We're Experiencing Technical Difficulties

I'd like to apologize to the faithful readers of Pandering to Savages (all 5 of you). I've been slacking bad this past week. First, it was deadline time at work, so I was drained by the time I got home; and second, I've put myself on a strict diet of story writing. Before I moved, I had meant to use my time in ABQ to write a novel or screenplay (maybe both) about my Nursery Crimes idea, but so far, zero progress has been made, and I've been slacking on this for far too long. So now it's time to see what I'm made of. God help me.

But on a fun sidenote, this weekend has unofficially been dubbed "The Weekend of Broken Dreams." Reason: last Friday and Sunday nights, I was experiencing some pretty good dreams that, well, ended horribly.

Friday: I dreamt I was at a concert seeing Mr. Bungle. I had sat through all the openers and was ready to rock out with Mike Patton, but right before they went on stage, I woke up. Okay, so not horrible, but I was pissed off. I know I can somehow blame Ticketmaster for this.

Sunday: I had just met some hottie wearing a short silk dress and thigh high stockings who looked like Kasumi from Dead or Alive (hey, blame my mind on this one), and we were really hitting it off. The dream was going...smoothly, and I suddenly wake up. But that's not the worst part. When I tried to fall back asleep into the same dream, I found myself headlong in a nightmare where zombies were ravaging the neighborhood. I blame Pat and that awesome book, World War Z, for that one. I woke up freaked out and a little afraid to get up and shower, as it was still dark out. So I hit the snooze button for an hour. That'll show the living dead.

So now that you've had this embarassing look into Greg's psyche, time to start the writing. Wish me luck, fooligans.

Plumbers Are So Hot Right Now

With our friends over at Error 204 getting me all giddy with the hottt Mario action, I thought I'd show one of my favorite all-time videos and the closest thing to perfection I have ever witnessed. Ever. Even better than that perfect 10 floor routine I performed at the 1984 Olympics.

Many of you may have seen this absolute trouncing of Mario 3, and that's cool. If you haven't, you'll thank me soon enough. Well, 11 minutes from now, actually. If you've seen it, watch it again. You know you want to.



Super Mario Mania

Harry Potter's All Growns Up

Although I can't say I blame him.

Wait, can I get arrested for writing that?

Megadeth and Navajo Women

And then there was Sunday. I took it easy for most of the day, as the night before had caught up to me. But I had to shake it off, as Gigantour awaited my roommate and I that night.

I had missed it last year beacuse my mom was in town, but I was not to be denied this year (no offense, Mom). The lineup wasn't as strong as '05, when Fear Factory and Dream Theater were part of the lineup, but I was looking forward to hearing Arch Enemy and Lamb of God. Not nearly as much as Megadeth, but that goes without saying

One thing you learn about going to a hard rock/metal concert in Albuquerque is that you get some colorful individuals coming out. You have the Rez Rockers, the white trash, and everything in between. You never know what delinquency awaits you in the lawn. Case in point: in the span of 30 minutes, I was feet away from 1) an impromptu trash fire and 2) a fight that broke out from people taking moshing a tad too seriously.

Also, I think I can start my case study on the sexual attractions of overweight Navajo women. Thesis: it's me. Yes, Navajo women love Greg Klein. Example 1: The Cult/Black Crowes & Jimmy Page concert, summer 2000. I was taken over by a Navajo woman who started dancing/rubbing behind me and wouldn't let me go. Example 2: The Arbors apartments, September 2005. Doing laundry, I met my neighbor, a Navajo woman, adjacent to me. I said hello, the usual neighbor niceties. 20 minutes later, a guy knocked on my door and told me to go to the bottom of the stairs. She was down there, waiting for me. She told me I seemed nice, and that she was looking for a good fuck and if I could help her with that. I politely declined. Example 3: Gigantour, September 2006. During Lamb of God, a Navajo woman next to me started talking to me, offered me a drink of her beer (she gave me the last swallow. how sick!), and then asked if I would follow her over to the beer tent. I told her I should stay with my roommate, but thanks anyway. I think I could write a grant proposal looking more into this phenomenon. I'll keep you posted.

But on to Megadeth, other bands be damned! I had seen Megadeth once before, but never headlining (they were opening for Motley Crue when I saw them). Dave Mustaine puts on an amazing show. They opened with "Wake Up Dead" and "In My Darkest Hour," closed with "Holy Wars...," and shredded the hell out of every song in between. Lots of pyrotechnics, lots of guitar solos, lots of yelling and singing along, and lots of heavy fucking metal. I'm a little hoarse today, half from yelling, half from the awful wind, but it was all worth it.

MEGADETH!!! That's like a million deths!

Be That Guy

Welcome to the first post of my two-part symphony. This was one of the more eventful weekends in recent memory. First, we start with Saturday: the UNM - Mizzou game.

I had been looking forward to this for a long time, especially after being humiliated last year when UNM eked out a win at Columbia. A special day like this necessitated a special preparty/tailgate (i.e. drinking like a fish beforehand).

I had plans to meet up with some friends at the game, but the lot they were in was full before I got there, which is probably good because it was full of Lobo fans. So we went down the street around a bunch of Mizzou fans, and were close to the tent where the alumni were celebrating. It was a surprisingly good turnout for the Black & Gold. Truman was there, as you can see above. I met the parents of the place kicker. They were so nice, I kept from making a kicker joke. Which was hard.

Anywho, after drinking a few, we went to our seats right at kickoff. I had thought we'd be sitting next to the Mizzou fans, as we were sitting on the south side (in Faurot the visitors sit there); don't want to put the visiting fans next to the students, right? Yeah, you'd think so, but remember: we're in Albuquerque. Luckily, there were four Mizzou fans close to us, so I didn't feel so alone. We also snuck some rum in, so our PG-rated cokes kept our buzz going.

I was in my element. Yelling at every play, cheering VERY loud for first downs, sacks, key tackles...and there were quite a few of all three. As the game drew on, so did my volume (that doesn't make any sense). Yes, I was the loud, annoying fan you all hate to have at a game. And it was so much fun.

The Tigers looked awesome, by the way. There were a few drives in the first half they punted away when they should have tried the field goal, but they swarmed on defense, had some great runs, and a few deep plays.

Overall score: 27-17. M-I-Z...(let's hear it!). Fans started leaving early, so I yelled at them about how it must suck to suck (I know, I'm a dick). Then on the way out, I sang the Mizzou fight song all the way to the car. Fast forward to the bar afterwards: I bought a round of Black & Gold drinks for the table of UNM fans. They were good sports about it. So yeah, there's the night. I want you to know I represented our school very graciously. On to part deuce.

The Motliest of Crews

I know I left a quick post about going 0-15 in softball, but I think some clarification is needed for a better understanding of the tragic comedy known as Pain Inc.

The owner of the magazines I work for also owns three local smoke shops/tattoo & piercing parlors, all called The Zone. We didn't have enough people to foster a team around the office, so we turned to those employees for help, as we see them walking around the office from time to time. I also asked some of our local writers to play. And if they had any friends, we told them to bring them along. We easily had over 20 people at one time or another throughout the season (not counting help from players on other teams on short weeks), but we had some mainstays. Here's a lineup:

Greg Klein - Hey, that's me! In the worst shape of my life and with a single-digit number of softball games I had played before, I went out there and played every game, no matter how bad. And it got bad. I led the team in errors (I had three in a single inning once), but I did get better. Once they put me at catcher, the errors dropped.
Bill Wetsel - Art Director for HQ. Led the team in strikeouts (only 3). Very cool guy, but like me, not much of a softball player. He did see Faith No More, Guns N Roses, and Metallica on the same stage, though. And for that, I hate him.
Eric Cdebaca - Broker at Smith Barney, long-time friend from high school, and fellow founding father of Pike Club/Urban Assault Squad. Also one of my co-travelers on the fabled Fiji, New Zealand, and Australia trip. Actually a pretty decent softball player, took some good hits at shortstop.
Rick Torres - Former tattoo artist at The Zone, now works for Full Spectrum doing tattoos. Very good artist, and very cool guy. Check out his MySpace page. He played second base before messing up his ankle.
Mykey Garcia - Bassist for The Ground Beneath. I saw them before they went on tour and we lost him and another player for three weeks. They rocked. Hard. Very good outfielder, too. I saw him make (and miss) some diving catches. Also a piercer for one of the Zone locations.
Roman Barham - Drummer for The Ground Beneath. Again, lost for three weeks on tour, but I can't fault them at all. Played outfield.
Daniel Gonzales - Bassist for Blinddryve, a sort-of All Star Band that won a contest at a local rock station (long story). I saw them play, and I was impressed for how new they were. He pitched whenever he showed up. He's also a manager at one of the Zones and a hell of a nice guy.
Harold Davis - HQ's political writer. Owns a limousine business. Also running for Bernalillo County Assessor (and will probably win). Played catcher until a hip injury sidelined him for the season. The jersey has been signed and retired.

Obviously, there were others, but either I don't feel like mentioning them, didn't know them well enough for a fun backstory, or a combination of the two. We all pretty much met each other and figured out who would play what minutes before the first game, which is a bit of a disadvantage when you play teams that have been together for years. But we did have a great time drinking before and after the games, and that's all that really matters. I'm playing a Fall League starting October. I'll keep you posted.

You finally made a monkey out of me!

And why not keep a fun monkey-themed night? Everyone loves monkeys, and here's yet another reason why.



I think we'll agree, though, that the true gem of this is the anchor commentary. I smell an Eddie Murrow Award!

"Have you ever heard of the Planet of the Apes?"

"The movie or the planet?"

So I was on What We All Want today, reading the usual bit of insight from Austintacious, when I came across a post about High Fidelity being remade into a Broadway musical. This even came with a link to the play's website that contained a music video and four songs from the show, including a celebratory song about Rob and Laura having a 9% chance of getting back together. Ick. But it made me think about this classic Simpsons bit of the Planet of the Apes musical, so I guess some good did come from it.

I heart (<3) High Fidelity, but I hate (H8) the idea of this Broadway adaptation. And to think: for the price of a ticket, you could probably buy a copy of the DVD, book, and soundtrack. And then have money left over for ice cream. And who doesn't love ice cream? Broadway fans, that's who. Bastards. So raise your glass to this abomination's horrible failure.

High Fidelity...the Broadway Musical?!!?

"I don't see what the big deal is, everyone steals from everybody."

You guys come up with some pretty clever, fun stuff on your blogs. Bravo. There have been many times I've thought, "I should post that, too, and share their wit and candor with the world. THE WORLD!" But then I realize my readership is much smaller than the world's, and the people who read my posts probably read that person's, too.

What can I say, I need to get out to those singles blogs and meet some new people. It's just so hard, and the next morning there's nothing to show for it except the smell of cheap perfume on your sheets and the shirt she stole from you she said she'd give back cuz she didn't want to wear her halter top from last night but she's only going to drive straight home and now she's wanting to take your last bagel even though you were looking forward to toasting it up before work and oh my god I'm late for work...

Where was I? Ah yes, sharing other people's cleverocity. The brains over at Crowdpleaser recently introduced us to a customizable version of the famous picture of Einstein at his blackboard, and what can I say, I was taken by its endless possiblities of humor. You can also find some other fun pictures to edit at the site, like the one above. You should check it out if you haven't already. But you probably have. And that's cool, too. Keep up the good work, everyone.

Genius Blackboard

"Let there be wine." "And women." "And song." "And women."

And then I climbed a few rungs on the social ladder Sunday and went to the Bernalillo Wine Festival. It was overcast, but it didn't rain, which made for a cool afternoon.

Lines=long. LOOOONG. Much longer than last year's festival. We stood in line nearly an hour just to get in (Quote of the day: "What is this, a line festival?" -Eric). And then, once we got in, the lines in front of every booth were silly long. It took 20 minutes just to get out first glass, thanks to some uppity couple who tried EVERY wine on the menu and then bought three bottles.

But we tasted some great local wines, like D.W. Lescombe's Syrah, Milagro had an awesome Rio Cuvee, and I think it was Luna Rossa with a good semi-sweet red. What can I say, I'm a red wine guy. We also got something from the Corrales Winery, but I was too entranced by the pourer's eyes to really care about what I was drinking.

We only had time to visit about 8 of the wineries. My wine browsing time was cut short because I had to stand in line for twenty minutes to get turkey legs for Eric and myself, courtesy of Powdrell's BBQ. The wait was well worth it, as waits for turkey legs usually are. Huge, greasy, meaty, and mucho delicioso.

Instead of taking the light rail back (we had taken it there), we had Eric's girlfriend's mom pick us up. Our seats on the Rail Runner were not guaranteed, and they were only making one trip back into town. Plus, we beat all the traffic at the train station.

We then went back to Eric's apartment and got even more tipsy, finishing off his bottle of tequila before going to his parents' house and raiding their liquor cabinet. I felt like a sophomore in high school all over again.

Other notable quotes of the day:
"I hope they get sodomized by a piece of rusty wood. (pause) Yeah, that sounds right." -Me, about the two in front of us at the D.W. Lescombe's wine tent
"I'm very proud of my bush." -Christina, showing me a picture of her rose bush on her phone
"I hate clowns. I'd curb a clown." -Eric, as we passed two face-painting clowns in line

"Gripping the wheel, his knuckles went white with desire..."

"...the wheels of his Mustang exploding on the highway like a slug from a .45. True death: 400 horsepower of maximum performance piercing the night...this is black sunshine."

Okay, so Saturday I went off to Sandia Motor Speedway with my uncle to watch some races. Like Katy, I was waiting for some fun flaming wreckage, so long as it didn't happen to the two people I knew who were racing.

I had never been to one of these races before, or any race for that matter. It was a lot of fun. We drank on the way down, drank before in the parking lot, drank during the race, drank in the pits after the races, and drank on the way home. As for the races, we sat right at the front of the fence and really took in the entire sensory experience of it: the burning rubber, the rocks and tire bits spraying the crowd, the sounds of the cars passing. I can understand the whole allure of NASCAR a little more now.

There were five different types of races: the factory fours (nearly stock four-cylinder; lots of Hondas and Nissans), the hobby stock (which are more the Impalas and such), the legends (which looked like a race full of Ed Roth hotrods), and the midgets (souped-up gokarts). The night finished with the powderpuffs, where the wives/girlfriends of the factory fours raced.

There were some awesome mullets, lots of obesity, and I had a talk about the recent cool weather with a guy who spoke some odd combination of pidgen, english, and hillbilly. Lots of nodding and smiling in that conversation.

But in all, I really enjoyed the night. In fact, if I wasn't planning on leaving the ABQ in May, I would go in on a car with my uncle and race next summer. But alas, my need for speed will have to wait to be unleashed another day.

Whoops. Better late than never.

So our Tigers play UNM on the 17th. Anyone care to make the 16+ hour drive for a football game and a weekend in the desert? Sure, there'll be no Brad Smith, but I'll make sure you get an extra-large helping of Greg Klein, if you know what I mean (do or don't take it the wrong way, whichever is more fun for you).

Let me know. Sorry, I had meant to bring this up earlier as I had these delusions of a large ABQ hootenanny, but I think that deadline has passed. But right now, I'm off to the races. Literally. We'll talk later.