I just got an interesting email, you guys

This is so weird you guys, I just accidentally got an email from Johnny Depp!

FROM: johnnycakes12@yahoo.com
DATE: Thursday, July 12, 2012 10:52 AM
TO: chaset@altavista.com
SUBJECT: RE: bracelets

MESSAGE BODY:

Dear sir, I am inquiring on my recent order of bracelets from your online store. I was very pleased with the order of 24 bracelets that I had previously purchased and would like the shipping information of my current order so I can estimate when my additional bracelets will arrive. I also anticipate ordering more bracelets in the future. Bracelets.

Sincerely,

Johnny Bracelets Depp

Crazy, right? I hadn’t even noticed that he liked bracelets so much in the first place!

Somefin’ New

I’ve never been big on New Year’s resolutions, mostly because I’m an awful human being who wouldn’t even try to keep them for a millisecond. I mean, sometimes I make goals (SECRET GOALS) that I carry around in my brain and then feel guilty about not ever achieving, but they don’t necessarily correspond to some arbitrary yearly calendar.

This year I have decided that instead of a formal resolution, I’m just going to try to do stuff I’ve never done before or whatever. With a statement as vague and non-committal as that, nearly anything could qualify! I could go to sleep for two hours while wearing a sock on my left hand and since it’s something I’ve never done before I will instantly be filled with an all-consuming sense of pride and accomplishment. Easy!

One thing I’ve definitely never done before is write a fan letter to a celebrity, partly because I’m not one of those weird people who write fan letters, and partly because I would have no idea what to say to them. Since I want to start my non-resolution with something that takes a modicum of effort, I decided to write a fan letter to veteran Hollywood character actor Stephen Tobolowsky.

Here it is:

Dear Stephen,

First of all let me just say that I’ve been a fan of your work for as long as I can remember. In fact, one of my earliest memories is sitting on my Mother’s lap and watching your excellent work in the 1984 feature film, The Philadelphia Experiment. Even though I was literally an infant  at the time, I remember thinking to myself that you had a certain joie de vivre that would serve you brilliantly in your career as an actor. Fortunately, my infant’s intuition proved correct and you went on to delight audiences all over the world with your nuanced and layered performances, like your work as the voice of Bando in 1996’s masterpiece, Homeward Bound 2: Lost in San Francisco.

Although your average movie-goer probably doesn’t even now your name and most likely addresses you as “that one guy” or “Ned Ryerson from Groundhog Day,” I just want you to know that I do indeed know your name Mr. Stephen Tobolowsky! And someday, I think we will all know the name TOBOLOWSKY.

Your Constant Fan,

Chase M. Thompson

P.S. I also drew you a picture of a duck.

So, yeah, writing a fan letter to Stephen Tobolowsky. Totally something I had never done.

Scenes of romantic dissolution

  • Imagine a small student apartment in Logan, Utah. In that apartment sits a large leather sectional that takes up the majority of the living room. One night, a group of young adults gather to watch a movie (in this case, the entirely too long James Bond feature Casino Royale). One nervous young man watches the movie cuddled up to a young woman with blond hair underneath a fleece blanket. The young man is attempting to court the young woman in the sense that he has taken her on a date skiing, and it seemed to go reasonably well. Since Casino Royale is approximately 12 hours long, the young man falls asleep, dreaming of his inevitable marriage and idyllic life with the young woman. Maybe they will get a sheep dog and move to Maine! Or maybe they will get a chihuahua and move to Marin County. The point is, they’ll get a dog and move somewhere scenic. The young man awakes some time later to a loud yet unidentifiable noise, resembling a fog horn. As the young man slowly regains consciousness he notes that all the occupants of the room stare at him, mouths agape, with barely-concealed expressions of disgust and/or delight. The young man experiences the cold, creeping horror of recognition as he realizes that the fog horn noise was, in fact, an incredibly powerful outburst of flatulence. The young man then glances desperately at the young woman who is clearly not enjoying sharing a blanket with him at the moment. The young man notices sorrowfully that the young woman’s nose, crinkled in revulsion, does look quite lovely in the pale, flickering light of a television screen. Length of relationship: Approximately 2 weeks.
  • In a slightly upscale burger joint, a young couple are sharing dinner. The young man is having a turkey and bacon sandwich and the young woman is probably eating a salad or some other entree girls order to appear healthy and feminine. The couple are celebrating the young man’s twenty-second birthday. The young woman notes the she cannot believe that there is now a five year gap in their ages. The young man quickly tries to make a calculation in his head in order to extrapolate the young woman’s age. He fails to do so due to very poor math skills and stares blankly ahead in silence. The young woman again remarks that she never thought she would date someone so much older than herself, and then looks at the young man as if to say, “You do know how old I am, right?” The young man finally musters enough cognitive wherewithal to work out a simple arithmetic problem and coughs out, “You’re only seventeen?” while (probably) sending tiny flecks of turkey and bacon sandwich all over the table. The young woman then explains that of course she is seventeen, she has said so many times. The young man counters that he would have definitely remembered her saying this, and then asks—only half joking—if he will be arrested. The young man then reflects on how immature the young woman has acted since he met her, and how much of a chore it is to spend time with her, and suddenly the fact that she is only seventeen makes perfect sense. Length of relationship: Approximately 2 months.
  • It is a Sunday afternoon the dead of winter in Hyde Park, Utah. A young man and a young woman sit in a 1993 Toyota Camry in the parking lot of the Hyde Park City Hall. The young woman begins by expressing that while she has had a great time going on dates and getting free dinners for the past few months, she no longer desires to see the young man in a romantic way. The young man asks her why not, and she hands him a photo of a good-looking missionary with fairly muscular arms. The young man pleads with her and promises that she just needs to give him more time. The young woman tells the young man that she really likes his sweatshirt, and that she will “see him around.” She then gets out of the car and walks the two blocks back to her parent’s house. The young man sinks into a metaphorical well of despair. He imagines metaphorical buzzards ripping out his metaphorical heart and then metaphorically regurgitating it for their young. In a fit of masochism he listens to some Elliott Smith songs. When he finally tires of this, he tries to start his car, but the bitter cold has rendered the battery unequal to the task. Cursing his terrible luck, the young man sheepishly walks to the young woman’s house and knocks on her door with trembling hands to ask for help. The young woman seems nonplussed by this turn of events. The young man returns to his car with the young woman’s father and spends ten excruciatingly uncomfortable minutes jump-starting his car with the surly part-time fireman. Length of relationship: Approximately 2.3 months.

The 2010 NBA All-Ugly Team

With the playoffs in full swing, it’s time to announce the 2010 NBA All-Ugly Team. Congratulations to the following players:

First Team

Joakim Noah/Bulls

Ha ha ha. Now that the initial reaction is out of our systems, let’s all just wrap our heads around how bizarre looking this person is. He’s the type of player that most people hate, both because of his sideshow looks and his abrasive personality. However, if he was on your team you would totally love him (see also, Birdman Anderson).

Al Jefferson/Timberwolves

Al Jefferson is…unique looking. He’s a stud, I know. There aren’t very many legit 20/10 guys in the league anymore, but he has a face like a smashed in Chevy. Sorry bro!

Charlie Villanueva/Pistons

Charlie has alopecia and so that’s part of the reason he looks weird (no eyebrows! how would you look?) but he’s still one ugly mamba jamba in my book.

Troy Murphy/Pacers

I think Troy takes the cake, you guyz. To paraphrase Seinfeld, he’s as pretty as all the rest of the players on this list, he just needs a nose job! Really though Troy, I think you have the largest nose in world and I feel bad for you.

Chris Kaman/Clippers

I’ve always thought Chris Kaman looks like some kind of terrifying flesh-eating zombie or Frankenstein monster. He usually has shorter hair now (smart move), but it was awesome how gross he was with the long, wispy, balding blond hairdo.

Second Team:

Brian Scalabrine/Celtics

Oh great, a portly, red-headed Mr. Potato head! You belong in a zoo potato guy! He’s also in the running for the human mascot award, and the worst player to belong to a championship team award.

Luis Scola/Rockets

Scola looks…so Argentinian. I say that with some affection since I’ve known many of them in my time, but still. Gross dude. I think guys with longer hair can look kind of cool, but you’re somehow doing it wrong.

Zydrunas Ilgauskas/Cavs

Big Z reminds me of an extra in a Sci-Fi movie about pod people or maybe a twisted serial killer. I just think he’s spooky. Don’t kill me Big Z!

Michael Beasley/Heat

This guy is just good old-fashioned ugly.

Kyrylo Fesenko/Jazz

I’ve been a fan of Kosta Koufos for a while now, but his constant underachieving has me starting to prefer the other seldom used Jazz center, Big Fes himself.

Now, yes he’s big and ugly, but he’s also the most hilarious Jazzman ever. If you have the chance to go to a Jazz game, just watch Fes during timeouts. Half the time he’s not even looking at Sloan and just staring at the jumbotron so some other player has to physically grab him and make pay attention. He just seems like some overgrown twelve-year-old in a massive body, and thus he’s goofy and funny all at the same time. He also dances quite well:

A Fake Left-hander in a Right-handed world

I’m left-handed. Kinda.

I guess I’m not fully left-handed because the only thing I do with my left hand consistently is write/draw. Here is what I do with my right hand or foot:

  1. Throw balls
  2. Use a fork/spoon
  3. Use a computer mouse
  4. Play guitar/banjo
  5. Use scissors
  6. Kick balls (I don’t usually do this at all if I have the option)

This does allow me to do some things that other people can’t. Sometimes I write notes down with my left hand while simultaneously using the mouse to scroll or click on links, which is a pretty cool trick if you ask me. Sometimes if I have to write on a chalk or whiteboard I accidentally start writing with my right hand and then realize it and switch to my left. Wha happen?

The downside to my selective and confusing ambidexterity is that it makes me feel like this:

It’s time to pick a side!

I read the wikipedia entry on left-handedness the other day and I think I would like to be a part of the glorious fraternity of leftys. Here are some fun facts about them:

  1. Left-handed people as a group have historically produced an above-average quota of high achievers.
  2. Left-handers’ brains are structured differently in a way that widens their range of abilities, and the genes that determine left-handedness also govern development of the language centers of the brain.
  3. The increase in the 20th century of people identifying as left-handed could produce a corresponding intellectual advance and a leap in the number of mathematical, sporting, or artistic geniuses.
  4. Researchers at John Hopkins University found that left-handed men are 15 percent richer than right-handed men for those who attended college, and 26 percent richer if they graduated.
  5. Peoples of the Andes consider that left-handers possess special spiritual abilities, including magic and healing.
  6. One out of seven left-handers processes language using both sides of the brain, compared with just one out of twenty in the general (predominantly right-handed) population.

Sign me up, cuz! Magic healing powers? 26 percent richer? Niiiiiiice! (Borat. So fresh and current.)

Starting today I will now self-identify as a pure left-hander. Mostly because it’s easier to explain than all that stuff I just wrote.

A New Hope

Hopefully the three people who read my blog have found its new home! Here it is! It’s basically the same thing, just you know, wordpress. Why? Because:

1. WordPress has better themes and looks a little more grown up (cuz you know me, always talking about grown up things! I’m pretty much Professor of Serious Studies at Snoozeville University!). I did however take the chance to make my broken toy robot mascot look a little more arty and melancholy this time. Cheer up little guy!

2. Ummmm, that’s pretty much it.

I have been trying to fix the RSS feeds so anyone subscribed to my old one would automatically be switched to this one, but that involved feedburner and a whole bunch of other things that make me feel funny inside, and I’m not sure it worked.

Update! I’m pretty sure it worked!

Enjoy you guyz! It’s springtime! For your health!

the good kind of burning

I haven’t posted anything for a while, partly because I’ve been busy this month and partly because I’ve not been able to think of anything interesting to say. In lieu of actual content, I’ll just show some photos of what I’ve been doing lately:

I played a concert on the fourth of July and it rained a little:

Dan and I also grew commemorative mustaches that were universally hated:

I rode my bike 200 miles from Seattle to Portland with my Dad and my friend Scott:

I went to Southern California for a week and got really sunburned and stayed at the beach too much:

I also played another show at Why Sound, but I don’t have any pictures of that. Maybe a few weeks of my monotonous, soul-crushing, liver souring job will jump start my imagination. Until then, talk amongst yourselves.