(Please do not click through; this web site does one of those horrible pop-up "CLICK HERE TO SUBSCRIBE!!eleven" things and do not deserve your ad impressions. Also there's no additional info. Designer's web site is even more worthless.)
This penthouse in Guadalajara, Mexico, designed by Hernandez Silva, features a dizzying bathroom with a glass floor over an abandoned elevator shaft with a 15-floor drop.
We had an event booked, until extremely recently. About two months ago, these guys Martin and David, who were, like, part of the C-list of Blow Up's promotional helpers, booked the date for a party with Drop the Lime, who played at Blow Up back in February. And then, eight days before the event, Martin calls us and says, "Hey, David is afraid we won't make any money on this show, so he's not going to pay up, so is it cool if we cancel?" In case you were wondering if that's cool, no, that's super-duper not cool. This was after they had already paid us a deposit. Obviously we won't ever trust them to book anything here, but what they may not realize is that by fucking over the artist like this, The Windish Agency also won't be returning their calls. That's a somewhat larger bridge to have burned.
Look, our new bathrooms have walls, mostly:
First you put up the aluminum studs. Then the plumbers put the pipes inside the space where the walls will go. Then the electricians come through and put in the conduit. Then you schedule a plumbing inspector. Then you schedule an electrical inspector. Then you schedule a framing inspector. Then you can close up the walls. Then you can install the fixtures. Then you schedule a plumbing inspector again. Then you schedule an electrical inspector again. Then you schedule a health inspector. Then you wonder how anything ever gets done at all.
There has been some minor perceptible progress in our permit review. It has made it to eyeballs at both the Building and Fire department, which is... good? But this has resulted in the fun situation of having people from one department interpret the code one way and people from another department interpret the same code in a completely different way. Negotiations are, as they say, ongoing.
In the event that we someday have custom-printed pizza boxes -- and I'm not foolish enough to predict that this will ever actually happen -- they might end up looking something like this prototype:
Condensation forms on a tasty beverage as folded sunglasses rest nearby
Tilt-shift fortune cookie
Airplane wing as viewed from two seats back
Female hand grasping expensive beverage
Portrait of a dandelion with a suspiciously shallow depth of field for a cell phone
Stage full of blue lights accented by a blurry guitarist
Blurry photo of three hot chicks you'll never date
Conveniently framed self portrait of a girl with a low-cut shirt.
Inspiring quote stenciled on the side of a building
Latte with foam shaped like a heart.
Feet.
That one weird-looking tower in San Francisco.
Four self-portraits of a teenage girl separated by white lines.
iPhone screenshot. Heffe filter.
Low horizon. A single pigeon mid-flight.
These days I pretty much only set foot in an actual movie theatre about once a year, because it's such an unpleasant environment, and most movies are so awful that I can't sit through them without the fast-forward button, so why would I pay twelve bucks to disable my remote and have to listen to an audience of unfunny people who aren't my friends talking to each other? I did not feel the need for a ffwd button with this movie.
Scooby Doo Mystery Incorporated: No, I know, what? I posted a link to a review of this show a while back because, hey, it's not often you hear someone say something nice about Scooby Doo, but he was totally right, this show is hilarious!
Also, the science and backstory totally make more sense than Game of Thrones. Scooby Doo, for example, does not contain Demon Queefs, and if it did, someone would eventually ask, "How did you hide that guy in your vagina?" and get an answer like, "I combined a jetpack and a laser pointer, duh."
Some choice actual quotes:
"We've all had a Fred in our lives, Daphne. Mine was a carnie named Knuckles Wazinski. He ran the Round-Up. The last time I saw him he was spinning at 40 miles an hour and covered in a 4 year old's puke."
"I'll bet you clams to casino that the vampire is in the greenhouse."
"There's only one restaurant in town exclusive enough to carry that vintage: The Crab Net of Dr. Calimari."
Orc: "Do not mock me! I have Eldrich blood!" Velma: "And sometimes I have a chick moustache. So?"
Also, Harlan Ellison and HP Hatecraft are teachers at their high school -- and they are voiced by Harlan Ellison and Jeffrey Combs! And it's strongly implied that Velma's mom fucked Ellison.
Beyond the Black Rainbow: This movie freaked me the fuck out. It's really slow, but so creepy that while trying to watch it late at night on two separate occasions, I fell asleep both times -- which doesn't sound like a good review except that it actually gave me nightmares. It has a look that is somewhere between THX-1138 those Dharma Initiative videos from Lost, and the whole movie seems to really be a delivery vehicle for the weird and kind of awesome analog-synthy soundtrack. I can hardly even describe what this movie is about, except that it is made entirely of drugs. Like I said, it's slow, but you should give it time.
Mission Impossible 2 Fast 2 Ghost Protocol: This was surprisingly good in that it was not completely awful and I wasn't even that drunk. (Yes, I am damning with faint praise.) It was exactly what a Mission Impossible movie should be: a slick version of a 60s Bond movie. I did enjoy that every time they tried to use some IMF Super Tech, it completely broke halfway through.
Conan: Not nearly as terrible as everyone said. It was way better than Conan the Destroyer or Red Sonja.
Green Lantern: This was pretty much exactly as terrible as everyone said.
The thing that always amazes me when I check out younger and/or more mainstream dance parties is how fantastically uniform and horrible the male dress code is. The girls tend to be in your usual timeless slutty-club-wear: a short glittery dress, or maybe a cut-off t-shirt with hotpants and fuzzy leg-warmers. Not the apex of creativity, but at least it looks intentional. Some thought went into it. But the guys all wear exactly the same thing: a mesh basketball wife-beater, a backward baseball cap, and blue jeans. All of them!
I look around at these girls trying to perfect their standing-up lap-dances against their stationary companions and wonder, is this really the aesthetic they are looking for in a man? Do they look over at Mr. Sports Fan and think, slice me off a piece of that? Or do they just think that they can't do any better? I weep for the future.
"Hipsters" may make some comical choices, but at least they're trying.
