Wheezy Waiter Story Pitch

I’m a beardlover.

I may have mentioned before that I enjoy the works of Wheezy Waiter. Don’t know who I’m talking about? Hang your head in shame.

Here’s the blogpost wherein I described meeting Wheezy Waiter and then proceeded to be unable to carry a conversation. It’s impressive.

So, some time has gone by, and as a result I’ve had time to think about how it might have gone differently if I wasn’t such a ——. I would like to think that I would have pitched a story idea for an upcoming video.

Enter Free Will (AKA a Revenge Clone)

The majority of the clones do their chores and then jump in to the alligator pit but some have stuck around — sexy clone, quiet clone, corporate clone …etc.

But what if one clone went rogue? He wasn’t quite evil, so much as he wanted to taste freedom. Be his own man. Ok, he was evil. His name is Revenge Clone! (I admit I just learned of Revenge Clone today).

Externally, he seems sweet enough by doing nice gestures such as bringing Wheezy Waiter freshly squeezed lemonade — or better! — bringing the coffee once the coffee was done. However he did these things to get closer to Wheezy Waiter; in order to better study him from his mannerisms to all the Driftless Pony Club song lyrics.

An Opportunity Presents Itself

Revenge Clone overhears Wheezy Waiter while he’s recording that the band is going on tour and sees the opportunity to put his plan in to action. This part is a little underdeveloped and so I would leave this to Wheezy Waiter’s creativity as he would be able to make this funny as opposed to dark and uncomfortable.

An Impostor Amongst Us

As the real Wheezy Waiter, sadly, remained behind in his apartment, Revenge Clone sat in the van breathing deeply. The air tasted of freedom. But the bandmates noticed something wasn’t quite right with their friend. Many inside jokes went over his head.

– What is rawk sock? A collective gasp.

They ask themselves what they should do. Does he need to see a doctor? But the tour! They decide that the show must go on but they should also monitor their friend. Revenge Clone also notices that the bandmates are acting strangely. He must act cool. He overcompensates. The band is even more worried, but the show is that very night. They decide to perform and the very next morning to seek some help.

An Odd Twist

As they get up on the stage and perform their set they notice something different. Revenge Clone can wail! The women in the audience are screaming, throwing their unmentionables and some even swoon. The men raise their fists and their red solo cups. At the end of the set, the audience throws roses on to the stage.

Choose The Ending

So the bandmates are presented with a choice — do they keep on performing or do they confront Revenge Clone and see what has brought this change in their friend and to learn that he is indeed an impostor?

Trip Hop, Dub Step, Bro Step – It’s All Noise To Our Parents

I love trip hop, dubstep, IDM and yes, brostep. Love it. Love. It.

Trip Hop

But how do you define it? Wikipedia, if you would please:

Musically, trip hop contains a slow tempo and a hypnotic sound created by an electronic background and prominent string instrumentation. It is usually characterised by beat-driven music which, despite being instrumentally similar to hip hop, varies much in style. Trip hop is characterised by a generally deep, atmospheric sound, and its influences vary, ranging from R&B and urban, to rock and jazz-styled recordings. Nonetheless, trip hop music is often characterised by low-key productions. Vocals are at times absent or sparse,[1] even though this is not the case for all trip hop music.

And we’ve got Andy Pemberton, music journalist, to thank for coining the phrase when he reviewed DJ Shadow’s “In/Flux” for MixMag“:  “with its mixed up bpms (beats per minute), spoken word samples, strings, melodies, bizarre noises, prominent bass, and slow beats, [In/Flux] gave the listener the impression they were on a musical trip.”

IDM – Intelligent Dance Music 

Heyoka. Aphex Twin. Kid606. These are some of the artists that I love that fall under this category because they “rely upon individualistic experimentation rather than on a particular set of musical characteristics” however the artists who fall under this category quite dislike the name and it’s connotations. “It’s basically saying ‘this is intelligent and everything else is stupid.’ It’s really nasty to everyone else’s music,” said Aphex Twin in an interview.

I was first introduced to IDM from a co-worker several years ago. Heyoka’s Sonidas De la Cabaza. This song right here started it all:

Dub Step

Dub is defined as making a copy of one recording to another. The process of using previously recorded material, modifying the material, and subsequently recording it to a new master mix, in effect transferring or “dubbing” the material … the name “dubstep” originated from the common use of dub elements in the genre, and because both traditional dub and dubstep are often played at a similar tempo.

When remixing — and to be categorized as dubstep — the music needs some defining characteristics like wobble bass, tremolos and syncopated and shuffled rhythms.

Before we go any further you should know that dubstep was a UK movement. Here are some artists who paved the way for this genre of music: Skream, Coki, Mala, Benga.

My favorite part of dub-step is that delicious, chewy wub-wub, you know, when the bass wobbles. Noms.

Dubstep vs Brostep

There’s a lotta hate out there. Me? I love it all.

Skream’s Remix of La Roux’s “In For The Kill”

Skrillex Remix of La Roux’s “In For The Kill”

Brostep

Are you struggling to fight off the image of a Jersey Shore character pouding the floor, in his wife beater, tan and gelled hair, when you think of “brostep”? Yea, me too. It sounds derogatory. Like we’re trying too hard.

“Unlike traditional dubstep production styles, that emphasize sub-bass content, brostep accentuates the middle register and features robotic fluctuations and metal-esque aggression.” And Skrillex has become the figurehead for brostep. But he looks very anti-Jersey Shore.

Isn’t this look what the kids are calling emo or gothic? Or maybe there’s another term I’m not familiar with.

The artist’s looks notwithstanding, brostep is called thusly because of what we, Americans did to the UK’s dubstep.

Rusko himself has claimed in an interview on BBC’s 1Xtra radio show that “brostep is sort of my fault, but now I’ve started to hate it in a way…It’s like someone screaming in your face for an hour…you don’t want that.”

Parents would likely agree.

 

If you took the survey (thank you!), but if you answered that you don’t like trip hop, dubstep or brostep but like popular Pop hits like Rhianna’s “We Found Love” then actually you do like this awesomesauce genre of music. And by association you are awesomesauce. And if you liked this genre of music already, well, you already knew that you were awesomesauce.

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Resources

Dub (music)
Dubstep

Superhuman Powered By Stress

Imagine a being that when stressed would only become stronger. That each obstacle or hurdle empowered him or her to tackle it faster and better than before.

My Go To Super Power

Usually when the conversation lulls but you want to keep momentum, you’ve probably been asked or have asked someone else: What super power would you choose if given the opportunity? Levitation. Flight. Ability to talk to underwater animals. Forget about all of them. I have my new answer!

I want to convert stress in to power.

Yes, in much the way that Birdman is powered by the sun. Apparently birds are solar-powered. Fine, whatever. That was his choice. Mine is to be able to harness the stressors and through some crazy, far beyond my comprehension, mathematical equation that explains some chemical reaction that — viola! — instead of converting stress in to a pimple, cankersore, fat or white hair I get something much more useful!

A Day In The Life Scenario Of Stress Free Woman

Sitting in the cubicle with the lights turned off so the fluorescent lighting couldn’t reflect off the monitor, Stress Free Woman typed on her ergonomic keyboard at 82 wmp, crossing off the To Do list three items in a row. When all of a sudden, who breaks the calm but Larry* who dumps off a request to have a 10-page report due by Friday. Then, not moments later, Moe* barged in to the cubicle announcing a SUPER-HOT-DROP-EVERYTHING marketing collateral piece that must be done. Nearly bumping shoulders as they passed, Curly* popped in to clamor about the need for a microsite that must be designed, developed and delivered by the following Monday.

This may be too much for a mere mortal who would turn to her not-so-secret chocolate stash. But Stress Free Woman? BAM! KABLOOBEY! Yup. Washboard abs.

* Names changed to protect the innocent.

Input:

Output:

Where do I sign up?

My Relationship With My Dog

So, before you say anything, I did write as I said I would but I am just now blogging it. Enjoy!

Writing Prompt 2: A picture is more than a blank page. (Disagree!) Pick a photo from your photo album (in your phone) and meditate on how it makes you feel.

Our Relationship With Our Dogs

This is my boy, Zander. A Siberian Husky. One blue eye, one brown. This dog, as everyone knows, is my dog. My boy.

Penny, Our First Pup

Growing up we had Penny. Or was it that Penny had us; choose us. Pretty sure that dogs choose their owners and their pack, not the other way around. She certainly choose my father. A tangent:

My brother was maybe four of five years old and he had asked my mother for some “monies.” She gave him a jar of pennies. He took the pennies and bee-lined it to the quad that separated our townhouses to the park. But sitting in the quad was a man we’d not seen before in our neighborhood and his cardboard box. My brother met the stranger, with complete confidence of his actions, and put three pennies on the man’s thigh. He counted them: One. Two. Three. He then scooped down in to the cardboard box and picked up, incidentally, three-day old collie-boxer puppies. Three monies. Three dogs. It was simple math, really. Not sure if he thanked the man or just turned on his heel and headed home.

That’s where I came in. He still does this now, but my brother doesn’t ring the door bell once. Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! I open the door to find him with three pups in his arms. I, being an older sister and a first born, think the worst. I’m sure I scowled him and took the dogs from him and returned them to the man in the quad. But we found him laughing; tears streaming down his cheeks.

The afternoon was spent with the, we learned, the brother of our neighbor and, more importantly, his unexpected puppies. I didn’t anticipate that we would get a dog that day and I recall mentally preparing myself that it wouldn’t happen. Dad got home from work and he scooped up one brown and white dog with an almost lightening bolt down her back. Her eyes were closed. Then she started to suckle on his shirt.

He was done. We named her, of course, Penny.

When Penny passed we were heartbroken. Non-dog owners couldn’t understand. I was convinced that we needed another dog and we rescued Holly.

Holly, Our Rebound Dog Or …?

Look at that picture for a minute and tell me we didn’t need another dog. Could Holly replace Penny? No. But we needed a dog. And Holly, as quirky and unique as she is, needed us.

While Holly’s story may not be as adorable’s as Penny’s homecoming, her personality is all her own: How she scolds my father if he does not share his wasabi peas — and I’m talking actual growls and grumbles — how she jumps in to my parent’s bed when their is lightning and how she found a litermate with my brother. If he’s running around, which I know he still does, she’s chasing ‘em.

Now I tell you that Holly is my mom’s dog. They have a connection and the family knows it now. Before it was always the question of when I would be taking “my” dog to Arizona.

Zander, My Boy

Nice roundabout but that brings us back to the first photo and the questions that sprung forth when I stare at it. Does Zander have eyes for me? Do dogs feel a kindred connection with humans? Their owners?

I’ve read arguments on both sides — about dogs that have protected their owners for no immediate gain on their part, dogs that mourn their owners when they pass but I also understand that dogs are biologically-wired to be our “best friend” so we’ll care and feed for them.

But when I look at this photo I should note that there is no food in my hand. His head is resting on Saskia’s tail and his eyes are looking straight at me — his own brown eye; his one blue eye. Its not a look of curiosity — they know too well my aptitude to stick my phone and its camera in their snouts.

Maybe its just contentment and he is saying “I see you.” And by I see you, I acknowledge your presence in my life. And maybe that’s as close to “I love you” as I’ll get. And I’ll take it.

I smother him enough for the both of us. And besides, I don’t think he minds as he knows a treat isn’t far behind.

Grandfather’s Typewriter

Today starts a new and exciting journey where I’m holding myself accountable to write at least 15 minutes a day. What a great way to start the day!

Writing prompt #1: Close your eyes briefly. Think of one object in the room and focus on it without opening your eyes. Recall as much as you can. Then write as much as you can about the object.

The Result: Grandfather’s Typewriter

My grandfather’s typewriter: my mother’s father. The doctor. The man I’ve never met because of a motorcycle accident that left him alive but with a steel plate in his head and is somehow correlated to his death in a car accident. An untimely stroke perhaps. And as a result my mother detests motorcycles.

Well, it was his typewriter. I’m not sure whether it was used to write letters, poems or prose. Or maybe my mother, younger then, pounded on the keys.

Its certainly seen better days. My grandfather’s typewriter is green, as I mentioned, but not a proud, royal forest green. A phlegmy, sickly faded green. Faded as if it was forgotten for several decades.

But the base is more indicative of its neglect. A cardboard base that the typewriter appears to be glued on, is crumbling in places and in others the dust is melded in to the lovely piece of machinery.

My grandfather’s typewriter certainly doesn’t work — the keys stick to themselves and if a letter is pressed the leg that would have come rushing down on paper now emerges hesitantly.

I don’t recall how I know about my grandfather’s typewriter. I never saw it on display in Abuela’s house. Maybe it lived with Tia Ana. However I do recall when my mother called to tell me the typewriter was found and would I want it?

A typewriter is a relic that all writers should have in their office. But add the enigma of my grandfather, who he was and how he might have used the typewriter — yes, yes, I must have it.

Failure & Success | A Poem

I.

Failure.
fear of not trying.
again.
sickening. disgusting. upsetting.
paralyzing.
So contrast and compare.
haves and have nots.
and falling short.
confident of nothing.
other than not measuring up.

 

II.

Defiant now.
and why not.
they did.
I can.
I will.

III.

Success.
measure-less definition.
fleeting, maybe.
but worth chasing.

Pinterest Lied: Making Eggs In Avacados. A Pictorial.

Do you use Pinterest? Me too and with mixed success. I don’t know about the other pinners but I like to try and emulate the pins. With the DIY, artsy-fartsy stuff I do all right. I should have known better when it came to food.

What Pinterest Showed Me:

Eggs Meets Avacados. My reaction: I so WANT to eat this!

What Pinterest Showed Me What Breakfast Could Look Like

What I Made

Roll over for captions.

My Criteria Is A Little Less Strict

Is it edible?

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Want to see what else I’m pinning? Yea, you do!