Byrnin' Love

I was lucky to hear Talking Heads for the first time when CD shopping was still in fashion. People would buy a CD for the one song they'd heard by the band, and in my case, it was "Burning Down the House." I bought "Best of Talking Heads" and often skipped to track #13, my heart beating in anticipation of the moment where David Byrne would say, "Watch out, you might get what you're after" in that catchy voice of his. By "All wet, yeah you might need a raincoat," I was beside myself.

One of the best things about the CD era was that people were encouraged to get their hands on a tangible product and get their money's worth by listening to the rest. Now we can download one song and disregard the rest of the album. I know this is a shame because "Burning Down the House" is not the best song by Talking Heads. I realized that when #13 was played out and I started getting the other tracks stuck in my head.

The other day, a friend introduced me to "Stop Making Sense," the Talking Heads live performance on DVD. My world was shaken as much as the first time I heard David Byrne's voice, but this time I was captivated by his oddball dancing, which is just as wonderfully weird as the music. He is crazy in the best possible way. And don't even get me started on Tina Weymouth, the bass player. She is so freakin' cool. Anybody who has only heard Talking Heads on the radio needs to expand their horizons, immediately.

The "Life During Wartime" performance is my favorite. I also embedded it below for your viewing pleasure.

I love when companies use marketing projects to benefit the world. Sure, some of it is just romanticized to make companies look good while directing traffic to their website, but Snickers has done a great job with branding. Right now when you buy a Snickers bar, there is a code on the wrapper you can enter into the website to donate meals to "bar hunger." So clever. Plus, who doesn't love feeling good about yourself for buying chocolate? The screenshot is what you see after entering the code. Excellent website design to boot.

Dreaming with the comedians

This morning I woke up wanting Funfetti cupcakes. Delicious, fluffy, sweet rainbow cupcakes. I dreamed that I was at summer camp and went into the bathroom where I found Jonah Hill and a stack of Funfetti cupcakes. Yeah, I ate cupcakes with Jonah Hill. Then I woke up.

Why do I keep having dreams that I befriend comedians? I've already been disappointed to wake up and realize I'm not pals with Bob Saget, Larry David, or Neil Patrick Harris.

Oh, kids.

The other day, riding the bus home, I witnessed a phenomenon. Usually, on the afternoon rides, there's enough space for each person to leave an empty seat next to them, with their bags sitting on it, conveniently keeping others from entering their personal space. As soon as we approached the next stop along 18th, passengers began to look out the windows and realize a large cluster of children, probably between eight and ten years old, ready to board. Everyone on the bus began to glance at each other, smiling awkwardly and shifting their bags, making the seat next to them available. I imagined the bus full of these unlikely pairs--a college student and child in each row of two. Of all people, it seems college students are some of the most detached from the world of children. And even though I shared the apprehension about these kids, I also became excited at the thought of sitting so close to one, observing its mannerisms and maybe even asking about its schoolwork.

Despite my anticipation of this rare encounter, my stop was only two away, and it seemed almost pointless to let a kid sit next to me only to ask it to move so I could get out 60 seconds later. So I retreated to the back, watching the children file in, wide-eyed and bumbling about. Did these children take choosing a seat as seriously as we did, hunting for one as secluded as possible or next to someone we could handle sitting quietly next to for a few minutes? Their chaperones ushered them into seats, and it seemed the filing in of children would never end. Another woman came and sat next to me in the back, where we wouldn't have to make the kids move. "I was actually a little excited to sit next to one," I said, and she told me she felt the same. Suddenly I realized every female college student on that bus was probably suppressing her fascination and repressed adoration for children. After all, we were fighting biology.

A little boy with big brown eyes and long eyelashes sat across me in the back. He returned my stare for what seemed like the brief eternity bull-riders experience before being flung off. I was transfixed. He gave me a wide smile before covering his face and whispering something to the chaperone next to him. I felt ridiculous. Finally the bus stopped and I was struck with a pang of longing as I stood up, taking one last glance at the adorable boy and wishing I could just ruffle his hair or make him a sandwich. I made eye contact with another woman getting off the bus and I could tell by her slight smile and wistful gaze that she felt the exact same way.

A smashing day with the gamers

My left thumb aches right now because I just spent my afternoon in a gamer's paradise, the "Smash for Chile" fundraiser. The event was a way to raise money for Chileans displaced by the February 27 earthquake and to unite about 50 Super Smash Brothers enthusiasts who dream of being the ultimate Smash champion.

You never know what to expect in an event like this, so after I paid my $5 to enter the championship bracket, I slapped on my name tag and walked into a scene more beautiful than I could have imagined. The university of Oregon's Mills International Center is decked out with luxurious couches, which were now filled with eight separate stations of Smash players, all warming up on flatscreen TVs hooked up to N64s. I scanned the room, overwhelmed as I observed eight battles happening at a time...eight splendid screens filled with the magical intensity of old school video game graphics and vibrant color pixels.

It didn't take long for some guys to notice one of the only girls in the room, and they invited me into their battle. "Wow, a girl who plays Smash Brothers?" one of them commented and I became instantly giddy at the thought of annihilating them with my skills, which I had already begun to downplay. But it became obvious to me why these were the only guys with free controllers. They came here expecting to win. They even made an announcement saying that if someone could beat them in a team battle, they would donate an extra $50 to the cause.

They were brothers. Andrew was stocky and cocky. His character of choice was Ness, and his precision with the yoyo was enough to strike fear in the heart of even the most hardcore gamers. His brother, Jonathan wore a black wife beater with a tooth necklace, and his dark, emotionless eyes said he was all business. This was not just a game for him. This was war. He dominated with Pikachu, using the thunderbolt to finish off his opponents as they careened though the air. They had all these inside jokes they kept repeating, like "Meet me at the dock, no weapons!" and "Who's the dead guy who hit me with the salt shaker?" One of them said I was the best girl they ever played, and the other told him to shut up.

After a couple games, someone announced that the tournament would begin after a brief video, and bagel bites were on the way. The video showed the damage in Chile and had a slide at the end that said "Falconnnn thank you!"--a play off Captain Falcon's catchphrase, "Falconnn Punch!" I was one of the only people who laughed. Their tasteless wordplay was not lost on me. Jonathan started massaging his calf muscles--to limber up for battle, I assume.

The rules were one-on-one, five lives, items optional. My first match up was with a cute guy named Adam. We both played Pikachu, and our skill levels were so close that we went life for life until I took him out with an electric grapple. My hands were shaking and I felt bad for him, but I moved up on the bracket. I was hoping the next person would be easier to beat, but I got paired with none other than Andrew, the cocky brother. I could see in his eyes he knew he would beat me. He bashed me mercilessly with Ness's yoyo and used his power boost to knock me off the platform on multiple occasions. He still had four lives when he took the last of mine, but offered me a few conciliatory words: "You actually had me on my toes!" Thanks, Andrew. Thanks a lot. Why couldn't I have gone up against you after I beat a couple more of these guys? We shared a sweaty handshake and I headed for the bagel bites.

The semi-finalists played on a huge projector. It was awesome. Every glorious attack and kill were matched with the shouts of everybody watching. The brothers played each other, and I imagined this rivalry had been going on since the birth of N64. Jonathan's cheeks were totally flushed and at one point he paused the game to scoot his chair farther away from his brother, as if his eventual failure could be attributed to limited breathing room. Andrew took second place to a guy named Josh. He immediately demanded a rematch, which he also lost. You go, Josh.

A guy named Tony who looked and dressed like Michael Cera's character from Arrested Development asked me if I wanted to play with him and a guy who looked like Hagrid. This was much more fun. It was difficult, but I eventually beat them both before Andrew joined our game and proceeded to "teach me" how to be a good team player. Sub sandwiches and Monster energy drinks arrived and before I knew it my blood was surging with artificial adrenaline and Michael Cera started to compliment my skills. 

Despite some sexist comments and my unlucky draw in the bracket, I have to admit, this was also my paradise. I met some truly worthy opponents, witnessed mind blowing KOs and indulged in the best free food any 13-year-old boy could ask for.

We dream of ways to break these iron bars

Last night I dreamed that a colossal earthquake turned everything to sand. Even the walls and floor of our house became sand, and the earth shook all around us. The constant bending and warping of the walls tossed us around, and as we fell back and forth inside what remained of our apartment, it got smaller and smaller, and the sand closed in around us. When I thought we might be completely consumed, the shaking stopped. While everyone sat, relieved, I decided to venture out and assess the damage. A short walk took me to the edge of the dunes, where I looked over the hill to see a dark city intact below. In the background were neon lights, and it was being run like a giant amusement park, with a young man taking tickets at the front.

On that note, this song is epic,
Thrice, The Earth Will Shake: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r1LR9z-Vm4g