By and far, one of the best parts of planning the wedding, besides the awesome-ness of trying to be creative about everything, has to be the cake-tastings we've done thus far. Not to give too much away early, we've been playing with the idea of cupcakes, very much like my sister. What makes them so enticing, besides the tastiness, has to be the serve-ability factor. Plus, I think most people would be more excited about eating cupcakes than just another slice of chocolate cake.
So here we are, looking at a few of the latest and greatest, which includes flavors like the red velvet, vanilla, dulce de leche, peanut butter, chocolate, and lemon. My favorites of which could be pretty obvious, but all of these were very good. What's most impressive out of all the places we've been is how unique every presentation has been. If you just look at the detail of these suckers, you'll have a pretty good idea of what we've seen so far.
So, three down, two more to go. I'm going to make sure not to eat much this next time, however. That bloaty, cake feeling just can't be good all the time.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
Musical Sunsets
Alright, I've got a few discs in the player at the moment spinning 'round and 'round and getting some ear-time. I've also got a few more that I want to get in the can this weekend, if I'm lucky. Here's the rundown:
On deck this time: The Good, the Bad, and the Queen. The Shins. Of Montreal .
Muse - Black Holes and Revelations
It's very operatic, in the space sense. Imagine if Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon were surfing on cosmic waves above the Martian landscape and you get a pretty good idea of where this band comes from. Matthew Bellamy's vocals are laced with ethereal lyrics and an intensely razor-thin falsetto, the guitars buzz over the stratosphere, and the rhythms peal along with every track satisfyingly. I think it's a bit of a departure from the arpeggio-laden fare that riddled their two previous efforts and it's definitely a step in a more grand direction, but not a misstep at all. Enjoyable to say the least.
Bloc Party - Weekend in the City
Think of every band of the new wave era and then every band of the last few years that's dredged the sound out from the sewage and you would have a pretty good idea of where Bloc Party came from on their first self-titled record. The follow-up, while strong in its own right, suffers, maybe, from being a departure from the dance-rock flavor they became known for. You think Franz Ferdinand, you think New Order, but Bloc Party has instead gone more U2 and Coldplay. The guitars do not whip around as they did before, but instead cake layer upon layer of sound across every track. I have a feeling it might just be the initial listen, but I'm not liking it as much as the first right out of the gate. It requires more time, I guess, but it's listenable at least.
Tokyo Police Club - Self-titled
These Canadian gentlemen have gotten themselves some nice little reviews in the trades so I figured I'd grab it from the shelves. 7 tracks only, and it's a nice little record. Nothing really blows my socks off initially, but the energy of a young band is terribly impressive. The melodies are more punk than pop, but it certainly wavers in both territories for a bit longer than you'd imagine. It reminds me a lot of the We Are Scientists record as every track really ramps up the tempo but manages to stay together both musically and lyrically. There's no shouting or yelling, but a whole lot of fun. Not bad at all.
It's very operatic, in the space sense. Imagine if Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon were surfing on cosmic waves above the Martian landscape and you get a pretty good idea of where this band comes from. Matthew Bellamy's vocals are laced with ethereal lyrics and an intensely razor-thin falsetto, the guitars buzz over the stratosphere, and the rhythms peal along with every track satisfyingly. I think it's a bit of a departure from the arpeggio-laden fare that riddled their two previous efforts and it's definitely a step in a more grand direction, but not a misstep at all. Enjoyable to say the least.
Bloc Party - Weekend in the City
Think of every band of the new wave era and then every band of the last few years that's dredged the sound out from the sewage and you would have a pretty good idea of where Bloc Party came from on their first self-titled record. The follow-up, while strong in its own right, suffers, maybe, from being a departure from the dance-rock flavor they became known for. You think Franz Ferdinand, you think New Order, but Bloc Party has instead gone more U2 and Coldplay. The guitars do not whip around as they did before, but instead cake layer upon layer of sound across every track. I have a feeling it might just be the initial listen, but I'm not liking it as much as the first right out of the gate. It requires more time, I guess, but it's listenable at least.
Tokyo Police Club - Self-titled
These Canadian gentlemen have gotten themselves some nice little reviews in the trades so I figured I'd grab it from the shelves. 7 tracks only, and it's a nice little record. Nothing really blows my socks off initially, but the energy of a young band is terribly impressive. The melodies are more punk than pop, but it certainly wavers in both territories for a bit longer than you'd imagine. It reminds me a lot of the We Are Scientists record as every track really ramps up the tempo but manages to stay together both musically and lyrically. There's no shouting or yelling, but a whole lot of fun. Not bad at all.
On deck this time: The Good, the Bad, and the Queen. The Shins. Of Montreal .
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Pug-nacious
If any of you out there have met Frankie, please keep him in your thoughts. Our little guy has been diagnosed with having not only his usual heart murmur, but now congestive heart failure. The vet has given him some medication, but I know it can only last so long. He's going to be an ancient 13 next month, and he's so small now, I kind of miss having him run around like he usually does.
I remember I used to play bullfighter with him when he was only a year or so old. He'd chase around a dish towel as if I was a matador. I like to think of that to make me feel better...
I remember I used to play bullfighter with him when he was only a year or so old. He'd chase around a dish towel as if I was a matador. I like to think of that to make me feel better...
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Ask a Mexican
This morning on the way to work, I was actually listening to the radio. Given that my CD-changer is on the fritz, this is very unusual, but given that I can't drive by myself without music, it's not terribly unusual.
While it was a little cold and a little dreary, the morning drive isn't terrible at all and the radio does make a world of distance during the five-minute commute. What got me interested this morning, besides Kevin and Bean talking about the strange case of the 14 year-old victim who hooked up with both mother and daughter, was a segment on Indie 103.1's morning show titled, "Ask a Mexican." The conceit of the show is that the audience calls in to the morning program and a frequent Mexican-American guest and collaborator fields questions.
First off, the initial round of questions amused me in that people were genuinely interested to know why there were certain "truths" about Mexican people they were familiar with. There were even a few socially relevant questions, the most interesting to me being why there would be so much Mexican-on-Mexican hatred. It got me to thinking, would I be able to answer these questions with as much knowledge and panache as the guest contributor? What's more, how do the producers of this show manage to weed through many calls that could be construed as hurtful, mean, and maybe even racist?
I resign myself to the fact that I couldn't possibly be able to answer every question, given my Orange County upbringing and my relative minimal lack of Latino culture knowledge (Chicano Literature, that's as far as the scholarly roads have taken me). What gets me, however, is how much more willing we are to make fun of ourselves as an ethnicity. I suppose this is true for most other peoples of color, since you tend to laugh at stereotypes as much as you hate them. For every offending Abercrombie t-shirt that is out there, there could very well be a person cracking jokes about his own culture and race to raucous laughter. Chris Rock is evidence of this and so is John Stewart, to their own extents.
Myself, I'm guilty of this. But is it any less true that we're truly taking life too seriously if we can't laugh at ourselves?
You got me, I was just enjoying the drive.
PS - If you really do have questions, I can try and answer. Trust me, they won't always be right, true, or serious, but at least it could be entertaining.
While it was a little cold and a little dreary, the morning drive isn't terrible at all and the radio does make a world of distance during the five-minute commute. What got me interested this morning, besides Kevin and Bean talking about the strange case of the 14 year-old victim who hooked up with both mother and daughter, was a segment on Indie 103.1's morning show titled, "Ask a Mexican." The conceit of the show is that the audience calls in to the morning program and a frequent Mexican-American guest and collaborator fields questions.
First off, the initial round of questions amused me in that people were genuinely interested to know why there were certain "truths" about Mexican people they were familiar with. There were even a few socially relevant questions, the most interesting to me being why there would be so much Mexican-on-Mexican hatred. It got me to thinking, would I be able to answer these questions with as much knowledge and panache as the guest contributor? What's more, how do the producers of this show manage to weed through many calls that could be construed as hurtful, mean, and maybe even racist?
I resign myself to the fact that I couldn't possibly be able to answer every question, given my Orange County upbringing and my relative minimal lack of Latino culture knowledge (Chicano Literature, that's as far as the scholarly roads have taken me). What gets me, however, is how much more willing we are to make fun of ourselves as an ethnicity. I suppose this is true for most other peoples of color, since you tend to laugh at stereotypes as much as you hate them. For every offending Abercrombie t-shirt that is out there, there could very well be a person cracking jokes about his own culture and race to raucous laughter. Chris Rock is evidence of this and so is John Stewart, to their own extents.
Myself, I'm guilty of this. But is it any less true that we're truly taking life too seriously if we can't laugh at ourselves?
You got me, I was just enjoying the drive.
PS - If you really do have questions, I can try and answer. Trust me, they won't always be right, true, or serious, but at least it could be entertaining.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
The Return of the Limerick
Yes, once again:
Underneath pithy, dark fluffies
Sleep ratty-haired, rambling fat scruffies.
Near death they do live,
And I don't mean to be glib
But mostly they smell like wet puppies.
A boxer limped by on crutches
With black eyes and scowling red stitches.
With teeth gleaming like doves
He threw down his gloves
And attempted to woo Britain's duchess
I dreamt of a terrible yak
Who's coat was bloodied and black.
He chased me for days
Yelping deep howling bays.
Methinks 'twas born from my welsh rabbit snack
Sleep ratty-haired, rambling fat scruffies.
Near death they do live,
And I don't mean to be glib
But mostly they smell like wet puppies.
A boxer limped by on crutches
With black eyes and scowling red stitches.
With teeth gleaming like doves
He threw down his gloves
And attempted to woo Britain's duchess
I dreamt of a terrible yak
Who's coat was bloodied and black.
He chased me for days
Yelping deep howling bays.
Methinks 'twas born from my welsh rabbit snack
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