Even My Fantasy Life Sucks

Recently, Mr. Zhuang and I were watching the Blazers take on the Celtics in a great back-and-forth game, that we unfortunately lost in overtime as the ageless Ray Allen, who after missing nearly everything that night, hit a clutch three-pointer. We spent a good deal of time cracking jokes about Celtics announcer Tommy Heinsohn and his bestowing of "Tommy Points"--GIVE 'IM A TOMMY POINT! Between the jokes, at some point I began to wonder about the status of my FutureWife and whether she was still cheering for the Celtics.


This started a couple of years ago, after reading a piece on Deadspin where they announced that the Celtics for the first time in their history were hiring a dance team (news that probably killed Red Auerbach). So they put a link up so we could take a look for ourselves and make obscene comments for the most part. Given that these women came from Boston, the chances that any of the dancers would be attractive were minimal. Don't let anyone try to convince you that hey, Boston is a college town, they must have some cute girls--this is bullshit. Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Models who happen to go to Harvard are definitely the exception, not the rule.

So I was pleasantly surprised to see this one girl who caught my eye; then I read her biography, and knew I had found my FutureWife. She was essentially a perfect match (well, in everything but looks, but that's understandable). She was Greek for one, which is always a plus, and wants to live in the Greek isles. Her dream is to work for the United Nations or an embassy--perfect for an International Relations major like me, and I even worked an embassy myself. So she's not just an empty head. And finally, here's the capper: her favorite band is Pearl Jam (I'll look past the show tunes part because this definitely balances that out--plus I've been known to burst out into "76 Trombones" randomly). Hello, Alexis.

So after the game was over, I search online to see if she's still cheering for the Celtics. Apparently she's no longer doing that, so I don't have to worry about her cheering against my Blazers. However, I did come across something much more unpleasant: a wedding registry. Apparently my Alexis is marrying a NotMe this May. I quickly asked friend of the blog Von Bookman to begin plans for a daring operation to break up the wedding, but he said "I've got finals in May". I tried to say he could squeeze this in, and hey, I had finals too, but I began to realize that this probably wasn't a great idea. Plus, you know, I should just be happy that my FutureWife has found her own happiness. And you never know, there may still be time for me to become FutureSecondHusband.

Cue sad, mournful song of unrequited love:


As for the real life, can't say the situation is any better. It's not like I come into Valentine's Day with any expectations; the most memorable thing about the holiday is that back in my DJ days I always had a shift on the day, even though I changed slots each year. So it's usually no big deal. But then again, when you hear things from The Girl that her plans for the holiday last year were a quick dinner with her boyfriend, and then get home early enough so she can catch the Dunk Contest, it stings a little bit. Goddammit.

So I continue to search, hopefully finding that someone. She'll relax to the grooves of Spoon, analyze the lyrics of Wolf Parade, dance with me to My Morning Jacket, tolerate my Pearl Jam fanaticism and my Mike McCready obsession, admire the majesty of Sigur Rós, marvel at the musical genius of Television, and rock out to the MC5 and The Thermals. Oh yeah, and being into music would probably be a good idea. When you find her, give me a call. Meanwhile, I see a bottle of ouzo with my name on it. Cheers.

Hump Day Helper -- Dad Rock Edition

Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.

Last week was Father's Day, and we didn't do anything, because you know, it's Father's Day. Dads don't have time for that crap, none of this touchy-feely shit, and they're sick of your goddamn ties. If you forget to celebrate it, they're not going to go to shit about it. And that's why we love them.

And what better way to celebrate than to choose the ultimate in modern-day "dad-rock", with Wilco. They've got a new album out this week, and that's going to be something I'll have to track down here in Europeville. Even if they've mellowed a bit over the years, I can forgive them for that. It makes memories like Beavis and Butthead going crazy for "Box Full of Letters" that much cooler. I know we've featured these guys before, but somehow that page got lost. As always, I'm going to blame that fuck-up on Joe.

Since it's hard to track down actual videos from Wilco (even the aforementioned "Letters" doesn't easily come up, and I know there's a real video for that), I just decided to throw up a live video. This song is from the underrated Summerteeth album, and it manages the depressing/uplifting contradiction quite well if you ask me. Then again, it doesn't get much catchier than "Baby all I need is a shot in the arm..."

Something in my veins, bloodier than blood...