julian, and I busted out the instruments and jammed it out for a while, and had some great conversation. This guy Julian kinda reminds me of a cross between Jack Johnson and Bob Dylan - I don't care for the former, but was intrigued by Julian's musical style, and I'm sure I made that quite clear with the beer on my side :). We rocked out until about 4am and I decided to head on home. That was a very fun night.

I'm intrigued with the way our music is going. I'm ashamed to say that I really haven't been able to come up with any good guitar parts or riffs lately, but Paolo has been hard at work and we are working on two new songs and a remix of an old faceplant (as in old 'us' faceplant, not those jagoffs from Texas) song called Stumble. I've had no shortage of lyric ideas though, and am still working off and on on the Johnny 'saga' (I hate that word, really) as well as a few other ideas. Paolo and I were talking while at E9 last night about how we need to create more separation between the two guitars, rather than the 'wall of sound' approach that Jeremy and I have grown accustomed to. I like the idea of toning down his distortion a bit to create more differentiation for his lead riffs, and I don't think this will be too hard of a bridge to cross seeing as he's really been tweaking with his tone lately anyway.

I've been looking through CDs of pictures that people have taken at past shows, and have found some real gems that my mom took at our Lost in the Sound release at Valhalla in June of '07. However, Blogger seems to not want to let me upload any of them, so another time then.

Well, I'm getting tired, and I've got a long day of hanging out with the family, going shooting, and general relaxation-intensive minutiae that I won't bother boring you with.

K bye.

Ummmm...

2009-10-28T01:46:00.000-07:00

K, so I seem to have made a gross underestimation.

Yeah, Fall Out Boy is good = gets my stamp of newfanboy. Patrick Stump's voice is amazing (yeah, knew that all along), the music is awesome (watch Stump's guitar work WHILE singing, JEEEESUS), but I still fail Pete Wentz for several reasons. If he wants to know why, he can contact me. Otherwise, sans Pete, this band got on my top 20 in the space of an hour.

Fucking love that guy's voice.

My last 12 hours in AZ, FP Youtubes, and fishsticks.

2009-10-20T01:28:00.000-07:00

So, during the five and a half glorious days I've spent in Arizona, I've:

-discovered the joys of Hulu
-gotten (something resembling) a tan
-managed to waste one day with a crippling migraine
-watched the Huskies Coug it
-watched a Seahawk game I'd rather have had the Huskies play
-not seen one fucking scorpion, or snake, but DID see a wasp a good 2+ inches long
-watched my 2 year old son improve on his 'game' (more on that in a minute)
-upgraded my wardrobe (but, sadly, not with the CK jacket I was looking at)
-gotten up before 9 am just about every day
-realized that the lady at HairMasters gave me a horrible haircut
-regrown my chinstrap
-drank a lot of tequila (and rum)
-wasted a lot of time on my phone/the computer surfing the internets

And besides all the other shit I've blogged about in my last two entries, thaaaaat's pretty much all the semi-noteworthy news of late. To be honest, I've been ready to go home since Saturday. I love it down here, but when you're living the life of a teenager - no car to drive (we was too poor to rent one), and with the subsequent homebodiness that that entails, the 'best foot forward' mentality one feels the need to adopt when living in someone else's (not to mention your father-in-law's) house just doesn't work when you're 27. I can't spend the better part of a week not truly being myself. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I've not had the chance to drink (see above and last entry). smoke my cigarettes, and watch sports....but the desires to do the other things one does (or two do, hint) in private cannot be quelled for long. I appreciate the extremely generous hospitality that my father-in-law extends to us each time we come down, but I think next time we may opt for a hotel. I wanna be able to argue with my wife (ahem, his daughter) without having to worry about what he thinks about it as he stands within earshot. I wanna be able to 'have relations' without our son sleeping at the foot of our bed in a Pack 'n' Play. I want our own car to drive, and I'd like to pay for it. Dammit, I understand his desire to provide for his daughter and grandson, and I sincerely, SINCERELY appreciate the fact that he pays for 90% of everything down here, but yes, sometimes my pride gets in the way and I get butthurt about not being able to make it rain.

I seriously did not mean that to take up a paragraph, so I'm gonna change tack.

Is it bad to enjoy watching YouTube videos of yourself? Ok, specifically, your band performing? I was watching the focuspoint videos that Tabi so graciously uploaded from our Showbox Market show and feeling rather good about the performances as a whole. And yes, I even watched "Danny's Raging Clue," the video of me and Danny being drunk at Pel Meni in Bellingham. Wow, we got flamed for that in the comments people left, but I guess that's to be expected when your drummer licks your face and it's posted for the world to see.

Ok, so about Tristan and his stepping up his game: So today we were at the outlet mall in Anthem, AZ, buying random shit. I got an Etnies hat, Tristan got a sweet Emerica hat, Allie bought a few things, and we went to the Gap Outlet cause I needed a few pairs of 'nice' pants (read: not baggy jeans that need to be rolled up at the ankles to fit properly). So I picked out a few pairs of nice khakis, Allie got a nice pair of cords, and I went up to the register to check out. As the cashier (admittedly, a cute little teenager) rang up our stuff, Tristan wanted to be picked up, so I indulged him. I paid for the goods, thanked the cashier, and wished her a good day. She says, "Have a nice day," and Tristan follows that up with, "Your number?" My jaw hits the floor, because now it looks like creepy late-20's dad has coached his son into trying to score said teenage cashier's digits.

I ASSURE YOU, THIS WAS NOT THE CASE, NOR HAVE I EVER TAUGHT HIM THIS PHRASE OR ANYTHING APPROPRIATING IT IN ANY WAY. Which makes the story even funnier!

I nod at the cashier, and scoot out of the store with Tristan still in my arms. Allie and Paul (dad-in-law) hang back to buy a few last-minute items that Allie wants. Tristan and I get outside and I look at him and say, "Dude, what was THAT? You little player!" He smiles at me and laughs a little. I chide him a little more, and as if my surprise-o-meter were not already at full tilt, he looks at me and says (and I kid you not, again, not ever coached or suggested):

"I get number."

This kid is TWO. YEARS. OLD. I had no idea what to say. I had nothing. My kid just pulled the trump card on me and all I could do was "hurr durr uhhhh what?" Of course, as soon as Allie comes out I blurt all this out to her as fast as I can and she doesn't believe me. She still doesn't believe me. And it's not like I'm approximating what he said because I want to make up a story. He said these things as clear as you or I would have, and with the expectation that it was actually going to happen. You should have seen the look on his face after he said it!

Ok, so last event of the evening: I watched the South Park "Fishsticks" episode on Hulu right before I started typing this entry. I had caught up on the last two episodes I hadn't seen, and decided to revisit this epic piece of hilarity. I'm still rolling, especially since the online episodes are uncut and uncensored (fuck censorship). Kanye, Kanye, Kanye. You must have forgotten that a few people were still laughing openly at you for the SP episode when you made an ass of yourself at an MTV awards show for what, the fourth or fifth time? You are not a genius, the world does not hinge on your opinions NOR your music NOR your misguided fashion statements, and yes, you are, in fact, a gay fish. I totally believe that Kanye would have held a press conference about the 'accusations' against him.....and here was where I was going to upload a picture from said episode of Kanye standing in front of the flowchart he created on the whiteboard, but the internets are being superextraghey right now and I can't upload it. Oh well, I probably would have credited the screencap wrong and been sued. Speaking of sued, on with the Kanye flaming! I'm so tired with his antics and his attitude, but I guess people speaking ill of him is still people talking about him. After all, "bad press is still press."

Oh, and though I was a fan early on, yes, I am glad that Carlos Mencia's one-trick pony has flatlined and he has been relegated to performing at the Emerald Queen Casino, also referred to in a subcircle of our circle of friends as the "Where Are They Now?" venue or the "Hey, If You Guys Ever Decide to Milk the Reunion Tour Idea....." venue. You know, cause there once was this guy named Carlos Mencia, and he had a show on Comedy Central, and he was on that episode of South Park called "Fishsticks".....yeah.
K, I've really got to go to bed. See you nonexistent readers later.
And thanks for checking my blog for interesting vacation info. I put some work into that.
And thanks.

K bye.

Abuelo's, Target, and my current state.

2009-10-16T00:52:00.000-07:00

Hello again, friends! This time I am blogging from an honest-to-goodness computer! Yeah, my father-in-law has one, but during the daytime I prefer to blog OUTside on the ShitJack II while smoking and conservatively applying sunlight to my translucent skin. About 30 combined minutes today produced a darker pigment to said skin, what most would call a 'base' tan. Yeah, things are looking good on that front. I absorb sun like....something that does things quickly. I anticipate a bonafide tan by the time I touch down to revisit my wretchedly lovely hometown.

I've been flirting with leaving all you 'lovely' people behind and moving to this heaven-state they call Arizona. I love the 110+degree heat they get during the usual times we visit, and fortunately AZ's Mother Nature caught wind of our arrival and has kicked up the thermometer to 99 tomorrow, versus a balmy 85 that is typical of this time of year. Bring it, my little weather minion, BRING IT. I love the eff out of western Washington, but I LOVE Arizona. focuspoint, let's go.

So the four of us went to Abuelo's, the best Mexican restaurant I've ever had the fortune in which to dine. Read my last blog to get the partic's. We (me, Allie, Tristan, and Paul, Allie's dad) sat down to our anniversary dinner - yeah, everyone was involved, that's how we roll. Service wasn't that great, and I was reminded after perusing the menu that they did NOT offer any lamb dishes (still), but that did not dispel my passion for the venue. I ended up ordering a dish they named 'El Mejor de la Casa,' or 'The Best of the House,' for all you pinche gringos. Yeah, it was $20. Yeah, it was the only menu item that was SLIGHTLY overpriced. But what greeted me and my off-the-tap Dos Equis Amber were two four-ounce bacon-wrapped filets mignon accompanied by three large bacon-wrapped prawns, with (yes) a small side of pork-n-beans and their signature side, papas con chile, which is basically Allie's cheesy potato dish (not knocking it!). There were also two dipping sauces, one which consisted of basically chile con queso (meant for the shrimp, but the steak was the swimmer), and something resembling a hunter sauce/brown sauce.

This is the second time I've visited Abuelo's: La Yadda-Yadda Embassy. I can't remember the first two words, but I noted the full name this time 'round as I was entering the building. I took a picture of the facade as well as the main dining area, and I cannot upload them now, so Paolo, you already saw them, and Jenny, I'll show them to you when we get back. There, that should cover both of my followers.

I'm still very enthused/enthralled by this restaurant. So many of the flavors that SHOULD be prevalent in Mexican cuisine in the PNW (Pacific North West, duh) are in bloom down here, and all the flavors that would fit the temperature AND the scene down here are what is going on up there. A revised commentary: read, hunter/mushroom sauce served with my filets. Potato casserole as a side. Bacon-wrapped meats cooked on a woodfired grill. Are these not considered critical elements of any reputable steakhouse or 'meatery' in the PNW? And the Oaxacans are serving southern-Texicali food up there? What the fuck is wrong with this picture? Yeah, I love pico de gallo and cilantro, but leave that to the taco stands and WOW us with your dark side! Lime-enhanced food should be showcased in warm climates, and pico de gallo, though delicious as a taco topping, needs to head south with its cousin cilantro and meet up with the warmer climes! Let it be a secondary up in more temperate climes, with sauces with more substance and the 'dark side' flowing through them taking over as the fall and winter overtake us.

My food was great. Bill was $80 for 3 plus Tristan, and libations. I am still a whore for this restaurant. I love this place, and salivate at every memory or thought of it.

So after dinner, we went to Target.

Let me interrupt this with a brief rundown of my reading style. I've been reading since I was two. And pretty much voraciously since I was eight. I'd estimate that I've read 1800 books since then, at the very least. If you doubt me: I finished 'Double Cross' by James Patterson in less than 48 hours, then went on to read John Grisham's new 'The Associate' in even less time. That's between 900-1000 pages in 96 hours. When I like a book, I finish it in two days, no matter the heft of the tome. So, being without a libro nuevo, I bought Jeffery Deaver's 'The Bodies Left Behind' this evening at Target. I anticipate being done with it by Saturday night.

Tristan got squirrelly once we stepped in, so the Target visit was cut (somewhat) short. We purchased a few unneeded items, including a box of Franken Berry cereal (yes, friends, Franken Berry, Boo Berry, and Count Chocula have all been recently re-released), and headed back home. Which brings me to 'my current state.'

Free Sauza Hornitos, copious amounts of Guinness (which I haven't had in tooooo long, considering my heritage), and the onus of my 4th anniversaire have ended in a quite-libated Watty. I have already typed too much, so more of this well-documented journey to the Sun will be proffered tomorrow, probably in the throes of a well-deserved hangover.

Thanks for tuning in. I'd like to think that SOMEone is lurking over the two hours+ I spent blogging today. Hell, it's even fairly family-friendly.

Aaaaarizona, the trip down, and 4 years of marriage.

2009-10-15T15:25:00.000-07:00

So I was going to blog yesterday about my experiences at the airport while AT the airport, in great detail, but internet access was spotty and I was working off +/- 6 hours of sleep in the last 3 days, so wouldn't have been the greatest idea. However, now that I'm settled, I will give you the Cliff's Notes:

I arrived at the airport at 5:10 am, and got through security in about 15 minutes, seeing as I had only my backpack with me, and the only mildly taboo item that had been on my person, a lighter, had been thrown away in front of a TSA employee who, after the fact, informed me that I was allowed to carry one on with me. I proceeded to stick my hand into the relatively empty garbage can to fish it out (because it's a bitch trying to find fire for your cigarette right outside the airport, and a smoke after a long airport/flight experience is mandatory) and immediately buried my hand in some unknown liquidy goodness at the bottom. The employee looked on me with evident amusement as I jerked my hand out in mild surprise, and the only witty quip I could come up with was, "Well, so much for that idea." Yeah, didn't get the opportunity to wash up until after security. Yum.

I was flying standby, and had two hours until my (hopeful) flight departed, so after the interesting experience of riding a subway to a satellite building (think the airport equivalent of a school portable) to get to my gate, I sat down at Bigfoot Grub and Pub or something of that nature.

Enter the Drink Nazi.

So my waitress, a waifish little early-20-something Asian lady who was obviously not too thrilled to be working the early shift, approached and after giving me a total of fifteen seconds to peruse the menu, asked for my order. I asked what was on tap (yeah yeah, I know, but I'm on vacation and grumpy). "25 minutes until we can serve beer, what food do you want?" "Just a water for now, and a few more minutes, please." She proceeds to come by every thirty seconds until I order a hot dog, at which time she points to the six-item breakfast menu and says, "Uh, we're only serving breakfast right now." You're an airport restaurant, the time of day should be irrelevant. I order a Beastly Breakfast Sandwich with sausage. The food came fifteen minutes later, and was pretty good. I ate it in about 45 seconds, and sat waiting for about 20 minutes for her to return to offer something else, during which 6 am had passed. 6:15 rolls around, and she finally comes back around. "Oh, did you still want a beer?"

Fast forward, and here's the Cliff's Notes part (sorry for the longwindedness, I know I promised short). I couldn't get on the first flight. Sleep dep is in full swing, and my vision is playing tricks on me, i.e. mild hallucinations. Not the fun kind, with spontaneously growing and shrinking tree limbs and animals sporting colors ill-befitting of their species, but dots and flashes. I break open the book I brought, and read about a hundred pages waiting for the next flight.

Yeah, didn't get on that one either. By this time I'm cranky and about to implode. I feel very antisocial (yeah, I don't do well in busy places by myself, especially in the condition I was in), and like I'm about to crawl out of my skin. I move to the gate for the third try, and take a nap.

I wake up after about an hour, feeling much better. Not two seconds after I wake, my phone rings. It's my stepmom Terri, who works for Alaska Airlines and who generously provided the standby passes for the trip. She had arrived at work and checked on my progress. Working her crafty magic, she had switched my standby pass for an actual seat and called to tell me to go to the gate podium to pick up my boarding pass! Things went smoothly from then on out.

So here I am, blogging to you from sunny, 92 degree Buckeye, AZ. It's me and Allie's fourth wedding anniversary, and we're going out to Abuelo's for anniversary dinner. This is the best Mexican restaurant I've ever been to, atmosphere AND food wise. The flavor palette is much different down here - where we Seattleites are used to a cilantro, lime, and pico de gallo-heavy variety of selections, down here mole, avocado, and chile verde show up a lot more. It's refreshing.

Will blog more later. Sauza Hornitos is calling my name.

I think my phone has been hacked.

2009-10-07T01:41:00.000-07:00

Anyone have any suggestions as to how I can figure out if this is true? I'd say if any weird rants show up on this blog it would be a certainty, but I'm known for a) being weird and b) ranting semidelusionally on this blog, so that's not really proof.

Help, aetheric amigos.

Editor's note

2009-09-17T16:59:00.000-07:00

I intended to add in my last blog that I've been taking things a bit too seriously concerning the band as of late, and we agreed that just trying to have more fun with it would really be beneficial (read: Chris, stop being an ass) for us all. The business comments are not intended to insinuate that we're not supposed to have fun with it - it is, after all, a band. That's supposed to be fun! Sure, it's a lot of work too, but it's all about trying to make some good music with your friends, and hopefully to be really successful with it at the same time, whatever 'success' means in the music business these days. K, later.

Woohoo!

2009-09-17T02:54:00.000-07:00

I've been successful in returning my blog to one only read by lurkers.

Or so I've been led to believe by all the verbal comments I receive. No one bothers to comment publicly on my blog anymore.

Addressing one comment:

Paolo has humbly suggested that my comprehensive band history is not actually talking about focuspoint, but rather three different bands, those being the Skalternapunks/Faceplant v.1, Faceplant v.2, and focuspoint. On the surface, I agree. Songs like Summer Lament, Wait, and The Happy Song from the first band are no longer played, nor even discussed (except for maybe Wait). Songs from FPv2, like The Mexican, Project P, Leave Me Alone, and Stumble have met the same fate. Hell, even songs from the latest 'regrouping' of pretty much the same musicians are no longer played. Can I get an As of Now, Lights Out, Faceplant, or Peace of Mind hallelujah? Those are on our LP.

We're in the process of realizing what effort members of the band are willing to put forth to ensure continued success. That sounds like a loaded statement, but really, it isn't. What spare time members have available also factors in there. I'm sure there's some complicated algorithm to fully explain why we're not rehearsing, writing, and playing as much as we used to, but honestly, I'm not able to type it out here. It would crush your tiny brains. What I can say is that Paolo and Amanda are engaged and planning their wedding in Indiana (congratulations, you two), Danny is now married and expecting a little girl to further fuel the estrogen bonanza already in full swing in the Woodward household (sorry, brother, I expect man-tits in three months), and Puddy....likes to go to baseball games, is still living with his parents, and has not driven a car of his own in four years.

Now, as Paolo and I have discussed, there really isn't a "business plan" when it comes to being successful in the music business. Obviously, we're not what has been unfortunately coined as 'indie rock' (i.e. Death Cab, Fleet Foxes, Kings of Leon, and the like), we're not metal (I don't need to list all the shred metal bands that are popular nowadays, blah), and we're obviously not in the hip-hop/rap genres. We're not affiliated with LiveNation, the seemingly-most-lucrative grouping of established bands and groups still grasping at the uberlucrative '90s music scene teat. On that note, Paolo, being the futuristic visionary that he is (literally, his finger is somewhere near the pulse of the ever-changing music scene), posited to me that "Watty, the goal of scoring a lucrative record deal is not a viable option, we're not in the '90s music scene any more, and the commodity factor has far surpassed the hard copy we used to hold so dear." I AM paraphrasing.

I've been slapped and punched in the teeth figuratively for voicing my opinions on this blog, but I want to proffer these thoughts, as it is fresh in my mind and I cannot contact Paolo at 3:30 am to go over these with him:

He pointed out that as there is no business plan for success in the music biz, that dedicating as much time as I saw necessary to make this band succeed was unfair to request of my fellow members. I see this (as I always have) as an incremental success venture. You slog it out, build up a fan base (obviously people fucking like us), and extend that fan base by being continuous in your production, your performance, and your dedication to creating, rehearsing, and honing your craft. As we've been dormant these last several months, I attribute my lack of success in selling tickets to this upcoming show to the fact that we've not been consistent in any of those areas, save lyric writing on my behalf and whatever Paolo has written in the interim as well. I've had no problem blowing through a stack of tickets before. But, as was brought up in conversation, we do see a lot of the same faces at every show. Admittedly, we're not part of the most popular genres of music.

That being said, my approach to this business (and it IS a business, ask any hard-working popular band member) is not shared by my band. Fine. I agree that we need to get back to being friends first, which unfortunately we have foregone the last two years or so, but the ultimate question does remain:

What amount of our spare time are we willing to commit to the cause? This includes tweaking the current formula. Some of us have stated that in its current form, we've pretty much hit the ceiling, and in order to get anywhere, we're gonna have to change a few things.

Well, let's get on it! I'm looking forward to a fresher approach to this.

Probably the last thing eveyone expects me to say...

2009-09-04T04:12:00.000-07:00

Sooooo.....

I've spent my post-work, post-workout time this morning (seeing as I got home around 1:45 am) watching with unabashedly childlike fervor and awe the 'video diary' DVD from my newly-arrived copy of 'Life on the Murder Scene,' the fanboy-fodder live CD/2 DVD set of My Chemical Romance (one of my favorite bands) that was released shortly after 'Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge.'

Ask any reasonably hardcore fan of MCR and they'll tell you that Gerard (the lead singer) was an alcoholic. For those interested in arguing semantics, some subscribe to the school of thought that was = is and always will be. Fine. Have fun with that, for this blog and further posts will refer to those who have cleaned up as 'was.'

They don't hold back in chronicling (and showing a decent amount of footage of) Gerard's hitting rock bottom and digging himself and his band up out of that hole, obviously with a little help from his bandmates and crew. His story is inspiring. It's fantastic to watch him rededicate himself to the cause with such sober ferocity.

K bye!

Alrighty then.

2009-08-28T18:12:00.000-07:00

Now that I was finally able to finish that and get it out there without badmouthing anyone and pissing people off and all that garbage, I can move on.

Don't get me wrong, I accept the fact that I am the reason why I keep having to rewrite, rephrase, and delete my posts. I can be a jerk sometimes, and am known for saying things I shouldn't and taking things too far. But sometimes, and especially in this last case, I feel that I have to say something and I won't drop it until my point gets across (no matter how many rewrites it takes). That's just how I operate.

I'm hungry. I'm gonna go find something healthy to snack on. Chat at you all later.

K bye.

SALSA!...and other goings-on.

2009-08-28T04:06:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not referring to the dance.

I made my first salsa tonight. Now, keep in mind, the literal translation is 'sauce,' not the pseudo-pico de gallo that you find on the shelf at your local QFC (shameless plug).

By the way, let it be known that hatch chiles are the shiznitobamsnipsnapsnappy. These are apparently grown in the Hatch Valley of New Mexico and are renowned for their incredible flavor and spot-on spice control. The aforementioned grocery store has them on sale for 99c/lb, and has for a couple weeks, and for some reason we've been continuously out. Oh, wait, that's because people have been buying them a 25lb case AT A TIME.

So we got some in, and my good friend and resident produce manager James has been talking about them, as has my friend (and 4th manager at Des Moines) Mark, so I decided to buy six of the medium and six of the hot varieties with the intention of roasting them to make salsa tonight. Now, just because I hadn't made salsa before doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing. I'm no Paolo, but I am quite above-average when I gets me in a kitchen. So I pick up some fresh cilantro, some Romanita tomatoes (yum, bring on some sweetness), and added a few extra ingredients that I will not mention here as I will be taste-testing this salsa on you. Yes, you.

I got home and quick-panfried the halved chiles, then roasted them on a pizza pan with halved Romanitas. I quickly diced up some Walla Wallas (oops, ingredient slip), and threw that into a food processor with cilantro and three other ingredients, and waited. The apartment filled with the smell of roasting peppers and tomatoes. Still, I waited. The wife wants to know me in the Biblical sense. "No time," I say as I continue to wait. Finally, the veggies are done. Of four of the chiles, ONE was of the 'hot' variety. Yeah, Anaheims got nothing on that shit. I threw all the roasted veggies in the processor with some unroasted Romanitas and hit the spin cycle. Three modifications later, we're grubbing on some slow-burn salsa that ranks top three in the best salsas I have ever had. I was immensely proud of myself. No, it didn't have diced tomatoes. No, you couldn't identify the ingredients. Yes, it was verde (green) due to the ratio of peppers and cilantro to Romanitas.

Yes, it was amazing. Allie even loved it, despite the hotness. It was, in fact, a slow burn. Ten minutes after getting seriously down on it, she had to take a temperature break....and got down again. That's some good sauce if even SHE is willing to take the burn.

Now, the other goings-on:

We're headed back to the AZ in mid-October. My stepmother Terri works for Alaska Airlines and during a recent visit proffered some "buddy passes," which due to the fact that I still have vacation time left and the passes mean that all we have to pay is airport tax, we have chosen to take another vacation. I'm all for an escape from the garbage that has been going on in our beloved Western Washington, from the epic heat and weather mood swings to the lack of musical opportunities to the simple idea of getting away from work. Don't get me wrong, I love my job and all it brings to my family, but it's still work. As far as the weather swings, I can't control that either, so fuck it, I may as well be in a place that is consistently 85-100 degrees where I can wear shorts. And, as all zero of you have been waiting for me to continue my 'edit' blog, the musical issues will resolve here:

So we have recorded two albums with the current lineup: the Lost in the Sound LP and the Alright EP. During this period, it seemed like we couldn't get our name out there fast enough. We were playing all over the place, from Bellingham to Everett to multiple Seattle venues to Federal Way and Tacoma. We played with a lot of cool bands, and went on to perform more shows with some of those bands that we fit better with. The machine powered forward, fueled by slowly-increasing attendance, merchandise sales, and CD sales, until something strange happened.

We were being slotted as one of the opening bands, yet it was obvious that we were "the draw" of the night. For the layman, that means that we had the biggest crowd and that the majority of said crowd left before the next band and stayed away for the rest of the show. Now, I advocate sticking around for an entire show, but sometimes people just don't want to listen :).

So we slow down a bit, as we are fearing that playing 2-3x a month is overexposure. However, we've been lusting after hitting the ShowBox venues, and can't seem to find an 'in,' even with Paolo's slick style and PR genius coupled with our fanbase and panache. During this time, Paolo starts questioning whether we should be working as hard as we have been, or laying in the cut waiting for more lucrative options to open up. Seeing as he is our de facto manager and booking agent, we really have no option but to submit to his scheduling desires. Some options are either laid by the wayside or turned down because of scheduling conflicts, etc.

Oh, look! We got a show at ShowBox SoDo! Yeah, that was short-lived, as Danny dumped his Harley two weeks before that show, breaking his foot. To make that long story short, our first SoDo gig was played with Danny taking off his walking cast in order to play. Yay, fun, but still SoDo. Oh yeah, and we DID play a show at ShowBox at the Market. Yeah, that was the last show we played, Feb 20th. Note that we hadn't played together in three months with the exception of a practice short one member during the week prior. You see where my anger lies, I'm sure. Up until about a month ago, I was always the "band mom," scheduling and making sure that everyone got together to practice. Yeah, and then all of a sudden....but that road has been traveled down before, hasn't it?

Now: we've been offered shows in Vegas (as in Las, NV), and a possible slot at South by Southwest - more commonly known as the 3-day festival in Texas called SXSW in 2010. You'd think we would be rehearsing, writing new material, sharpening up our stage chops.....nope. Nothing is happening, and I'm fucking sick of it. For all the blog posts pulled down, for all the e-mails apologized for, for all the text messages rescinded:

What the fuck. Not a question, but rather a statement. I have 4 opportunities a week to practice with you guys, and for some fucking reason it's the same two people, but mostly one, that used to duck out. Well, publicly now, I'm done organizing rehearsals. It's up to the rest of you, specifically Paolo (who seems to have the most restrictive schedule - ha), to corral us. I'm done being shot down. And the funny thing is, Danny's only working the bike shop right now. Well, that's not funny, but the funny part is that the swing-shift guy and Puddy are the only 100% reliable people left in this band.

"Sometimes bands take breaks, even for six months or (gasp!) a year." Yeah, if they are already integrated into the scene, whereas we are still scrabbling for a fingerhold in the business. No time like the present. I made it work during the infancy of my marriage, and continue to do so, and I've already got a family. Wanna see my playbook? It's easier than you think, I promise you.

K bye.

Meh.

2009-08-15T00:40:00.000-07:00

Don't feel like moping today. I'll continue the story later.

Edit.

2009-08-14T04:14:00.001-07:00

I chose the simple one-word title for this blog because it seems to be all people want these days. Society screams for exploitation, yet shies away when specific names are mentioned unless the people representing those names have cast themselves into the public eye, available for all to scrutinize, glorify, and make a dollar off of. People always want a name to blame, but cry foul when one is finally cast upon the chopping block.

My topic today is the discontent I have with the current status of my band, focuspoint. We still have not practiced as a full band since February. I have written blogs blaming members for this (which have been pulled down), I have written e-mails and texts describing my dissatisfaction with the commitment level of certain members of the band at certain times (and have been either expected or asked to apologize for my rants and accusations), and now I am forced to submit this neutered shitstain of a blog entry because no one wants to accept responsibility for the fact that THIS FUCKING BAND IS FAILING FOR NO GODDAMN REASON. Or that's what I'm going to lamely try to get you to believe, since I'm not allowed to blame this on anyone.

I've been playing guitar for over 14 years, which already equates to over half my life. Since then I have been in the same band, albeit with personnel changes over the years. Suffice it to say that I am the original founder of the band you now know as focuspoint. I started it as the Brane Donerz back in 1994 with my friend Luc Snider, who played bass. We jammed with and 'recruited' a couple drummers which we never played with again. I finally met Jeremy Olson through a mutual friend in summer 1996, and we started playing as a three-piece called the Skalternapunks. We changed our name to Faceplant in 1998 just before our first public live show, and carried that name through mid-2002 (in the process losing Luc and Jeremy, and gaining Paolo Mottola and Danny Woodward as our bassist and drummer, respectively), when we were slapped with a cease-and-desist order by some asshole lawyer in California representing some piece-of-shit band from Texas called Faceplant who not only stripped us of our name, but openly stole the 'faceplant' logo I had tagged (read: graffiti) and we had been using for quite some time. Yeah, they posted a copy of it on their website and for all I know may still be using a variant of it to this day. Their music sucks, they're a bunch of mouth-breathing inbreds, and if I ever knowingly meet a member of that band.....well, I'll get in a nice, civilized discussion with them about that. Or something.

To continue: so around the same time, we hook up with a management company. A member of said company comes to a practice of ours and afterwards makes it known that they want to represent us. "Sure, I'd love to play with Gatsby's American Dream." The next day, Paolo tells Danny and I that since he's headed off to Western Washington University (in Bellingham, 2 hours from Federal Way, for reference), he's not interested in driving down to practice on a regular basis. Can't blame him now in retrospect, but back then, in a fit of rage (only slightly overreacting, considering the recent turn of events), I fire him over the phone, and the band as we know it basically goes into hibernation.

E-x-t-e-n-d-e-d hibernation. Musically, the only thing we do for the next three years is what we (and our friends) affectionately refer to as 'drunken karaoke,' where Jeremy and I would bust out guitars and sing whatever covers we knew, while sprinkling these sessions with occasional fp songs. Danny left for Arizona to go to MMI about halfway through this period, after which we were really put on life support.

Well, I met this girl named Allie during that time, and for some crazy reason she decided to start dating me, and what do you know....we got engaged and started planning our wedding! I had always planned on having whatever band I was in perform during my wedding reception, and thankfully Allie was receptive to that idea, so I started putting that plan in motion. I got ahold of Paolo (we had finally started talking to each other again recently), called up Danny in AZ, and got the shit going. We practiced a couple times in the week prior to the wedding, and did the damn thing quite admirably! Afterwards, we played a couple shows at Shakabrah on 6th Ave in Tacoma (our old stomping grounds), and, somewhat begrudgingly at first, decided to reform and start some shit again.

This is where the http://www.myspace.com/focuspoint history picks up. Reading our show history will basically tell you where we've been during that time to the present. During said time, we recorded our Lost in the Sound LP and the Alright EP and have moved units with our own hands, including having tracks available on CD Baby, iTunes, through Snocap, and on our myspace page.

Aaaaaaand here's finally where my gripe comes to fruition. But I'm going to leave you hanging with that sentence in mind, as it has gotten far too late to get to where I'm going. My next post will get into the meat of why I am so displeased with the way my musical career is going, taking GREAT pains not to blame anyone in particular, only to passively lament the slow, agonizing demise of my musical dream.

Stay tuned.

Seems like this is in order.

2009-08-06T12:13:00.000-07:00

So I imploded the other night, and said some things I shouldn't've said under any circumstances, especially ones as trivial as what prompted me to open my mouth. I would like to apologize to everyone that read my childish rant. I had no business saying the things that I did, nor even addressing that topic out in public for everyone to read. But most of all, I would like to apologize publicly to Paolo. No matter what the reason, the things I said were completely out of line and I'm sorry. Thanks for not having me offed in my sleep.

I'm sorry.

-Chris

Uncorked - Le Tourment Vert

2009-06-09T01:48:00.000-07:00

As the "flavor" booklet that was around the neck of the bottle states, the translation of "le tourment vert" is "the green torment," which apparently is what people around the turn of the 20th century called the spirit which I am about to blog about....the green fairy....our favorite newly-legalized spirit.

Absinthe.

Yes, absinthe (or absint, absinth, however you choose) is now legal in the United States. For the uneducated, absinthe is a form of liquor that usually involves a high-proof neutral spirit (such as vodka), infused with a fairly static blend of herbs including grand wormwood, which produces a chemical called thujon(e). This chemical is supposed to be a mild hallucinogenic, though I had never seen this effect when a select few friends and I were illegally importing (and consuming) it a few years ago.

And yet, the colors on this shitty laptop's screen are quite vivid right now.

I recall a few nights with Brian, a friend of mine that I used to bartend with at the good ol' Anthony's Home Port in Des Moines. We were purchasing a few different kinds of absinthe off a site called http://www.absinth.de/ that could pretty much get you anything you wanted, be it high or low thujon count, high or low alcohol content. They had some cheap bottles of "concentrate" that you could add to a bottle of, say, Smirnoff vodka as well. A few good brands we tried over the year or so we were dabbling were Suisse La Bleu, Amer 72 (named after its alcohol percentage, the proof being 144), and Ulex Strong. We lusted after a $200 bottle that we never ended up buying, the highest quality and highest thujon content bottle at the time....King of Spirits Gold. I'm still interested in trying said bottle, but as it is now legal here, I think the demand for said bottle may decrease a little bit, so I will be holding out for a lower price. In the meantime, the best-known absinthe label, Pernod, has begun producing it again (at the steep price of $65 a bottle), and I will eventually try this as well.

For the record, just because absinthe is now legal in the US does not mean that I'm all of a sudden going to become gung-ho about it. It's been legal for a few months now, but the problem is, if you want something that isn't made with "its less bitter (and much crappier) cousin, petite wormwood, you're looking to spend at least $50 on a decent bottle. I bought Le Tourment Vert because of the recommendation in a Wine and Spirits magazine that was sent to my store recently. Obviously Pernod is the corporate way to go, and I'm not so interested in trying the lucid brand as I'm smelling much more ad campaign dollars than product-invested dollars....

Thus ends my 'uncorked' blog for tonight. I give Le Tourment Vert a 9 of 10 for absinthes, ranking it as the best I've ever had next to Amer 72. If you're into fennel/black liquorice flavors, then this is right up your alley and will give you a good buzz besides the possible "life enhancement" effects. Note: for those who overt hallucinogens are a no-go, this is a safe and legal way to experience a mild example of what those drugs can do. No, I am not promoting acid/mescaline/psychedelic mushroom use, just simply pointing out that absinthe can and might show you a small example of what these do.

Until next time.

Watty

Hot hot heat, lobsters, and tequila

2009-05-28T13:46:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting out on the back patio in the shade, smoking a cigarette and listening to Allie's cousin Chaz's band This Season's Love in the mid-90 degree heat. I love the heat, but it sure saps your energy! Chaz is one hell of a drummer, especially considering he's still in high school! I had the pleasure of jamming a bit with him last time I was down here, and hope to do it again this Saturday when we go visit them. Unfortunately, I guess his band broke up, which sucks cause their EP shows some promise - not quite my cup of tea, but what a talented group of musicians.
Tonight Allie's uncles, father, and I are going to the Diamondbacks game. Yay, baseball! I guess her uncle Curt scored some tix a few rows behind home plate (drool), so if you watch the game you just might see us!
Lobster....so after spending a scant 30 min in the sun yesterday, my pale Irish skin has become a lovely shade of red. "Want some sunscreen?" "No, just gonna lay out for a little bit, try to gradually develop some color." Yeah, so apparently 5 min at a time should be sufficient. Mental note - the Arizona sun is a bit more potent than its Washington counterpart. Oh well, at least it's not a painful burn.
K, done for now. Talk at you again later.

First album review, music update, and AZ!

2009-05-25T03:09:00.000-07:00

So I'm gonna start this blog off with an album review. This will not be a regular topic on my blog, but as my interest has been sparked with a certain new release, I've chosen to comment on it. Most, if not all, of you will not be the least bit surprised with the album which I've chosen to review, so here it goes:

21st Century Breakdown by Green Day

I don't listen to music radio. Yes, that includes the eschewing of XM, Sirius, and all the other satellite radio companies. I prefer instead to listen to 97.7, the new KOMO 1000 FM station when I'm not listening to CDs in my car. Driving from University Place (for the ignorant, that's pretty much South Tacoma) to East Hill in Kent is a bit of a trek daily, so I like to be informed of the drunken motorcyclist crash near the Tacoma Dome (no, really dude, Britney Spears was playing the Dome, but you're no longer gonna see it cause your dumb ass is DEAD) on my way to work.

That being said, my first exposure to "Know Your Enemy," the first single off the aforementioned album, was going to be the first viewing of the video right before an episode of....some piece of shit MTV show that Allie ended up deleting because she thought Tristan accidentally hit the record button on our remote. Thanks. However, she made up for this by recording an episode of Loaded on Fuse that focused on Green Day. Thank you, honey. She's amazing like that. So the first video was....."Know Your Enemy." I watched it.

Really? The first single off the much-anticipated followup to American Idiot is a call-and-response song, the rock equivalent of a mindless club-banger? Even after buying and listening to the whole album, I think this song is (lyrically AND musically) absolute garbage. It's mildly catchy. The lyrics could've been written by a maladjusted twelve-year-old. It's mindless. But sadly, as that's what the majority of the music-listening American public ARE, I can't fault Green Day for pandering to the idiotic masses. After all, it may be tongue-in-cheek....look at their last album title.

Moving on.....so, slightly disheartened, I DVR'd a few live talk show performances and their SNL show. Goddammit, when did Billie Joe decide that emo was the way to go? All the spunk and spark of the five times I've seen them live was fucking GONE. I may as well have been watching reanimated corpses imitate Liam Gallagher....poorly. Jason (White or Freese, I think Freese is their touring 'second guitarist') adds absolutely NOTHING to their stage presence, and reminds me of that curly-haired fuck from the Strokes in that he really doesn't move much at all. I find it funny that all the talk show hosts pass him by when they thank the band for performing. Let's hear it for studio musicians! Being so upset, I cut their second SNL performance short after about twenty seconds, shut off the TV, and hung my vintage Green Day beanie on the corner of the TV with "....is dying." written on a piece of TP taped to it.

Unfortunately, I ended up cutting short (and then revisiting later) a performance of one of the best songs on the album, "21 Guns." Being a die-hard Green Day fan, I was going to buy the album no matter what (much like I did when Warning came out), and had Allie pick it up for me a few days ago while I was at work. I came home to it, immediately ripped it to my mp3 player the next morning for workout purposes, and popped it in my car's CD player on my way to work that day. Got through the first 11 tracks in my 45-min commute (with rewinds for good harmonizing and captivating lyrics) without skipping a single song. Tracks 2 and 5 are my favorites right now. There are unrepentant similarities to MCR's The Black Parade in some songs, but Gerard of MCR has repeatedly stated (as have a lot of the music press) that The Black Parade would not have existed were it not for American Idiot, which they borrow heavily from themselves.

American Idiot was probably my favorite super-produced album since Dookie, but 21st Century Breakdown is really getting up there quickly. Since their cover of John Lennon's "Working Class Hero," Billie Joe has really gotten in touch with his Beatle "roots," even referencing said song in the new album's title track. The lushness of the album - multipart harmonies that you can easily pick out each individual line in, abundant yet selective use of various reverb and delay effects, imaginative and inventive lyrics, and the basic elements that make us love Green Day oh-so-much (don't fucking deny it, it's the #1 selling album!) are prevalent throughout. "Dreaming/I was only dreaming/Of another place in time/Where my family's from/Singing/I can hear them singing......"

Brief music update: NOT to follow the new musical "thing," but I've found myself working on a suite of songs that seem to be very related.....I'm entertaining the thought of a concept album about Johnny. Stay tuned.

Leaving for Arizona in a little over 24 hours.....maybe the sun will do me good. Wish the fam a safe trip and I'll see you all when I get back, probably with a lot more piss 'n' vinegar to vent upon these fragile pages.

"Singing your songs of discontent
Anger and mass distrust
Another apology to the mass-maligned
Is begging to be discussed
The effigies burnt, and the curses well-spent
On all those you felt deserved
Will come back and haunt you as you sit and rot
'Neath 72 inches of dirt....."

-an excerpt from what I've been working on...... :)

Random nonsense, Tristan pics, and general foolishness....

2009-05-12T03:26:00.000-07:00

So I just spent the last hour trying to help Joe at the Center Street Chevron in Fircrest try to break into his truck with a coat hanger cause Fircrest wouldn't offer up their slim jim....wtf is happening at two thirty am Tuesday morning in Fircrest that warrants not offering up ten minutes of an officer's time to a fellow Fircrest employee to help him get his keys back? Bullshit, I say....bullshit. By the way, no, we were not successful, though we got damn close. I had nothing better to do but sleep, and you all know that I am willing to eschew that if it means helping out a fellow person. Damn Boy Scouts....yeah, I don't mean that.

Just got a text (and I mean JUST) from Danny updating us on his 'round the country ride. He got pulled over after being clocked by a Utah State chopper (the flying kind) at 138. Here is the verbatim text:

Danny: I got clocked unknowingly by a utah stater chopper doing 138. Cop on ground let me walk, no jail, and no joke, no ticket, nothing. He said it was his last day as a uniformed cop, said he admired my bike, balls, and my lack of intelligence then talked bikes with me for a while. It was the scariest minute of my life seeing lights flash from ahead. Biker gods had my back! haven't told the wife yet. Figured you would love it the most! Give me a shout tomorrow, got race news for you and the band babies. Not good news!

Me: You fucking be careful, goddammit. So you didn't hug any mormons? I expected at least one pic of you w some missionaries. Goddammit, I am not about to go solo cause my lazy drummer smoked some stater pole! Ride on, been showin pix of your new flyrite to enthusiasts. Send more. I love you.

Danny's crazy. I don't have the balls to do half the nutty shit he gets himself into. I think all the drumming has rattled loose the logic center in his brain.

Editor's note: Don't poke the bear. Or in this case, panda.

Ok, wanton updated Tristan and fam pix:

Ok, the first picture is of me and my cousins Natalie and Kathryn (l-r) in Spokane last year. Notice the striking resemblance. Yeah, they're my dad's twin brother's kids.

Bear with me now, still trying to figure out how best to post pics and write captions. So pic number 2 is this Watson family at my uncle Kirby's (my dad's twin) and aunt Shirley's place in Spokane. Watsons everywhere.

Pic 3 is Tristan proving once again that bibs are for bitches.

Pic 4 is Jenny and Jeremy looking good at Kevin Lee's wedding, NYE '08.

Pic 5 is me and Allie looking better at Kevin Lee's wedding, NYE '08.

Still Daddy's favorite father/son pic. No, Daddy still hasn't grown up, and yes, Tristan is taking after his dad's goofy ass. Booyakasha.

My dad Kelly at left (Grandpa to Tristan), and his twin brother Kirby with Tristan.

Daddy and Tristan "looking both ways" simultaneously crossing the street during the Duck Parade in University Place in fall '08.

Yeah, that is, in fact, the same exact look on both our faces. No, this was not choreographed or staged. He is, in spite of all the jokes, my son after all.

Yeah, this was fun, but now I really have to go to bed. This blog took way too long, and now I'm long overdue for ni-night time. Hope you all had fun with the pics....oh yeah, *56k warning!* See you all when I see you....maybe we'll get a show sometime in 2011. Later.

No, really, later. I'm done.

Go away.

Tweet, you twit, if Twitter tweaks your curiosity

2009-05-07T04:14:00.000-07:00

To tweet or not to tweet? KOMO 1000 just told me the other day about the (paraphrased) 13 rules of "tweeting." The two that made me decide to continue my abstinence from this activity are as follows:
-Refrain from tweeting while drunk. You may regret it the next morning.
Although drinking has been at a low ebb as of late, I have imbibed copiously on a few relatively recent occasions. This sort of behavior is conducive to ranting about whatever incendiary topic may cross my mind. I like to "vomit into the electronic aether," as some of you have seen before, so tweeting is a bad idea here. And yet, there was another warning that pertained somewhat to another behavior that I like to indulge:
-Do not tweet about your bathroom habits.
Danny started the "texting while pooping (especially while getting paid to do so)," and ironically, up until right now, I was doing just that while writing this blog entry on my Blackjack. I think that this is as far as I need to go to prove that I am inappropriate for the Twitter community.
Regardless, I may just start one anyway, and engage in the very practices that make me unfit for said website. Hell, I've been known to do it here, maybe I'll get a few more readers that way.
Oh yeah, and my hair is reddish-orange again. The box said platinum blond. My Irish heritage refuses to let me go blond. So it goes.

K bye.

"Swine flu, or...

2009-05-06T02:48:00.000-07:00

...making media bacon out of overhyped bullshit?"
Shades of the W. Bush administration, where Americans are expected to either be galvanized into action or terrified into inaction by propaganda. That's precisely what I'm seeing here, but without the government feeding into the terror machine. Yes, my friends, this is exactly what the media capitalizes on, and what we all eagerly buy into - sensationalism.

Am I the only one out there calling bullshit on this pandemic (is it level 5 now?)? For fuck's sake, more people died of the REGULAR flu last year than we will ever come close to seeing die from this embarassingly tame virus which has sent the world into a frothy fervor. We've had bouts of meningococcal meningitis and necrotizing fasciatii (for the layman, that last one was "flesh-eating bacteria") locally that have warranted less media coverage than this. You're more likely to die of PNEUMONIA than "H1N1." Ooh, let's make it sound even more menacing!

I have nothing more to say, except that this is fucking stupid and any of you that I know personally that is not an infant or decrepit should be ashamed of yourselves if this scares you. WTF do you have an immune system for? Go convince your doctor to prescribe you some Tamiflu and encase yourself in a bubble. For the rest of you, go about your daily lives and if you happen to get it, see your doctor (as you should with any flu), take a few days off work, and buy some Gatorade to drink in between stints of sleeping it off.

Ridiculous.

25 random facts about me

2009-04-28T03:19:00.000-07:00

Ok, so yeah, I'm jumping on the bandwagon and doing one of these. I'm gonna try and put down some things that ARE relatively embarassing cause I secretly love getting good-naturedly ribbed about that kinda stuff (wait, is that #1?), and will include at least one thing that no one knows about me. Here goes:
1. I am, in fact, a fairly big George Michael fan.
2. I wet the bed until I was ten, and didn't learn to swim until the same age. No, those are not related, I have a small bladder.
3. Besides family and friends, my music really is everything to me. I couldn't live without being in some sort of performing music group, and luckily now I have the cred to do so.
4. Sometimes, I have an inexplicable fear of the phone. This plays a large factor in why I never check my voicemail. It is also why I sometimes drop off the radar with some of my friends. I'm sorry guys.
5. I frequently entertain the thought of going back to college to become an English teacher. This has a lot to do with the next two.
6. I took third in state in the 1992/93 Spelling Bee (my 6th grade year). I lost on 'bouillon.'
7. One of my biggest pet peeves is spelling/typographical errors, ESPECIALLY when it is in a professional setting, such as a TV commercial, newspaper, or restaurant menu. I have even gone so far as to refuse to dine at a restaurant because of this.
8. Every single day, I kick myself for selling my CRX. Figuratively speaking.
9. Although I've been quite open about the fact that I refuse to regret anything, I do have some regrets.
10. I really miss bartending, and jump at the chance to do so whenever it's requested. Even if it's just to pour you a drink.
11. Though I'm well-known for doing really ridiculous stuff for shock value, I do wake up the next morning and ask myself why a lot of the time.
12. I am really disappointed that we couldn't buy the house in NE Tacoma to raise Tristan in. I wanted so badly to do that.
13. My favorite song is "Christie Road" by Green Day.
14. I've held five jobs (no, not at once, though I did hold three at the same time) and was not fired from a single one, though I did walk out at Toys R Us.
15. Though I've considered being recertified or taking a few refresher courses, I think that even though I used to do it in the past, I'd be scared to scuba dive again.
16. After the remodel, I'll never really see Stadium in the same fond light that I used to, though they DID let focuspoint play on that ginormous stage in the Bowl at the Centennial celebration. It's just not really my old school any more.
17. I spend too much time mulling over and contemplating the past. I'm trying to fix that, though.
18. My favorite soda is root beer, and I'm always looking to try a new one, although I think Barq's will always be my favorite.
19. I wish they would bring O.K. Soda back (every now and then I dial the # they had, 1-800-I-FEEL-OK).
20. I've been known to pound a whole....bag of Jalapeno Cheddar Cheetos. One time I did it on my way home from work.
21. I don't regret not doing the whole university thing. I may later, but I always knew that I wasn't going to. If I had, I wouldn't have: met my wife; been able to continue the band; tended bar; met all the people who I wrote songs about, etc. Plus, I've always been a work-with-my-hands, customer service kind of guy. Having followed the route that I have, though, has put me in a job that I don't have to worry about being laid off from. Success!
22. On that note, it pains me to see Allie not using her degree. Not just because it would bring more fundage into our budget, nor just because we're paying off her loans still, but also (and primarily) because I know she enjoys it.
23. Although I'm pretty modest when talking about focuspoint/my musical skills, I love being a ham onstage and love big reactions to my antics (i.e. playing behind my head). I don't think I could ever be anything but frontman for a band. I am an attention whore :).
24. I consider myself a nondenominational Christian, though I've been to church only twice in the past nine years. Part of this has to do with the fact that most churches of this type have bands play during their services, which I am vehemently against. I am very traditional in that I believe that Sunday worship services should be solemn, reverent, and that guitars, drums, and the like have no place in a chapel.
25. With the previous info out there, it should be no surprise that pretty much the entirety of my religious experience was as a member of the LDS, or "Mormon," church. Though I'm no longer a member (by choice), I will not tolerate any insensitive or negative comments regarding Mormons or the LDS church on this blog, should anyone feel the need to post them. Thank you.

There's my 25. Hope you enjoyed 'em.

Later.

"Super New!" is super [insert homophobic slur].

2009-04-14T02:07:00.000-07:00

Seriously.....

So here I am, watching a rerun of Justin Timberlake on SNL (don't laugh, in recent years I have come to the realization that the man is a decent singer, but above all is one hell of a musician and performer to boot) on the E!(tarded) network, and they advertise "super new" episodes of whatever-the-fuck they call the extra fifteen seconds of fame they've decided to give Victoria Silvstedt. I think the cameo in BASEketball should've been her flameout. "Super new." Really? Obviously this is a marketing ploy, but I've never seen an episode of "the Soup" advertised as "super new." Might it be to excite the masses of vapid sub-zero-IQ'd societal guinea pigs into boosting the ratings of yet another shitty reality TV show so E! doesn't look like retards for pooling all their money into said genre? I THINK SO! No, really, this is the misanthrope side of my ever-chimeric character revealing itself. The term "super new" is like saying "extra fresh," or "grilled to perfection." Hyperbolic semantics. Wow, that should be the next fp album title....wait, I was contemplating "A Testament to Decadence." Yet the funny thing about this is that my DVR is set to record only new episodes of South Park, yet two or three days after the new episodes premiere, I get another recording.....maybe super new is a government conspiracy....
Working out is going well, I lost 10 lbs in the last month. My goal is to be 180 by July 1st. Cheer me on!

K bye.

Yep, there's a title here, I just seem to have misplaced it....

2009-03-23T03:03:00.000-07:00

So to bring you up to speed on our valiant hero:

My drinking is mostly nonexistent now. And by nonexistent I mean treated as if it were a child one has supported for years, only to find out that some other male fathered it. You choose to let it go, but as you've developed parental urgings regarding it, you visit cordially.....but infrequently. In its place I have substituted my new 'child,' exercise. I rejoined (after something like a five year absence) 24 Hour Fitness at the same damn club in Federal Way. Matter of fact, when I last had a current membership there the Toys R Us that I used to work at across the parking lot was still open. I've entertained several thoughts of trying to entice some adventurous investors into funding my idea of turning that into a music venue......yeah, good fucking luck with that, eh?

So.....exercise. Cardio seems to be no problem for me, which is amazing considering I've not done anything considered exercise in years, kick in the fact that I'm about 20-25 lbs overweight, asthmatic, and I have smoked regularly for....going on twelve years now. Which reminds me, today (technically) being Monday, I only have 374 days left to beat the 27 year curse! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, since I were a lad and Kurt Cobain chose to spray his frappe'd brain matter on the group of musicians that died at the tender age of 27 [Jimi Hendrix, Mama Cass, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain, Brian Jones, Jim Morrison (who some forget about!), and I'm gonna go ahead and add Ron "Pigpen" McKernan, Mia Zapata, Jean-Michel Basquiat (since yes, he did form a band), Kristen Pfaff, and Robert Johnson], I've always been nervous about the possibility of joining that club. Even more so now that I have a wife and kid to provide for. Anyway, I digress.....so cardio has been easy. Weight training, however, has left me with a few dead-limb days at work, most notably the other day when the girl at work who has a penchant for hitting me in the arm brings up to my boss that she is eschewing the practice temporarily. Before she gets to the reason why, my boss chooses to volunteer his own punch - right in my overworked tricep/bicep region. My yelp of pain is reportedly heard in the checkstands - downstairs, and a good three hundred feet away. I fucking hate the recovery period and am yearning for the days where I heal up overnight. For the record, I have vowed to lose 20 lbs by July 1st.

Those of you who have been adventurous enough to read this far will now be exposed to something that rarely sees the light of day: rap lyrics.....that I have written. Some of you are somewhat aware of the fact that I think I'm pretty fucking good at riding the beat (such as The Ska Song lyrics and the performance of "Forgot about Dre" during a concert at HIGFOM at the Western Washington University campus circa 2001), so this will not be much of a surprise to you. To the rest of you, think what you will. My brain forced me to remember a somewhat catchy couplet on my way home tonight that I turned into a quick rhyme:

Water is the best drink I've ever had
Next to five shots of tequila, two beers, and I'm sad
To say that I'll be never clean
Like Noxzema mixed with motor oil and benzoprene
The worst part is when it's forced
Like driving a one-twenty horsepower racing a Porsche
There's no way you'll ever make it
So I take it in stride just like a cancer patient
Who's only got three weeks
Live it in style, say it's worthwhile, and kiss the cheek
Of the next one taking your place
Kinda like bringing in a pinch runner in the rat race
We're sliding out the next opponent
To bust you in the eye, just say goodbye and fast-forward
Flaming out in the fifth lap, thinking
"Why in the fuck didn't I ever stop drinking?"
Screaming out in a padded room, too late
To contemplate your place while you sit and masturbate
To thoughts of the wife and life you used to have
And now you're deemed too dangerous to even have a pad
Of paper cause they're thinking you might attempt
To slice yourself across the throat and make yourself exempt
Don't even think about the possibility of a pen
Cause God forbid you'd put the two together and then
Author something malicious, fictitious though it may be
Sanity is the edge of the knife that makes you breathe
A little shorter, gave no quarter, doomed to stay inside
And face all of the demons that you've ran from all your life.

Whee! Disclaimer: the author claims no autobiographical context to these lyrics, and any reference (or similarity) to any persons, fictional or living, is purely coincidental.

K bye!

Showbox at the Market, a nagging question, and the dangers of a "good game"

2009-03-05T04:39:00.000-08:00

So I've been rather lax as of late about blogging. Mostly because I feel the urge to do so during the wee hours when my son and wife are asleep, and in accessing the one internet-accessible station in my apartment that has a functioning keyboard, I run the risk of waking said offspring. However, tonight I was finally successful in creating a blog with my Blackjack (2). Seeing as my fingers are not NEARLY small enough to nimbly dance across this keypad at the 80+ wpm I am used to, I think that though I've promised to cover a lot of ground in my title, this blog will be rather brief. Here goes:

February 20th, my band focuspoint played one hell of a set opening up a show at Showbox at the Market. Though we were only allotted a scant 35 minutes, we managed to rip through a seven-song set while entertaining and engaging the audience, even encouraging a brief singalong during "We Came Alive." The show went fantastically and there are a few YouTube videos as well as a complete video of "Learning Curve" on Paolo's blog (http://paolojr.blogspot.com). Afterwards, there was a lot of hanging out and drinking (most of the latter by yours truly) with our friends and fans as we were treated to equally brilliant sets by Boneriver, Your Divine Tragedy, No Ground, and Jupiter Crash. All in all, it was an epic concert. Now, the hazards of "good-gaming":

Within our friend circle, it's widely accepted and frequently executed. For those of you unfamiliar with the practice: smack someone on the ass, generally of the same gender, and say, "Good game!" Feel free to add, "It's not gay if you say 'good game'." Granted, the last statement is not necessary if you are engaging in this practice with a member of the opposite sex, unless you are trying to make them feel accepted, i.e. "one of the guys." Also if you don't feel like making them feel as though they need to file a sexual harassment lawsuit against you. I'm sure you can see where this is leading.....

So I decided to perform this act upon a fairly new member of our circle, thinking that she was aware of the game, and I wanted solely to make her feel like one of us-not really interested in a lawsuit, thank you, nor any of the plethora of negative reactions that may result from such an act. Alas, apparently this was not meant to be, as it resulted in an extremely heated argument between her boyfriend and I. Now, the funny thing is that the argument didn't stem from the actual act, but rather from my original intent-that she feel included in our circle of friends. I'm still scratching my head over that one, though apparently I came dangerously close to being beat down by said girlfriend. Now that I would've understood. On top of that, I now have a wife that, upon hearing about this, wonders why I smack girls' asses....

Now to the nagging question, that just so happens to be completely unrelated. So, is it more important to stick to the terms of an agreement, or to bow to the fact that the fairer sex largely considers compromise to consist of them filibustering until you agree to whatever terms they set forth? Keep in mind that in this case, the latter occurred after the original terms were set.

I will get into the entire conversation in a day or two. In the meantime, feel free to comment with your thoughts on this (or any mentioned) subject.

Until next time.....ta-ta.

Leavenworth, and my much-needed six day vacation.

2009-01-26T02:51:00.000-08:00

I love my job. I work for a very good grocery company that pays me pretty well. I am a 4th manager (read: store mgr, asst, 3rd, me) at a very nice store that has roughly 85% repeat customers. We do well, I love the crew I work with, and my store manager has given me a golden opportunity to rapidly ascend the management ladder, and I owe him a large debt. But, seeing as there is always another side to the coin:

I also hate my job. I am now on blood pressure medication because of the stress my job gives me. My 45-min (one way) daily commute's last ten minutes involve sudden bouts of indigestion because of the anticipation of what I'm going to be chewed out for regarding my performance the previous night. I feel like Wesley Gibson (go watch Wanted). My golden ticket became a whipping boy's post as my boss has decided that his 22-year-old backstabbing-kissass night crew lead is the best thing he's ever seen. I won't go into detail, but just suffice it to say that I run circles around this 'yes-man.' I had been waiting for the opportune time to take some time off, and......

My brother's birthday came up. Inauguration Day, as it is every four years. January 20th when it isn't. We had a blast driving out to Spokane as a family-plus-uncle/brother earlier in 2008, so when I brought it up to all parties concerned that we should take some time off and celebrate Eric's birthday in whatever manner we all deemed appropriate, the idea was well-received. Allie, Eric, Tristan, and I drove out to Leavenworth, WA (a small, Bavarian-themed town roughly between I-90 and Hwy-2 east of the Cascades) the day after his birthday to...just hang out. Allie and I rented a large suite so that after Tristan went to sleep, we could continue partying without worrying about waking him.

We hit Leavenworth about 3:45 pm, just in time to check in to our suite at the Enzian. Check it out, and when you're in town, do it. I'll explain more later. After we checked in, we walked around town a bit, though most of the shops were closed. We had dinner at Visconti's, the Italian ristorante in town. After some locally brewed beer (Eric: hefeweizen, me: IPA), we enjoyed the simple yet lovely rustic Italian bread with olive oil/balsamic vinegar dipping sauce. I don't give a shit about the fact that this is the easiest appetizer to serve, it always sets a fantastic mood for whatever is to come, be it burgers or filet mignon. In this case, Tristan chose a mini cheese pizza, and the three adults settled on fettucine - Allie had the chicken variety, and Eric and I chose to sample their seafood fett. Prices were a bit steep considering the portions and the quality of the food, but Eric and I were very pleased with the fact that the pasta was not served with your run-of-the-mill alfredo sauce, but rather the 'signature Visconti's cheese sauce,' which as best as we could discern consisted of mozzarella, parmigiano Reggiano, asiago, and either ricotta or plain Rondele to make it less thick. Needless to say, our dishes congealed to a blob within twenty minutes of serving, but regardless, they were very enjoyable.

We went back to the Enzian and suited up for some indoor swimming. They have the largest hot tub I've ever seen, as well as a very large 5' deep indoor lap pool. My brother still has his 8-letter cross-country/track body, so I was a bit embarassed to reveal my gut-heavy 200lb frame. Granted, I am a good three inches taller than he, and a six-foot frame can easily support 200+lbs in weight, but aside from my gut, I have the slender 'Watson' frame, so the gut is rather prominent. I love food and drink. Swimming was really fun, I've always been a big fan of it and move about in water very well. Mind you, I'm not Michael Phelps, I just have a way with water. By the way, Tristan does NOT like being dunked. Don't do it.

We spent about an hour in the pool/hot tub, then showered and retired to our suite. Tristan went to bed somewhat easily while Allie and Eric watched the season premiere of Lost. Afterwards we drank copiously while playing gin rummy until 2am, with the plan of waking up at 8am.

Yeah, so Tristan woke up at 6 with a poopy diaper and no intent on going back to bed, so after letting him wreak his havoc in the room for an hour and a half, Allie and I showered, woke Eric up, and went to enjoy the best part of staying at the Enzian: the breakfast buffet. Picture this on the weekend: buffet starts at 7:30, and you best get your ass there by 8 or you're standing in line for an hour. Luckily it was Thursday morning, and by the time we got there at about 9, there was only one other table. So here's the fare: made-to-order omelettes, scrambled eggs, french toast, any other kind of toast, oatmeal, Danishes, pastries, yogurt, applesauce, granola, and beverages ranging from Starbucks brewed drip to OJ, milk, water, apple juice. Again, buffet-style. Get as much as you want. Uh, yeah, we ate. Heavily. When in Leavenworth, stay at the Enzian Inn! You'll get more than your money's worth.

After breakfast, we went back, napped for an hour, packed all our shit into my Saturn, and drove the three-block slog into town to shop. Allie chose to piss and moan about Eric and I's interest in all things meat, cheese, and wine. Read her blog, you'll see. Tristan broke a bottle of port in a shop.....yeah, on their carpet. I apologized profusely and seeing as they wouldn't allow me to pay for that bottle, I bought a split of Graham's Six Grapes port that was worth more than the broken bottle. Upon reaching the checkout, I was informed that most people in my position never bother to apologize, let alone help clean up (as I did), so therefore my child's accident was truly no bother at all. I thanked/apologized profusely again, and left the store. Eric and I visited the Kestrel Winery shop, and I sampled their 2004 Lady in Red blend (as you've discerned, I'm a red blend fan). Didn't like it, but I sampled their 2005 Syrah and bought a bottle. I was really set on buying a glass of their '05 Malbec but Tristan was being mischevious, so that was out of the question. My favorite experience was at cured, Visconti's salumi/meat shop (no, that's not a typo). After sampling several salumis, sopressatas, and an all-acorn fed smoked ham called speck, I settled on a quarter-pound of a sopressata made in Utah and shared it with all my meat-devouring friends back at home. Lovely. For the record, they have a salumi seasoned with fennel and cracked peppercorn that is a must-try for all who enter the shop. It's not for everyone, but trust me, it's definitely worth at least a try. I also bought a half-pound of a porter cheese that I fell in love with last time I was there. Go to the Cheesemonger shop, seriously, and sample all you can. This porter (yes, the beer) cheese is the best cheese I've ever had, and I like me some cheese.

I might expound on the last two hours of our trip later, but you got the gist of it, and I'm fucking tired. Go to Leavenworth, preferably with us, but go whether or not that's an option. I'll spew at you later.

-Watty

Wine porn and Asado's Argentinian fare.

2009-01-25T02:47:00.000-08:00

Yes, I will now blatantly rip off Paolo's food porn idea (in which he inserts pictures into his blog of food, usually which he has created himself, to appeal to those of us who like food). I am going to submit my wine porn. Seeing as wine is my favorite intoxicant upon which to expound (considering my training, background, and favorite store section to hang out in), I've now chosen to occasionally include this bit in my repertoire. Here are a few pics of wines I've sampled lately:

Yes, this is a bottle of 1992 Opus One. I am shamelessly putting this as my first wine cumshot as I had been hoping my father (the owner of this bottle) would crack one of the few he has for my wedding, but he chose to wait until Tristan was born before he would crack it. I don't blame him, considering this very bottle cost anywhere from $450 to $650 depending on how you kept it. My father knows how to store wine. 'Nuff said. Thanks, Dad (Grandpa)!

This wine: My father decanted it for a good hour before we even imbibed a drop. Completely understandable considering this wine had been aging in the bottle for SIXTEEN YEARS. Nose was a bit leathery with very prominent smoky black currant tones, and the initial taste yielded a moderately tannic representation of cranberry, blackberry, and occasional chocolate notes, with a long but satisfying finish. My rating: Try it yourself. I'm not a sommelier, I should get some official training, I've studied under two sommeliers, and my final summation on this wine is: If you're ballsy enough to buy the latest vintage at Top Foods for a C-note a bottle, let it sit. Check the website, and drink it when they suggest. It. Is. Fucking. Amazing. It will age as long as you want it to.

This is my latest foray into the red blend section at my store. This was the WOW! (read: promote this item!) wine product at my store last week. Now, I'm a fan of red blends. From the moment I was legally allowed to drink, I took a liking to reds and whiskies. Thank my Dad for both, I learned at about 12 that my father's favorite spirit was Glenlivet single-malt scotch (because of an uncle's recommendation, my father's not an alkie). For some reason, I kept that bit of information with me, and as soon as I woke up from my zero-hour run, I went out, bought a pint of said scotch, and showed up at my Dad's door: "Let's have a proper drink."

He also turned me on to reds immediately, but that's a story for another time.

Rewind: I love red blends. I'm particularly interested in the unconventional ones. Menage a Trois certainly counts, as it is a blend of Cab Sauv, Merlot, and Zinfandel. Mind you, I'm well-versed in the many Cab-Merlot blends, but seriously, the Zin brings a whole new plane to the blend. My latest affinities have been towards the Malbec/Pinot Noir/Syrah (Shiraz for all you snooty Aussie assholes, it's the same fucking wine), but I'm not ashamed to admit that I love this unabashedly sweet red. Yes, I designated this red wine as sweet - usually the only reds that are genuinely sweet are ports. If you sell wine, and you get some ignorant fuck in your area asking for a "sweet red," point them towards this. Awesome, especially for the "under $10" price. My rating: 7/10.

Argentinian dining, as I promised: My wife and I received a $100 gift card to Masa/Asado from my father and stepmother. Brief background: These restaurants, owned by the same person/company, sit across 6th Ave (Tacoma) from each other. Masa offers Mexican cuisine, Asado serves up Argentinian fare. We chose one night to sample Asado's comida along with our friend James. Valet service. 'Nuff said. Simply stepping into the restaurant made me regret my Green Day beanie/focuspoint t-shirt attire, as this place definitely suggests a higher dress code. We were seated, and I perused the wine list, deciding upon a 2006 L'Ecole Syrah for the godawful price of (gasp!) $60 a bottle. Their wine list, by the way, is very niche-friendly: you want to impress by ordering a $250 bottle? Why not $400? It's available! Think three, four pages.

You're each handed a leather-bound menu with overly carnivorous offerings, admittedly with off-the-beaten-path garnishes, sides, and marinades: I ordered the lamb shank with cipolline mole, side of butterbeans with garlic mashed potatoes. My wife had the marinated flat-iron steak with mashed purple potatoes, and James had one of the daily specials, a filet mignon with jalapeno-bacon stuffing. The average plate will cost you $20-$30, and is definitely well worth the price. Portions are generous, and if you don't come hungry you'll walk away with a carry-out box. Plus, they serve a gratis appetizer of hearty bread with some sort of peanut-buttery butter that isn't easily identifiable under the dim lighting, but is very tasty. The general manager served us our bottle of wine, as well as our desserts (me: fried ice cream on a sweet cream/avocado bed with four fresh raspberries; Allie: chocolate torte a la mode; James: creme brulee with a fresh homemade caramel on the side). After the bill was divvied up, he came around once again to ensure our enjoyment - let me just say that although we weren't suffocated by the help, our needs were immediately taken care of and the presence of the GM was definitely appreciated. Though this may not be a weekly outing for the average suburban Western Washingtonian, I will definitely put Asado at the top of my list for special occasion dinners. My rating: 8/10.

I intended on blogging about our Leavenworth trip with my brother for his birthday (1/20), for which I took off 1/20-1/25 to facilitate some sort of 'family outing,' but I'm too tired and relatively intoxicated to blog more. Suffice it to say that it's now 4am and I'm fucking tired. Plus, I'm trying to make this more reader-friendly......I know, I mentioned earlier in my blog that I wouldn't do such a thing, but honestly, I really haven't been of the mind lately to be overly profane or opinionated. Sorry to disappoint the 0% of you that love that side of me.

focuspoint (my band, http://www.myspace.com/focuspointmusic) is playing at the ShowBox at the Market on Friday, Feb 20th. We're opening for Your Divine Tragedy (who we played with at ShowBox SoDo), Boneriver (who opened for us at our Lost in the Sound CD release at Valhalla in Kirkland), and the headliner is No Ground (formerly AfterAll) celebrating THEIR current CD release. Make it out, I swear to God this will be a fucking show to remember. This is a stellar lineup.

See you in the crowd.

-Watty

Conspiracy theorists.

2009-01-09T03:21:00.001-08:00

So I met up with my friends Mark and Paul at the Time Out in Federal Way after work Thursday evening to do what we do best - play bar games and drink. We each ordered food (me: gizzards, Paul: a Philly cheese-steak sandwich and mozz stix, and Mark: beef nachos) and washed it down with, as usual, their preferred yellow beer, Budweiser. Read: not my fave, as I've stated before. Yes, an old hick resides in my gut. I eat gizzards, grits, collard greens, cornbread, fried chicken......my maternal genes scream at me to do so, as do my father's culinary influences earlier on in life.

After eating, we gravitate towards the video-Texas Hold'em table and the newest incarnation of the Buck Hunter video game. I play a few rounds of hold'em, lose a few bucks on side bets, gain a few bucks on side bets, shoot some virtual endangered animals, and go outside to have a cigarette. While I'm out there, two guys that I've been listening to carry on about governmental blahblahblah also step outside to smoke, and hook me in to their conversation by asking me how many Constitutional amendments there are. "Well, more than 23," I respond. They run me through a sixth-grade gamut of governmental trivia questions, then, satisfied that I can play with the big boys, include me in their conversation.

I shall preface the next section with a disclaimer: I have not researched the factoid that I'm about to spit out, but have had it corroborated by more than three individuals after hearing it from these yahoos. The reason I'm not researching this before I make my statements is because I want some fucking feedback! Jeremy? Someone alert Matt Wood to this particular blog - I'd like to incite some political to-and-fro between these guys. One of the most intriguing bits of information that the short, scrawny member of this Sterno-huffing duo spat out:

"Did you know that recently, 20-25,000 troops have stationed themselves in cities around the U.S. to ensure lawful conduct?" "What, like martial law?" I question. "Yeah, exactly like that." The funny thing is that before this, their main topic of conversation was concerning the 2nd Amendment. Our argument ended (somewhat) with them stating that, taking the 2nd as it is read, our government is not allowed to tell us that we can't own fully automatic handguns, nor can they deny us the right to own a nuclear warhead, or any other weapon obviously intended singly for the cessation of human life.

My interest does not lie in whether or not I will be shot by these troops simply for carrying a gun in plain sight (which I dare not do, I don't have my pistol permit). My interest lies in the fact that (I'm paraphrasing heavily) we are constitutionally bound to form militias and rise up against an oppressive government, much as our forefathers did against the British. If I'm right, how the fuck are we supposed to compete against these troops if we're at an obvious armament disadvantage? M-16's against semi-auto AR-15's shooting .223 rounds? Right. The guy I talked to at the Chevron on my way home also stated the whole "troops occupying U.S. cities" situation, but mentioned that it was because of the government's fear of people taking matters into their own hands should the economy collapse. I, for one, believe that there's been a slight yet noticeable uptick in our economy - the government themselves has removed the hiring freeze. This may not coincide with the enormous budget deficits that we're seeing, but dammit, I tell you this: were I a 'civilian' business owner, to see the government start filling positions would bolster me to do the same. Am I wrong? I see this hiring thaw as a semi-irresponsible financial move, but a wise logistical move in that I honestly believe that it will encourage other businesses to do the same. That isn't the only economical improvement I've seen. Regarding my previous "automaker" blog: concessions aren't such a bad thing. Hear me out. What's a pay rate freeze or a 15% an hour less concession when it is mirroring the drop in the cost of our staples of life? Milk, bread, eggs, dairy products are cheaper than they were six months ago, unless you're a Seattleite snob and refuse to buy anything other than organic - fine, dig your own grave. The rest of us will be content with surviving, and for fuck's sake, you probably grew up on the same shit you're now dismissing as unsuitable. And let's not forget the most important part - as much as some of you absolutely abhor the fact, we're still dependent on fossil fuels and will be for the foreseeable future. You'd have to be Helen Keller to not notice the fact that gas is +/- $3 a gallon less than it was about six months ago. I don't give a fuck who you are - that's freed up a significant amount of fundage in 99.9% of Americans' budgets. If you're part of a union and they are suggesting concessions/pay decreases, fucking take it. It's not going to hurt you in the short term, and I guarantee that if they're enacted, there will be a clause stating that when the economy reaches a certain point, your original pay will be reinstated. Let's not be foolish here - we can't take the money back from the people who have already been given those 'golden parachutes,' even those who got them after the bailout package. The economy is fucked, and we as United States citizens are each going to have to bear a financial burden in order to get back where we all want to be. With sacrifice comes reward, people. Suffer now to prosper later. All of us, from the billionaires to the minimum-wage workers. Don't be prideful, don't be foolish. Let's work together to reverse this shithole in the quickest way possible. Even though I am an ardent Obama supporter, even I am not naive enough to think that we'll regain all that we've lost within his first term, but I am absolutely positive that we will see enough of an improvement to elect him for a second term, and I will eat my words here should I be wrong: under eight years of an Obama presidency, we will emerge financially stronger than I have ever seen in my 26 years on this planet. I promise you all that. It will be painful at first - fuck, it already is. It will be a struggle. More jobs will be lost. Unemployment rates are going to continue to rise - for a short time. I have faith. Please, be open-minded to the changes that will come. I am also not so naive to think that all of president-elect Obama's ideas will be successful, but I do believe that he's got the right idea.

The rest of the conspiracy theorist conversation really holds no meaning any more. Suffice it to say that they were kinda nutty and that I saw through their ruse before I left.

Yes, motherfuckers, we can. It's gonna hurt for a while, but we can.

Thank you.

It's nice to see....

2009-01-07T03:06:00.000-08:00

that my son seems to be growing into his large head. Thanks to some fuckup in my genetic makeup, my son was born (as I was) with a large head, complete with prominent forehead. Not so much that you'd think he was 'special,' (though the doctors thought I may have been hydrocephalic - read: water on the brain - when I was born, and after reading my mother's notes regarding my infancy have found no empirical evidence to the contrary....weird). Did that deserve paranthetical separation? Probably not. Fuck it. Anyway, I digress. I was looking at the slideshow of pictures that is the screen saver on this pile of excrement that I like to refer to as Lappy. Yes, that is a Strongbad reference, also regarding a laptop of dubious quality. It sure would be nice to be able to use one of the two fully functioning desktops that we own (that are lying in pieces) in any capacity, but Allie's got it in her head that we have no room nor any use for them since we have this wonderful piece of shit (that I will dub Alfred in Jenny's honor) to use. It has no functioning CD-ROM drive. The power cord has been gnawed on by a small animal and shorts out. The battery does not hold a charge. So, I've made a decision. As soon as I'm sure she's asleep, I'm going to sneak into our bedroom and try to retrieve my balls from the jar on top of the dresser and reinstall them, then hook up one of said desktops and hide this piece of shit in a secure place until I am able to take it out to a remote field and empty into it a full 14-round clip from my large-caliber Beretta. God bless the Italians. Not only have they invented my favorite type of food and gifted to our band the best bass player ever born, they make beautiful guns.

I have digressed so far that the only way to bring this back is to start a separate paragraph. My son has a large head. I watched the progression of pictures on the screen saver on this laptop, and noticed that as he grew older, his body grew longer while his head stayed roughly the same size. Thank God. Hopefully his body will catch up quickly, or we'll have to add another member to the "My God, his head is disgustingly large!" crew. So far, only Danny and I are members. 8" fitted hats are hard to find.

I've been revisiting an old hobby since the new year began, something a select few friends and I used to engage in quite fervously a few years back. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I will finally admit it to the general public: I play Magic: the Gathering. I'm sure most of you will remember the outcasts in high school during lunch as they flocked to whatever corner they could exist in without being disturbed or heckled, whipping out those oh-so-familiar brown-backed cards with intricate drawings on the front. Everybody knew the kids who played Magic. I knew several people who played in high school. Where most people mocked them (and the game itself), I simply sat neutral on the whole situation - I knew nothing about the game, so didn't belittle the people who played it, no matter what I heard. I was friends with all walks of life in high school, so to insult those who played Magic would invariably either be to insult my friends themselves, or friends of theirs.

I actually wasn't even invited to play the game, let alone learn about it, until I was about 19 and my friend Emil was living with me in my grandma's basement. I had always collected sports cards (overwhelmingly basketball, I estimate my collection to be 15k+ cards), and every time I went in to West Coast Sports Cards in Federal Way (still my preferred shop), I'd hang out on the left side of the store, furtively searching for a John Stockton card that I didn't have in my collection, while watching the people on the right (Magic) side of the store either playing games or purchasing cards. One night, Emil and I got righteously stoned (as we were wont to do at the time), and he busted out his Magic cards. He taught me how to play and even gave me a deck of his, as well as a smattering of his collection. A few days later, with a somewhat infantile grasp on the game, I ventured over to the right side of the West Coast Sports Cards store. Chris, an employee that I was used to shooting the shit with and buying cards from, sauntered over, sized me up with his chin out, and proudly said (pretty sure this is verbatim): "What the fuck are you doing on this side of the store? The sports cards are over there!" Knowing that he knew his shit when it came to sports cards (he once offered to buy on the spot a Gary Payton game-used jersey card serially #'d 82/100 that I pulled right in front of him for $100) as well as Magic, I was a bit surprised at his reaction, but succeeded in stammering out this witty little gem: "Uh, yeah, I know, I play Magic now." He laughed and tossed some game verbiage directly over my head, then, noting the confused and somewhat embarassed look on my face, chilled the fuck out and sold me some cards. Thanks, douche :).

Flash forward to this previous week. Emil, my homie/bro-in-law Ryan, and I have gotten together a few times and revisited our collections, which have pretty much sat in stasis since the last time we played (ok, maybe not Emil, he played occasionally in the interim). So I realized that when we quit, I had a few pretty good decks going. A co-worker of mine had kind of re-piqued my interest in the game recently when I caught him upstairs sorting through a deck of his. We struck up a conversation about it, and I brought in some of my cards to show off. This guy, having played the game in its earlier incarnations, hadn't seen a lot of the cards that had come out in the last few years, and these are cards that the old-school players only dreamt about back in the day. So we agreed that since he was closing yesterday, as was I, we'd bring some decks and finally play each other. We were able to play twice, each lasting roughly a half an hour. After hearing about his prowess and how he'd humiliated people in tournaments with the decks he owns.......

I kicked his ass. Twice. The first time, my life total was 36 when he lost, and my deck hadn't even had a chance to properly pop off yet (you start at 20 life points each, you lose at 0). The second time, I had a Kormus Bell out that turned his Swamps into 1/1 creatures, and used my Prodigal Sorcerer to kill them off, keeping him from casting any worthwhile creature he had in his deck, while using a Minister of Impediments to tap the one creature he had successfully cast so my creatures could get through unblocked. Haha, no one reading this will understand that......

Yep, I'm a nerd. Few people knew me before I grew my hair out and my eyebrows actually turned brown and I started playing guitar and all that good shit. Yep, if you actually pay attention, you'll see one of the smart, nerdy kids that just happened to have good genes and went from the quiet little dorky bookworm to the cute "mysterious" kid that played in a band - or so I was referred to on both sides of the spectrum.

Well, time for a smoke and bedtime. If anyone is actually listening to me out there, thanks for reading (wow, talk about a complete 180 from the first few blogs). Maybe I should concentrate on making this less abrasive.

We'll see. Later.

Crappy New Beer!

2009-01-05T02:58:00.000-08:00

No, seriously. Sam Adams' Winter Lager is absolute fucking garbage. Not only does it taste like an elf pissed in my mouth, it fills you up like Budweiser - three and you're too full to get a buzz on. Thankfully that's not what I'm drinking tonight (started off with a black Sparks, graduated to a 22 of Snow Cap, and appropriately am now sipping some Rainier as my taste buds have been summarily annihilated).

Oh, and Happy New Year to you all.

I've been contemplating the fact that my ten-year graduation blahblahblah is coming up next year. Spoke to James (Stadium, class of '98) about his and to this day don't think he ever went to it, as I don't think it was ever planned. Knowing this, I seriously wonder if anyone in the class of double-o can make it out of their stony haze long enough to plan (let alone find fundage for) a ten-year reunion for our class.

Should I spearhead this project? Wait a minute, was Luke Macpherson class of '99 or was he class of '00? If he was in '00, make him do it - he was more popular and had a higher GPA than I, not to mention his band is much more successful than mine. Hey, he could fund it too! In all seriousness, though, I do question whether or not our ten-year is gonna happen. Sound off, all you Stay-dumb '00 grads reading this post, I know there are more than are letting on.....

Christmas: The only part I care about regarding yours is whether it was good or not. I don't want to hear about your ps3 or your DS or your stollen or your giftcard to masa/asado cause I: bought that already/got that for Allie/was given one myself (tasty)/got one of those too. For those of you who don't know, Masa and Asado are Mexican and Argentinian restaurants (respectively) across the street from each other on 6th Ave in Tacoma, right by Jazzbones. They are owned and operated by the same company and, luckily for us, offer giftcards valid for both restaurants. I'm ready to branch out into Asado's Argentinian cuisine, as well as sampling the fantastic Mexican fare I'm sure Masa has to offer. Food is always the best present if you're old enough to not have a Christmas list. Tristan got a shit-ton (I'm told that equates to "a lot") of toys, and apparently likes jojo's enough to have a full-blown tirade about it when I inquire about the subject on Christmas morning. Hopefully Allie (http://allie-watson.blogspot.com/) finds a way to post the video of said tirade on her blog. I have a picture of the sweet DC shoes I bought Tristan, but haven't figured out a way to post pics on this godforsaken site yet, so I'll get there eventually.

Next (and continuous topic, as Paolo has commented and I've decided to concur to some point that this is obsequiously a focuspoint blog), the band.

Now that the holidays are over, it's high time we get back down to business. I don't got no time to fuck around, what is this? Must be a circus in town, let's shut the shit down on these clowns, can I get a witness (hell yeah)? Friday's the only day I have off this week, and I'm about to let this be known among the other members, so hopefully we can get together that day and do work, son. I'm hell bent on getting some shit recorded before summer, and we have some traxxx that we're working on, not to mention I haven't hit a stage since early October, so my inner whore is screaming out for exposure. It should be no surprise to anyone who has seen one of our shows to learn that I absofuckinglutely love performing live and thrive upon the experience, so considering the fact that we've been so deprived over the last couple months, it's about time to indulge. Besides this blog, it's the only other place I'm allowed to do pretty much whatever I wish, so it's a welcome release from the relative restraint I place upon myself 90% of the time. The other 10% consists of 5% stage time and 5% "I'm gonna be as weird as I can," which can rear its ugly head either before OR after I start drinking, and usually results in waking up the next day wondering whether some of the things I did were really all that necessary. I chalk it up to me needing to act out every once in a while, and it's never hurtful - just awkward (for the other parties involved) at times.

Ok, last subject. I told myself I was gonna be in bed by 3 and it's 4 now, so maybe I should wrap this up. Guitar Hero. Absolute fucking bullshit - or so I said until Allie thought it would be a good present for "me" (read: her) for Christmas. She broached the subject about a week before the holiday (after I had bought her the DS), with the implication that it would be MY present. She had played the game for the first time about two weeks before at a company party and had gushed about the accolades she had received from the partygoers. She knew that I was (surprisingly demurely) against the game itself for obvious reasons, so I knew that it was an excuse for her to buy the goddamn thing. Then she threw in the fact that it was on sale at GameStop for $50 with the guitar, and I said, "Fine, I know you like the game, and if you buy it, I'll play it too. Just don't call it a Christmas present for me." The next day at work, I get a text from her telling me that she has invited Jenny and Jeremy over and wants to know if I mind her opening "my" present. Long story short, I beat GH3 on Medium earlier this evening and she's still working on Easy.......guess I'm fairly good at it after all. I still look at the poor gameheads that can play "Through the Fire and Flames" by DragonForce on Expert and say quietly to myself, "had you only invested the time it took you to beat that on expert on learning to play an actual fucking guitar, you'd probably be fairly good." It's like volunteering full-time.......the only way it'll ever pay off is if you can find someone who actually fucking cares that you're not doing anything worthwhile (ok, fine, I mean financially in respect to the volunteering part). LEARN HOW TO PLAY THE ACTUAL INSTRUMENT. It's much more fulfilling.

Ok, I'm done for the night. I guess the black/white rant will have to take place another time. Rest assured, it's in the itinerary. I should probably be more profane next time as well. Well, until then....
................ta-ta.

Watty

I can't fucking believe it.

2008-12-23T04:54:00.001-08:00

Additional post 12/23:

I can't fucking believe NO ONE, including my wife, who is a rabid American Idol fan, ever told me that there was some jackass from Dover, Delaware with MY NAME that auditioned for American Idol! Now all the jokes I've made about auditioning have absolutely no meaning whatsoever.

Check it out. YOU may find it funny.

Guess I better keep this going :)

2008-12-23T01:58:00.001-08:00

So.....how's everyone liking the weather?

I've always loved the snow. Problem is, I haven't had the chance to go play in it. The last...oh, about a week and a half has been spent lengthening my commute from roughly 50 minutes to giving myself an hour and a half.

Oh, by the way, that's EACH WAY. Yeah, driving from UP to up-the-hill Kent, as brutal as the daily slog can be in GOOD weather, has become damn near unbearable. I've received numerous texts from friends over this series of weather systems asking, suggesting, hell, even BEGGING me not to go in to work. I have two very important factors to consider every time this thought crosses my mind: 1) I've always been good at driving in the snow and ice, and more importantly, 2) single-income family. Me not going to work doesn't equal inability to pay rent [that's what Allie's job pays - free rent, gsw (I only put it that way for those familiar with that particular acronym in copspeak - gunshot wound - but in this case it means garbage/sewer/water), and yes, it does pay a small amount of cash each month on top of this], and thanks to Click recognizing she's the mgr, free cable. What it does equal is inability to pay bills and buy food. Those of you that know me personally, and I'm assuming the few reading this do, know that family is, was, and always has been very important to me. Therefore, I'm not afraid to drive carefully (with chains at the ready hahaha) through the slush, snow, and ice to provide for me and mine. I takes care of mine, son. Respek. Booyakasha.

That being said, I'll relate a little story to you. If you haven't noticed by now, this will probably be the most boring blog yet, but if you dig a little deeper and read a little further, those of you reading this that only know me as Watty from focuspoint will get (oh JOY) a further glimpse of who I am. I ended up spending Saturday night, the night of the blizzard/windstorm, at my good friend (and fellow worker) James' townhome a mile from our store. I am very fortunate not only to have a friend like James, but to have him live so close to our workplace and be kind enough to offer me a place to sleep whenever this sodded weather threatens my health. Thank you, James. We ended up eating three frozen pizzas between he, I, and another coworker that night while watching Iron Man. The next night, after about six further inches of snowfall, I decided that I must make my way home to see my wife and son....oh, and for a change of underpants. I ended up driving the 28 miles home at an average speed of 32 mph, even on the freeways. The comforting part was leading the procession of about 15 cars in the rightmost lane on I-5, all doing the same speed and giving each other the same berth, while the moronic douchebags in AWD/4WD vehicles (I'm INVINCIBLE!) blasted by us at 50-70 mph, blasting muck on our windshields every time. That wouldn't have been so bad had my fucking windshield wiper sprayers NOT BEEN FROZEN! In spite of all that nonsense, I made it home just fine, and without having to put my shiny-new-and-$60-a-pair chains on. I kissed my wife, slammed a few beers to staunch the adrenaline rush, spent some time looking upon my sleeping son, and slept a happy man.

The humor in this story lies in my commute to work yesterday afternoon. Seeing as it took me an hour and ten minutes to get home, I figured it'd be a good idea to leave at 1:00 pm for my 2:30 start time. I did this twice before in the last week, and all three times I ended up with the same conclusion.

I was over a half an hour early for work.

Needless to say, my store manager was pleased to see that I had made it to work, seeing as I had left him a note stating 'come hell or high water (or slush), I'm making it home tonight to retrieve said underpants' (yeah, the night prior he called me just before the end of my shift to implore me to stay at James').

So to recap: I'm good at driving in the snow, I care about my family, my friend James is a great man, Iron Man is a good movie, fellow car drivers love it when you know what you're doing (and hate it when you're a douchebag), showing up early to work is never a bad thing, and I'm the breadwinner of the family. Oh, and focuspoint is the best fucking band ever.

And since I've been pretty vanilla this entire post:

Shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker tits (fart turd and twat).

We miss you, George Carlin. And a special thank you to Blink-182 for adding three more words to the list of "Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television," as well as turning it into a song called "Family Reunion." Listen to it, you'll get a kick. I'm sure Carlin has.

Merry Christmas, you guys. And although most, if not all, of my friends are Christians, happy Chanukah and Solstice (for my few pagan friends). I refuse to wish you a happy Kwanzaa, because all the black people I know think it's more ridiculous than I do. If you're gonna try to create a black holiday, do a better job. Side note - if I ever tried to create a white holiday, I'd be fucking shot. Think about that, Jesse Jackson. Maybe my next blog will be debating the effects of creating a white version of the NAACP. Don't get me wrong, I'm not in any way a racist or a white supremacist (I myself am not 100% white), I just think it's a bit fucked up that black people are allowed to celebrate (and shove in the face of others) their ethnicity while white people are condemned for it.

Ah, fodder for the masses.

And once again, "the fucking lines are open."

Later.

Good morning.....infidels.

2008-12-13T03:26:00.000-08:00

I'm gonna go ahead and start this one off with a little piece I like to call "Fuck you greedy American car companies, and although I'm sure it's gonna cause another downturn in our economy, I'd like to see you private-jet flyin', 85-90% pension payin', $70-an-hour (seriously, that's their average hourly rate, mostly because of the some-odd 350,000 people on said pension; compared to just $27/hr avg at Kia plants in the south) payin', gas-guzzling creatin', money-hungry pieces of shit buried by Christmas."

Actually, that pretty much sums it up. But since I have a penchant for overkill, I shall elaborate. What better forum to do so?

I fully realize that if things go the way I've outlined in my opening statement, we can expect more people laid off and subsequently applying/receiving unemployment. However, I have expressed my feelings about possible buyout plans. Where the fuck are the Germans when you need them? Hell, even the Belgians! They bought Anheuser-Busch, for Chrissake (and, yes, I've heard that the same company makes -yum- Stella Artois, though I haven't researched this yet). I'm sure they can do a better job of making Chevrolets than we've proven we can, and if not, fuck it, it's a Chevrolet - if you're stupid enough to want to buy a Chevy, chances are you can't afford one since you've already lost your job and are desperately trying to knock up your sister in hopes of making your welfare check just a little bit fatter. Hell, what readers am I going to offend because of that comment?

As I am wont to do, I was listening to KOMO 1000 on my way home from work earlier, spinning through the slush and openly ridiculing the three-car pileup on the onramp from SB I-5 to Hwy 16, I was listening to the ongoing saga of the 'Big Three' and their plight. Let's give a quick recap for those of you who haven't been paying attention. I'll make it simple:
-Representatives of the 'Big Three' (Ford, GM, and Chrysler) flew on INDIVIDUAL PRIVATE JETS to meet with the guv'ment about handouts, thinking that since Congress passed the multibillion-dollar bailout package for banks (read: financial institutions that handle your money semi-responsibly, not automakers out to make the cheapest car yet charge you a fucking arm and a leg), they might save these greedy assholes. Wrong.
-Not only did Congress publicly humiliate them by pointing out (and I'm paraphrasing) that they flew in on private jets to hold out their tin cups, the bailout package that the guv'ment actually put together FOR the aforementioned 'Big Three' was turned down by......the 'Big Three' because they'd have to take pay cuts. Hmmm...............

Lose your job.........take a pay cut? Which option sounds better (and probably sounded better to the employees who will cannibalize these corporate mucky-mucks)?

I'm in favor of what I believe was stated as 'Option Two' by the Bush administration, who is trying to help them out. If I remember correctly, it involved a short-term loan or two, and included the most important part - Forced. Restructuring.

I'll say that again. Forced. Restructuring. Bingo-bango, there's your ticket. The days of socially-accepted (yet grumbled about) golden parachutes are gone, boys. 'Shamefully caught in your failures." Time to fall on those broken knees. Kick those motherfuckers to the curb, and let's appoint....oh, I don't know, someone who realizes the shit we're in and can appreciate the fact that the higher-ups should not be making XXX% (even XXXX%) of the wage that his average employee makes! The only way for us to get out of this mess is for people to realize that greed is what got us here, practicality and a little melding of the social classes (and pay scales) is what will get us out. Please, people, I don't care who you voted for. Let's work together, cause for God's sake (for all our sakes), it's not only on president-elect Obama and the government to right the ship. We all have to push too, from the king of the shit heap to the lowliest dung beetle. Concessions. Pay cuts. What harm do these do when the price of gas has fallen to its lowest point in almost ten years, and groceries are slowly following suit? Cost of living, especially for those of us dependent on fossil fuels, has decreased exponentially. Case in point: I drive an '01 Saturn that has a 10.something-gallon tank. Three, four months ago it cost me the better part of $45 to fill it. Tonight I got 7.6 gallons for $13.36. Gas costs almost $3 A GALLON less than it did just a season ago! Working at a grocery store, I've watched the price of milk, bread, and eggs drop, as well as seeing sales the likes of which twenty-something consumers have never seen. My wife's jaw is bruised from the many times in recent weeks that it's hit the floor after I've come home with some of the deals I get, not as an employee, but simply as a customer. Seriously people, time to be a little more modest. Do what's good for the people. It's gonna happen anyway, just be a catalyst instead of a speedbump.

Or you could just get ran over.

Later.

Good morning, all you non-readers.

2008-12-11T02:27:00.000-08:00

I'm sure there's a way to check how many people have read/visited my blog, but as of right now, I'm not too concerned with researching this. Since little to no people read my myspace blog that advertises this human wreckage (sorry, faithful myspace readers, I don't mean to call you 'little'), I'm sure that even my own bandmates have yet to delve into what I will freely call my 'no bullshit' zone. Matter of fact, I think that once people gain knowledge of this detritus and peruse through it, I can accurately predict that I will have no readers. Ah, so it goes - my original intent is preserved. I am still fully content with vomiting my rantings into this semiabsorbent electronic aether that we call the Internet.

Let's take a trip into my life, shall we?

(Note: this may be even less profane than the last blog. Be warned.)

Success! I have created the most perfect child humankind could ever expect! My son Tristan, as the latest example proffered by my wife regarding Wednesday's outing shows, is absolutely immune to the total anarchy that most consider commonplace amongst infants/toddlers/hell, teenagers of this current age! They were enjoying lunch at Target amongst a fairly large group of families with young'uns, and while all the others were wailing and gnashing their teeth (yes, that's a biblical quote), Tristan was content in sitting quietly on Allie's lap as he is wont to do on mine, peacefully eating some pizza and, I'm sure, introspectively ridiculing the chaotic scene around them.

This is a child that lives to, when Mommy opens the door to our bedroom, walk in semi-quietly saying, "da-da? no-fln-be-neh-fuh-da-da? be-na-na-buh-doh-fleh-buh-neh-da-da? DA-DA?" and has the most ecstatic smile on his face when I roll over and greet him in the morning. He loves his mama, but (and I feel very guilty for this), he LOVES his dada. He loves to give the standard open-mouthed baby 'kiss' at random, and is also wont to crawling up on the coffee table so he can scootch over to me in my rocking chair and lay his head on my shoulder. He sits contentedly in my lap, sitting still enough to allow me to make the most difficult drives and lay-up shots on Tiger '09, cackling freely with me when I eagle a hole and silently conceding with me that I have just missed an easy putt. Usually, after the latter happens, he crawls away to read a book for a few minutes to let me silently mouth (and sometimes not-so-silently) the expletives my wife hates so much. Ironically, I try not to say such words as 'shit,' 'fuck,' and 'goddammit' around him, but lately one of the syllables he's adopted into his vocabulary is.....'shit.' I assume no responsibility for this.

Oh, regarding the band. Yes, we did end up having practice on Sunday. Yes, Paolo was somewhat hesitant to give the usual 'homie-hug' dap that I always offer to the boys. Should I blame him? In recent weeks, I took it upon myself to trumpet a 'call to arms' to the rest of focuspoint, seeing as we hadn't practiced in months. Yes, months. Was I delicate in my approach? Absolutely not. Should I have been? No, I don't think so. Did I piss off the other three at some (or several) points? Yes, I did. Did Sunday result in a renewed interest to soldier on?

You bet your fucking ass it did.

We ran through some of the ol' comfortables, then launched into a ten-minute extended outro of Learning Curve, after which we somewhat uncomfortably agreed that that was a fucking JAM, and we killed it. Paolo came to the table with some absolutely funky shit, and we jammed on two new riffs for the remainder of practice. Expect yet another newly-revamped angle in our next release....and just as a teaser, I've been also re-exploring the 'Project O/Lost in the Sound' side that I seem to have lost since I got married. It's funny how hard it is to write bittersweet, sometimes poignant, slowish songs when you haven't had a breakup in five years. I've felt a need (and have had a push to) explore the softer side of my lyrical muse(s) lately. The 'Alright' EP was a great example of how pissed off I can get (for examples, listen to....the whole fucking CD). I even took my own stab at a political song in 'When We Fall,' though I think Paolo's 'We Came Alive' is much better. Towards the end of practice, this phrase was tossed around a lot: "So when are you guys free next weekend?" as was "When can we get together again?" Jeremy threw a great idea out there, that should make some of you faithful salivate: "The next few times we get together, we should ignore our old catalogue. Let's get together like we're a new band, working solely on new shit." I'm paraphrasing, but I am absolutely positive he used 'shit' as a descriptive word. We had been hoping for a new release this last fall, but I'm positive we'll have something, at least in the way of a few-track teaser, by spring '09.

Imagine: Watty and P-loq take your mom out to a nice seafood dinner, then to a Chili Peppers concert, circa 1995, but Five Bolt Main is opening for them. You may not hear the rest of the story, specifically regarding the three of them and a seedy motel room, but for some reason Watty decides to write some mournfully poignant lyrics alluding to either what happened, what should have happened, or what might have been, and P-loq brings the funk like that's what really went down.

There's an idea.

Ok, I gotta get to sleep, Allie bought the new Batman movie and we were supposed to watch it tonight, so I'm hoping to compromise and get up early enough to watch it before (and maybe even after) work. Bye.

The usual mental vomit, but not quite as expletive-laden...

2008-12-07T04:13:00.001-08:00

Sunday morning, early, and I just don't feel like going to bed yet. Worked almost 50 hours this week and I've been nothing but spent during my time off. Oh, wait, that's right, I've also found time to rant about Bush 2.0 and random other things that piss me off. Well, since I've designated this forum as my 'blowing off steam' area (much to my wife's chagrin), I hope you would expect nothing less than vomitus from the reptilian area of my brain, though for some reason she has felt the need (read some of my old myspace blogs) to encourage me to be somewhat reader-friendly, especially since some of the people I know/are related to tend to be somewhat sensitive to material using the words 'fuck,' 'shit,' 'goddammit,' and more of that nature.

I've chosen to (somewhat) clean up my myspace blog, but not here. Over the last few days, I've considered cleaning up my last post several times, then have had a few drinks, re-read it, and decided I wasn't nearly as profane as I should have been, so I've decided to leave it be. I sincerely hope it's not an enjoyable experience for you (it shouldn't be), but I hope it makes those who had their heads so far up their asses as to vote Dubya in for a second term think about the moronic actions they have taken. Didn't we vote FOR assisted suicide in WA? Maybe a few of them should look into that....

No, I'm not here to rant (today) about the piss-poor economy, nor the anguish over having to wait til my brother's birthday for Obama to be sworn in. I'm just here doing my quasi-civic duty, keeping this blog going.

To be honest, when I logged in, the first thought on my mind was my band focuspoint. If you're here on this blog, there's at least a 90% chance you know of it. If you happen to fall in that 'other' 10%, go to http://www.myspace.com/focuspointmusic and you'll see what you've been missing all this time. My main concern was that we haven't rehearsed/practiced/worked on new material/whatever the fuck you want to call it - since September. Mind you, Paolo (our bass player, check him out at http://paolojr.blogspot.com/) has been busy with his lovely girlfriend Amanda, as well as busting his ass at a PR firm (his major) and, to top it all off, going to grad school to further his crafty PR ways. Can't blame him for keeping busy. He's been the one booking all the shows and (considering his area of study) managing pretty much every avenue of the band. Kudos to that hard-working motherfucker. Danny, our drummer, has been working a day job at PIH, as well as trying to get his motorcycle shop, Woodward Cycle Works, off the ground. A close friend and fellow biker of his also just had a tragedy befall him, so Danny was busy lending support to him as well.

Combined, these things add up to two people trying to get their lives together, but as far as the band goes, this adds up to.....absolute fucking garbage.

When we got back together and decided to really go for it back in....meh, '06..., we all had this "take over the world" mentality. We had played together in high school, but had taken a break so that the previously mentioned members could pursue their collegiate/trade dreams out of state (while I settled for community college and Puddy did nothing at all). I had had this crazy idea about having our 'old' band play during my wedding reception whenever I got married, and what do you know, I ended up doing just that. Paolo was living in Bellingham at the time, and I contacted him about doing it.....long story short, we got back together, ran over the old shit, wrote some new shit, got back on the fucking horse. Shortly after that time, I was working fourteen hours a day, and after that solely working a graveyard shift, but I'd lose sleep on any given day of those times to get in a rehearsal session, and there were several times that I got offstage after a show only to go straight to work to pull a full shift. But I digress, apparently focuspoint is not an important enough cause to sacrifice 'valuable' time for. So we were all "take over the world," right? So it turns out that in rock and roll, yes, you actually do have to pay your dues! You have to put in work to reap the rewards, those being better dates at bigger venues, and more fans coming to your shows! God, who would ever be so jaded as to think that we were just going to make it overnight?

So my main concern sitting at this computer tonight has been whether or not we're actually going to get together tomorrow (actually, later today now). The last, I don't know, fifteen times SOMEone's dogged out (yes, I've done it once, but ONCE), and it looks like Puddy's "busy after 5" and Danny wants to get together at 6, so goddammit, we may be fucked again. Anyone know of a band that needs/wants a lead singer/guitarist? Preferably a band that likes Incubus/Green Day/Chevelle/Staind, is actually gigging, and isn't busy all the fucking time NOT playing music? Hit me up, I'm not kidding. I need to play some fucking music and I'm not getting the opportunity here.

Translated: I was pissed off about this a long time ago.

Once again, the lines are open! See ya later!

-Edit (and I choose this method so that my original thrust is still....thrusted): I am still open to creating side projects. I've got a lot of material that simply does not fit within the focuspoint structure, and so (to a lesser point) does Jeremy. However, until we're fully dissolved, focuspoint is and will always be my main musical focus. Just to throw that out there.

Hey, what do you know, I may just continue on this...

2008-12-03T03:42:00.001-08:00

Hello. HELLO-ello-ello-ello.....

Watty here. Blogging in what may end up being a semi-continuous blog, now that I've posted on my wife's blog and people can actually find this now. Yes, this was a blog created, I think, as nothing less than a vacuum into which I could vomit my rage and malcontent. I was very pleased with the fact that only those who typed in the vaguest of searches could find this blog. Well, welcome to my anti-Myspace blog.

Okay, now that we've dispensed with the formalities....

I'm supremely pleased with the fact that Bush 2.0 is myopically recalling his eight years of terror. It's hilarious to hear him point out his few successes, the latest broadcast on KOMO 1000 showing his declaration that the 'war on AIDS' has come to his standard of fruition ahead of schedule and above the goal. Yay, one of your few victories! Maybe you should have focused on the AIDS cases within your own fucking country, dipshit! Jesus, would someone fucking shut this man up? Two words, LAME DUCK. Keep your fucking mouth closed and maybe we might NOT put you down in history as the worst president this country has ever seen. No one will forget your catastrophic failure (as I've pointed out before) regarding this country's economy! At the risk of repeating myself, you tanked every fucking corporation you had the luck to head before, and woe is us now - your hardon to finish what your father couldn't has cost us billions every month! Paraphrasing a later quote from the same excerpt: "I wasn't prepared to go to war." Had you continued your war against those who raped our country on 9/11 instead of inexplicably shifting your focus to Iraq, we may (MAY, yes, I'm not thinking his 'war on terror' would have ended with the destruction of al-Qaida) have ended up with bin Laden's head on a stake, proudly marched through the streets of New York (and yes, I would have watched and cheered this on).

Now, we're stuck with a little bit of a dilemma, aren't we? The Dow seems to be as fickle as....well, name the most bitchy female you've ever dated or had the misfortune to marry and I'll compare it to her menstrual cycle :). I'm 26 at this very moment, and I've had several opportunities to proudly exclaim to my wife, "Hey honey, thank God I don't really have much invested in the stock market!" I cringe when I think of what my parents' and grandparents' investments have suffered. However, I am not so naive - I think about the fact that when some of them retired, they also had something that most of us view as the 'unicorn' of retirement - a pension. What is that, you say? To be honest, I can't give you a full definition. I haven't researched it, because I know without a doubt that whatever company has the benefit of calling me an employee will never offer me such a mythical payout. So you and I in our 'age bracket' (seriously, all of us from 16-54) can expect nothing from the vacuum called Social Security, and are looking at whatever 'portfolios' you may own in the same regard you would your Labradoodle's deposit on your $450,000 Wallingford condo's hardwood floor - the value of which is probably rapidly depreciating because of the fact that the rest of your building's condos are being auctioned off at roughly half the value they held a year ago.

Welcome to the decline. Or more appropriately, welcome to the equalization.

I work at a grocery store, as some of you know. I have my bitter moments, watching people walk into my checkstand wearing gear and bling that costs more than 4 months' of my pay paying for their food with an EBT card (for the ignorant, that's the modern version of foodstamps), then whipping out a wad of 20's bigger around than my cock (and yes, I've been blessed, thank you) to pay for their beer and cigarettes. Let me just take a quick time out to say:

FUCK YOU LEECHING PIECES OF WORTHLESS SHIT.

For the record, I voted for Obama, and for fuck's sake I am more interested in his overhaul of government than I would ever be in the check I'm going to be given because of it. Let's hope his first order of business is to reform the abortion our country calls the welfare program, because I see people who deserve it, but everywhere I work I see more who are abusing the system, breeding more spawn to get more pay and (yes) encouraging their underage daughters to get pregnant to further the situation.

Fuck it, I'm done for tonight. The lines are open. I'm gonna go do something more worthwhile - writing the lyrics down that have been bouncing around my head all night. Trust me - you'll hear them later.

Bye.

a year (almost) later, and still bloggng on my fucking 'Berry.

2008-07-02T04:03:00.000-07:00

Welcome back. Or, more appropriately, welcome me back. Last I blogged, my son was still known as 'the fetus yet to be recognized as Tristan.' Now my son is 9 months old, crawls, and has the sweetest disposition ever known of a baby.

I, however, still rumble and grumble. My previous warning still stands. This is a still-as-yet-undiscovered medium in which I freely scream my malcontentious blatherings into this electronic aether.

Yes, I've been happy as of late. This piss-poor economic situation brought upon us by a president who tanked every corporation he has ever run (a special kudos to those who had the foresight to elect him to a second term) has not brought serious harm to our humble little family. I now have a very well-paying job that is in no danger, and we pay our debts, both to creditors and to society at large. Fuck you, George W. Bush, for all the misappropriations of our hard-earned tax dollars towards your pipe dream of dismantling what you believe is a unified terrorist organization. You have turned our once-proud bully-of-the-schoolyard nation into the helmet-donning, Tourette's-stricken laughingstock of the world. May you go down in history as not only the worst president, but also as the absolutely worst example of God's gift of life. Many honorable men and women have died and been maimed because of your much-maligned and wholly ignorant views on life in nations not under your poisoned thumb. I wish you only the worst life has to offer and hope with all my might that someday you reap tenfold what you have sown, the venomous seeds you planted in our fertile minds sprouting into a vehemently decisive act to expunge you not only from our history, but from this glorious nation itself, banishing you as the ultimate terrorist to the lands which you so freely raped and destroyed in the name of those dwindling constituents who still had a semblance of faith in you.

I think that's enough for tonight.

Nip/Tuck, pills, alcohol, and a disclaimer...

2007-09-18T13:38:00.000-07:00

Here's where I allow my readers their first warning.

Unlike my myspace, I refuse to pull any punches here. Nothing will be censored. As a certain loved one recently stated, "I don't think you know who you are. You have a different version of the same story for everyone." No carefully chosen words here. You came, so enter of your own free will.

Today's topic is suicide. I am currently in the middle of watching episode 10 of the first season of Nip/Tuck, and I just watched a cadaver's head discuss one of the "old faithful" ways to off oneself-pills and booze. My question to the reading populace is this:

Is one supposed to survive seven Vicodin washed down with an entire fifth over the course of a card game?

Lines are open...when everyone learns of this blog. I'm morbidly curious to know everyone's response.

Time to finish the episode and go to bed. Til next time....ta ta.

inaugural post...

2007-09-17T12:05:00.000-07:00

Yes, if you create an acronym from the title of my blog, it would be WMD. Unintentionally clever. Baby Tristan is due to shake things up and break girls' hearts in a week. We (that is to say, Allie and I) have been waiting patiently for this blessed child to show his beautiful little face for long enough, thank you Tris, and Mommy and Daddy are ready any time you decide to show up. Let's go, buddy. Band news - maybe a Halloween show, rumors abound that an Oct 21st show may be in the works. Gotta go, the wife is cranky for some reason that I'm still up. More later. See ya.