The following takes place between 2:00am and 2:04am. Boop! Boop! Boop! Beep!

Props to K1 and Gibster for helping come up with this bit:

FADE IN:

EXT. LOS ANGELES - NIGHT

A black Suburban cruises down a street. It hesitates at an intersection, then pulls a u-turn.

INT. SUBURBAN - CONTINUOUS

JACK BAUER is behind the wheel, peering out the windows as he drives. He's not sure where he is. He opens his cell phone, hits a button, and:

INT. CTU - SAME TIME (INTERCUT)

The phone rings on CHLOE's desk. She answers.

CHLOE: Hello?
JACK: Chloe, it's me, Jack.
CHLOE: Jack? Where are you?
JACK: I'm not sure. I need your help. I'm trying to get to Temple and Beverly, but I don't know where I am...
CHLOE: I'm pinpointing your location...

As she talks, Chloetypes furiously and we see a satellite image of Jack's Suburban on the road.

CHLOE (cont'd): I'm going to send the mapquest instructions to your cell, Jack.
JACK: No, there's no time. I printed some mapquest AND yahoo! directions before I left CTU. They're both wrong.
CHLOE: But Jack --
JACK: Hurry, Chloe! There isn't much time!

Chloe spins her chair around and yells across the room to EDGAR.

CHLOE (annoyed): Edgar! (ROLLS EYES) EDGAR!!!
EDGAR (annoyed): What?
CHLOE (annoyed): You have to hack into On-star's mainframe.
EDGAR (annoyed): Why?
CHLOE (annoyed; rolls eyes): Because I said so.
EDGAR (annoyed): I can't just do that, Chloe.

Chloe gets out of her seat and scurries to Edgar's work station, glancing towards BUCHANAN as she walks.

CHLOE (really annoyed; rolling eyes a lot): Edgar, Jack's in trouble.
EDGAR (slightly less annoyed, but still a little): Jack? Why didn't you just say that.
CHLOE (annoyed): Because! Now go to On-star. Just do it, okay?
EDGAR (back to being annoyed): Fine!

Chloe hurries back to her workstation.

JACK: Chloe, are you there?
CHLOE: Yes, Jack. Edgar's getting into on-star's system.
JACK: Good.
EDGAR: I'm in.
CHLOE: Now interrupt one of the phone calls and link the On-star operator with Jack's car.
EDGAR (annoyed): But they're all helping people.
CHLOE (annoyed): Just do it!
EDGAR (annoyed): But this lady is helping this old guy unlock his car. He locked his keys and himself inside the car.
CHLOE (rolls eyes): That makes no sense.
EDGAR (annoyed): I know, but that's what's happening.
CHLOE (annoyed; hisses): Edgar!
EDGAR (annoyed) Fine.
ON-STAR OPERATOR: ... now your car will be unlocked in -- wait... hello?
JACK: Hello, this is Jack Bauer, I am a member of CTU. I need your help.
ON-STAR OPERATOR: I was just helping --
JACK: This is a matter of national security, WE DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME!!!
ON-STAR OPERATOR: Yes, Mr. Bauer. What can I do for you?
JACK: I need to get to Temple and Beverly.
ON-STAR OPERATOR: Okay, sir. Here's what you do. Go left on Vermont. After about one mile north, you'll hit Beverly. Go right, and at the light go through it, but veer to your left. Temple gies up and over Beverly, which has turned into Silverlake Blvd.
JACK: Thank you.

Jack hangs up.

JACK: Thanks, Chloe.
CHLOE: Sure, Jack. (beat) Where are you going?
JACK: There's a gas station there that has unleaded for $2.11 a gallon. $2.11!!! That's $0.20 cheaper than anywhere else I've seen in LA.
CHLOE: Be careful Jack.
JACK: I will. Over.

Jack hangs up.

EDGAR (annoyed): Buchanan better not find out about this.

Chloe rolls her eyes as we...

FADE OUT.

Foot Massage?

This weekend I am going to see Coldplay in concert. I fucking hate Coldplay. But you know what? I'm determined to have a good time. I'm even going to resist the temptation of bringing a pillow and blanket to what I foresee as being a snooze-fest.

Why, you may ask, am I going to see Coldplay if I have such a violently negative reaction against them?

Because this weekend, I am playing Vincent Vega.

You know, John Travolta's character in Pul Fiction.

My friend, Chris, is going to be out of town for a month for work and while Chris is gone, it's my job to hang out with his wife. They bought tickets to Coldplay before this employment opportunity arose, and so now Ali-with-an-i has an extra ticket. I'm supposed to make sure she has a good time out that night. Now I know what you're thinking, but all I'm gonna do is, I'm gonna sit across from her, chew my food with my mouth closed, laugh at her fucking jokes, and that's it.

I just hope she doesn't find my heroin, mistake it for cocaine, snort it, and OD on me. Or worse, want to win a dance trophy.

A re-post, but I like this one....

My name if I was from another country:

Russia: Khevyn Lapinov
Germany: K. von Lapsberg
Czech Republic: Kevn Lapp
Sweden: Kevin Lapstrom
Finland: Kevi Laappinen
Slovakia: Kevinislav Lapen
Latvia: Kheviins Lapinns
Canada: Kevyn Lappin
Norway: Keven Lapen
France: Kevin Lapin
Japan: Kevimoto Lapinaka
Mexico: Cevin Lapinez
Italy: Kevino LaPinni

Stuff

- I just got a gmail account. I understand all the privacy issues that go along with it, but holy crap is it cool.
- To slightly steal and tweak an idea from Tobin, best lyric I had heard before but never really paid attention to until recently: "A girl took down a book of poems (not to say which book of poems) / And as she read I laid my head (and I can't tell which head) / Down in her lap (and I can mention which lap)" from "Walt Whitman's Niece" by Woody Guthrie; performed by Billy Bragg & Wilco. A commie and filthy.
- I joined a kickball league. It just seems like the most absurd thing I can do. Plus, the funnest. Part soccer, part baseball, part chucking a ball at people.
- That band Wolf Parade is pretty good. So is Japanther. Check them out.
- For that matter, the M.I.A. album rocks. I don't like dance or electronica too much, but that chick brings it. I'm late for dinner on this one, but I really want to check out that Diplo (?) mixed tape that was released with M.I.A. on it.
- Look out. The Sabres are for real.
- 24 Oh. My. God. I'm sorry, because while they aren't mutually exclusive loves, it's way better than Lost.

Milkcow's Calf Blues

Oh, good. Looks like things will be coming to an end soon. Osama bin Laden is offering a truce.

ObL: "It has become apparent that the American people do not support the evil dictator Bush, or his policy to fight Muslims on Muslim land. Therefore, I am offering a truce. All the evil Bush has to do is say uncle."
GWB: "No. I won't say uncle."
ObL: "Ha-ha! You just said uncle! I win!"
GWB: "I did not! I did not say uncle!"
ObL: "There it is again! Ha-ha! I win again! Oh, you are very bad at this game. I did not even twist your arm as hard as I could..."
GWB: "Dang! Mama! Mama..."

Seriously though, we should take it. I mean, Robert Johnson made a deal with the devil and look at how awesome he played guitar!

Mmmm Bort Bort. Mmmm Bort Bort

I've learned a few things about myself recently. The most important of which is, I can bake.

Recently I've lost two bets where the loser (i.e. me) was required to bake something for the other person. The parameters of these bets were set because of my own arrogance, and I really have no one but myself to blame for my bruised ego and full stomach. My friend makes some really delicious Rice Krispie squares, and I wanted some. So, when the question "Did Kevin Spacey voice a character in Antz or A Bug's Life? popped up, I immediately saw an opportunity to get a fresh batch of Snap, Crackle, and Pop's finest for myself.

"He was in A Bug's Life," my friend said.
"No way, it was Antz," I yelled. "Wanna bet?"

Our hands extended across the table, and we shook. A nanosecond later a previously dormant brain synapse fired. Oh crap, Kevin Spacey was the voice in A Bug's Life. Crap crap crap. In my slightly buzzed state, I tried to bully my way to victory. I taunted my opponent. I made jokes. I made numerous references to how awesome the Rice Krispie squares were going to be.

And then the next morning I opened my email and saw an imdb link had been sent to me. I lost. Like I knew I would, but not only did I lose the bet, I lost a bet in which I argued like an asshole. And now I had to bake a cake for my friend for her birthday, and I had never ever baked in my life. "It's not too hard," I was told. "Just buy Betty Crocker." Fuck that. I'm making this from scratch. And so we all ate homemade pumpkin-spice cake, with homemeade cream cheese icing.

And it doesn't end there. Lo and behold, a week or so later, another opportunity to wager arose. Who sang that popular cover version of Prince's "Darling Nicki"? "The Foo Fighters?" I incredulously yelled at another friend. "No way. It was most certainly not the Foo Fighters. It's someone like Trapt. Or Papa Roach. Or someone like that. Not the Foo Fighters. Don't be ridiculous." Basically, she had the Foo Fighters and I had every other single band. Ever. In the history of music.

And the next morning I opened my email and was greeted with: SUBJECT: You must really like losing these bets...

Are you kidding me? Again? I would have bet my life on this one. I would have been dead. I spent an hour -- an HOUR -- googling to find more "Darling Nicki" covers. And I found a lot of them, but none I could pass off as being the version I was thinking of. And later, at a party, I asked to room to be quiet. I asked who did that cover of Prince's "Darling Nicki" and was almost knocked over by the chorus of "THE FOO FIGHTERS" that came my way, without any hesitation.

So I made a chocolate strawberry cake. From scratch.

If anyone has a birthday coming up, make a bet with me. Three things will happen:

1) You will win.
2) You will be able to throw it in my face because I will argue like an asshole, and probably insult you in numerous ways, pointing out your stupidity on numerous levels.
3) You will get delicious cake, because I can bake.

M-I-C...

Remember when you were a kid and you went to Disneyland and how awesome it was? Well, it turns out that, as a 27-year-old "adult" Disneyland is still awesome. I get free passes for working for a company somewhere under the Disney corporate umbrella and on Sunday went to the Happiest Place on Earth with some friends.

I like sarcasm. I'm pessimistic. I am fueled by schadenfreude. I'm aware of how soul-less a company Disney can be. All of that went out the door on Sunday. It helps when one of your friends is as giddy and excited as a 10-year-old -- a trait I found/find very endearing and charming.

I am not a fan of the new Haunted Mansion set-up (was that for Christmas-ish time only?) but I am a fan of the re-done Space Mountain. Splash Mountain is still a ton of fun, even though that Brer Rabbit movie is one of the most offensive movies I have ever seen in my life.

Anyways, good times with good people. I just wish my free passes got us access to Walt's cryogenic chamber.

Panda Express is Legit

I love Chinese chicken curry. And recently I've decided I don't buy into the idea that Chinese restaurants do not serve the kinds of food that are eaten in China. Why? Because if I was Chinese and opened a restaurant, why wouldn't I open one that serves food I am used to eating? Who, exactly, is supposed to have invented this strange cuisine referred to as "Chinese" in America, but isn't actually Chinese? It makes no sense.

Some day I'd like to visit China. And I WILL eat chicken curry in the Forbidden City.