So there’s this music festival in SoCal. Coachella. You might of heard of it. Started a few years back in October ’99, when I was a senior in high school. When the news broke that the music promoter Goldenvoice was planning a two day concert with Tool and Rage Against the Machine at the Polo Fields in Indio, we were a bit puzzled. A concert that doesn’t involve Wayne Newton or Tony Bennett? In the Coachella Valley? At the Polo Fields? WTF? I didn’t end up going to that concert for whatever reason (out of town? $150 tickets? Can’t quite remember) and when the subsequent annual concerts happened, I was in the midst of finals at GW.

Then last weekend Ryan IMs me with the LA Times article Rage Against the Machine will reunite for Coachella (April 27-29) and “I’m going. Get tickets and go.” And then Katerina calls me and says she is going. And I’m like “DAMMIT I WANT TO SEE RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE.” I’m still pissed at them for breaking up SEVEN YEARS AGO IN THE MIDST OF THE 2000 ELECTIONS, especially when these trying times (Iraq, global warming, hurricanes blah blah) could provide them with some good material for like, 10 new albums.

Anyways, some of my other favorite bands are playing (Arctic Monkeys, Gogol Bordello, The Decemberists, Jack’s Mannequin, Kings of Leon, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Kaiser Chiefs) so after mulling over it for a week, by Friday evening I was determined to buy tickets as soon as they went on sale today at 10AM PST. So now I am the proud owner of an effin’ $290 three day pass to Coachella.

I’m thinking of flying in to Palm Springs on Friday morning…earliest flights get in around 11am…and flying back to DC on Monday. And yes, I realize this is a violation of my strict “don’t use vacation days for domestic destinations” policy, but eff it, it’s Rage Against the Machine.

Granted this is all contingent on me actually getting these two days off work, so I have to clear it with the bossman first. If not, I’ll just eBay or Craigslist the tix.

Coca-Cola is back in the veins of Saigon
And Rambo too, he got a dope pair of Nikes on
And Godzilla pure muthafuckin filler
To keep ya eyes off the real killer

Ooh yeah, sing it to me Zack…

As you can see, I decided to change up this website a little bit. I was getting bored of all the white space that was being wasted, and I’ve wanted a three column layout for a while. I built my stylesheet using the Movable Type Style Generator and got the basic three column layout from there as well. It still took me effin’ forever to do this. Well, not really…but it was a pain in the ass to wade through a bunch of code because I ended up changing a lot of it. And this is still a work in progress…

This layout should look fine on a resolution of 1024×768 or higher, which most of you have. I know this because my website stats report tells me this, along with your preferred internet browser, current address, social security number, and the name of your first born child. Kidding, of course…I would have to pay extra for the first born child report.

Anyways, let me know if you come across any errors while you’re browsing. I still need to make a few rotating banners like my last layout had, but for now you are stuck with the boring ol’ “MOCKBA” banner.
(Here’s your Russian lesson for the day: MOCKBA = “Moskva” in Cyrillic, the Russian alphabet. Moskva is what Russians call Moscow. Pretty cool, huh? Now you don’t have to ask, “Lindsay, why does your sweatshirt say ‘mokba’?”)

Go read Governor Ahhhnold’s State of the State and Second Inaugural Address. Dude’s on a “California is the best, let’s subjugate all the lesser states” roll. I’m totally glad I voted for him now! This California jingoism is what I want to hear, baby!

IMHO, Here’s the best parts of his Second Inaugural Address:

And yet here in this nation-state of California, people from all over the world live in harmony. I call California a nation-state because of the diversity of our people, the power of our economy and the reach of our dream. Every race, every culture, every religion has been drawn to California. The commerce and the trade of the nations of the earth pass through our ports. The world knows our name. We are a good and global commonwealth. Yes, we have problems that must be solved. But, it remains true…what a prosperous, peaceful, golden state in which we live and work and raise our families.

We should never forget these joys and blessings of being Californians.

YEAH, we’re a NATION-STATE!

As a matter of fact, the California historian Kevin Starr says that we must think of ourselves as belonging not just to the Republican Party or the Democratic Party…but to the Party of California … because California is a collective ideal worth preserving.

The Party of California is beyond ideology and one to which all of us belong.

“The Party of California” bit gave me the chills. California Über Alles, Arnold!

So, I ask you, why can’t California be this dream? The United States needs us to be this. The world needs us to be this.

For billions of people around the world, California itself is a dream. They ache to have what we so often take for granted. If they simply could live here, work here, raise their families here, their dreams would be fulfilled. So, to the cynics, I say do not dismiss dreams as idle visions.

Ladies and gentlemen, my dream is that California, the nation-state, the harmonious state, the prosperous state, the cutting-edge state, becomes a model, not just for the 21st century American society, but for the larger world.

It’s been said that most places are united by their pasts…but California is united by its future. Other places are united by what was…but we are united by what can be.

I have a dream that someday I will leave this god-forsaken city and move back to the Golden State and surf in the morning then go to work and have In-N-Out for lunch and then surf some more after work.

Ahhhnold’s “State of the State” address was also stellar, with multiple references to our powerhouse of an economy (6th in the world, hell yeah!) and our awesome engineers and scientists and how we lead the nation in well, basically everything. He also uses the phrase “As California goes, so goes the rest of the nation” which is something I often say to annoy non-Californians. This quote, though, takes the cake:

I believe that together not only can we lead California into the future…we can show the nation and the world how to get there. We can do this because we have the economic strength, we have the population and the technological force of a nation-state. We are the modern equivalent of the ancient city states of Athens and Sparta. California has the ideas of Athens and the power of Sparta.

The POWER OF SPARTA! If we have the power of Sparta, does that mean we will start building a powerful military to invade other, weaker states in order to plunder their natural resources? If so, this is quite possibly the greatest idea Arnold has ever had. Sign me up for a slot in the California Republic’s Army Officer Candidate School, ASAP.

But what to do with this mighty California Army once we’ve built it up to unimaginable proportions? What is the use of an Army after all, if you’re not going to use it every few years, right? I’ve got an idea.

Invade Texas.

Yes, that “Don’t mess with Texas” Texas.

A coward might say, “But Lindsay, why Texas? Why not start small? Maybe Rhode Island or Maryland or Maine, first.”

Comrades, to this I resoundingly say NO! If we display a little “shock and awe” and pacify Texas, the other states will cater to our every whim. Hey Hawaii, send us some pineapples ASAP, Vermont give us some of that good ol’ fashioned maple syrup. Yo, Alaska, how about shipping some of that Prudhoe Bay crude down to us, on the double? We don’t want to drill off our pristine coastline, and our SUVs don’t run on effin’ corn or whatev.

Not to mention, my dear Comrades, have you forgotten the multitude of crimes committed against the California Republic by certain Texans of ill repute? Do you remember the so-called electricity crisis of 2000-2001, when rolling blackouts darkened our TV screens and shut off our air conditioners, forcing us to swelter in the desert heat, lounging by our pools and drinking margaritas (on the rocks, as you can’t use a blender without power). The injustice of it all! Certainly you recall how those sadistic Enron traders sodomized poor Grandma Millie with that $250 megawatt and then laughed about it amongst themselves?! Rally ’round the California Flag, boys, and hear the cheer echo across the ranks, “Remember Grandma Millie! Remember Wednesday nights without reruns of West Wing!”

Ignoring the axiom, “never get involved in a land war in Texas”, I propose that we launch simultaneous air and ground assaults, a pure “shock and awe” campaign designed to quickly demoralize the Texan forces and undercut support for Rick Perry’s regime. Our first priority, of course, is to secure the oil and gas fields from potential sabotage, but I imagine that upon entering Houston, San Antonio, Dallas, and Austin, we will be greeted as liberators, showered with yellow roses, BBQ brisket sandwiches, and kegs of Shiner Bock. After establishing security throughout the cities, our troops will be issued sets of “Most wanted Enron traders playing cards” so that they can easily identify those who sang “Burn, baby, burn” while our majestic forests caught fire. Our valiant soldiers will go door to door, and smoke them out of their armadillo holes, if necessary. Once we have captured all of these traders (traitors?), we’ll transport them back to California and force them to run on electricity generating treadmills (no doubt invented by a brilliant California scientist) for 10 hours each day, thus helping us meet our goal of generating 20% of our state’s electricity with clean, renewable energy!

Palm Desert based Delta Company conducting operations near The Woodlands

The Commander-in-Chief boosting morale on the front lines

And think of the benefits of a Texas ruled by Californians! We’ll sponsor CD exchanges where you can turn in your Toby Keith albums for some classic tunes by the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Something Corporate. We’ll open an In-N-Out on every corner and fill your supermarkets with California avocados and REAL California cheese that comes from happy California cows. Subsidized wine from Napa Valley! We’ll even clean up your air and water and make Galveston into a real beach town! All we ask of you is complete and total submission to the great nation-state of California, and our leader, Governor-for-life Schwarzenegger!

In preparation for the invasion, In-N-Out has ramped up production of its mobile field units to feed our troops. We don’t want any of that lousy KBR chow, ya hear?

Sign the loyalty pledge and you will be provided a double-double with onions. You will soon forget about that inferior Whataburger chain.

But I haven’t mentioned the best part yet! Yes, there’s more! The invasion of Texas will culminate in a gladiator style death match between Arnold “the Terminator” Schwarzenegger and Rick “college cheerleader” Perry, to be held at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. Panem et circenses, Comrades!

(Critics might say that I’ve gone and told the whole world the top-secret plans to invade Texas, but they don’t have the internets or the google in Texas, do they?)

We don’t want to fight
But, by Jingo, if we do,
We’ve got the ships,
We’ve got the men,
We’ve got the money, too.

Disclaimer: I really mean no harm to Texas. I’ve grown to like Texas, and most Texans. Good people. “Salt of the earth” as my hero Nick Naylor would say. Texans pay my bills. Goin’ there next month, I think. Hell, might even move there one day.

I have a new roommate. He’s small, gray, and furry. He’s a pretentious little bastard that moved in without giving notice and didn’t even offer to pay half the rent. Mus musculus, in Latin, his name is. We don’t speak Latin in this household, so I’ve yet to ordain him with a proper, American name. Nevertheless, if I had my way, he’d be evicted ASAP and spending the rest of his life in a cage being poked by medical researchers.

He moved in on Friday. I got home from work that evening and decided I’d relax a bit before heading down to Local 16 with Mike and Laura, my human roommates. Brewed up a mug of green tea, grabbed a few chocolates, and laid in bed re-reading Jon Krakauer’s “Into Thin Air.” I’ve determined that, when reading about Mt. Everest, it’s best to have a warm beverage nearby, as you slowly find yourself growing colder and colder while Krakauer details the snow, ice, and -100F temperatures of the summit. (Either that, or I hadn’t yet turned on the heater in the house. Whatev).

It was then I saw something out of the corner of my eye. “The hell?” A small creature slowly inching his way out from under my bed, towards the NetFlix envelope lying on the floor. He must have spotted me, or my sudden movement, as Speedy Gonzalez quickly scurried back to his hiding place. Oh, Jesus Christ. A mouse.

I quickly jumped to my feet, on my bed, grabbed my cellphone, and called human roommate Laura to notify her that our household now had a fourth member.

“Dude!”

“Yeah?”

“Dude! There’s a FUCKING MOUSE IN MY ROOM!”

“Where?”

“He’s under my bed! I’m standing on top of it. WHERE IS MY GUN?!”

She laughed.

Mike (other human roommate) and I found the d-CON packets we had purchased for last winter’s previous mouse-in-the-living-room campaign. D-CON – has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Sounds like some military operation, like you’re going to war. But oh, I certainly was going to war against this little rodent. I strategically placed the bait in various parts of my room. Deadly little cluster bombs in a sea of hardwood flooring. I hope Mus musculus will find his nice little present. Supposedly the mouse chews through the packets, eats the poison, and then goes outside in search of water (he sure as hell isn’t getting any Deer Park bottled water, seeing as he doesn’t pay the bill). Then his stomach explodes, and no more Mus musculus. I imagined a small army of mice exploding all over the back alley, a bit of shock and awe of my own design. This is a war that the residents of Columbia Heights will win.

Later that night, I had to drink like four beers to forget about the mouse. This urban war is hell.

On Saturday we went down to Lowe’s to purchase a few more packets of d-CON love. The checkout clerk was a talkative fellow, explaining how he had recently had an argument with his parents on the humane vs. inhumane methods of ridding your house of an unwanted rodent guest. I told him matter of factly that I wanted our mouse dead.

Humane, what the hell do I care? Let PETA come after me. I’ll be ready for them, too….with a paintball gun.

The verdict on 2006? Not as exciting as 2005, but it’ll do. Here’s a recap for all my readers that ran out of more interesting sites to read on the internets:

January: In a bizarre turn of events, I somehow thought it would be a brilliant idea to move back to DC. “Why, there’s nothing for me to do here in Palm Desert! I should move back to DC!” And then I got off the plane in Dulles and OH MY GOD IT’S FREEZING I SHOULD HAVE TRIED HARDER TO STAY IN CALIFORNIA! Liz and Nick let me crash in their guest bedroom and watch their big screen TV because they’re cool like that.

February: I finally found a place to live in the “gentrifying” neighborhood of Columbia Heights and stuffed A LOT of envelopes while working at various temp jobs. I also discovered that, yes Virginia, you can find a decent burrito on the (l)east coast.

March: After delaying entry into the real world by studying in London for a year, I finally landed a real job. Like, one where you get business cards and stuff. My parents were proud of me, but more so overjoyed because it finally meant those overpriced degrees were worth something, even though they were in political science and Russian whatever the hell. I still think they lie to all of their friends and tell them I work for Greenpeace or the DNC or something rather than for the “dark side” as they so aptly put it. Hey, we’re the clean-burning fossil fuel thankyouverymuch.

I also took my first business trip to San Diego, where I was betrothed to some Russian businessman’s “strong and handsome” son. Damn, I can’t wait to move to Moscow.

April: Saw my boys play at Camden twice.

Travelwise, I went to San Antonio for a work trip, stayed over the weekend with some family friends, and finally saw the oh-so-tiny Alamo.

May: Went to NYC for Liz’s bachelorette weekend!

June: First time I’ve ever been to Houston, and I really liked it. I was there for work, but stayed over the weekend to visit Alicia, one of my friends from LSE. I got lost in the underground tunnel system, sang “Deep in the Heart of Texas” at an Astros game and briefly worked for Halliburton on an offshore oil rig.

I also went back to NYC to take a class for work. Math was involved, which frightened me.

July: Liz and Nick finally tied the knot in Pennsylvania, where we were treated to Greek dancing and Nick’s dad’s awesome baklava. Mmmm baklava.

A few days later, Laura and I boarded a British Airways 747 to visit Liz and Taline, who were working in Yerevan. We visited some monasteries, drank too much vodka, and argued with taxi drivers in Armenia, and then drove to Tbilisi to gorge ourselves on authentic, artery-clogging, heart stopping khachapuri. We then followed my Caspian oil obsession to Baku, where I bought a carpet, worshiped some flames, and frolicked on the shore of that big Sea (“I know it’s filled with oil and sewage, but it feels so right.”)

Andrew, Taline, and Brian. Taline says she is not featured on my blog that much. I disagree, but this one is for you, Taline!

I fought the law and the law won

Haghpat Monastery

Yerevan

Tbilisi

Baku

Oil fields outside Baku

The Caspian Sea

Ateşgah Fire Temple

On the downside, my awesome dog died, which really effin’ sucked.

August: It was hot and humid here in DC, which made the beginning of soccer season absolutely miserable. I also had my front page debut in one of the local rags for my mad wiffleball skillz. No sponsorship deals yet, so it looks like I’m sticking with the day job.

I got a bigger picture than the President! Take that, Bush!

September: DC was driving me absolutely insane, so I bought a ticket to San Diego and told my parents to pick me up at the airport. I spent Labor Day weekend surfing, eating Mexican food, and watching the Padres play. I couldn’t have asked for a better weekend, but it also made me realize how much I missed California and wished the District of Columbia would just sink into the marshland. Seriously.

October: I went to Houston twice and later decided it was finally time to buy one of those newfangled automobiles I’ve been hearing so much about. Shortly thereafter, a giant Arctic ice shelf broke in half. Coincidence?

November: I went to Carmel for another work trip, had my double double from In-N-Out, and once again asked myself, “Lindsay, you idiot, why did you voluntarily leave this state, again?”

December: Back to sunny California for Christmas. Had some fun acting like a fool at the local driving range, hiking around the local mountains, attempting to get over my fear of rocks (“How ya gonna climb Everest if an effin’ 12 foot boulder scares you?”), and, of course, shooting. But, once again I had to bid farewell to the Golden State and board a flight back to DC to start off the new year.

Haven’t the slightest clue what I’ll be doing in 2007, but I imagine it will be more of the same since I’ll still be living in DC. Trying to pick a new international destination to visit…still leaning towards a surf trip to Costa Rica, but suggestions welcome.

This past Sunday I went shooting with my cousin Jason and his friend Danielle. I purchased a Mosin Nagant M91/30 back in July 2004 but never got a chance to test it out because I moved to London shortly thereafter.

We headed out to the canyons past Thousand Palms – public land where you are allowed to target shoot. There wasn’t much in the way of targets, but someone did spray paint a giant blue man on a piece of plywood and place it on the side of the mountain, so it was kinda like shooting at a giant smurf.

Taking aim at the giant smurf

The Mosin was just as I expected – LOUD (yes, I had ear protection), with a nice kick, but damn that bolt can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. I really had to smack the bolt pretty hard to eject the spent shell casing.

After I went through my box of Winchester 7.62x54r ammo, I tried out the guns that Jason brought along: two shotguns and a Glock handgun.

The shotguns were fun to shoot

I also purchased a Mosin M44 back in November 2005, but haven’t had a chance to disassemble it and clean off all the cosmoline gumming up the parts because I left the gun at my parent’s house in California when I moved to DC.

The M44 with permanently attached bayonet

I had a lot of fun shooting that day, and I’m definitely hooked on the Mosins. I’ve got to find myself a few Mosins and shooting range out here on the east coast. DC has some of the strictest gun laws in the nation, though, so I’m not quite sure how I would go about purchasing firearms in Maryland or Virginia (certainly there aren’t any gun stores within DC city limits) when I’m a DC resident. I’m pretty sure I can do that, but prior to do that I have to go down to DC police headquarters and apply for some pain in the ass registration certificate for every firearm I buy. Whatev, maybe I’ll just wait until I move somewhere else.

(Post title is from “Glorified G” by Pearl Jam, of course)

The usual: #1 with onions

(Gerald and Betty Ford, BTW, used to frequent this very In-N-Out, god bless ‘em.)

My plane was three hours late leaving Palm Springs, so I missed my connecting flight in Chicago and had to overnight there. Thankfully, American Airlines put me up in the Chicago Hilton and gave me vouchers for dinner and breakfast, which I made sure to use up completely so I could stick it to them.

My flight to DC left around 6am. I was totally out of it this morning, but once I got my venti caramel frappacino courtesy of American Airlines, the caffeine started flowing through my veins and I was ready to go. Thank you, Starbucks.

Tomorrow: a picture heavy “fun with firearms” post, as I FINALLY put my Mosin 1891/30 through its paces.

On Saturday, Katerina, Diana, Maggie, Alex and I headed up to the local playground, Joshua Tree National Park. Alex goes to Joshua Tree quite often for bouldering and rock climbing and was going to teach us how to climb around on rocks and what not. The poor guy had no idea what he was getting himself into.

If you’ve never seen Joshua Tree before, here you go:

I’ve been to Joshua Tree numerous times, but have never done any rock climbing or bouldering. Actually, I’ve never done any sort of rock climbing whatsoever, not even on a climbing wall at the gym. I did, however, make sure I had some awesome climbing shoes. I opted for the shoes sporting the colors of the Soviet motherland.

Looking for some boulders

Found one. The thing that looks like a mattress is called a “crash pad” for obvious reasons.

Maggie was really good at bouldering

The most bizarre recreational activity I’ve ever done. I’m trying to get over my fear of rocks (don’t ask) but I think this only contributed to it.

I eventually made it

But then realized I had no idea how to get down. That was the scariest part. I kissed the ground when I got down. Seriously.

Katerina climbing

Then we went scrambling. I did a crazy tumbling head first movement down a small hole in between the rocks, but emerged unscathed.

The view was very nice

Alex shows us how it’s done

Trying another boulder

And eventually succeeding

Can you spot the rock climbers?

Alex said that next time he is going to get us on the ropes. I figure the next time I’ll be in the desert will be a year from now, so maybe I’ll try out one of those rock climbing walls beforehand. And then, EL CAPITAN HERE I COME! Eh, who am I kidding? I think I’ll stick to surfing. I like wipe outs in water, not on hard surfaces.

After spending the day at the park, we had dinner at Crossroads Cafe in downtown Joshua Tree. Best cheese and avocado burger I’ve ever had.

Rest of the photos are here.

Unfortunately, I have to fly back to DC today.