kid neato

Round Semi-Circles

2006-05-13T01:25:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while, in one's straight path of life, they are faced with an a) moment, b) person, c), opportunity, or d) all of the above, that alters their momentum in the opposite direction, or 180 degrees if you will. I had such a moment a bit over 18 months ago, when, while intoxicated, I stumbled upon a myspace page that was headlined with a picture of a girl who had strategically turned her face away from the camera and a simple proposition: Are you good enough to marry me? And naturally, I thought, "No. But apparently you're not good enough to show your face, so I guess we even out."

Well, I messaged said profile, and not long after, I found my life in a place that was about as far away from where it was headed as I thought possible. I was supposed to be in another continent. Nope. I was supposed to be lonely. Negative. I was supposed to be depressed. Not a chance.

I found that while attempting to head straight, I found a tempting round head instead. And I am ever so grateful.

So, here's to getting up at 5am in the rain to talk to someone you hardly know on IM. And while those times may be behind us, I can sleep soundly knowing that there are so many more a(round)head.

Quarterly Review

2006-04-16T23:33:00.000-07:00

To those of you who are actually reading this after all the disappointment of no new blog posts for the last 3 months, kudos. I feel entirely comfortable offering these kudos to the pair of folks who the kudos actually apply to, because, well, while I'm in no shortage of kudos, I'm just too lazy to give any more out.

It's been quite a few months in the land of me. A few months which stands in complete opposition of my last post. I believe that the very next day after posting my last...post, I actually got a job offer. So now, I have been working for nearly 3 months, which sadly, is a record of sorts.

On top of that, I finished my very first draft of my very first screenplay. It's no "Snakes on a Plane," but it ain't bad. Oh yeah, and I also got into USC for film school. Now my pretension will be backed by a very expensive rectangular piece of paper. Sweet.

That's pretty much it for me. I'd like to say hi to Sarah, and wish her the best of luck on her many final projects for school, even if she did get the due dates wrong. You are so much better than I deserve.

Mehhhhhhh...!

Quotations and Metaphors

2006-01-26T12:15:00.000-08:00

It seems as though the only time I actually blog anymore is to avoid doing real work. So I guess it follows that if I actually had some real work to do, I might blog some more.

Bah, that's just my self-deprecating self talking, I know. I have "real work" to do, I guess. It's just so hard not to get caught up in what feels like everybody's definition of "real work." Yes, I don't "pay the bills" or "bring home the bacon" or "generate income" or "contribute to society as a whole in any way shape or form," but you know what, I'm tired of apologizing for it. I hate feeling ashamed for telling people that I am 25. I live at home. I sleep in the same bed I did when I was 12, which is situated in a room adorned with race cars. I've got a mediocre penis. I know that doesn't have anything to do with being unemployed, and you're probably wondering why I tell people that, but I mean it in more of a metaphorical sense. You know what I'm getting at.

Anyhow, if there's a point to this whole diatribe, it is this: I surf the web, I IM with folks, I update my myspace profile, and I blog occasionally, which means that the only things that differntiates you and I, is that next friday, you're going to get a paycheck and I will continue to weep.

...Metaphorically of course.

"You Got a lot of nerve showing your face around here, after what you pulled."

2005-12-03T02:33:00.000-08:00

So this evening, I and the loveliest of round monsters shared a dining experience at a quaint little sushi bar in West Hollywood, my current stomping ground. The food was pretty good, but not really worth the monumental bill that followed it, not to say that I'm cheap, just...you know, unemployed.

As we were leaving, Sarah exited ahead of me, but in order to depart, we were forced to wade through a small pond of sharply dressed older gentlemen. As she forged ahead of me, one of the gentlemen blantantly perused the goods in which she is in possesion of. Though I clearly understand why he did this, it still miffed me a bit.

My interior monologue went something like this:

"Hey old guy. Stop staring my special lady friend. Go about your old ways, persisting in your old existence, oldie. And keep your old eyes to your old self. Sheesh!"

But as I walked past him and glared into those old eyes of his, I sheepishly realized just who had been ogling my special lady friend: Billy. Dee. Williams.

Yep, that's right. Mr. Colt 45. Mr. Lando "Former owner of the Millenium Falcon" Calrissian.
Billy Dee Fuckin' Williams.

Needless to say, I backed away quietly as my interior monologue screamed its apologies and relished in his performance as Harvey Dent.

2005-12-03T02:31:00.000-08:00

Package Packing

2005-11-08T14:14:00.000-08:00

If the saying goes "The best things come in small packages," then shound it not follow that Asian men be the most sought after for said "packages?"

I mean, come on!

Sure, the package that I'm packing may be small, but it is filled to the brim with nut.

I mean...packing nu...STYROFOAM PEANUTS!

Unless of course the "best things" are the packages, and the "small packages" they "come in" are...well, you get where I'm going with this.

Just a thought.

2005-09-29T03:21:00.000-07:00

Today I realized that I could never touch the sky without wanting to fall.

Flying at 29.97 Frames Per Second.

2005-09-06T01:46:00.000-07:00

Back in the day, I used to play so much Tetris, that at night, I would close my eyes and imagine block after block falling perfectly into place in a symphony of symmetry.

While those days are behind me, (well, up until I go to Mexico this weekend), this past week has found me a new sandman sidekick. Ladies and gentleman, I now dream in timecode. Those of you familiar with editing films will know this as the exact hour, minute, second and frame of the image displayed before your very eyes. Therefore, you are also familiar with the spectre-like quality it assumes as your own hours fly by in the editing room.

Well folks, this same ghost has now invaded my very slumber. At night, digits progress at such an alarming rate, it's hard for me to concentrate on whatever is going on in my dream. Thus, I have found that it is very difficult to fly at 29.97 frames per second.

Oh well. It's the life that I have chosen. At least for now. I guess it's always better than dreaming in pause.

2005-08-17T13:52:00.000-07:00

So, Sarah, I'll be over at around 4:30pm today, is that cool?

Ok, I've had just about enough of this...

2005-08-13T00:11:00.000-07:00

...Pinching my own cheeks, or rather, lack thereof, is both boring and sad. And don't even get me started on singing K-Earth pop songs alone in my bed...my pillow is still wet from Leslie Gore inspired tears. "It's...my party...*sniff sniff*... and I'll cry if I want to...Cry if I...Oh god I miss you! *HONK!*"

I believe it's about time we ended this charade of "My family is in town, so you're just my friend...who calls ALL the time."

These arms are useless if not wrapped around you.

P.S. ...

I am not too cool!

2005-07-19T11:37:00.000-07:00

Total number of films I own on DVD/video:
Tallying up TV series as well as films? Man, that's tough, 70-80? maybe?

Last film I watched:

in theaters:
Just yesterday I watched Wedding Crashers with my brother. Man, fuck those guys!

at home:
And then we watched Risky Business together. Man, fuck that guy!

Last film I bought:
That would have to be Happy Together by Wong Kar Wai. Man, those guys were fucking!

5 films that mean a lot to me (no particular order):

1. Better Off Dead: Man this film made me laugh so hard, I thought I was going to die, then I realized I was laughing at death, and I laughed even harder. Plus this film solidified John Cusack as the guy I would like to be reincarnated as, if ever I was to be reincarnated as a sensitive teen hearthrob from the eighties.

2. They Live: John Carpenter's cautionary sci-fi tale about alien propaganda starring the one and only Roddy Roddy Piper had me quoting lines I didn't even understand for a good portion of my young adult life. Only now do I realize, I was a genius even then. "What's a matter baby?"

3. Chasing Amy: This movie taught me more about relationships than any other in my adolesence. Probably cause my own life situation was mirroring, in closest proximity, the situation in the film, and so it was rather resonant.

4. The Big Lebowski: Pure brilliance. I don't trust anybody who doesn't find this movie at least hilarious. The dialogue, the performances, the music, the camera work. This is the Coen Borthers in top form obsurdity.

5. Annie Hall/Husbands and Wives: My two current favorite films. Woody Allen is an absolute nut, and watching his films makes me wanna nut too...at how good they are. Sorry baby, I meant that metaphorically.

There is nobody left for me to tag that I know of, except for my cousin, so TAG on The Reject.

Things overheard at nightschool: A Continuing Series of Amazing Sayings to Wow Your Pals! Brought to you by: Judgement.

2005-07-07T01:26:00.000-07:00

#1. "I'm kind of known in the industry as Cameron Crowe but cheaper."

It's in the cards.

2005-06-29T23:57:00.000-07:00

You know, it's funny how one quote in one situation can pretty much sum up one's character. Take tonight for instance. Tonight, I came home to hang out with my family and we decided to play a card game that we have played together for the last decade and a half. I have selected the following four quotes, all of which were heard tonight, to demonstrate my point.

Dad: "You played your hand all wrong."

Mom: "Here, let me play your hand for you."

Dave: "This hand doesn't count, I wasn't ready."

Ray: "I am the only one losing...again."

Ahhh, so it is, in cards and in life.

WARNING: For those of you who are Lactose Intolerant, this post contains cheese

2005-06-28T02:00:00.000-07:00

To the Paranoid Android:
Baby, you must have set your beauty phasers to stun, 'cause I am stuck in your tractor beam.

I hate writing about myself...

2005-06-03T00:51:00.000-07:00

So, here I sit, attempting to finish an autobiography, but unable to because I hate writing about myself. So instead of that, what do I do? I blog. Don't bother addressing the irony.

I haven't blogged in a bit, pretty much because I am lazy...as with every aspect of life.

I recently moved up to Beachwood Canyon, which for those of you who don't know, is just east of Hollywood. It's nice being out of Orange County, (I refuse to refer to it as The OC...fuck. I just did.) My roomate is one of my best friends from highschool, and I am now much closer (geographically speaking) to S. Marvine the Martian, which has been really nice. I really like it thus far, because I have been able to hang out with some people whom I haven't seen of late. I like the area, and I seem to be getting more focused, but I do miss my writing partner/best buddy, but that's another story.

This post is very much meandering, and has no real point except to serve as procrastination. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed passing it out of my posterior.

I love touching my shtick.

"I wish these bitches would just back up off me..."

2005-04-29T00:13:00.000-07:00

A brief glimpse into my life: a transcript.

"Ray, I miss you. It's been so long since you touched me. This isn't all about you, you know. I have needs too. Needs that you haven't even begun to address, and if this continues, I don't know if this relationship is going to work. Are you even listening to me? Look at me when I'm talking to you! God! You're so selfish. All you ever do is talk about yourself. 'Look at me, I'm Ray Lai. I think I'm so funny!' Well guess what Ray? You're not! You're...you're just not! And until your ready to make a real commitment, I don't think I want to see you anymore."

"Look BLOG. You're not even a human being. You can't TALK. This is ridiculous. This conversation is over. Oh, oh, you are SO not walking away from me, I am walking away from you. Oh, do NOT give me that look. I am NOT going to fall for that again. I will get to you when I bloody feel like it, you got that? Huh? What's that? NO! I'm the man around here! I'm the man! You're not the boss of me! Forget you!"

And then it just got a little weird.

Don't You Know the Dewey Decimal System?!

2005-04-06T00:07:00.000-07:00

I nearly forgot to mention this:
Yesterday morning, during my second day of work at the Giant Robot store, one of my personal heroes came in, and folks, I can now proudly say that, after the countless times he has managed to make me burst forth in laughter, I have officially made Weird Al Yankovic laugh. That's right, Mr. I Love Rocky Road himself.

People, I don't know if you can possibly grasp how much this means to me, but the man made UHF. I really shouldn't have to say more. If you don't know why I don't have to say more because you haven't seen the film, you shouldn't be reading this. You should be cursing yourself as you access your automobile, or your preferred mode of transportation, and make your way to your favorite neighborhood video store and rent it. NOW!

Maybe I can do this whole jester thing...

Don't hate the player, hate the hate.

2005-04-05T23:29:00.000-07:00

So I did an open mic for comedy tonight at a place right down the street from my house. Literally, I rode my bike there. Which, as it turns out, was perfectly fitting because, as I learned from 2(!) other comedians tonight, get this, Asians can't fucking drive! Ha ha, very funny mother fucker! And the thing is, I know I shouldn't be offended because I make fun of white people all over my act, and frankly, many asians I know can't drive including myself, but man, it still chaps my hide. And the more I thought about it, I realized why this was. It was because, while I wanted to call them out on their hack material, I couldn't, because upon closer examination of my own material, I made the not-so-startling discovery that 95% of MY material is hack. FUCK!!

Man, it sucks to be a perpetrator of that which you hate on. What sucks even more is that this applies to every creative endeavor I pursue, whether it be comedy, or music, or films...or sex. Man...I really gotta stop hatin'.

Love is truly all you need.

Whachamacallit?

2005-03-31T01:42:00.000-08:00

For those of you who care, I, Ray Lai, finally managed to secure myself one o' them job thingy-ma-jigs. As of this week, I am now an official member of the Los Angeles asian/nerd hipness known as the Giant Robot store employees. Please come in and say Hi on Saturdays, because that's where I will be, not hanging out with you guys, who I would like to spend my saturdays with.

March 31st, what a day to be alive!!

2005-03-31T01:41:00.000-08:00

Great moments in March 31st history:
5. Ray Lai begins the fourth day of his pointless existence.
4. Somehow, somewhere, Attis is resurrected.
3. Fool's everywhere hold their breath, dreading the immense embarrassment the next dawn shall undoubtedly bring, even if it's only because they acknowledge themselves as fools.
2. The knuckle method of 31-day-month counting is given its third, and most important to date, piece of supporting evidence.
1. Ray Lai's life is given a point, as the world is blessed and made that much better by the birth of the most beautiful, witty, even-tempered, chubby-cheeked, Ricky Gervais lovin', Paul Bearer impersonating, non-talent sharing, front-door touching, car-door locking, teeth grindin', adorable snore emitting, fabulous rack possessing, paranoid android.

As you can see, this day is truly one for the history books. Happy Birthday Chubbs, you Rock harder than Chris.

PS. To get a better understanding of how this girl makes me feel, please listen to "Man in Me" by Bob Dylan off the album New Morning. Go, go buy it now. I can wait.

Percy Pringle the Third

2005-03-11T14:35:00.000-08:00

Just a quick note:
Looking for a sure fire way into a man's heart?
Simple.
Perform a spot on impersonation of one very creepy Paul Bearer, the manager of WWF superstar The Undertaker, when he least expects it.
Works like a Kleenex box. Inexplicably.

"So I was crying the other day..."

2005-03-03T01:05:00.000-08:00

In an effort to remain informative, I just returned from Las Vegas with the P.A. Mase (Paranoid Android, for those of you not hip to my vast collection of pseudonymns for the coolest encounter of the third kind), and it was just about the most perfect trip to Vegas one such as myself could possibly have. We encountered no traffic, outbound or in. I got to spend lots of time curled up in bed with the only woman in the world I care to do so with. I won money. We saw an absolutely mind-blowing show. And I got drunk. All within a 24 hour period. I fail to see how it could possibly have been any better than that. Honestly.

On a side note, in an effort to seem more deep, or deeper or whatever, and more emotional, I have been growing my hair out so that it succeeds in concealing my already-well-concealed-eyes. Because, for some reason, society, or at least some minute elitist portion of it, has deemed that the less emotion people can actually see you undergo, the more you must be enduring. It really does make perfect sense.

And I have also decided to begin telling people that I cry more often. Note that I won't actually be crying any more often, or at all for that matter, just informing people that I have been doing so. You might call this...lying, or acting, or whatever. That's your business.

I'll also be utilizing the word plight in conjunction with some quasi-deep, abstract sounding concept, so as to demonstrate that I think about...you know...stuff...a lot. So much so that it makes me cry. So now, most of my conversations shall begin accordingly: "So I was crying the other day...at the plight of.... the world." "So I was crying the other day...at the plight of....existence." "So I was crying the other day...at the plight of....infinity. Man, he's got a hard job"

This way people won't think I'm...you know...dumb. And chicks will totally be into my shit.

Ore has let the building...(Gon(e)).

2005-02-22T23:27:00.000-08:00

Went to Portland, Oregon this weekend to visit my family. And there was much rejoicing. Had a grand ol' time playing some scrabble with my cousin. Man, she's nearly a decade younger than me, yet she still managed to whip the living eggs out of me. Freaking 62 point moves! Went bowling as well, joined the 175 club apparently. I also managed to secure some Vans sans sales tax which was very nice. And, to top it all off, had a stomach full of newly-baked chocolate chip cookies. Delicious. That is all I have to say at this juncture. "Til next time, I'll leave the light on for ya.

I fear that thou has smote me...

2005-02-18T02:29:00.000-08:00

It's now friday, and I am leaving for Oregon later this afternoon, and while I do look forward to hanging out with my cousins, all I can really think about is how I won't be spending the long-weekend with one very paranoid android. I must admit it, I am utterly smitten by her all-encompassing awesomeness (to be read in a very poor Mitch Hedburg impersonation). Gosh, I sound (and feel) like a very esoteric schoolboy. How very cliche of me.

See you next wednesday!

2005-02-10T02:32:00.000-08:00

I've been depressed all day. I know everybody worries about their future, and their career, so this is nothing new. It's just that I find myself so afraid of failure and rejection, that I can't do anything to alter my predicament, which makes me depressed, causing me to worry again. It fucking sucks.

By all accounts, I'm one of the biggest bums with a mailing address I have ever encountered, only to be outdone by my brother. I know this. I mean, come on, I live at home, I "work" for my parents, and I'm trying to be an "artist" of some sort. Most days, I wake up, and I feel like an utter fraud. I don't write enough to be a writer, I'm not funny enough to be a comedian, and I don't produce enough to be a producer, so what the hell am I doing with my life. Most of the time I over-compensate by acting like an ego-maniac, but all that really is is a thinly-veiled defense mechanism employed by weaklings such as myself.

Oh, I know what you're thinking. "Hey there guy, quit bitching and just go out and do what you gotta do to change your current situation. I mean, look at me man, I got a real degree, a high paying job, a nice car, fuckin...members of the opposite sex all over me, parental approval of whomever I choose to date. It's not that hard." And as much as I would like to say "Hey, fuck you, don't call me guy!" you'd still be right, it shouldn't be that hard. Yet for some reason, I can't muster up the will to overcome my petty insecurities, and all I can ever do to is bitch and moan, and blog about how depressed I am. Perhaps I'm just destined to remain a whiny, insignificant little coward. Gosh, I really hope not.

Just doing my duty.

2005-02-10T01:49:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I had one of those moments when you hear a song that you haven't heard in a long time, and all of a sudden, a flood of emotions and memories pours into your consciousness, and it just floored me. The song? Chicago's "Saturday in The Park" of all things. Thank God for peer-to-peer file transfer software which allows one to satiate most musical cravings near-instantly. I have now been listening to the song almost non-stop. It's such a cheesy song, but I can't stop myself because it makes me so happy to hear it.

On a side note, what's with bands naming themselves after cities like the aforementioned Chicago, Boston, Portishead, or the Coventry Automatics (Big Bonus Points if anyone who reads this knows who that is). I mean, that's a lot of responsibility to place on the band's shoulders. Does that mean the whole city has to support them, no matter what? What if they suck? What if the city sucks? Well, I guess nobody in their right mind would name their band something like, I don't know, Chatsworth, or Placentia. But still, it just strikes me as a ill advised, that's all.

I feel like everyone's blog that I read has at one time or another had the obligatory post explaining their blog, or rationalizing why it's not what they had originally intended it to be, and how it all started out as fun, but is now more personal, and introspective. So, this is me, once again, hopping on the band wagon.

After writing a few posts now, attempting to be entertaining, witty, or in some way insightful at all, I have come to the conclusion that:
A.) I am neither entertaining, witty, or insightful.
B.) Nobody reads this shit cause there's like 60 billion better ones.
C.) I am tired of trying to be as entertaining, witty, and insightful as my entertaining, witty, and insightful friends.

So, this is me, becoming more personal, and introspective. Read if you like, or don't. Actually, I'd rather you didn't, cause I'm liable to hurt some people. Some people being me.

$#@! You!!

2005-02-08T13:48:00.000-08:00

For all of you who didn't know, I have a blog now, upon which I blog my thoughts and discourse on the world around us. But, with each passing day, it is becoming ever more apparent to me that nobody gives a blog's blog, and I can't blogging take it anymore.

In fact, I would like to say, blog you. Blog you all. Blog you all in your bloggy little blogs. You can blog my blog while I'm blogging you blind. I'm going to go blog now about how I blog you all and how I can't ever seem to get a girl to blog me even if I paid her a blogging king's ransome.

Blog man...my life is truly blogging pathetic and I think I'm going to go blog my brains out. Excuse me.

Life in Brief(s)

2005-01-29T01:53:00.000-08:00

1.) A touch of class: I'd like to go on record saying that there is truly nothing classier than walking to the neighborhood grocery store with your girlfriend, only to browse through wines for damn near a fortnight, ultimately selecting a wine that, and I quote, "Goes great with lasagna, HAMBURGERS, and SAUSAGES." "Ahhh, yes, I'd like a double-double, animal style,... oo, oo, oo, and your finest glass of '87 Merlot please. I mean, they go so well together!"

2.) A touch of crass: In a blatant act of civil disobedience, I have recently chosen to ignore the 24th amendment, which bans the implementation of any poll taxings. Forsaken instead for the implementation of thinly veiled metaphors and not-so-clever euphemisms. Think about it for a second.

3.) A touch of mass: Socialization that is. Ever notice that all dishwashing soap bottles are shaped to resemble the female form? What's the deal with that? Talk about reinforcing gender stereotypes. I mean, what's next? Penis shaped scepters? Ball shaped basketballs? This is just ridiculous.

Another year, another spirit crushing blow...

2005-01-10T18:55:00.000-08:00

2005 has finally arrived and I am wholly disappointed.

I don't know if you, my illustrious friend (I hesitate to use the plural form of the word) were aware of this, but this is the year that the Transformers movie took place. And unless things have drastically altered in the last 45 seconds, there is a very apparent lack of morphing robots battling over neon pink cubes of "energon." Man! I can't believe this. I can't believe movies lied to me. Again! For decades now, I have foolishly held my breath in anticipation of celluloid guarantees.

I spent elementary school, waiting for Chunk to come over and aid me in my quest for One Eye'd Willy's gold.
Then, I spent the first part of highschool waiting for Jake Ryan to finally ask me out. When I realized Jake wasn't actually interested in me, I spent the rest of highschool, waiting for my thousand dollar paycheck to arrive so that I could help the gorgeous yet kind cheerleader out of an alcohol induced financial fiasco involving her mother's suede garments.
Next came college, where my years were spent haunting the dining halls, in search of the ever-elusive human pimple. But it seems that, every time, I had just missed him.

And now this! No Tranforming Big Rigs. No youths spouting innocence shattering expletives. NOTHING. This is the last straw. My faith in film has gone the way of actually paying for music. I'm done with it. With you as my witness, I swear that I will never again believe anything a movie tells me.

Ooo! Ooo! Ooo! My phone's ringing. I think it might be Trent (whom, we, his friends, call "Double Down" Ha! "Double Down." I'll never know how Mikey thought of that.) calling me over for some NHL on the Sega Genesis or maybe for some drinks at the Derby. Gotta run!

"Doc, will I ever play the piano again?"

2004-12-25T23:49:00.000-08:00

DSCN1850
Originally uploaded by ezzelle12.

I now have a personal vendetta against Newton.

2004-12-25T18:41:00.000-08:00

So, it's christmas. Halle-fuckin'-lujah. Don't get me wrong. I'm no Ebenezer Scrooge. I'm just currently very bitter at this nation's obsession with grown men tossing a sphere through an elevated hoop, but I'll get to that later.

As for the celebration, this holiday season is a rarity because usually every year, my family and I are out in some other part of the world as a member of the Purdue Reunion, which we have been attending for the past 25 years. This year, however, we agreed upon skipping, and found ourselves at home, for the first time, with nothing to do. We ended up going out to eat at this uber-american "Chinese" restaurant (what other restaurants are open on Christmas Eve?), whose only patrons appeared to have just wrapped an Abercrombie and Fitch photo shoot. The food was bland, just like most my blog posts, and then we left.

When we got home, we decided to exchange gifts. I got a cool sweater from my parents, with some cash strapped to it, always a welcome addition, and some cash from my uncle. But it was my brothers gift (whose name is David Lai, or DLai for short, by the way.) that I will surely never forget. The gift itself...eh, not a huge deal. It was a Nintendo DS, which I guess is nice, but I wasn't all too familiar with it (seeing as how I don't play fucking video games and obsessivley read gaming periodicals like an aforementioned somebody, which is a fact he is expicitly aware of), and I had actually contemplated getting it for him. So already, I am a bit suspect as to his motives for bestowing upon me a present he cleary desired more then I. But then I thought, "This is actually kinda cool. I can use it as a personal organizer." Then I turned it on, and I was shocked to find that, apparently, the default greeting for the system is "Hello, DLai," and that, even more astoundingly, the stock birthday is set to May 28th, which just happens to be DAVID Lai's birthday. What an astronomical coincidance! I mean, what are the odds??!! That's gotta be like one in a million. Needless to say, I had to give the system back to him, because clearly, Jesus was sending us a message as to whom should be the true keeper of the Nintendo DS. God acts in strage ways, I'll tell ya.

As to why I'm bitter about the NBA, besides them not using Teshie's compostion anymore, is that this holiday season, I found myself caught amidst the hysteria too. Nearly everyday for the past couple of weeks, I've been ballin' it up, and admittedly, enjoying and improving. But today, that all ends. I fucking sprained my ankle this evening, which now places into jeopardy my employment for the next week. If I do indeed lose my job because of my ankle, I hereby declare, that I will never engage in another rousing game of basketball so long as I need employment, which by the looks of it, could be a verrryyy looongg time.

The Lovin' Spoonful...

2004-12-18T01:33:00.000-08:00

Recently, I got back in touch with an old acquaintance. It had been quite a while and, I must admit, I was a bit apprehensive at first. But once we got over that initial hump, things went rather smoothly. In fact, we were soon right back to our previous rapport, as though no time had transpired at all. It was nice, rediscovering a relationship you long thought lost. Those of you who actually read this thing know a bit about me, but my guess is you probably didn't know about my long lost, good buddy, Tang.

Man, it had been so long since I had gorged on the sweet, succulent, powdered orange flavoring I had grown to love so much as a youth, and let me tell you, it's every bit as good now, as it was then, Nectar unto gods, really. And yes, I am likening Tang to nectar, as I liken myself to an occupant of the Greek pantheon. Simply stated, Tang is great.

So, to all my Tang out there, you know who you are, with your granulated flavor crystals, great to see you again, and stay juicy and seedless.

PS. Quoted from page 137 of The Simpsons Complete Guide
"Homer calls up President Clinton, and says, 'I figured if anyone knew where to get some Tang, it'd be you.' This may or may not be meant as a double entendre."

I'm not gay, but I play one on TV...

2004-12-11T23:46:00.000-08:00

So, Cpleezy's housewarming bash was an utter success, as it successfully made me look as homosexual as possible at every turn. Twas a blast and I don't want to bore you all with a poorly worded introduction, so I'll let the pics do the talking. Enjoy!

Big D, Le Le, and e-12

2004-12-11T23:42:00.000-08:00

Big D, Le Le, and e-12
Originally uploaded by ezzelle12.

And the night started out so innocently too.

e-12 and Nato

2004-12-11T23:40:00.000-08:00

e-12 and Nato
Originally uploaded by ezzelle12.

Not a whole to say about this one. Pretty self-explanatory.

e-12 and a visiting martian

2004-12-11T23:36:00.000-08:00

e-12 and a visiting martian
Originally uploaded by ezzelle12.

My only saving grace from leaping head long out of the closet. But man, what grace.

The Longing

2004-12-11T23:34:00.000-08:00

The Longing
Originally uploaded by ezzelle12.

It appears that even in my heavily intoxicated slumber, I still have deep seeded desires.

...and what I'm longing for

2004-12-11T23:31:00.000-08:00

What I'm longing for
Originally uploaded by ezzelle12.

What a fitting snapshot to cap off a night of progressively more and more misconstrued moments.

Flickr

2004-12-11T23:11:00.000-08:00

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

The Newer Meaning of G2G

2004-12-08T20:21:00.000-08:00

Growing up, most kids didn't look too favorably upon going to the doctor's office, right? Nobody liked the frigid sting of the stethoscope against their bare chest, the dry, splinters of the popsicleless popsicle sticks (That's just cruel.) suppressing their right to free speech, or the dreaded prick of inoculation meant to stave off infection, or even that curious wink your doctor gave you after you dropped trou. (Hmm...maybe that was just me.) But, if you ask most people, I'm not too much like most people. And I don't mean that in any sort of condescending, "Man, I'm so much better because I'm not like most people," way. I mean that purely in a yearning, "Man, I really wish most people thought I was like them," way. But whatever. Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.

Anyhow, as I was saying, unlike most folks, I loved going to the doctor's office. Why, you might ask? Simple. Two words: Highlights Magazine. For some reason, there's just something about looking at a picture in search of cleverly hidden items that really appeals to me, sort of like searching for the humor in my blog posts, except there's actually hidden items in Highlights. And don't even get me started on staring at one picture, while comparing it to another ALMOST identical one, in search of discrepancy, that was awesome. But you know the section that always stuck with me the most? Goofus and Galant. These were supposedly educational comics intended to steer children to behave and respect stuff. Goofus was always made to look, well, goofus-like, and Galant, was always made to look, well, do I really have to explain this one?

And so the other day, I woke up to thoughts of these two cats, and I had no idea why. Then I thought about it some more, and I realized what was bothering me. What these magazines failed to show children was that these two icons direly needed eachother. One could not exist without the other. They were indeed the ying to eachother's yang. Galant would never have seemed so galant, without Goofus fucking up all the time, and Goofus wouldn't have seemed so darn cool if Galant hadn't been such a total square. They neglected to instill young america with the notion that, hey, everybody's got a little bit of Goofus, and a little bit of Galant, in them. It's just the proportions that are different. I know I would have had a lot more fun as a kid if I had stopped staying after school to help clean the chalkboard, and instead stole some neato shit.

So here's what I'm proposing: A poll. You determine your own G to G (Goofus to Galant) rating and post it as a comment on my page, and we'll see who ultimately had the greatest impact on our lives, the Goof or the Gal. I realize that there are only about three people who actually read my blog, so this is going to be a pretty skewed survey, but please, feel free to tell your friends to join the fun. And by fun I, of course, mean stupidity. I'll get the ball rolling. I believe my G2G rating to be in the ballpark of 28:72. Do you agree? Please, feel free to join me, so I don't appear crazy.

Genocide in the Next Kingdom

2004-12-02T01:26:00.000-08:00

Poison gas. Mass graves. Eradication. Nothing like Thanksgiving at the ol' Lai household.

The day began routinely enough. I awoke at the butt crack of well...late afternoon, to find, to my dismay, that I was, indeed, still located in the same residence and boudoir that I had dwelled in through the course of the previous day. (I really gotta move out.) Almost immediately, I found myself caught within the throes of apathy, so I decided to call up my good buddy Friar for a solid jostling of the joystick. (Mario Kart Double Dash is the proverbial shizznit, by the way.) And, within due time, he arrived at my homestead. However, prior to his entrance, Friar made a startling discovery.

"Yo Ray, you got some crickets up in your business," he remarked as he gestured to the geologically miraculous, sedimentary rocks that lined our front door. And with equal propriety, he added, "Hey, we should spray them shits with some Raid."

"I like the way your mind works," said I, as I set out to locate the nearest bottle of that sweet, sweet, nightcap of the gods, Raid. And clearly, by gods, I mean palmetto bugs. Upon locating two cans of the stuff, both of which were only identifiable by the familiar sight of an overturned cockroach, I began to ponder as to why it was the matriarch of our household deemed it unfit to purchase a freakin DOMESTIC can of Raid for once! I am sick and tired of Raidu (Capable of banishing roaches to the land of wind and ghosts!) and Ching Chong Raid...ching (Named by the sound of falling silverware on staircases). It's high time we finally bought American damn it!! But I digress.

Having adequetly armed ourselves, Friar and I stepped forth into combat, spraying at, what we thought, was perhaps five or six crickets. Unfortunately, to our dismay, we soon discovered that crickets be rollin' deep yo. Soon, without warning, droves of kamikaze cricket militia began leaping forth, sacrificing themselves for the greater good of domestic infestation. And soon others began joining the fray,

Impressionable teenage crickets jumping off of bridges just because everybody else was. Stockbroker crickets taking the plunge after the market crashed. I tell you it was madness. I swear I even saw a few cheaters with parachutes attached to their wings. What the hell is that??!!

The next thing I knew, I was slipping in puddles of collective cricket entrails and bug juice, while batting dramatic, under appreciated, housewife crickets off of my carefully coiffed coat.

Uhh, what a holiday. Now to be forever remembered by Maiz and Malathion.
Freakin' Pilgrims.

So what are you doing these days?

2004-11-27T01:48:00.001-08:00

The six words I dread the most to spout from any one person's acursed lips. Like everybody else DOES so much with their freaking time. And the only freakin response I can come up with? "Umm, I'm in a transistion phase. A lot of things are...uhh...transistioning." God I hate saying that. I feel like some reject toy from the mid-eighties. "The TRANSISTIONERS, kind of more than meets the eye...maybe...perhaps...denial?"

I think I dwell too much upon this issue, and that I make it out to be a bigger deal than it truly is. But still, I'm a neutortic fucker, and this is the current trend of neurosis for I.

By the way, just in case you were wondering...being a half-ass stand-up comedian and a quarter-ass music producer doesn't quite divide out to be a substantial career quotient. Not that anyone is tabulating.

Behold! My Blog!! And all its glory!!!

2004-11-21T14:30:00.000-08:00

So this is it. My blog. You know, as I'm typing this, I find that, oddly, I'm reminded of my first sexual encounter. (Yeah that's right, I've had sex...once. WHAT?!?) Both experiences are quite parallel really.
1. Anticpation.
2. Intercourse.
3. Shame.
4. Weep.
Man, I hope this gets better, unlike the whole sex thing. I really gotta stop crying afterwards.