Friday, July 28, 2006

craig carothers house concert; friday august 4th

Portland's favorite itinerant son, takes a break from Nashville to return home for another “secret” house concert. The last 2 have sold out, so don't sleep on this!

Admission is $10, the music starts at 7:30 PM, doors open at 7PM.

Never been to a house concert? Do not worry! Check out this helpful online primer before you head out.

It's not rocket surgery; the main idea is to simply enjoy live music in an intimate setting where you can relax and savor the performance.

We have room to seat 40 comfortably. Reply with your confirmed reservation; pay at the door the night of the show.

That's it! We'll have some light refreshments, but please feel free to bring anything else you wish.

Hope to see you here!.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

folded t-shirts in 2 seconds flat!

It should be interesting when I get to heaven and the guy at the gate shows me the final tally of “Just Do It” graphic t-shirts I inflicted upon society during my 10+ years at Nike. I’d like to now take this opportunity to tell you how very sorry I am about all of that. (Hello… God?..)

My perdition aside, maybe you’ve seen this tricky ninja t-shirt folding move before, but someone actually took the trouble to put together a website devoted to this very important topic, aptly dubbed “”

Now with this step-by-step demonstration and a little practice under your belt, your closet can look like an over-priced Harajuku boutique. And just imagine the look on the face of the hiring manager at The Gap when you bust out this move at your interview—they’ll probably start you out at PIC!

Start by watching the quicktime movie of the slippery maneuver. You’ll shake your head and get that "what the… ?!?” look on your face, then you’ll want to try it for yourself. The next thing you know, it'll look like the entire “Queer Eye” cast met in your closet for lunch.
Happy folding.

Friday, July 14, 2006

cafe castagna

When I’m on a deadline I have this bad habit of not eating all day until I finally get a head-
ache. Yesterday was one of those days. J came over early and we were slamming to get a bunch of stuff out the door. Finally at around 4 o’clock—before the headache showed up, but not before we became horse-eating hungry—I had to go to the bank and run some other errands. On the way back up Hawthorne, we spied Cafe Castagna moaning her plaintive siren’s song. At that point the minivan goes all “Herbie” (the “Love Bug,” not “Fully Loaded”) on us, swerves across two lanes of traffic and pulls up to the front door! Not wanting to get in an argument with a strong-willed minivan, we grab a couple of stools at the zinc bar where the lovely and charming (and newlywed) Suzanne is tending bar (that's her in the fuchsia blouse). To purloin my buddy Bruce’s apt analogy, a good bartender is like a trusted closer in a tight game; some things are best left to the professionals. Suzanne at Cafe Castagna is Cy Young material.

At any rate, J talks me into a mojito, (I had my heart set on a caipirinha but they were out of cachaça). Don’t get me wrong, I've had a mojito or two in my day, (you can hardly throw a metrosexual down the street in the Pearl without hitting someone sitting at a café table sucking on a mojito while they blab on their Razr) but Suzanne DID something to this one that took it to a whole new level. You couldn't scrape the smiles off our faces with a cell phone—and that's before our burgers even hit the table. Now that I think about it, maybe that's why they were so quick with bread…

There are so many things that go into making a memorable eating experience; the food could be stellar, but if your server has a stick up their burro, chances are pretty good that's all you’ll remember. The thing that keeps you going back to Castagna is the fact that not only are owners Kevin and Monique two of the Holy Scribes of the Stumptown restaurant scene, they also manage in the process to be two of the most gracious and humble humans beings. The staff is a perfect reflection of this attitude toward eating; everyone there is enjoying themselves.

I love that flippin’ place.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

the drive

As many people I know are, I've been obsessed with lately—it's such a peel of American interests—admittedly, 13-25 year-old hormone-marinated American interests. Steaming piles of football-in-the-crotch stuff; the crass, the profane, the jaw-droppingly banal. Every once in a while however, something truly profound sneaks in there, and you recall the lofty populist ideal held out by the internet.

This clip is long (15+ minutes), but I dare you to not cry as you watch the story unfold. NOVAC (New Orleans Video Access Center), a group of documentary filmmakers in New Orleans have put together a series of short films called "The Drive," which graphically portrays the state the city is in almost a year after Hurricane Katrina ripped it to shreds. I felt ashamed that I had almost forgotten about the whole thing. It's pretty fucking sobering…

From NOVAC's press release:
“Many people do not realize that, nearly 10 months later, things are not back to normal in New Orleans. As America's attention fades from Hurricane Katrina's impact, a disabled New Orleans continues to struggle for survival.

The only way to really get a sense of the magnitude of the post-Katrina destruction is to physically walk or drive through the affected areas. With this in mind, NOVAC presents The Drive. The Drive provides a raw visual and narrated tour through four of the most devastated neighborhoods in New Orleans and is supported with extensive footage, maps, interviews, digital imagery, and an original musical score by Emmy nominated composer, Gil Talmi. ”

Not to get all Sally Struthers on everyone, but take a moment and watch it all the way through.

Monday, July 10, 2006

family fun at the cluckin’ chicken!

While there's no danger of anyone ever confusing me with a vegetarian, it's a little tough for even me to get all the way through this one. From the brilliant (yeah yeah, everyone Bob likes is "brilliant"— leave me alone.) JJ Sedlemaier. It features a chestnut of a performance from the dearly missed Phil Hartman.

It's interesting to note how something as seemingly innocuous as the googly eyes on the chicken take this to an almost sociopathic level (although it might also have something to do with Adam Sandler's chicken voice—ga-ga-ga-GOING!!).

Saturday, July 08, 2006

les cailloux - part deux

It's like a wise man once said: “those French have a different word for everything” Here's the way it usually works around our house:

1. ) I stay up all night trolling the Information Superhighway for “shiny things.” I can justify this because I am a “designer” and I am doing “inspiration research.” (I'm actually on pretty solid ground here; Nike used to fly us all over the globe to do nothing but stay in fancy hotels, have dinner with interesting and beautiful people and “shop the market.” They paid for all of this whilst still paying me my weekly wage. No lie. Ah, but I digress...)

2. ) I play it for for Owen & Daisy the following morning. Over and over, to their gleeful cries: “again Daddy, again!!!” This includes, but is not always limited to burning a CD for us to play ad nauseum in our car (okay, our Minivan).

3. ) Because said “shiny thing” is usually in a foreign language such as Japanese or French, after a period of time, I become a little bit curious about what it is exactly I and my children have been singing nonstop for the 24-36 hours previous, so it's off to googletopia for the answer.

Fortunately this time, it was only rocks (stones actually...) *whew!*

To quote one winemaker’s website: “The name of the domain comes from cailloux roulés or galet roulés, the French name for the big stones of Chateauneuf du Pape.”

Okay, so we know now that "les cailloux" could be a reference to everyone's favorite Rh
ône varietal, but still, they said "big stones," which makes me giggle…

Adieu mon ami!

think again my friend...

I have to admit I laughed when I first saw this. But then the little guy on my left shoulder pipes up, and I feel a little guilty. The thing is, this is funny to my 12 yeard old boy brain, but not very respekful to the ladies. As I'm snorting coffee out my nostrils, the guy on my right shoulder's saying "If all you want is sex, I can think of less 'involved' ways to go about procuring it."

“Yes," says you with that look on your face, "but you still posted it."

"What a wretched man I am! Who will save me from this body of death?.."

Oh, nevermind...

mare wakefield house concert, friday july 21st

One more thing... Nashville singer/songwriter Mare Wakefield will be performing at our house again Friday, July 21st at 7:30 PM as part of our half jokingly called “Tabor Neighbor Concert Series.” Mare and her husband Nomad played here last year (they're from Nashville), and sort of caught us by surprise. I have to say she's a top drawer act. I can't believe she wants to play at our house again; she should be at the Aladdin at least.

At 10 clams to see her perform in a house, it's one hell of a bargain. Drop me a line and let me know if you want in.

I should also mention we have fellow Nashvillian (sp?) Craig Carothers here Friday August 4th. Stay tuned for details and yet another intriguing poster design ÷ ]

northridge, california. 4th grade, 10 years young

Okay okay. EVERYbody's got one. Now myself as well. Welcome to the 21st century young Robert. To this day, despite my being 43 years old, my mom Peggy calls me Bobby. My dad Howard has never stopped calling me Robert. That pretty well defines their relationship as far back as I can remember. But that's another day — another “post” to my “blog”.

“BLOG.” What a funny word. You ever do that?.. Look at a word long enough and it starts to take on a life of it’s own? Blog. Short for “web-log.” Like the “Flu” — short for “influenza.” Or like the “Fonz” —short for “Fonzarelli.” It seems sorta Valley. Like it should have an apostrophe in there: B’log.… ba-logg. Blog. Huh…

I've been goofing around the past few weeks with all of these web apps. I'm always surprised when I go back a few weeks later and that goofy movie is still there, right where I put it. (let that be a warning to all of you.)

So then without further ado, (I think it's funny when people spell it “adieu,” which, of course, means “good-bye” — think about it…) here goes nothin’.

What a goofball — I need to go to bed...

oui oui — les cailloux

PLEASE READ THIS WARNING BEFORE CONTINUING!! >>> Please be advised that upon viewing this video, the accompanying song will be PERMANENTLY burned into your cerebellum for the REST OF YOUR LIFE!!!

…a brilliant piece of work by Michel Gondry probably my favorite spot director. Check out The White Stripes "Fell in Love with a Girl" video. Right?..) BTW, he's also the drummer in the band, you talentless hack. Gotta say, it could use a skosh more cowbell tho.