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If you've played in a working band, you've been through the routine a thousand times. Pull in at a club, haul your gear in, set up and hope you have time to check the sound before downbeat. Below is a list of things no participant at a sound check said. Ever.
--M is for "My mother used to make it this way, but of course you have every right to do what you want in your own kitchen."
She puts her hand up on the red plastic window. I place mine in the same spot. I mouth the words "I'm sorry." She is Spock and I am Kirk in Wrath of Kahn. She is Bruce Willis and I am Liv Tyler in Armageddon.
The subject was monitored in his own environment: scribbling in his moleskin journal at local cafes, rolling cigarettes on his front steps, rehearsing with his band The Plastic Noodle, chugging Pabst Blue Ribbon, well, everywhere.
Check out Tom Falco's cartoons daily at Tomversation.com or at the iPhone app Comic Chameleon....
Here are five awkward situations only people in wheelchairs face based on my past experiences. You ready?
Hand wash in room-temperature sparkling water only. Mineral water is okay in a pinch but, my god, never tap. Do not wear if you had or plan to have a big lunch. Do not wear these pants if you are too curvy; your body pressures the pants to perform the responsibility of being pants.
The sloths are set to take over the world. Not bad going for an animal with a reputation for being lazy.
Check out Tom Falco's cartoons daily at Tomversation.com or at the iPhone app Comic Cha...
When it comes to men, Miami definitely has an interesting variety to choose from. I dare you to say that you don't know at least 10 of the guys on the list. Heck, you don't even have to be from the 305 to identify. It's never been harder out here for a lady pimp.
Every day, I get a text with some sort of code that I can't understand. And believe me, I try to figure it out. I make up what I think the letters stand for and then hope that I'm wrong. How dare they say that?
God Hates Astronauts is probably one of the weirdest comic books I've ever read. I mean that in the most endearing way possible.
I paced down the steps of my platform with false optimism on my side until I nearly tripped over an object laid upon the floor just round the corner from the steps. With coffee and balance intact, I looked back to notice a crow on the platform floor. A dead crow.
The door opened and the instructor walked in. Tall, tan, smiling with huge, beautiful teeth nearly radioactive in brightness, she flicked a cascade of perfect blonde extensions from her face as she cleared her throat. Pamela Anderson was about to teach me yoga.
I need to blow off some steam and where better to head than to LA's hottest FREE hotspot, Runyon Canyon? It's LA's equivalent to Everest's base camp: a smorgasbord of dogs, celebs, trannies, sweaty shirtless bods, gangsters, strollers, and every cliché LA has to offer.