convenience.

I live in the Midtown neighborhood in Sacramento, an area that is definitely urban despite an abundance of parking, trees and relative quiet.

Well, it was quiet--until my new neighbors moved in.

Within weeks, the alleyway that separates my bedroom window from their apartment complex morphed from unassuming traffic mover to party central.

Even on Sundays.

Even on Wednesdays.

The first couple of times, members of our household gritted their teeth and hoped for the best. Then one Sunday, I came home late and discovered no fewer than 20 very drunk, very loud men spilling into the street.

Thereafter, my parents and I adopted a zero-tolerance policy on all nocturnal loitering. Six very effective calls to the Sacramento police non-emergency number later, the only noise coming from the alley was the horrific banging of the garbage trucks.

In case you’re wondering, the answer is yes, I felt bad--for, like, 4.5 seconds.

I grew up in the East Bay, an area that is definitely suburban despite its proximity to large, cosmopolitan cities. I couldn’t help but feel like that clichéd caricature of a stuffy white person peering suspiciously through my mini-blinds and calling the cops on my non-white counterparts. However, any remaining vestige of suburban isolationist guilt was quickly erased when I realized that I wasn’t “picking on” anybody. I was doing the entire neighborhood a favor.

After all, we are the same people who will sit on our porches and exchange pleasantries with passers-by. Unlike in most places I’ve lived, neighbors are on a first-name basis around here. We share more than just simple proximity in Midtown.

Rather than suffer in collective silence until giving up and seeking quieter pastures in a neighborhood with a name like “Bel Tierra at The Promontory,” the residents of Midtown should deal with unpleasant situations with the same proactive charm that makes life here so pleasant in the first place.

// Original can be found here.

First of all, it was nice to not have to drive 100 miles to San Francisco to catch a hip hop show and I commend whoever wrangled a stop for Sacramento. The venue is hidden away in a tiny suburb 20 miles from downtown and when The Boardwalk says a show begins at 8:00pm, they aren't kidding. By the time I got there at 8:25pm, I had missed the opening act and Hangar 18 was into their second song. Honestly, whoever heard of a show starting on time?

I walked in on Hangar 18 at full tilt. The room had enough live bodies in it to allow for immediate jacket removal, which is saying something for an opening act. Usually, opening acts must perform to a room half full of people who are more interested in drinking beer and checking eachother out than watching. Not so on this night. People were crowded up front, dancing, and at one point, screaming things like "I want ass crack!" to which Alaska replied "I will let you lick mine later." The stage was sparse, members Alaska (AKA Tim) and WindnBreeze (AKA Ian) had nothing to fall back on but their impeccably phrased jokes and buoyant live presence.

The set had two standouts. One of them wasn't a song at all, but rather Hangar 18's guide to the seven bases of foreplay. If you thought there were four, you were wrong. This is the world of dating according to some Def Jukies who probably get more chicks than you do, so take note:
1. Eye contact
2. Dancing from a distance.
3. Soaking (in a hot tub, I presume).
4. The Popcorn Trick (if you don't know what the Popcorn Trick is, see corresponding Hangar 18 interview)
5. Dinner
6. Bible study
7. Finger f**king

Standout #2 was "Baking Soda." Not only is it one of the most uplifting songs about crack ever written, WindnBreeze does an incredibly hot dance number at the end. I thought nothing could top "Baking Soda" (besides Ian throwing jazz hands into his dance routine) but for the closing song they rapped over an instrumental version of Guns n' Roses "Welcome to the Jungle." This wasn't some tired mash-up shit either. It was hard, fast, and energetic. The crowd was sorry to see them go but I think next time around we'll see Hangar 18 getting more stage time as a headliner.

The second band was not Cobra Starship, as the bill had promised. No matter, their replacement EndeverafteR was just as good. As they were setting up I couldn't help but ruminate on their clothes and hair, which were that 1970s long-haired rocker, Cobrasnake kind of thing. Their bellbottoms-no-shirt-open-jacket outfits were a step up from the irony that plagues modern fashion. And they've all got killer abs.

Before the first song was over, I had forgotten all about the clothing (but not the abs). EndeverafteR plays well written, straight up rock music. It is the kind of music that begs to be performed live and peppered with showy guitar solos (of which there were a few). Songs like "Baby Baby Baby" and "Next Best Thing" made me yearn for the simple, solid songwriting of yesteryear. Remember the songs that never failed to turn a car full of anybody into a horrible rock n' roll sing-a-long? I dare you not to fully blast "Livin' on a Prayer," it ain't gonna happen. EndeverafteR was so good at this they inspired me to come up with one of those "So-and-so called, they want their blank back" jokes. In this case, it was "Poison called, they want their well crafted, kick ass power ballad back." Except Poison had to leave a voicemail, because I was too busy scribbling lame jokes and holding up my lighter with the rest of the crowd.

Earlier I had been slightly puzzled by the crowd. I haven't seen that many cute, possibly underage girls at a hip hop show since the Atmosphere's Sevens Travels tour. And then the headliners, Gym Class Heroes, walked onstage and all curiosity was laid to rest. Each and every one of them is well, incredibly adorable. (I think just felt a few brain cells die.) Guys, showing up at a Gym Class Heroes show with Hangar 18's Seven Bases of Foreplay committed to memory could be a recipe for success. At the very least, there won't be a shortage of chicks to try them on.

So the Gym Class Heroes are sort of hip hop but not. When performing live they've got a guitarist, bassist, keyboardist, drummer and backup vocalist. Is it rap rock? Is it not? We'll just go with what their Myspace profile lists: "Indie/Hip Hop."

Lead singer Travis McCoy was sporting a full set of gold grills, which looked like braces and (I'm happy to report) did not impede his ability to tell the crowd, "Each and every one of you motherfuckers is sexy as fuck and I don't care what anyone else tells you." He was also able to stop a near-fight in the audience with "I don't give a fuck, fucking shake hands." All this while a continuous stream of flashbulbs lit up his gold mouth like the 4th of July. Impressive.

They opened with "The Queen & I," closed with "Cupid's Chokehold" and as an encore, performed a cover of the Red Hot Chili Peppers megahit "Under The Bridge." In between were songs were from 2005's The Papercut Chronicles and this year's As Cruel As Schoolchildren. Any onstage downtime was met with the sounds of female appreciation and every song was a sing-a-long. Live, this band is a total crowd-pleaser. I showed up not knowing anything about the Gym Class Heroes and left a fan.

// Original can be found here.

MVRemix: According to Hangar 18, "4th base" is not in fact intercourse. It's actually taking a girl to the movies, ordering popcorn, cutting a genital-sized hole in the bottom, sticking your penis through that hole and then letting the girl find it as she digs around for popcorn. Has anyone in the group ever tried this trick to verify it works?

Hangar 18: Actually Alaska tried it back in high school; the results were a black eye and a restraining order.

MVRemix: Have you tried the arm-over-the-shoulder-yawning trick? I hear it's a more successful version of the popcorn trick.

Hangar 18: Here is the thing; the popcorn trick might not be the most surefire road to success. However since it is so high risk the rewards are much greater. Let’s be real, the yawn over arm over the shoulder thing really only leads to your arm getting tingly and falling asleep. Whereas the popcorn trick may result in physical harm and trouble with the law, the payoff is much greater. We are big believers in going for the glory.

MVRemix: You told me you're doing this tour in a car. What kind of car is it and more importantly, how does it smell?

Hangar 18: Well in order to avoid the bad smells we trade the car in once a week. That’s the great thing about rentals; you can return them for any reason. The best one we made up so far was that we felt it was possessed by the spirit of Pauly Shore....he is dead right?

MVRemix: Got any crazy driving/near death experience stories from the road?

Hangar 18: Nothing really. Although I text message a lot when I drive so we hit the rumble strips quite often.

MVRemix: "Baking Soda" could very well be the most upbeat song about crack ever written. Discuss.

Hangar 18: Well we feel that crack has gotten a bad rap with movies like New Jack City and You Got Served. As crack heads we felt it was our job...no duty to promote the positive virtues of crack such as weight loss.

MVRemix: What are guys listening to on the road these days?

Hangar 18: We picked up the Ray Cash Cash On Delivery CD the other day and it hasn’t left the CD player since...amazing CD.

Hangar 18 is on tour with Gym Class Heroes, Zion I & The Grouch, Cobra Starship & Patent Pending. Check their Myspace page (www.myspace.com/hangareighteen) for dates, locations & artists. And for Christ’s sake, add them as a friend while you’re there. Their CD The Multi Platinum Debut Album is available via iTunes, record stores that don’t suck and of course, www.definitivejux.net. They are currently working on their next CD, which will possibly be titled Sweep The Let and will sound like Ozzy-era Black Sabbath (if Black Sabbath was a hip hop group).

// Original can be found here.

"A Most Unfashionable Defense of Marriage" unpublished, May 2006

Regarding marriage, people are no longer asking, “Why not?” We are asking, “Why?” There seems to be this undercurrent of thought that says autonomy, the ability to comfortably exist on one's own, is a far superior state to one of lifetime companionship. Even admitting a preference for the latter is seen as a sign of weakness, desperation, a feeble minded unwillingness to stand on one's own two feet.

The indelible imprint of marriages past and present has been left on our psyche. We have watched marriages crumble in front of us and we have watched them meander along in complete mediocrity on television. Either way, the future has seemingly been laid out for us. At it's worst are recollections of hurt feelings and pain, at best a replay of scenes we've seen a thousand times over. When we think of marriage, there seems not to be a shred of the unknown. We are simply picturing other peoples' lives.

Although to say that the rise in marrying age was caused by a simple overexposure to pop culture would be a gross oversimplification. There have been many societal changes brought about by feminism and capitalism that have made the institution of marriage virtually useless. Procreation, sexual experience, buying a home, acquiring status & wealth, a belonging within the community...all of this can now be done with or without a mate.

With that in place, the option of autonomy is viable and in some cases, necessary. But when coupled with the realities of our own pasts and a sense of voyeurism that has left us jaded, the desire for something different, something else, has strengthened. At the very least, it contains a vestibule of hope that your own future is still wide open to other possibilities. But this newfound importance placed on independence is rooted in the idea that at any given time something better will come along. It is hope itself. The same feeling that drove our forebears to the proverbial altar is now driving us away.

What our generation has been taught about marriage is more or less bullshit. We have been force fed the antiquated ideologies that would have us “believe in” marriage as the last great American institution and a rite of passage. When modern living showed us it was not, we started rebelliously seeking alternatives. We have been forced to watch either our own or our friends' parents' marriages fail. Instead of learning from their mistakes, we became cynical and above all else cautious.

What you do not see on television sitcoms is the pressure of skin against skin, nor do you hear the sound of someone breathing beside you at night.

When stripped of all it's myths, perceived glory, importance and lack thereof, marriage is simple, deceptively so: It is about two people and the basic need to love and be loved, consistently, forever. The world at large has robbed us of this realization.

"Step Aside, Reality's Coming Through" Euphorix Magazine debut, June 2005 (now offline, can be Googled but unfortunately you will get a link to a dead server)

A typical women’s magazine sells for a cover price of $3.99. One doesn’t even need a calculator to find that, after years of habitual readership, that amounts to hundreds of dollars. I won’t go into what I could’ve spent the money on because I’m a glass-half-full kind of girl. Instead I ask: What wisdom have I gleaned from such magazines as Cosmo, Marie Claire, and Glamour in exchange for my hard-earned money?

- The pros and cons of every hair-removal method known to man…10 times over because the same article runs every June.
- The previously suggested $200 Ralph Lauren poncho I could ill afford now makes me look like a desperately out-of-date overgrown hobo.
- Twenty-five different names for what is basically the missionary position. Horizonal mambo, anyone?
- How to pop-psychologize my way through a faceless career simply known as The Office.
- How to feel good naked while staring at the 110 pound bombshell whose picture is ran with the article.
- Exactly what kind of friend, lover, risk-taker and coworker I am in 10 oversimplified quiz questions. Mostly As? Hallelujah! I’m a Bodaciously Bold Babe!
- Just how many strangers will clue me in if I’ve “accidentally” tucked my skirt into my pantyhose.

After years of such great insight, you’d think I’d be prettier, thinner, smarter and enlightened. But aside from a desire to throw my back issues of Cosmo into the fireplace, I’ve got nothing to show except a brain that cannot possibly hold any more useless information.

Variations on the same articles can only mean one thing: the information was forgettable the first time. Either that or they think we’re too wrapped up in this season’s must-have lipgloss to notice.

Running self-esteem articles with advertisements and photo shoots of impossibly beautiful women can only mean one thing: the mighty advertising dollar is what truly reigns supreme. Either that or they think we are too sluggish from calorie deprivation to notice.

Ladies, it’s time to graduate from the school of dumbed-down alliteration, meaningless man advice, and nicknaming sex “booty.” The old standard for women’s magazines is what needs to be schooled.

The Spectator (campus newspaper for Chabot College), October 2003

Over the weekend, the Recording Industry Artists Association made a serious mistake in it’s witch hunt for MP3 file-sharers. It sent out about 200 warning emails to suspected music swappers. The email offered two options: either delete all illegal MP3 files or get pursued in court.

Getting pursued in court by the RIAA is serious business. They are on a litigious quest for blood and are suing for upwards of $150,000 per song.

Whether you think MP3s are the devil incarnate or merely fun is not the question at hand. Everybody has their own views on the fairness and legitimacy of online file-sharing. The question at hand is whether what the RIAA is doing is fair or even right.

I don’t think it is. Copyright infringement is illegal and from that standpoint, it’s wrong. But dragging countless people to court and suing them for thousands of dollars and using only scare tactics on others is even worse.

This new development in the ongoing court saga just further illustrates how desperate the RIAA has become. They sued Napster and that didn’t work. More programs just like it continue to surface. So they’ve moved onto you and me.

As an average MP3 sharer, I am hardly an innocent bystander in the matter. But I don’t have the money to pay for even 1/100th of one fine, let alone the 950 they could possibly convict me for owning.

So are they going to drag literally millions of Americans through the courts? The legal costs incurred with such a feat would far outweigh anything they’d collect. It would do more financial damage than MP3s ever could. Perhaps it dawned on them that anyone who they sue will probably never willingly pay money for a CD again.

Whatever the case, 200 people received emails last week proving that once again the RIAA has failed at finding an equitable solution to downloadable music.

So while the RIAA’s brain trust tries to come up with another fabulous idea, keep downloading those Metallica Mp3s.

The Spectator, October 2003

Even though Halloween isn’t until the 31st, October is officially spooky all month long.

Take a look around. We’re surrounded by creepiness.

Walgreens isn’t having a sale; they’re having Spooky Spectacular Savings. For the duration of the month, Hostess sells Scary Cakes with “scream filling.” Seemingly normal front lawns transform into graveyards overnight. It’s quite refreshing to see people of all ages embracing such follies with reckless abandon.

The general morbidity of October is a great excuse to listen to eerie music and watch a ton of horror movies. Here are a few recommendations:

1. Philip Glass, The Music of Candyman. Orange Mountain Records, 2001. The early 90s slasher flick Candyman had one redeeming quality: it’s amazing gothic choir soundtrack composed by Philip Glass. It’s spooky. It’s beautiful. It’s only on Amazon.com. (No really, it is.)

2. Jerry Goldsmith, The Omen: Original Motion Picture Score. Varese Records, 1990. If you want to drive around feeling like a complete freak and scare yourself silly at the same time, put this on in the car. It’s eerie, to say the least. The lyrics were taken directly from the Black Mass and then translated into Latin for effect.

3. Necro, Gory Days. Psycho+Logical Records, 2001. This is morbid, homicidal hip hop at it’s finest. What Necro lacks in rhyming skill, he makes up for with entertaining lyrics. With songs like, “Dead Body Disposal” & “You’re Dead,” you can’t go wrong.

4. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. New Line Cinema, 2003. This movie isn’t released until October 17th, but the previews look extremely promising. The trailer was so scary it managed to silence a crowded theater on a Friday night. That alone should get you out to see it.

5. Pumpkinhead. MGM, 1989. You’ve probably been seeing this one sitting on the shelf of your local video store for years. Now you should go rent it. It’s devoid of the campiness that usually plagues low-budget horror flicks, and instead uses a real theme with heavy religious implications. Plus, Pumpkinhead is one of the coolest looking demons ever.

6. Fantomas, The Director’s Cut. Ipecac Recordings, 2001. What happens when guys from bands like Slayer and Mr. Bungle get together and rework old movie scores into crazy metal-noise masterpieces? This CD happens, that’s what. It’s Halloween and crisp autumn evenings in compact disc form.

The Spectator, September 2003

Students at Chabot College with car trouble may not have to look any further than right here on campus. The automotive department offers various types of engine repair free of charge. The work is performed by students and overseen by instructors.

Bob Johnson, one of the instructors involved, says that this is not an attempt to take business away from local shops, but rather a chance for the students to work on real cars with real problems. Usually, they’re working on donor cars that don’t have any actual problems. Instructors must “plant bugs” in the cars for students to fix. Your failing breaks are a problem for you but a welcome change for the students.

Although the labor performed by students is free, those participating must be able to pay for their own parts. The instructor in charge will provide a list of exactly what needs to be purchased, and they can usually tell you where to find the best prices.

Individual problems will be reviewed on a case-by-case basis. The students will fix brake, minor engine, differential and manual transmission problems. They can also run diagnostic tests. At this time, they do not have the space or tools to do major engine repairs or fix automatic transmissions. Higher-end vehicles are usually not accepted for repair.

If a cash-strapped student has a car issue that meets the above guidelines, they must first contact Bob Johnson or Steve Small. Tell them the problem, and be as specific as possible. If the problem is something that can be worked on at Chabot, the student will be given a list of parts that are needed for the job. When the parts are acquired, a time can be set up for the students to perform the work.

The program is an effective way to keep students mobile while giving the students in the automotive department a first-hand glimpse at what it means to get the job done.