So Jacked...

This is what you look like when you procrastinate your technical writing research paper till the night before it's due and the only thing you are running on is hot tamales and water. Gotta love the lazy habits.

The Countdown

T-minus 18 days and counting...

Class....

I drew this during the last fifteen minutes of sensors and controls. Yes, it was that good.

Ted Leo, Big Steve and the other two Pharmacists

Recently I attended a concert with a good friend of mine whom I affectionately call JBenZ. He is probably the most well versed individual I know in music of the past and present century. That's saying a lot, but he is a lot.

Anyways, we recently attended a show at the Rhythm Room in Phoenix to see Ted Leo and the Pharmacists. As we entered the venue an early 80's hardcore band's front man, Kevin Seconds was doing an acoustic set.

Yes, he did look like he was homeless in case you were wondering. He was decked out in beanie, cargo sweat pants, and dirty jacket with a month's growth of facial hair and life time McDonald's waist to complete the ensemble.

During his set we had a lovely conversation with a couple of short, pudgy girls in their late 20's or early 30's. They remarked that they weren't to familiar with Ted and his Pharmacists. J BenZ simply replied that they had better get ready to have their "faces melted." I'm not going to lie.

He was right.

It was a great show. Ted and his group have a great stage presence and played some good ol' rock.

It was loud.

We screamed.

I lost my voice.

I still screamed.

I lost my midrange early so when I screamed I hit the high notes like a 14 year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert, or the low notes like a man who has just been stabbed in the leg with a dull pencil. No middle ground whatsoever. I tended to pick the mutilated scream of agony over the squeal though. The high pitched scream really lacked gusto, and would probably be more rightly compared to a dog whistle that has drifted into the decibel range of human hearing.

I guess I just don't have enough pent up teenage angst to pull off the higher notes. What a shocker right? I digress.

So the show was amazing, but probably one of my favorite parts was Big Steve. He's the drummer. All of them are pretty old after so many years of rocking and Big Steve still totally has the long nappy, greasy, dirty drummer hair. And a well trimmed beard I might add. But he's also balding a little bit so he's kind of doing the comb over with hair that is a foot and a half long. Automatically awesome!!! Plus he had the dirty sleeve tattoos, drank about 4 or 5 beers during their set, was as skinny as a rail and probably 6'4".

This man is an inspiration to us all. The band is an inspiration to me. I loved it. I forgot to mention this show was on a Monday night too. It didn't stop them from rocking out and winning the hearts of the whole crowd.

To Ted Leo and the Pharmacists

"The Champaign of Bands*"

*Funny story from the show. You'd have to have been there. But you can ask me if you want.

The Warrior Spirit...

This morning I awoke from my slumber tired, fearful of my test today, and generally not wanting to get out of bed. But knowing the consequences of such laziness, I arose and stumbled to the bathroom to perform my usual morning ritual. After which I turned on my computer, logged onto the internet, and saw some of the most amazing pictures ever given to us by my beloved Phil. I knew right then that I had to share this picture with him and all the world. Enjoy, and I hope this picture inspires us all with the warrior spirit in the face of trials and adversity.

And why not?

The other day my roommate James started laughing hysterically. I walked over to see what was going on and...

That's right.

A little google...

and...

Someone who loves me, please get me a huge poster of this for my birthday. Please.

I never mind a little political humor either.

Even with as hard as I have laughed over this already, I know it would have been louder and longer with Alex around.

This one's for you Dusty.

The Magnificent Mustache

11:56 PM, Friday Night.

After engaging in several hours of homework I have decided that I should be distracted. So come little children, gather round my knee and I will tell you a tale of the Magnificent Mustache.

Once upon a farewell talk, in a far away land, a bonnie young lass named Lydia was speaking. In the congregation there was a man. If I were to tell you this was an ordinary man I would most certainly be lying to you. For this man has been endowed with a gift from heaven.

That's right. Only a picture could do this mustache justice. I want to give a big shout out to Sister Scruggs's father for his beautiful and inspiring facial hair. Few things will bring a smile to my face and a tear to my eye like a good ol' man and his mustache. I'll be honest, I snuck this photo with my camera. Don't worry though, I'm not a creeper. Within five minutes I asked him for this photo.

One year later the Scruggs came home and of course I was pumped. The image below is documentation of the reunion:

My hair=worse. His stache=even better than I ever could have imagined.

I am officially a fan.