Sniglets

I grew up reading Sniglets books. A Sniglet is any word that doesn't appear in the dictionary but should. Voit-lock occurs when a basketball becomes wedged between the backboard and the rim; Cheetle is the orange substance that coats your fingers after eating a bag of Cheetoes; Brattled is the unsettling feeling, at a stoplight, that the busload of kids that just pulled up beside you is making fun of you.

Sniglets are the brainchild (hate that word) of Rich Hall, an undersung member of one of those early-80s SNL casts headlined by folks like Joe Piscopo and Eddie Murphy. Either my brother or me would get the new Sniglets book and/or calendar each Christmas. My childhood friend would make fun of me when he saw these books; they were so Porter he would say; I was never sure what he meant at the time but now I do. He meant that the Sniglets' brand of humor was the perfect match for our comedic preferences: funny yet inoffensive and middlebrow and in no way edgy or challenging. Much like the more successful Sniglets' contemporary, The Far Side, another Porter Family favorite. Maybe that's not the best example; The Far Side was actually kinda subversive, but you get the idea. So maybe he had it half-right. The truth lies somewhere in the middle; my dad also owned a copy of Richard Pryor's That Nigger's Crazy. Wish I told him that.

In any case, frying an egg is what got me thinking about Sniglets. I thought of a great Sniglet: Egglad: The outermost, albumenic portion of a fried egg which transmutes into a brittle, diaphanous, clingwrap-like material after cooking. Don't you hate that part of a fried egg? It's edible, but you don't want to eat it, do you?

Stair Slide

So I'm out at my folks' house watching my daughter who's still learning to walk down the stairs when the idea for my first million came to me: the StairSlide! It would be the perfect product for 1- to 3-year-olds. Parents wouldn't have to watch so carefully as their child descends the stairs because they'd just slide down! But Google--the ultimate patent clerk--directs me, in a nano- second, to this photo:Some rich London architect beat me to it and made one for his kids. But has it been mass-produced?? Maybe I still have a shot.

This shit

Does embarrassment build character?

Is humility gained through humiliation? I got to thinking about this after reading (warning: contains naughty NSFW pic!) this blog posting. It's a blog I stumbled across written by a former porn star (Ashley Blue) who left the biz and is now a writer and artist. She speaks candidly about her past and is writing a memoir called Girlvert.

Anyhow, it got me thinking about some of my cringe-worthy moments. The cringe-worthiest is no doubt my interview for the JET Programme (here's a short description from their website: The Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Programme invites university graduates from overseas to participate in international exchange and foreign language education throughout Japan.).

I applied to this program after being urged by a friend of mine. I was single and bored and working a shitty, dead-end job at the time. My friend knew I was unhappy and he had a JET-alumnus homie who spoke very highly of his experiences. It apparently changed this guy's life; he became more confident and open and of course, my friend didn't fail to mention, he cleaned up with the ladies. I won't lie--it was a motivating factor, although not the only one by any means. I mainly just wanted an escape from cubicle life. I wanted an adventure and to travel and live in a foreign country. I really had no interest in being a teacher though. Teaching is something I have no natural aptitude for; I'm not good at explaining shit verbally. So anyhow, I jump through the extensive preliminary hoops: completing a long application detailing my scholastic and job histories; obtaining two letters of recommendation; and writing a long essay explaining my interest in the program. I clear this first hurdle and receive an invitation to interview at the Kabuki Hotel in Japantown. I'm excited but terrified. I'm always terrified before interviews.

So I put on my Botany 500 Couture navy suit with muted white pinstripes (purchased by my dad from The Men's Warehouse for my first interview out of college) and head over the bridge to Japantown. I nervously pace the lobby while muttering my already rehearsed-to-death talking points. They call me in and I greet and shake the hands of three interviewers seated at the long, Last Supper-like table which faces my lonely chair. First guy is a frumpy (is that word ever used to describe men?) middleaged Japanese-American man with a moustache and glasses. Second one I forget and the third is a homely but friendly older white lady with a nice smile. Hardly an imposing group but I wasn't expecting to be interviewed by three people. They launch right into it with the Japanese guy (I'll call him Naoki) taking the lead. He wants to start the interview off with a little role-playing: pretend this is your first day of class in Japan; we're going to pretend to be Japanese eighth graders, he says. He tells me to stand up and introduce myself. Meanwhile, they get right into character with Naoki enjoying this charade a bit too much; he points at the silly Gaijin (me) while snickering and whispering into the ear of the interviewer on his left. It was very unnerving and I understand this is precisely why Naoki felt this bit of theater was necessary, but I wasn't expecting it at all.

So I try to ignore Naoki and introduce myself in English; I go on to say I'm from San Francisco. Naoki looks at me while offering one those extended "Ehhhhhhs?" used frequently by Japanese speakers to express shock or confusion. Sensing he wants further explanation, I start mentioning the Golden Gate Bridge and other tourist landmarks. He still is acting confused and at this point I really don't remember what happened. I was a bit rattled and moments later I think I just sat down and decided this part of the interview was over. I should of just left the room without saying a word; like a battered fighter who can't see out of one eye, I should've thrown in the towel. But I decided to soldier on. Perhaps if I aced the traditional question-and-answer portion of the interview, I'd be OK.

So next, the nice-smile lady (I'll call her Eleanor) asks me if I knew any Japanese. I tell her no, but mention that I do know a song called "Donguri Koro Koro". It's a children's song I learned on a family trip to Japan in the mid-'80s. This was a dumb move to mention this song because obviously Eleanor's follow-up question is to ask me to sing it. I guess I knew this--perhaps I thought a moment of lightness would change the mood--but strategically, it was suicide. It's like a Japanese guy trying to land a job by singing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." As I'm singing, I look over at Naoki in the hopes of finding some evidence that I've won him over. He still has that confused look on his face; but this time he's not in character. He wasn't only confused, there was also a look of disgust on his face. Maybe he felt insulted--like I was treating his interview like a circus. Why is this guy even here, he must've been thinking? Which is more or less what he asked me next.

So, Daniel, why do you think you're well suited and prepared for the JET Programme? I forget exactly what my answer was. But I do remember opening by saying some bullshit like "Well, Naoki, there are a confluence of factors that make me the ideal candidate." Confluence? I don't know how I even used that word with a straight face. The factors were probably something about my interest in participating in a cultural exchange and god knows what else. The point is Naoki sniffed out my motives. He knew I wasn't the ideal candidate. But on to the larger point about embarrassment building character. I'm not sure it did in this case. It made me realize I didn't want to be a teacher for sure. And it still embarrasses me even now. But I suppose I am tougher having suffered through that. As far as interviewing, that had to be my nadir. And I hope I don't reach it again.

So yesterday

I was at a Potrero Hill Starbucks trying to get some work done while they were blasting Josh Groban. I've never been a fan of his music; just much too overwrought for my tastes. But after doing a search on him I came across this gem: Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! is one of my favorite things of all time. It always makes me happy. So to see this dude making fun of himself (and doing it hilariously) made me love him. Also, I must confess, I think I actually do like his music (mainly the song "Higher Window) now! And I hear Rick Rubin is producing his latest album which should be interesting.

note: small, hysterical details that I discovered in the eighth or ninth viewing of this video: at the very end of the video, the voiceover guy calls him "Grubman" and then says "not available for sale."

Weird dream last night

I was a handyman at the Kardashian/Jenner compound, readying the dining room for a large gathering. I had to drill some holes into a table while Bruce Jenner was trying to eat. I was making a fair amount of racket and he passively voiced his displeasure by shaking his head and shooting a disproportionate grimace in my direction. I wanted to bite my tongue as I didn't want to bite the hand that feeds me, but I couldn't hold it in. I looked up at him and shouted "you should've just left the table and given me the space I needed to do my job!" He got up and started yelling at me while jabbing an angry finger in my face and then stormed off. I was freaked out--thought he was off to get a gun or something.

Blog dreams--are they a good look? Do they work as a form of entertainment? I know when people tell me their dreams I find myself getting bored.

So I'm at Kinder-Gym

with my daughter. It's a class for 1- to 2-year-olds at the JCC in Laurel Heights--they set up plastic slides, balancing beams, and little play houses and kitchens. My little Clodsie loves it and it's a great chance for her to socialize as she's not in day care or pre-school yet. Anyhow, I'm usually the only dad there. The other caregivers are always either mums or nannies. But one day there's this youngish Indian dad there and we get to talking and I mention that I'm between jobs so I'm here a lot. Sensing an opening and a chance to commiserate with another laid-off dad, I say, "You, too, huh?" He says, "yeah--I just sold an internet company so I could spend some time with my daughter now." "Oh, really? Good for you," I say. I really just felt like punching this asshole in the face. Man, only in San Francisco. I need to move to Ohio or someplace where the rest of the laid-off losers are and we could play poker and watch daytime ESPN with some shit like The Strongest Man in the World competition while our kids play together.

These are all shots from Kinder-Gym. Here you can see Claudia with her beloved "Gangee" (my dad):

Funny comment

from a stupid article called "How Black People Use Twitter." It's also funny how Olsafp had to give it up to jayblackcomedy--he gave him a thumbs-up even tho he was pwned by JBC. Pwned--do kids still used that? Stole it from my nephew along with "fail."

Do you think Nick Lachey

has any male fans?

The Anti-Bro

Never been a big-time "bro." You know, the kind of bro every other bro wants to hang with. It was always like, "Oh, Dan? Oh, sure, he can come." More of a chime-in occasionally, side-kick type of bro. I was never setting the agenda or driving the content of an evening out with the bros. I've always rode the coattails of a more charismatic alpha-bro. So I was surprised to hear the post-game commentary from my brother-in-law after I hung out with him and one of his bros. He told me his bro said "Your brother-in-law is like the coolest dude I've ever met!" That's a type of bro-love I've never received. Felt good. What's the next step? Call him and invite him out for a beer?

Golden Gate

Think it'd be a possible to place a moratorium on all logos using the GG-bridge as a graphic element?

Groundhog Day

While purchasing "bandee" (banana) bread for my daughter at the Academy of Sciences cafe I have the following conversation with the cashier:

I like your glasses!

Thanks.

Where'd you get them?

Eye Gotcha in the Castro.

Is that ON Castro?

I think so.

How do you spell it?

E-Y-E then "gotcha."

The following week I had the exact same conversation with him! I didn't want to embarrass him so I didn't say anything as I answered each of his questions for the second time. I just figured he'd remember on his own but it never happened. Weird.

Don't you like Carlos? Wish I could be his friend. I'd almost consider a roll in the hay with him because he looks like so much fun. I got that pick from Yimmy's Yayo, by the way.

I voted for the sit/lie ordinance

And now I regret it. I voted yes because I had all those Haight Street losers in mind who hang out with their pit bulls and try to sell you weed. But I didn't even think about homeless people! I park near my wife's work every day on one of those side streets south of market and I always see this homeless guy with his dog and wife/girlfriend. Every time I see him he's lying down reading and petting his dog. I didn't think of that guy. :(

What's the difference

between a humorist and a comedian?

Red Card

That'd be a cool name for a soccer apparel company.

Black Scirocco

My friend Brian Jonas from high school had a black Scirocco. He'd scoop me up and drive me to school if he saw me walking. I remember entering the dark interior and settling into the cushy leather while he loudly bumped Cabaret Voltaire and The Toy Dolls. It was a stick and I remember him busily shifting the gears and watching the metallic shaft dart about in its skirt of stitched black leather.

He was incorrectly labelled a "Mod" as were all New Wavers at my school. He also skated and built a half-pipe in his backyard. I couldn't "drop in" as they called it. For you non-skaters, that means to climb to the top of the ramp, and with your front foot on the skateboard, shift your weight forward and descend down the ramp. I tried once and took a hard fall. So thereafter, when it was my turn I would just start in the middle of the ramp and gyrate back and forth to generate speed.

But one time my dad stopped by to say hi and tell me it was time for dinner. One of my buddies said hey, Dan (I went by Dan then), you should try to drop in again for your dad. There was really no way out. I couldn't risk looking like a pussy in front of all my friends and my dad. So I get all the pads on and climb up. Everyone's watching. I drop in and fall into a crumpled mass on the masonite; my skateboard shooting out from under me and up the other side of the ramp.

That was probably one of the most humbling moments of my life. Looking back I've always took solace that my friend wasn't trying to humiliate me--he had faith in me and wanted me to conquer my fear in front of my dad, right?


note: the image you see is a compilation of screen-shots taken of a malfunctioning media player from Huffington Post. I call them digital pap smears.

As Real as It Gets

Has anyone seen this ad for a new rap album around town? I've seen it on huge billboards and buses and I've never even heard of them. I wonder how they're funding their marketing. Another BMF-type enterprise? Just saw the Gangland on BMF (love that show). I had no idea Young Jeezy was affiliated with them.

Am I a bad person for laughing at this?

via Weird Dude Energy.

I don't think it's the same as laughing at Jeri from Facts of LIfe which my friends at the time did. That was fucked up. The thing about this guy is I think he wants you to find it amusing--and he wants you to enjoy the song--and I did both. But ethics aside, he's actually a good singer. I think the beatboxing (is that intentional?) is a nice touch and his mimicry of the Stipester's hand-flutterings is spot-on. Nice job, mate. Why do the Brits love R.E.M. so much?

Frank Rich Is a Great Writer

Check this graf from a recent column about Christine O'Donnell:

The once obscure governor of Alaska was also tripped up by lies and gaffes when she emerged on the national stage, starting with her misrepresentation of her supposed opposition to “the bridge to nowhere.” But she quickly wove the attacks into a brilliant cloak of martyrdom that positioned her as a fierce small-town opponent of the coasts’ pointy-head elites. O’Donnell, like Palin, knows that attacks by those elites, including conservative grandees, only backfire and enhance her image as a feisty defender of the aggrieved and resentful Joe Plumbers in “real America.”

That bolded bit is bonkers. If I could write one sentence as good as that I'd die happy.

SpeakEasy

New start-up offering public speaking classes. You feeling my mock-up for the client?

Guess what you'll be doing 30 years from now?

Eating. You'll want teeth for that.Just experimenting with this here grafique. I was in Mexico recently and saw a sign for a luxury condo development that read Los Playos Conditos... Feel the Exclusivity. Cracked me up so I had to use it somehow.

Cialis ads

Really enjoying these. They're a nice showcase for some impressive Trent DILFers and MILFers. But that's not why I like them--no, I like the ads because of the equally impressive special effects. First shot of the ad you see a couple folding clothes in some dingy laundry room and then once it becomes boner-time (you know it's about to go down because they've brushed up against each other and lock eyes), their basement transforms into a verdant paradise with waterfalls and toucans. After their lovemaking, the couple is seen lounging in matching bathtubs on the beach.

Another funny thing about the ads is that once the couple enters their Shangri-la, they look directly into the camera and engage the viewer verbally. Even though they are only listing the warnings and side-effects, I find it highly erotique.

Greats ads. Very ripe for satire. If I were a pornographer, I'd produce a send-up of one of these in which the couple actually has sex in the ad while talking to the viewer. That'd be cool.

I feel good about myself

I've never been an assertive or confrontational person, but yesterday, I stepped up to the plate--big-time. The best thing was that it involved defending my daughter's honor. Here's how it went down: We walk into the park and I see him; I've heard about this bad apple from the mothers who frequent the park. He's brutish, loud, territorial; doesn't like to share. He starts running his mouth the moment we enter his make-believe cafe at the sandpit; She's (my daughter, he means) going to mess up my soup!, he says. He told me that she shouldn't be allowed in his cafe. I got right in this 5-year-old's face and told him to back off. Surprisingly, this jerk didn't say another word. No fear. That's my new mantra; and my new decal on the back of my truck. Now all you haters who called me a pussy want to retract that statement? Hah! Predictably silent. Who's the pussy now?

Funky Winkerbean

It's been a while, my friends. I've been in a funk is what it is. Hard to feel inspired while looking for a job and watching a toddler. What little extra time I have is spent looking for jizobs. But I do gots some stuff on tap that will be streeting soon--in the meantime, enjoy this inadvertent Uta Barth impression I snapped recently:

Starting a new Life-coaching business

What do you think of my first promo? I think the goat looking back at a prospective client as if to say "look at me, I found my footing, how about you? What are you waiting for?" is very effective.

Think I'm gonna go blue collar

If it's good enough for Keitel and Pryor, why not me? Besides, things just aren't looking good for the office worker these days--did you know there are currently 11 books out now about the disappearing middle class? Time to move to a more dependable sector. Can any of y'all see me being a cop? Yeah, I guess that wouldn't work. I've already ruled out garbage man. Vicky said it'd be too embarrassing for our daughter. That's unfortunate because sanitation workers provide a valuable public service. As do mailmen. But I don't think they're hiring these days. If I were a woman, I'd get into nursing. Well, I'll keep thinking about it. Please comment with any ideas you might have.

Check these sick photos I took at the moma last week:

What do y'all think

of this ad for a recently launched chain of nudist clothiers? Is it worth sending to the client? I personally think the leaf as an organic symbol is played-out, but I decided not to break convention considering they're a start-up.

Wait a second--I just noticed a double-meaning that went over my head initially--Organica, meaning the company uses organic fabrics, but also meaning sexual organs! Brilliant, huh?

Wait another second--you know what I also just noticed? The daughter fondling the man's organ. That's unconscionable; I can't be a part of this project. Don't bother with any feedback. I quit!

Last comment: if you click on the photo to enlarge, you'll notice how much fun the dad, daughter and son seem to be having. Now look at the mom. Shock, disbelief, shame, and anger; all written on her face. She's probably already planning her agent's ouster.

RV Show

Growing up, me and the fam would go to this dude ranch every year in Wyoming to meet up with my parents' high school friends and all their kids. It was a long 1,500 mile drive through Nevada, Utah and Colorado. One year during the drive we were having breakfast somewhere in like Winnemucca at a Denny's. My younger sister (she was probably 7 years old at the time) was having a hard time sitting still and wanted to leave the restaurant. My dad looks out of the window and notices a huge swath of RVs parked in an adjacent lot. He had always taken us to those RV shows at the Cow Palace which my sister enjoyed, so this was a welcome diversion. He puts my sister up on his lap and points out to the RV show, telling her to go check it out. She does and comes back within five minutes. Back so soon? She explains that she went into one of the RVs and this guy is getting out of the shower as she walks in. It wasn't an RV show at all, it was an RV park!

photo: from a blog called Yimmy's Yayo.

As a man, I feel left out when I see Special K ads

But are these ads sexist towards women? Naw. Like that woman needs to lose an ounce of weight. Don't know who Kevin Toney is, but if I ever see this record, I'm buying it.This guy's Special K post was a million times funnier than mine. Read it!

Introducing: Coke Collectibles

Just messing around with different fonts on a pic of a coke can. If Coca-Cola actually did this, I bet they'd be big sellers--don't you think? Like how I always ask a question to raise my comment count? Anyhow, I like the first one with Pump Triline. That would of been a perfect way for them to kick off the promotion, during The World Cup, because you see that font all the time on the back of football jerseys. Old English, Kraftwerk (or whatever that font is called) and Peignot (from left) are my other favorites. I just threw Papyrus and Hobo Std. in there to illustrate what dog-shit fonts they are. Hate those fucking fonts.

Weirdest ad ever

Anyone seen these? That's a narrow angle they're taking with that one, isn't it? Who besides gay hippies are they hoping to reach?

I've never been a big Pearl Jam dude

But I woke up this morning with "Can't Find a Better Man" in my head. I want to get that song. "Evenflow" is kinda tight too. I love that video where he's swinging off the balcony into the crowd. I never liked "Jeremy" tho. Pearl Jam was one of those bands who, at the time, were so popular that I just couldn't get with. If something is too watercooler or mass culture I have a knee-jerk snobbism that kicks in. Beavis and Butthead was another cultural touchstone that I ignored at its heighth. I've gotten better though recently. Take Lil Wayne, for example; I was able to embrace him at his apogee (before you call me a dork, listen to his '07 mixtapes). You can also count me among Gaga's legions of fans. I even tuned in to a few seasons of American Idol. I hope I can keep up this impressive run through my daughter's tween years. That way I can enjoy chaperoning her to boy band concerts. Heck, I may even take e with her at a rave! Totally JKing with that one--don't get it twizzlered.

Bad Humour

Sometimes I get a an idea that I think is funny but then I try it out and it misses the mark. Like this one. Do any of you even get the joke?

Choc Toxique

Using the toilette at home I always have a view of the back of a tampon box with the warnings and directions. I was reading them for the 18,000th time the other day when I came upon a charming and seemingly innocuous sounding French phrase: Choc Toxique. This means "Toxic Shock (syndrome)." I was thinking this would make a great name for a chocolate bar (sold in America, not France). It's great because it plays into that marketing angle that chocolatiers are so fond of using on women; that chocolate is sexy, naughty and dangerous. If they were really ballsy, they could also use the candy bar as a means of raising awareness for the syndrome. I can already see the PSA on the telly with Annette Benning (filmed in black and white) speaking with a weighty earnestness, urging us to buy a Choc Toxique as 10 percent of all profits go towards finding a cure. There could also be a Choc Toxique 5k Walk, much like the one for Breast Cancer.

Did anyone see this show?

Just joking. Don't think they ever played together. Shouldn't they have tho? Am I the only one who views these three bands as interchangeable? Not exactly sonically but from an A&R perspective; they all seemed to be positioned as sensitive grunge reactionaries; sane and reasonable (while remaining idiosyncratic) correctives to a lopsided market. If Pearl Jam/Soundgarden/Stonetemple were Singles and Reality Bites, Giant/Sprocket/Dummies were If Lucy Fell and The Truth about Cats and Dogs.

Alemany Flea Market

I'd been wanting to go here for years. Finally convinced the old lady to come with me one Sunday morn. Here's a postcard I assembled to commemorate the trip:Check out how completely disinterested my wife and child are in the left corner. So ready to go. Actually, Claudia would've been happy if we let her out of the stroller but sometimes that's not the best idea. As for me, I coulda stayed for like three hours sifting through the vast mountains of detritus. I'm not sure why I enjoy it so much. I rarely buy anything but I love seeing all these discordant objects piled together chaotically. Chaos theory--you feel me? All right, homies, time to go now. Enjoy the weekend!

Here's some bonus pics:


Here's an unrelated pic of my daughter just because she's the most gorgeous child in the world:Here's another that my wife liked: