I never really understood the “ego before you’re a star” mentality. Basically I’m referring to Brendon “Too Much Eyeliner” Flowers, lead singer of the Killers. Not that I really appreciate the ego once you’ve hit stardom, but at least that seems mildly more justified. I hear rumor that Flowers just keeps running his mouth off about other bands, all the while proclaiming that the Killers next album will be “one of the best albums in the past 20 years.” And no, I don’t make a habit of checking MTV for my entertainment news. I just knew they would be one of the few salivating gossip whores to still have a quote for that.

1. Rise Against’s new video - Though I don’t listen to much hardcore anymore, this Chicago band deserves respect. I enjoy their past two albums (especially while running), but it’s their ideology that I fully admire. Few bands are willing to stick to their social or political beliefs at the possible expense of not reaching a larger audience/larger paycheck. If you’re a veggie, earth lover or just curious…
2. Saving $23 on gas this week - Five days of catching the bus saved me 175 miles on my car and over $20 in gas. Sure, it’s not as convenient, but it’s an excuse to watch Homestarrunner cartoons on my iPod!
3. Nada Surf acoustic session (direct m4a link) - AOL Podcast Session with Ira and Matthew from Nada Surf. A long interview followed by 8 beautifully acoustic renditions of songs spanning their recent albums (music starts at about 27:01). Quite enjoyable! [individual songs can be streamed from the AOL page.
4. Finally having a wireless media server - Last night I finally had a few minutes of peace to put it together: a headless (no monitor) media server that sits hidden in the living room and allows me to control the music for the house from my laptop. Now when Jonas acts up I can play Billy Idol songs at obnoxious volumes to drown him out.
5. The Art of Homebrewing - Video by the owner of Sam Adams showing the steps of homebrewing beer. Seeing as I will have my equipment in hand this weekend, I shall be well on my way to being tanked a brew master. (Sidenote: This guy seems pretty cool. Perhaps I’ll try some Sam Adams tonight.)

So to you, Brendan Flowers, I say: Don’t make supercilious statements or warn of the “dangers” of other genres besides your own (recycled) style. Besides, if you keep it up, I’m telling the Smiths/Cure/Yaz/Erasure that you’ve been repackaging their sound for three years.

I had never seen that much mist before on an late winter morning. Or at least, I must never have paid much attention before then. This particular morning, though, it spoke for what had happened the night before. The new sun sought to slice through, but failed and instead scattered it’s clarity amidst the haze. It was as overcast as my thoughts, and I could not shake either no matter how hard I tried.

We walked down the road, the other two a full twenty paces in front of me. As we crossed the railroad tracks, I shoved my cold hands into my pockets for some relief. I had no idea where we were going, but was content to follow nonetheless. I wondered if they too felt what hung heavily in the air this morning.

The scene thirty minutes prior had been quite different. Claire and I sat perched on the counter top (as we usually were), watching the sun rise out the tiny kitchen window. In the adjoining rooms, the other two lay motionless, sleeping off the shame and excitement of last night’s alcohol. We sat without speaking. I did not press for conversation, as I felt truly at peace in her silence. Looking back, I wonder if she was as curious as I was. I wanted to know how the world would look to the other three upon waking.

The night before had seemed surreal, endless and confusing as only teenage hours could. I remembered that I had fought with my parents, though could not accurately recall what it concerned. In retrospect, this truly was an isolated event, but at the time it was just another notch in my belt of seemingly perpetual, afflicted pain. I had been restless and anxious. I needed to escape. I sought refuge in my friends company, but instead found indifference that I did not know existed.

This was a sequence of firsts for us all. Well, it was for me at the very least. I had watched three of my closest friends arrive drunk to Mandy’s house after the hockey game in Detroit, unsure of how to interface with them in this capacity. Our friendship, after all, had been almost singley built around this frank, open, realness with one another. Their intoxicated breath seemed to mock our hushed promise, betraying it with an air of almost “we don’t care, we’re growing up without you.” I had never touched a drop, for reasons that made sense to me during those years. And while I paid lip service to not caring about another’s choice on the matter, on this particular morning I was hurt. I felt betrayed by the handful of people I thought I could trust to do the same. They had chosen to lose themselves, and I felt they had instead decided to throw away our friendship.

Whomever decided to take a sunrise stroll, I can’t recall. Since Claire and I had never attempted to sleep, we welcomed the movement to relieve our cramped muscles. And as the three of us left the front porch, still bleary-eyed and silent and leaving the other two to sleep, I suddenly became aware of my limbs, my breath and the clammy touch of the dew-laden air on my skin. Everything seemed to have shifted, but with the least amount of grandeur or circumstance. It was as if the needle had simply slipped off the record when no one was paying attention. The further we walked, the more alienated I felt.

The door of my Reliant clicked shut behind me, and I paused and sighed. I recall thinking that I was leaving everything, and I struggled with both the desire and the remorse. Five months before departing for college, I had just abandoned my curfew, lied to my parents, spent the night at a female friend’s empty house and watched as my friends reveled in their inhibriation. The wound of a strained, formerly romantic relationship between two of us still fresh, and only worsened by the distance the evening’s events had placed between us. I was detached from every person in my life. Indeed, everything was shifting, and what was worse is that I had no control.

As I drove away, wiping the condensation off my windshield with my black rollneck sweater, I turned on the music. The song that I will forever associate with this memory slowly started. It was the first time I had heard it. What matters to me today is not how misguided or narrow-minded I may have been at age 17, but rather how befitting this moment really was, whether I knew it then or not.

So this one time I—no, not everything post-American-Pie has to end with “at band camp,” ok? Geez. Anyways…so this one time I went downtown to drop off a camera lens that need some repair work done, and my friend rode along. We parked in an obscure parking lot and when we got out we were approached by some guy. In the end he swindled my friend out of $20, basically because my friend is a nice guy. This guy wasn’t. He had some good lies though. In the end I think the lie-filled story was worth at least a few dollars.

1. AOL Sessions - I never thought I’d see the day where I put “I love” and “AOL” in the same sentence. But it’s true. They have a decent selection of live, in-studio performances in streaming video. Weezer (who’s Buddy Holly rendition rules), Thrice, Dashboard, and a few more that I enjoyed listening to. Some even have exclusive behind the scenes!
2. Programmable thermostats - With my parents staying with us for the week, my father was looking for a few things to help out with. We had him install one to replace our awesome 1942 “thermostat” and it’s made a huge difference. Hooray for technology.
3. Google Video’s Ronaldinho clip - Probably produced by Nike but I could care less. About a minute in, he has his new boots strapped on and proceeds to do some of the most amazing footwork, including pinging the crossbar several times in a row. Wow.
4. Blue Moon - The beer. With orange slices. I never drink beer at home, as it’s too costly and I frankly don’t need the calories. But it’s been so intolerably hot and muggy lately that I picked up a six pack early in the week. What a refreshing treat.
5. Homemade bread sticks - I took this recipe for pizza dough and altered it (doubled the brown sugar, added basil and oregano, etc) a bit and used it to make some bread sticks for dinner last night. Perfect recipe if you like the crunchy-on-the-outside but soft-on-the-inside type. Kinda like Papa John’s. Just make sure to dust your pan with corn meal to give it the same effect. I used some leftovers to make a chicken calzone for lunch today.

Just remember, if you go downtown, the crazy people will make up stories to get you to give them money. But half of them might be telling the truth and might actually need the cash. Just pay for the most convincing ones.

Some days are just meant to start badly. And by “badly,” I simply mean, “the level at which homicide becomes justified by a court of law.”

I’ve been struggling with my morning routines lately, as Jonas has been setting me off on two wrong feet each a.m., not just one. I’m a morning person without a doubt. This is a well documented fact to my family and friends. However, I now must add the caveat of “but only when no one screws with me before coffee time.” I never thought I’d be that guy.

So this morning, after the freshly familiar routine of wrestling with Dogzilla, drying blood off of cut fingers and skating out the door before he eats my leg, I hit the road eager for peace and solace in my music and java.

And then the rain came. Again.

Last night it poured like it hasn’t in ages, violent storms and torrential rain. However, when I left the house, it was clear and the sun was out. It was the picture of “the day after The Storm.” But the ride to work found the storm had not passed downtown yet.

Of course, I had neglected to grab my umbrella. Not that I hadn’t considered it. But I valued my appendages too much and chose to remain in tact rather than risk grabbing for it before walking out the door. Big. Mistake.

I sucked it up, left the parking garage at a healthy but unfrenzied clip. I was determined to just deal with being a little wet. A two block walk got me all too sufficiently drenched, but I was just relieved to find shelter at the front steps. I brace myself for the freezing wave of air conditioned air hitting my wet clothes. I swipe my security card. Green light! Go!

False.

The one morning that I decide to choose life over the umbrella just happens to be the same day the security entrance system at my office calls it quits.

All I could think of was just how badly I wanted to “call in sick” and go sleep in my car with the heater on the much-underused “Earth Core Heat” setting.

The upcoming week just went from “eh” to “rocks your face off.” This is why.

I have a friend who has been obsessed with Michael Jordan for his entire life. Actually I have two friends like that. Weird. Anyway, this one friend used to memorize number sequences for combinations or phone digits based on their correlation to the famed basketball hero. To this day, I struggle to remember my own phone number, yet I can still remember “Michael Jordan—double Michael Jordan—Michael Jordan in the Olympics—six-Michael Jordan!” Though I have no clue what 23469623 means. Probably the codex to something sneaky.

1. Green Apricot Tea from Adagio - I’ve had a fair amount of teas in my life. But this is the perfect green, in my opinion. Light and healthy, fresh without tasting like freshly cut grass soaked in water. Yea!
2. Sea Change, album by Beck - If there was one album that I could be stuck with, alone on a desert island (one that had USB power) or in a dark room after a breakup, it would be this one. Far and above the biggest departure for him artistically, this mellowed-out, acoustic album sounds like Air-meets-The Mountain Goats. Beautifully chill disc.
3. Kong toys - Not much satiates Jonas. Well, besides horse tranquillizers. But one day this week I stuffed a few Pupperoni sticks inside this rubber wonder toy and capped it off with peanut butter. I guarantee you he spent the entire day occupied by getting it licked bone-clean. You would have thought he won the doggy lottery.
4. Alpha (A-M) t-shirt - I love me some shirts (but not like Andy though). This shirt screams “bored on the phone or at a meeting doodling.” In blue, please.
5. Design Observer’s redesign - I typically don’t go gah-gah over flipping a site. But seeing as how much of a dramatic improvement it was, and how gorgeous the new layout is, I’m loving it this week.

That’s it for FTILFF-Michael Jordan. Time to start June Michael Jordan in the Olympics+5, 2006!

I suck.

Though we’re only in the middle of week #2 with Jonas, I feel already as if I’m serving a 60-life sentence, indicted for Stupid Decision Making. And that’s no exaggeration.

When we got him, The Wife™ and I immediately had a rush of questions. We logically turned to the support of our families for experienced advice, and our friends for consoling support. Everyone else we know owns a dog, so how could we go wrong? However, a resounding chorus of “oh he’ll get better, he’s just a puppy!” is all that we heard. And as much as I sincerely cherish my family and friends, you can all choke on a rawhide as far as I’m concerned.

I like to think that I’m logical and level-headed. I work daily on controlling and redirecting my emotions into more productive and creative outlets. That’s in part what I get paid to do, in fact. But this little twenty-some pound furball has single-handedly brought out the very worst parts of my personality, and exposed some really jagged corners that need to be polished. I’ve never in my life wanted to throw another living being off the tallest structure possible, until I owned him. And don’t give me that “but he’s so darn cute!” horsesh*t. It’s a ruse.

Every day is the same, starting with a 6:15 morning walk, breakfast, some play time, etc. He gets walked again at 4:30, followed by uninterrupted playtime until dinner at 6:15. After dinner brings more playing and another walk around 7:30. The problem is that he’s still a little brat.

Every trainer, website, friend, family member or stranger who’s ever owned a dog will tell you to put exercise first in order to keep a happy puppy. Short of duct taping him to the treadmill, I’m not sure what else we can do. Jonas is assuredly not happy, unless “happy” means taking flying, biting leaps at your limbs every 2.5 seconds. In that case, he’s in doggy Valhalla.

The worse he gets, the more frustrated The Wife™ and I become. We’ve thrown ourselves completely into this, abandoning every other aspect of our lives to do this right. We understand that it takes time, patience and consistency. But we’ve seen very little progress, and what we’re met with is constant misbehavior, bleeding hands and one puppy that is for some reason aggravated. It has worn us down completely.

Worst of all, the constant stream of advice that we turned to last week still pours forth, judiciously assuring us that it’s just “normal puppy behavior.” Puppy behavior my ass. I’m not drinking your special Kool-Aid anymore. You can’t tell me that a 20-minute tug of war session of pulling him off the couch telling him, “no! down!” is normal puppy behavior. He can ring a bell to go outside. I think he understands “down.” He just doesn’t give a hoot.

We keep trying. We keep going to work pissed off, feeling guilty, nursing infected hands and throbbing pre-8 a.m. headaches. I’m not sure what has to change, but something does. Because the “but he’s cute!” line just isn’t justifying it anymore. Perhaps this afternoon we’ll work on our “flying off the roof” command.

On June 5, this website ran a story about the NIH and NIHM (National Institutes of Health and Mental Health, respectively) about a terrible psychological phenomenon known as IED that may afflict up to 16 million adults in the US. What a shocker. Another disorder. Could another drug be flaunted across our television screens soon as well?

Here’s my beef: Symptoms of this “disorder” include “episodes of unwarranted anger” that could result in violent outbursts or even THREATS of violence. My God. Seriously? And if it’s happened more than three times in your entire lifetime you too could be a prisoner of this disorder. Commence panicking.

The worst part about this is that we apparently are “finding” new disorders to justify just about every facet of our human emotional range. Forget personal accountability. Forget actually having to be in control of your emotions. Act as you feel, not as you should. This laissez-faire attitude of personal government dissolves all notions of responsibility. It was only a few years ago when hitting someone was a shameful product of a poor decision. Now it’s the unfortunate byproduct of a looming disorder?

I think we’ve found it. We can stop looking. We have finally created a mental disorder that could describe virtually anyone under a rare period of intense stress or anguish, and broadened it to be defined by a whopping three instances per lifespan. By supposedly seeking truth in medicine we’ve successfully marginalized the entire US population. What’s next, the world? Are there really people in other parts of this great global community that also suffer from these ghastly symptoms?!

I quit. Yes I’m cynical. Yes I am bitter towards news releases like this. But this one has just sent me over the edge.

For some odd reason I have “I’m a little teapot” running through my head. So in order to fight the urges to do DIY brain surgery on myself to get it out, I’ll hit you with the list and no banter:

1. Diet Coke with Mentos video - Everyone’s heard of it, but here’s a video using 200 liters and 500 Mentos! Modeled after the Bellagio Fountains in Las Vegas. (Thanks Drew)
2. Gas-powered weed whackers - Forget those whimpy electric ones. I finally broke down and bought a gas powered string trimmer for our yard and what a difference! Stronger, less string breaking, and a dual-action line. I get a yard three times the size of our old one done in 1/4 of the time.
3. Millstone Foglifter coffee - Not the best coffee in the world, but among it’s curious, magical properties is the ability to transport me instantaneously back to October 2005 in Ireland. I swear this is what the local hotels served every morning. It’s also amazing how strongly linked the taste is to those memories.
4. Company for my misery - An illustrated story about one woman’s encounters with her dogs. Makes me feel a wee bit less alone. [thx Ryan]
5. No humidity - Having lived in the Ohio/Kentuckiana valley for 8 years now, I’ve somewhat adapted to the smothering humidity that comes with being trapped in the foothills. But the weeks from late spring until the terribly oppressive late summer days are wonderful. Porch sitting, dog walking, non-choking-on air evenings.

If by next Friday the song isn’t unstuck, I’m jumping off the roof that I’ve threatened Jonas with several nights this week.

Dear Kool-Aid Man Who Was a Bit Too Passionate About His Job,

I don’t know where you’ve gone, big guy. I mean, back in the ’80s you were everywhere. I feel like I couldn’t turn on the television without seeing you busting through people’s homes in that overly-enthusiastic way that only you would do. Heck, between you, Mr. T and Alf, I would have thought you were the only three people on the planet. You guys were everywhere and it was awesome. But what happened, man? Where did you go?

I can only guess that your trademark hijinks and manner of conducting yourself got you in to some trouble with your employer. I can’t say I’m surprised. Truth be told, you do come on rather strong. I mean after all, it’s just a drink. Is my beverage choice really justification for thousands of dollars of home repair? And can you not simply use the door? Oh my pardon. That is certainly not in reference to your size at all. I know you’re a thick guy. It’s cool. All I’m saying is that you could have rung the doorbell and shimmied in sideways or something, instead of blowing a hole the size of Manhattan in the kitchen wall. I mean all that dust and debris! It’s amazing that no one got hurt. Or had an asthma attack due to dust inhalation. There were a lot of people in the ’80s with asthma you know.

We could really use you these days, though. With all these punk kids drinking gallons of soda each day, we need some of that old school bravado around. No one on the TV is here to keep the children in check, to be the hydration watchdog of the youth. Sure, your belly full of red sugar water isn’t much more sound of a nutritional choice, but at least you got people to question their selection of drinks, right? You were the Plato of commercial spokespeople back then! Ok, not really. You didn’t seem to grasp words much beyond “Oh yeah!” So this technically makes you a markedly poor choice for a spokesman. But it must have worked. To this day I’d recognize that goofy-ass magic marker smile and obnoxiously thick eyebrows anywhere. Nonetheless, I think you’ve still got some miles left in your career. If you found yourself a good agent you might just be able to stage a second (more peaceful) coming. Look at Hulk Hogan, he did it.

So Kool-Aid Man who was a bit too passionate about his job, I send my sincerest wishes. If you’re out there somewhere, be it on the white sandy beaches of Maui sipping fruit punch or curled up on a sewer grate in DC enjoying some EctoCooler, I hope you’ll consider a comeback. And if you see Tony the Tiger around at all, give him a high five for this guy. He was another spirited chap that’s sorely missed.

Sincerely,
Brian Faust

PS - If all the coke sniffing and other assumed debauchery from the ’80s has dried up your funds, consider suing Lil John for stealing your catch phrase. I’m sure he’s got a few mil’ laying around he could part with.

This weekend I irreversibly altered my life by adopting the dog seen above (illustration 1.bonkers). 48 hours later, I’m still not sure what the hell I just did.

The Wife™ and I are both dog people, and for years have talked about getting a dog once we had a suitable home. We’ve been more actively considering it lately, and last weekend went to an adoption place to look at a few little ones. We talked and thought and no where in the process of the past week did we think that we were not ready. We wanted a puppy, both for the Cute Factor and also for the tabula rasa-esque of his habits. A clean slate to teach him cool tricks! I’ve since gotten the word SUCKER! tattooed across my face.

Saturday we decided to go back and see more, and as it turns out, we found Jonas. Well, technically his name was Jack (named after the main character in a certain time-related television drama), but we didn’t think it fit him. We had gone to see his brother, Bear, not knowing that Jonas even existed. But once we got there, brother Bear proved to be a wee bit too excitable. Jonas, on the other hand was totally Emo. He was kinda wussy, seeking loving affection and a boatload of shade from the sun. His main goal for the day was to sit in your lap and not be hit by the evil heated death rays from above. He was seemingly just a few steps short of listening to Morrisey on repeat in the basement of his parents house while painting his fingernails. Totally emo.

I can’t say we were smitten, but the Cute Factor was dangerously high. And his quiet, calm (emo) demeanor was a large plus. So in the end we took him home. And then I almost puked because I couldn’t believe what we had just done.

His first night he and I spent alone together (The Wife™ had a bachelorette party). In my head I fantasized that it would have been spent kicking back on the couch together with a few brews watching a Law & Order marathon on USA. Instead it was an all-out battle royale between he and I. Emo dog my ass.

Long story short, we butted heads. And I bet he secretly likes those fancy import beers too.

And while Sunday was better, we apparently still have a completely manic depressive (emo) dog on our hands. One minute he’s the sweetest thing that could make your heart melt with his sad little eyes. Then next, he’s Dogzilla attacking your hands like they were raw pieces of beef slathered in barbecue sauce. Apparently in dogspeak, the words “no!” “no biting!” and “down!” translate to “yes!” “can I have some more?” and “please attack my crotch!” The world is his Nylabone and everything, I mean everything is edible. To be fair, from his point of view it must be a pretty sweet gig. Except for the part about eating bird crap.

So this morning, after an all-too-early walk around the neighborhood I had to put him back in his crate. I feel terribly that he’s penned up all the time. I put on NPR in hopes of weening him a bit off that goth-synth crap, but I’d put $20 on the table that when I get home I’ll spend the entire evening wrestling the little bastard and trying to remind myself why in the hell I wanted to do this in the first place.

Oh, and the moral of the story this weekend was that I am sure as hell not ready to have children. Because they don’t come with a two-week return policy. At least I don’t think.

Uh oh. FTILFF turns the big two-one this week. Time to break out the phone book to find the number of a cab company. And the nearest hospital. He’s not too good with “limits,” if you catch my drift. Twenty bucks says that by the end of the night, FTILFF will be double-fisting Car Bombs, singing Jimmy Buffet at full tilt and whining about wanting more Buffalo wings despite not actually being in Buffalo (profound). I hate it when he does that.

1. Baking soda - Hell yes! I always keep some on hand for, well, baking. But when we got a new ‘fridge this week I busted it out to get rid of the plastic smell inside. Since then I’ve taken a bath with it, brushed my teeth with it and used it as a mouth wash. Magic powder, I tell you!
2. Russian poster designs - I have a soft spot in my heart for propoganda posters from the former Soviet republic. The design is impecable, and this collection on Flickr is quite exhaustive.
3. Whirlpool tubs - I knew there was a hidden reason why we moved into the new house. Wednesday night I decided to test this bad boy out and whoowhee is it great. It makes me feel like I’m staying at some ritzy hotel. Until I pull some sh*t like starting the jets 5 seconds too soon, and sending water flying everywhere around the bathroom. Damnit.
4. Castles for sale - For the same price that you could get a 2 bedroom place in a major city here, you could have a bonafide castle to call your own. Complete with multiple hectares!
5. The satisfaction you get from busting your ass - Not me, of course. But two of my closest friends graduated as doctors this week. The amount of time, effort, dedication and drive it must have taken would make any lesser person crumble. I can’t even begin to comprehend how happy these two men must be. Congrats.

Now back to being a slacker with a pedestrian bachelor’s degree and an already max-ed out salary. Hoo-rah.