Mollyblog

Kate and Molly: The Wedding

Here to find out more about our fake lesbian wedding? Or wondering why in the hell we're having one?

The easiest answer: it's fun, it's funny, and it's our last big shebang before Kate leaves us for Chicago.

A bit of background: Kate and I met through a mutual good friend at Burning Man. We bonded. We made lots of jokes only we could understand. One of them involved what our children would be like if we got married. And so, when the opportunity to marry while in line at the Black Sabbath Pancake Breakfast presented itself, how could we pass it up?

Now, we're having a ceremony and reception for friends and family who couldn't be there for our impromptu early-morning union. Because really, why not?

And to answer your inevitable questions: Yes, we love each other; yes, we plan to be in each other's lives forever; and no, we don't have sex. You know, just like a real marriage.

... And disappointment for all

I do like my novelty rock, but I have one requirement for this kind of music: it has to be at least somewhat listenable even without its satirical context. Which is to say, Richard Cheese is actually a decent lounge act on top of being the king of Vegas-style pop parody. And though Schlong’s Punk Side Story kind of sucks on its own, it’s the kind of suck that punk often is, and therefore I like it in spite of – or maybe because of – its suckiness.

Enter …And Christmas for All, The Holiday Tribute to Metallica (Christmas Rock Records, 2007), a yuletide-style orchestral arrangement of Metallica tunes like “Nothing Else Matters” and “Master of Puppets.” I really wanted to like this album. I like Christmas music. I like Metallica. I even liked the other two albums in what seems to be a trilogoy of Metallica-themed novelty rock coming into my life this month (Beatallica and Harptallica). But with the notable exception of an imaginative and uplifting (OK, more accurately, a sort-of interesting) version of “The Unforgiven,” this album falls completely flat in the stands-alone category. In fact, it’s so predictable and boring – the musical equivalent of beige – that even the delight of picking out classic Metallica riffs isn’t enough to make me listen to this more than once. Ever.  (And this from the girl who put $900 on her credit card to see a jokey lounge act in Vegas on New Year’s Eve – so no, I’m not being a music snob.)

It really is too bad. If only the label had gone the way of Harptallica's self-recorded album, they would’ve done alright. That compilation, a very simple recording of virtuosic harps players doing – yup, you guessed it – Metallica themes, sounds more authentically, classically Christmasy than …And Christmas and its cheesy, overwrought sleighbell sounds. (By the way, what is that annoying percussion instrument that sounds like beating a box with a wooden spoon that seems to be everywhere in bad mall music? 'Cuz there’s plenty of that here.) Plus, Harptallica doesn’t make me want to vomit on my shoes. (I wonder if that’s the way my friends feel when I make them listen to all the other novelty rock I love? Hmmm…)

So here we have another case of good idea, bad execution. Oh well. At least there are sure to be another 5,000 reinterpretations of “Wherever I May Roam” to choose from in my lifetime. A gypsy-punk accordion version, anyone?

My other roommate's a rockstar too

I was doing research on LoveFest today when I came across this article by my roommate, Cat. So I'm posting it here, just for further proof that all my roommates are badass, and that I, by association and proximity, am badass too.

So there.

Don't you ever write anything?

So everyone I know seems confused about what exactly I do. They open the paper or go to our website looking for my name, and can only find it on the masthead. Why? Because most of my job involves assigning, editing, and proofreading articles and blogs, as well as helping post to the blogs or website. Which means a lot of my work is behind the scenes, attached to the name of a writer who isn't me. But that doesn't mean I'm not writing at all -- I've been blogging (though obviously, not here), and I've been contributing occasional stories to the paper (particularly our special sections). So I've decided that in the interest of appeasing my readers, and in keeping with the original purpose of this blog as a clips archive, that I'll post links to my recent work. First: what I've been writing on the Guardian blogs. Print clips to come...

For Noise, our music blog, I've recently written about:

• Reggae on the River
• the Bootie anniversary party
• my sister's badass band
• the tragedy that befell a local drummer on the Fourth of July
• my email interview with Dave-1 from Chromeo
• my new obsession with electropop
• Beyonce's famous fall
• my favorite musical Dick
• and Mexican's best recent import Kinky (oh how I love them).

For Pixel Vision, our culture blog, it's been:

• heavy metal quilts
• people who have fun for a living
• the silliest vodka ever invented (yet)
• the Monterey Pop Festival
• places to get free booze
• a stupid Debra Messing TV show
• an awesomely unpretentious wine bar
• the best bread ever
• my Big Lebowski field trip
• Peter and the Wolf composer Prokofiev
• another magazine to make you feel bad about yourself
• and a spa on wheels.

Again, that doesn't include all the blog posts written by someone else that I've assigned, edited, and/or posted, but I don't have the patience to go into them here. Just rest assured that I am earning my living doing something other than writing one story a month and checking my Myspace.

Teaching George how to embed videos

Does it mean there's something wrong with me

if I think this is funny?

What's cracking me up this week

And by the way, here's where I've been on the web:

I can has cheezburger Although I'm not sure you can quite appreciate it without my cubicle-mate G.W. Schulz narrating.

What's funnier than Kitty Cat Vikings? (Okay, lots of stuff is funnier than this. But I like it, okay? Sue me.)

And this goes in the Who Would've Thunk It? category.

Where the fuck have YOU been?

Yeah, yeah. I know. I haven't updated in forever. Things have been insane. I'm getting adjusted to this city, this life, this period of my life. Plus, I'm doing so much editing (and, occasionally, blogging) for the Guardian that I hardly have the energy to direct to my own little corner of the web. But. That doesn't mean I haven't been doing stuff worth sharing. Nor that I don't want to share it. And so. I have about 15 minutes before I have to start doing something else productive that I actually get paid for, which means just enough time for a very short, very fast rundown of what the hell I've been doing lately. Ready?

I moved. I know you already know that, but I haven't talked much about it. So here's a picture of my room, pre-furniture, pre-box delivery from my parents, pre-actually living in it. I'm gradually getting settled - emphasis on the word "gradually." Now have a bed frame, an armoire, and an art table. I'm figuring by Burning Man I should have some place to put my shoes other than cardboard file boxes. Maybe.

April 1 at Cafe du Nord, my kickass roommate Valerie Orthhad her CD release party. She's an amazing folk singer with a crazy magnetic stage presence. And she's a fab roommate. Plus, I like her beau - who also happens to be in her band. The other two roommates were there too - Samantha (who works for Greenpeace) and Cat (a Harvard-grad ballet dancer who does some kind of analysis for the city government) - and then we had another one of our classic too-late parties.

I attended the Half-Heeb Passover Dinner with Steve Jones (my colleague) and his g.f. Rosie. We started by introducing ourselves, explaining how Jewish (or not Jewish) we were, and then declaring what oppressed peoples we'd be thinking about during dinner (as Passover is a celebration of freedom from oppression, though I'd never thought about it that way.) I said I'd be thinking about the journalists at the News-Press. Then we did the ceremony with a fantastic, poetic, liberal (but not annoying) Haggadah. The whole thing was so profound and moving, I nearly cried. Then came the partying. It was the most powerful and most debaucherous Passover I've ever experienced. (And as usual, that flake Elijah never showed up.)

April 13. Bad ass fashion show at The Crucible in Oakland. Fire. Go read about it here.

For the first time in I-don't-know-how-long, I got an actual haircut. Then some friends and I went to a party for digg.com.

The next night, North brings some work friends (and randoms from The Transfer) over to my house after barhopping (and by barhopping, I mean going between Amber and The Transfer all night). Then he gets into my costume box...

Oh. My. God. Rollerskating in Golden Gate park before watching Roller Derby. Not only was it a fucking blast, but I didn't manage to fall once. 'Course, that could have something to do with the fact that I'm a big huge wuss and everytime I started going fast, I'd run off into the grass. But still. I wasn't nearly as badass as the girls in the show, but I do have to say my rainbow socks are cuter than their sillly jerseys.

Then I saw Kinky. I heart Kinky. A lot.

And what else? Lots of time at Amber and The Transfer, my neighborhood bars. Some dancing at Beat Church. Saw Marina in a Think13 performance with Miss Jonsey Bender. Buffy nights at my house with Cat (and sometimes guests). How Weird Street Faire. Dinners out. Shopping for furniture. Watching Lost with Siobhan and Eddie. Daily check-ins with Siobhan, who works in the same building. Sleeping. Napping. Eating French Fries. And, this week, sweating like I live in Austin, Texas. What's with the weather? Oh yeah, global warming is going to kill us all...

Up next? Lightning in a Bottle. My childhood friend's wedding in San Diego. The Bay Guardian's block party, a Mississippi Brodown. And more and more and more...

I'm busy. I'm happy. I'm still alive. Usually.

The Cribs

My blog post for The Guardian about The Cribs.

Alanis does My Humps.

'Nuff said.