Mike Rosenbaum's Blog

Another Earth

2011-07-19T00:49:00.000-07:00

Note: I have felt the need to write my thoughts down. This is more to myself than to you but feel free to take what you will from it. Thank you, dreamers of dreams.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

After seeing a pre-screen of "Another Earth" my whole perspective on LA and Hollywood and how to fit in as a filmmaker here has changed completely. I've been having extreme difficulty placing my artistry and desires into some mold that's expected of me. This rings true especially due to my being young and "fresh". (Note: vegetation metaphors are a plenty here and I kinda like it). I agree that in order to achieve greatness in a specific field or venue of art you must prove yourself adequate and go through the necessary preparations and skill enhancements, blah blah blah. but I also don't believe it's the only way to succeed. And is success only measured by money or who you've taken workshops with or how many credits you have? Shouldn't success be measured by the content of your work, your character and what you put into the creative process as well as your abilities within that specific art form? It's not just because of my impatience that I have already begun growing bitter toward this "hollywood system" but the emphasis put upon these specific loop holes. I am not bashing these institutions by any means because I do see their relevance in some cases and have grown by taken class under certain teachers who have stressed the art and passion of what we are all trying to achieve, it's just my need to vent at this moment in my career.
I've been told by many lost dreamers that if I'm not in class with this teacher or don't have headshots that look a certain way or if I say this to someone or don't do this or do or don't or do or don't and I've come to the obvious conclusion that I should make these decisions on my own. I have been well informed by my experiences and knowledge and wisdom that I am thankful to have already been given that I can pick and choose what works for me while at the same time dissecting what has worked for others in similar situations.
I came into this town with the mantra of "I will conquer LA before it conquers me." And without seeming too ostentatious I still stand behind it. I have seen too many people give up on their dreams because they can't figure out the situation or city they live in. It's hard, yes, I know, but not impossible.

I have studied actors specifically and how they have become the top of their field over the years and the one thing I can say that has worked for each and every one of them is almost unexplainable and most certainly unteachable: originality. That sounds cliched or too simple but its true. Sure, most of these people have had good connections with another source or an extreme case of good luck but what's kept them going is something that they have that the thousands of others just like them do not possess. Maybe everyone has that certain something and these few were able to access it in a different way. What I am getting at is that I'm trying to access that very inaccessible thing.

So how do I get to "Another Earth", which is one of the most beautiful and daring pieces of film I've seen in years? Simply, these filmmakers were willing to take a chance and not fit into the mold that Hollywood has told us we HAVE to accept or we might as well skip town. I am encouraged by these artists who have given up their lives and probably sustainability and assurance of normal things to pursue their art at their utmost. And it has paid off.
Also I have been inspired by my dear friend, Brad who has come to visit and spend some time with me recently. He lives a vagabond's life for sure but in a wonderful way. He knows his art and he knows he needs to pursue it to connect with others and God and figure out why we are here on this earth. He also won't let an amazing opportunity slip his grasp. If a great chance to play or record or write music comes up, he will do what is necessary to jump at that.
So I am stilted with the routine I've already set up for myself in Los Angeles, this life of working 5-6 days a week and spending my free time (when there is some) wasting away on the computer or mindlessly strolling through this beautiful life. It's like walking through the Louvre with your eyes closed. What good is it and why would you waste the time, effort and resources you've been blessed with for that lack of experience? What a terrible way to waste what God has given us in the form of beauty and life and instead of trying to mirror or decipher what that means we squander it away.
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with this new found realization but I have been inspired to spend my days creating and loving and living and giving and praying and helping and dancing and saying hello and that's okay for now.

We'll be in touch.

2009-01-22T21:46:00.000-08:00

So after a few months of not blogging I feel it is necessary to begin again. I have been feeling quite extraordinary recently, due to the wonderful (but ever changing) weather and God's amazing world He has created. I also feel more and more encouraged by my decision to become a starving actor. There is something extremely powerful in doing what you want and feel called to do. It's almost hard to explain. I continually look at older people I admire who waste their love or their talents or excitement on one of those well-paying office jobs that they hate more and more when they hear the excrutiating sound of the pencil sharpener conquering its prey, or the power hungry CEO compensating for something missing. I posted this quote on facebook a while back but it has become one of my favorites over time. One of the countless reasons why I love Mark Twain is his fearless commentary on life and the satire that he wrote so perfectly. I will leave you with this to ponder. Enjoy, and I will be back soon...

"What work I have done I have done because it has been play. If it had been work I shouldn't have done it. Who was it who said, "Blessed is the man who has found his work"? Whoever it was he had the right idea in his mind. Mark you, he says his work--not somebody else's work. The work that is really a man's own work is play and not work at all. Cursed is the man who has found some other man's work and cannot lose it. When we talk about the great workers of the world we really mean the great players of the world. The fellows who groan and sweat under the weary load of toil that they bear never can hope to do anything great. How can they when their souls are in a ferment of revolt against the employment of their hands and brains? The product of slavery, intellectual or physical, can never be great."

- Mark Twain

The Dark Knight

2008-07-30T07:46:00.000-07:00

"I am vengeance. I am the night! I am...BATMAN!" These words were running through my immature brain as I was sitting first row in the movie theater last week in Decatur, Alabama. Nearing adulthood, I rarely get giddy, unless of course I am about to eat. But concerning films, art, theater, etc, I can certainly get excited, but never giddy. Perhaps it is because I have been working with children all summer long, whose excitement is easily contrived, but whatever the reason, I was giddy when attending the newest of the Christopher Nolan Batman films: "The Dark Knight." Batman sweatshirt on, and smile on my face as I bent my neck backward in order to enjoy the picture. I have already seen a few movies this summer, some of which were extremely entertaining and high-brow even (WALL-E), but this one takes the prize. "The Dark Knight" starring Christian Bale as the caped crusader, and the late Heath Ledger as his first real nemisis, The Joker, was beyond entertaining. This film was incredible; with the director's daring, yet fullfilling choices, mixed with a brilliant cast and a story that leaves you sitting on the edge of your seat, not quite sure whether to laugh, cry, or cringe at the lines. Being a Batman fanatic (he's obvious the best super hero since he doesn't even need powers to beat up the bad guys) I was extremely pleased with the outcome. Nolan, as usual, did an exquisite job of setting the dark story (which he co-wrote with his brother, Jonathan) to the scenes of the fictional Gotham. Bale, one of my personal favorites, keeps adding incredible performances to his resume, this being one of his finest. The way he depicts Batman's internal struggle of not being sufficient, to losing his one love, all the while trying to rid Gotham of one seriously(?) bad dude. Heath Ledger, as all the press seems to be chattering about, served up an Oscar-worthy performance. Some say that he wouldn't have gotten as much praise if he hadn't passed away a few months before, but I beg to differ. Knowning how difficult it is to truly dig into the mind of a madman, especially one who seems to have no real motivation for all the crimes he has committed, I believe this is Ledger's best performance to date. Not only does he display the dark comedy in the Joker (his name IS the joker, after all) getting the audience to laugh when a murder is about to take place, but he soaks up into the Joker so well we forget that he once was trying to win Julia Styles over in high school or breaking his back as a cowboy. There were certainly other incredible performances by Aaron Eckhart, and the always great Freeman and Caine. If you have not seen the movie yet, it is not for the weak at heart. Not only will the performances astound you, but you will wonder how a comic-book film could be so effin good.

Bleeding Rainbow

2008-07-22T18:48:00.000-07:00

In lieu of several people asking me what my worst fear is, I decided to write a blog. And yes, I used the word lieu and I'm not taking it back. It's a good word and is not used enough. So people, hear my cry, use it and use it well. But anyway, I felt it was about time that the blogging world got inside of the mind of your favorite blogger, Me. What is this fear, you must be pondering to yourself, while you sit at your computer late at night, clicking that refresh button now and then, hoping you will be poked by another facebooker. No, it's not flying, heights, or getting stabbed in the eye by a pencil over and over again (although I probably wouldn't enjoy that one.) It's not losing all my money, going bald early, or peanut butter sticking to the roof of my mouth. It's not snakes, spiders, germs or clowns. It's ketchup.

"Mike, are you serious? You built that up to tell us that you are in fear of a condiment?"
Yes, and I would appreciate some encouragement, alright?

Now, I haven't always loathed and feared the nasty stuff, I think I even enjoyed it as a kid. To my earliest knowledge, the reason I will not touch it is because of a television show. I was watching "Reading Rainbow", one of those wholesome, learning shows with the guy from Star Trek, and apparently he visited a ketchup factory or something and made an offhand joke about "If you eat too much ketchup, you might turn pink", not thinking it would, in turn, affect the lives of children everywhere, especially this one. Now, being five or six or however old I was, and a boy, I didn't want to turn pink, naturally. So that's that, I have hated ketchup ever since. Now, there could have been a massive ketchup attack in my family that I was brainwashed the knowledge of, or something far more traumatic, but this is the only logical explaination I have. "But Mike, why don't you just try it, you might enjoy yourself?" Trust me, I have and every time I smell it or get it close to me, I cringe in my skin and pray that God is watching out for me. You know there is a reason ketchup is red: it's Satan's favorite food. Think about that one.
I know this is a lot to take in, and I thank you for listening. But I don't want you to feel sorry for me, or try and convince me otherwise. I will never eat ketchup, and I'm alright with that. It hasn't affected my life too dramatically. It may be why I didn't vote for John Kerry, or why I don't like the newer Star Trek as much, but I've grown to deal. I do, however, enjoy my mustard. Mustard IS mentioned in the Bible, and I don't believe ketchup is. Just saying.
Just like the grown man who sleeps with his night light, I will continue living my life and accept the fact that it will remain ketchupless.

Dangerous

2008-07-12T20:26:00.001-07:00

The beautiful thing about America is that in the whole melting pot philosophy, there is an abundance of multi-cultural influence in the realms of art, music, religion, and most importantly, food. Since America has obtained such a massive gathering of unique and tasty foods, it makes the choice difficult. One of my personal favorites, when branching out from the Americanized standards; such as McDonald’s, Burger King, Taco Bell (Mexican?) is the Asian cuisine Pei Wei (pronounced Pay-Way, for you dirty minded readers). Pei Wei is described as an Asian restaurant, so I am not entirely sure of which Asian country or culture it represents, since there are a few of them. I’ve knocked out most of the “stan’s” and I am pretty sure India is gone, so it’s gotta be closer to the Eastern regions. Anyway, my team and I arrived. I ordered quickly, the usual kid’s meal of Honey-Seared Chicken on Fried Rice with a Chocolate Cookie (their cookies are extremely soft and even more extremely amazing). I was enjoying the taste in my mouth that I get when I enter a Pei Wei, when I heard the call of nature and obliged politely. Upon arrival into the men’s restroom, I saw two young boys. One, slightly pudgy, with a good amount of freckles, had to be about ten or so. The other, quite a bit younger, and clearly his brother, was closer to five. Being ahead of me, they went to the appropriate stalls. The older boy went into the actual stall and the younger to the urinal. I wait politely, knowing from my experience this summer how long it takes young boys to use the restroom. Immediately after the older boy closed the door, he opened it again and looked up at me. “Sir,” he said to my confusion. I looked around me, and not seeing anyone over the age of 50, I realized he was speaking to me. “If he says anything weird, like ‘Stranger Danger’, just ignore him, he’s a little kid.”
More confused as the seconds passed, I gave an uneasy laugh and nodded my head in agreement.
About a minute passed and the boys were still doing their thing. Then, I hear a flush of water. The youngest boy had finished, and turns away from the urinal. He walks with his head down closer to me, toward the mirror. All of a sudden he looks up, stares into my face with a look of terror. His eyes grew three times the size, and yells, at the top of his little lungs, “STRANGER DANGER!” He repeats this a little more quietly over and over and over again. Pointing at me all the time, he continues to yell this warning. His older brother responds from the other stall “Colton, just because he is in the bathroom doesn’t mean he is stranger danger.” This, I thought, would calm him down. Young Colton, snaps me a quick look, and continues to repeat “stranger danger” almost at a whisper. Not knowing exactly what to do or exactly what I had done, I left the restroom.
Back to my seat, awaiting my soon-to-be-devoured meal, I wasn’t sure who had been scared the most, the kid or me. I learned an important lesson from this experience: Whenever you see someone you don’t recognize, yell “STRANGER DANGER” as loud as you possibly can, while pointing uncontrollably, and they will probably go away.

WALL-E

2008-07-07T17:54:00.000-07:00

Imagine a future where Earth's luscious valleys are overtaken by miles of waste, where humans have evolved into massive orca-like creatures, whose only transportation is some sort of hover device, where one company monopolizes over everything manageable, and where technology is so sophisticated that robots have taken over for people. No, I am not talking about Al Gore's latest documentary. This is the premise for Pixar's latest film, WALL-E.
Having a bias already for Pixar movies, due to the fact that their track record is unfailing; I, of course, loved this film. Not only did I appreciate its ecological and anti-lazinessical underlying themes, but it was a brilliant combination of state of the art computer animation and clever comedy.
Some have compared WALL-E to Chaplin's Tramp, and I can definitely see the connection. The first twenty mintues barely had any vocals, save for Fred Willard's always pleasing cameo, and a tip-o-the-hat to the musical "Hello, Dolly!" with it's song "Put On Your Sunday Clothes." The way the main character, WALL-E, moves about and tries so hard to please in the midst of an overwhelmingly advanced world, is down right hilarious. I won't go into details about the plot, only because I encourage everyone to see it. I laughed my obnoxiously loud laugh too many times. And better yet, the short at the beginning was well worth $9.00 in itself. Only Pixar can make a movie about two robots who fall in love in the future. I loved it. So gooooo, seeeeeee iTTT.

happy camper

2008-06-28T19:34:00.000-07:00

if anyone wants a visualization of the camp i'm doin this summer, feel free to check it out:

http://picasaweb.google.com/team1c3

Alfred Hitchcock Was Right

2008-06-24T17:40:00.000-07:00

So I've gotten into this whole "running" phenonmenon (i love that word) this summer. My former and future roomate, Brad, is a cross country zealot and runs like it's fun to do or something, but I never really got hooked until now. By hooked, I don't mean I am running everyday or even every other day, but it's a slowly growing habit. One staffer on our team, Zack, or Xaq, as we call him, does the whole marathon thing and has inspired me to run with him and even on my own a few times. Now, I have blogged about running before, but that was while watching Star Wars at the Y. This is different, this is like running running, not just running.
But anyway, I try to run now. There isn't a whole lot of time at camp, but I've found splotches of time here and there to excercise my right to excercise. As I went running the other morning before church, I was enjoying the beautiful world that God has created, minding my own business. I didn't even bring my Nano Video iPod Nano; it was just me, God, nature, and the Memphis suburbs. Time passes and I'm beginning to grow a tad bit weary, but I kept keepin' on. I soon arrived to a streth of sidewalk that appeared to have no end, with little trees on either side. It was almost robotic how perfectly these trees were aligned. I decided to give it a chance, however, when all of a suddent I feel a scratch against my buzzed head. Thinking that it must have been a not-so-neatly trimmed tree branch, I kept running. Randomly, however, I looked up and saw a small, dark shadow flutter by. Like a villain escaping the scene of a crime, this bird high-tails it out of there. "Ow!" I thought to myself, "I just got attacked by a freakin' bird." Realizing that it was probably some normal course of nature, birds attacking and all, I didn't let it phase me, too much. About ten minutes down the sidewalk (yes, it kept going) I looked at my watch and noted that I'm already a moron for running period, and I definitely don't need to be running that long, so I should double back. Forgetting where the crime scene had commenced, and more focused on making it home without my lungs falling out, I made no attempt to switch sidewalks. I kept running. My pace had lost most of its momementum, and heavy breathing gave way to gulping for air. Almost to there, I thought. "I can do it. I'm still ali-" Out of nowhere flies at least four birds directly onto my head. It's as if the Grim Cheeper had been waiting for me in his lair. Except this time, he doesn't give up after one peck on the head. They begin to scratch and peck at me like I'm a can o' worms. Not knowning the correct procedure for bird attacks, I begin running faster, waving my hands above my head to save my brain from getting pecked out. I must have looked like an acid trip gone bad, screaming and waving like that. But I could have cared less. Finally, I reached the open air. You're probably thinking, "Mike, you're an idiot. Why didn't you just move onto the road where it's safe?" Well, it's the same as watching a movie where the person is running in front of the monster or falling rock or moving car. You just don't think straight in a moment of pure terror.
I made it out alive, in case you were wondering, and only with a few scratches on my poor head. Next time I go running, though, I am bringing my airsoft gun. "'Nuff Said."

I've Got The Blues

2008-06-22T07:42:00.000-07:00

Camp has been incredible so far. It's been almost five weeks of nonstop playtime with kids who continue to inspire and amaze me. We've gone from Rome, GA to Nashville, TN, to Fayetteville, GA, to Ocean Springs, MS, to New Orleans, LA and now we are in Memphis, TN. Needless to say, we have driven a lot. There have been numerous stories from each location thus far, almost too many to name. One that has struck me pretty hard is our trip to New Orleans.
I have never been. When the whole Katrina thing happened, I never got a chance to serve our fellow Americans devestated by the hurricane in Louisiana or anywhere else on the Gulf Coast. The area we visited in Mississippi was hit just as hard, but seems to have recovered somewhat physically. We traveled by vans through the ins and outs of New Orleans, at first helping a disaster relief organization which takes note of specific damage done to neighborhoods, then passing out flyers for a local church's VBS. Sunburnt and tired from walking around all day, through torn up homes and discouraged people, we witnessed devastation. It's amazing how short a period of time it takes for the people there to bring up the storm in every single conversation. Even when we passed out flyers for a Vacation Bible School, it was brought up eventually.
As we took a van detour across the 9th Ward, our team was struck with silence, a foreign concept to some of our staffers. It truly was awesome, not in the common sense of the word, but the true meaning, something that leaves you completely and utterly awestruck. There were lots overgrown with grass with nothing but the foundation standing. There were neighborhoods which now only house piles and piles of debris. I mention this not to reiterate what a terrible natural phenomenon Katrina was, but what hit me the hardest is that these areas are almost the same as they were three years ago when the hurricane hit. Nothing has changed, it seems. You'd think that after three years since the hurricane first hit, there would be some sort of reconstruction, but some areas were untouched, save for the marking on the tree or rubble next to the lot explaining that it had been checked for bodies. The thought on everyone's mind as we passed by was, "Where did they go?"
As I think of my home area, Middle Tennessee, and how blessed we are to never have to deal with a hurricane, I keep thinking of the millions of dollars going to build million dollar homes and countless communities in an already overflowing area. My mind goes to where I lived in Southern Orange County, where middle schoolers are promised the newest and most improved mustang convertible upon their 16th Birthdays. And then I return to the image of these New Orleans houses, or lack there of, and countless other areas along the coast, where thousands of people are still without homes, three years after the initial hit. What if some of that money gone to develop expensive homes in Middle Tennessee went to where it was truly needed, even a little bit. Who knows what might have happened.

In the words of Robert Plant and Jimmy Page "It makes you wonder..."

your eyes are not deceiving you...

2008-06-12T19:05:00.000-07:00

Mike Rosenbaum is back.

I know I have a lot of reappearances in the blog world, but now that I am on the road with camp, I decided to bring bloggin back. Speaking of camp, for those of you who do not know, I am on the road with Winshape Camps new C3 traveling church camp for children. It is incredible, yet altogether strenuous. Hope all is well, and keep checkin up.

Europe

2008-01-18T12:31:00.000-08:00

Here is the transcribed version of my Europe Journal. I didn't get to write everyday, but wrote about the previous days in seperate entries. It's kind of long, but read if you wish! Thanks for everyone who gave us suggestions and prayers to come home safely. It was amazing!

December 26, 2007
4:00pm

I sit here eating my german dark chocolate, waiting for the plane to come. I just returned from some fake Italian place in the airport with only pretty good breadsticks (all I could afford). My father dropped me off just an hour ago, warning me of the perils of international travel. On television was a CNN news report on Bush’s future travel plans. For some reason, I feel Jeff and my travels will be just as eventful. Next to me, in my gate, about three seats to my right is an older Jewish man, about in his 50’s or so. I can’t follow his conversation because he speaks in a mixture of Yiddish and broken English. He ends each phrase with “Do you see, Naki?!” I think he is teaching some part of the Torah (which is in a large state on his lap) to a pupil, using a Bluetooth. It is an interesting picture; his lengthy, grey beard just barely covering the hand’s free contraption on his ear. If that isn’t a picture of Modern America, I don’t know what is.

December 26, 2007
6:00pm

Good news! My flight was to Detroit was canceled, and after booking me again incorrectly, I discovered that the only possible way to London or even Europe in general, is to leave at 1:00pm and get to London at 6:15am, a day late. That’s 20 hours down the drain. Not that I was expecting my flight to go smoothly or anything.

December 27, 2007
1:05pm

Alright, I am back at the airport, and after a special “random” screening in security, I am waiting to board again. No sign of my plane being delayed, or any Hasidic Jews mid-teach, so I think I’m off to a better start. I am currently digesting one of the worst tacos I’ve ever tasted, and hope European cuisine is a little better than the Nashville Airport’s.

December 27, 2007
5:15pm

Well, the flight to Atlanta went smoothly enough. I sat next to a pleasant older woman who was some sort of professor at Tennessee Tech. Her joy was contagious. She made sure I got her email address to let her know how my trip went. It’s very interesting how easy it is to find nice, kind-hearted people, wherever you are. Coming on this trip, I was warned numerous times, how everyone in Europe is out to get me and my money, but I am determined to live off the generosity of others. I am now boarded onto my ten hour flight to London, and need to make the choice between entertainment and sleep. “Ah, to die, to sleep…”

December 28, 2007
7:50am

England. What a noble place, indeed. I have arrived in the land that bore Shakespeare, the Beatles, and Posh Spice. The flight was long and proved to be difficult to sleep when an Indian family continually yelled for 9 hours straight (no exaggeration). I am here, however, which is the goal. I’m on my way to Victoria Station, in the heart of London, where at 9:00am, I will meet Jeff at the largest landmark in Great Britain (I don’t know if that’s true, it just sounds cool): The London Eye.

December 28, 2007
4:20pm

London is fantastic. It’s a strange thing, though, that American’s grow up with a sense that all Brits or Europeans are snobbish. I can honestly say that I have never met such nice, random people in my entire life. Everywhere we go, whether we need directions or recommendations, people have stopped to help us, and were glad to do so. Today, we mostly wandered the city, stopping here and there to eat, go to the “toilet” or stand in awe of the grandiose architecture surrounding us on every corner. The day is not over, yet, anyway.

December 29, 2007
12:30am

Another rainey day in dreary old London town. But it was a long and eventful one. We eventually met up with my good friend Katie, from California, and her little sister, Jessica, who was kind enough to let us stay with them for the night. The girls, a little more tired than Jeff and me, decided not to journey on to grab a late night crepe and voyage toward Piccadilly Circus. When the rain wouldn’t let up, we ventured home for rest at last.

December 29, 2007
8:30pm

As I sit and wait for the bus to Paris to arrive, I look back at a day well spent. London was amazing. I came into this trip thinking that London would only be home base; a safety net, but it turned out to be an adventure by itself. Jeff and I walked (and trained) everywhere, stopping in some areas just to see them. The highlights were many, including (but not limited to): seeing the Rosetta Stone at the British Museum, seeing Camden Town and attempting to bargain amongst the millions of shops, surprising our old Drama teacher, Mrs, Harris, on her London trip with her high school drama group, and going to dinner at an English pub during a soccer game. Overall, London was a great success, and I am extremely glad we stayed the extra day. It’s about time to check in at the bus station because (oh yeah!) I leave for Paris tonight.

December 30, 2007
8: 16am

Paris, France: the city of love. At first glance (and upon first arrival), Paris is a dirty, hobo-infested city, with smelly underground systems and graffiti everywhere. But once you leave the subway and witness the civilization for what it really is, it’s magnificent. It’s still dark out, but getting lighter by the minute. Jeff and I are just finishing our “café au lait’s” and croissants at a café across the river from the Norte Dame Cathedral. Light is starting to pour over the architectural beauty surrounding us on every side. The cathedral bells chime for the quarter hour, and we soon begin our journey into a completely different world. We brush up on our French, and the adventure begins.

December 31, 2007
1:10pm

Paris was incredible. I’ve never done so much in a city in just one day, ever. We arrived inside the Norte Dame Cathedral that morning and randomly fell into a French Catholic Church service there. It was a beautiful scene to witness, with light creeping through the stained glass windows, and the congregation repeating God’s word in French. I’m glad we came at the right time. Afterward, we ventured to “Shakespeare and Company”, an English bookstore across the river from the cathedral, designed to help English travelers and writers who need a place to stay in Paris. I heard from many people that we could stay for free. It was full, however, and housing six travelers who had been there for several weeks. It was unfortunate because I had my heart set on staying there.
From there we walked aimlessly, after we deposited our backpacks at the train station, and decided to see the Eiffel Tower. From a distance, its height soars above anything attempting to be grander. When I saw it up close, I finally saw what all the fuss was about; its beauty, its man-made greatness, all surpasses anything made today. After we shook off the shock, we decided that we desperately needed food, seeing that we had been avoiding the subject for a while now. We came upon some random café, the name of which I have already forgotten, and went inside. Not understanding exactly what we ordered, we allowed ourselves to have one “fancy” meal, seeing that the water alone cost 3 euros. Needless to say, our first real French meal was in the running for being the best meal I’ve ever had. I ordered some sort of ham and cheese sandwich (from heaven), but this thing was a beast. In tact with four cheeses, spices, oils, and several other French words I couldn’t figure out.
An hour or two later, and too many Euros fewer, we made it thru the Champ d’Elysses, on our way to find a place to stay for the night.
The fact that it was the night before New Year’s Eve, in Paris France, made the search a little more difficult. After a stop at an internet café, we found a hostel across town that said we had to book a room in person. It turned out to be a cool hostel, with really down-to-earth owners.
On our way to get (too much) money out of an ATM to pay for the place, Jeff and I stepped into a 24 hour McDonald’s and considered our options. After a few hours of planning and train time aligning, we decided to not stay in a hostel and just “stay up all night” in Paris. It was a busy enough city to have something going on all night. Thus we began one of the longest nights of my life. First we went to the Bohemian sub-city: Montmartre. I had always wanted to visit the place, and am extremely glad I did. We got some coffee at an Italian café near the Moulin Rouge. Energized and awake, we stopped by the Cemetarie de Montmartre, only to find that the place was closed. We then proceeded to walk aimlessly around the place, until I remembered about the Lapin d’Agile. It used to be a bar in the early 1900s, where the likes of Picasso visited often. Apparently, it had been turned into a dinner theatre of sorts, with a 24 euro cover charge. A little bummed, we realized that if we went a little higher we would have a beautiful view of Paris. Upon arrival at the top of the hill, we found a hole-in-the-wall street, full of interesting shops and restaurants. The one to catch our eye the quickest was this piano bar and creperie, the name of which slips my mind, but it could have been my favorite stop in Europe so far. It was very Bohemian in nature; the piano that the player played was outtuning fast, and people had left notes all over the walls and ceilings. I got a crepe with sugar and butter and it was amazing. This free-natured atmosphere captured the heart of Paris perfectly.
And then we walked.
At first, we hopped onto the sub, but after the first stop, the subs were done for the night. This worried us a little, seeing that it was a long way from…anywhere. But we walked, and walked, and walked some more. We ended up at the train station, thinking that we could go inside, grab our stored luggage, and be on our way. The first discovery that upset us was the fact that the station itself, did not open until 5:00am, and it was only 2:00am currently. We had three hours to do nothing and freeze while doing it. And so we did nothing. Walking got tiresome, sitting got colder, and we ran out of things to do to entertain ourselves. It was an interesting night, to say the least. Once the station did open, we found that the luggage area didn’t open until 7:00am, which (clearly) was a problem, seeing that our train left at 6:24am. Well, naturally, we missed our train and had to take the next one, but it was an adventure. It was a long day in Paris, but an unforgettable one at that. I am in love with the place and am already thinking how I can return.

January 2, 2008
4:25am

I have not had the time to write about the past two days, and seeing that I’m on a nine hour train trip, it’s no time like the present. New Year’s Eve was amazing. Once we finally boarded our train, we headed thru Middle-France to the coast. We stopped briefly in a small town called Montepellier, which was extremely beautiful. We didn’t have much time, due to the train ticket reserving we had to do. We then headed to Marseilles, which was also a small town, and filled with a mixture of French and Italian cultures. We had lunch there from a small store near the station. We bought “chich-kebab’s” which turned out to be one of the best meals of the trip. A simple combination of chicken, pita, lettuce, and some more things, it proved to be a tasty Mediterranean dish. From there we arrived in Nice, by early evening. We booked a hotel instead of sleep on the streets again. The hotel was nice enough once we put it past us that nothing worked inside of it. Before dark, we meandered along the empty streets of Nice, passing by neat little passageways filled with cafes and restaurants. Finally, we reached the beach, and what appeared to be a popular strip. Getting busier by the minute, we agreed to grab a bite. The food was delicious once again. We shared a large salad with bread and goat cheese, and for dessert had some of the best ice cream I’ve ever had. After dinner and getting lost for a long time, we arrived accidentally on the beach again, which was apparently the place to be on New Year’s Eve. It was fantastic, and basically a huge party, which champagne bottles in everyone’s hands and shouts of “Bon Anni!” and “Happy New Year” mixed together. After walking, we headed back to the hotel to get some rest, finally. It was heaven.

January 3, 2007
4:00pm

Waking up after New Year’s Eve in France proved to be difficult. But we had a long and worthwhile journey ahead of us. We were set to cross the border into Milan, Italy, and from there take an overnight train to Rome. The train from Nice to Milan was an easy, rest-filled one, full of beautiful coast-lined sights of Monaco and Italy. We arrived there during night time and agreed to stop by one of the largest churches in Europe: Duomo in Milan. It was (as always) a beautiful mix of religion, architecture, and culture, surrounded by Milan’s high fashion district. While in Milan, we witnessed something that messed up the flow of the universe: a clean, nice, even beautifully designed McDonald’s. It was part restaurant and part café (McCafe), which served warm pastries and fancy drinks. We had to get something. It was delicious, and an experience not soon forgotten. We were in Italy, and everything was nicer. Well, almost everything…
Our late night train was a growing experience to say the least. Our thoughts of sleeping cars and leg room were shot to the ground. In the bustle to find a seat (for it wasn’t assigned) we were left with nothing. I mean no seat whatsoever. Thoughts of the late night in Paris were still in our minds, and we needed sleep. But alas, sleep was pretty much unattainable when you are sleeping against the wall of the train, on the ground. Needless to say, I didn’t get what I came for. Eight hours of moving to the side for late night bathroom visitors, is not highly desirable. However, it was an interesting happening, one which I will not forget, for better or for worse.

January 3, 2007
6:00pm

Ah, to be young and in Rome (it was hard not to say “when in Rome” but I did it). Rome was incredible; absolutely amazing. It was the combination of the first few centuries A.D. and everything that the Roman Empire brought with it, combined with the city’s art-centered conscience, proved to be a winning city. I loved it. We began our day by getting off a subway stop that opened right in front of the Coliseum. After just standing there for a while, awe-struck, we walked the proximity of the man-made-marvel, seeing all we could. Our next stop was Vatican City. I’d always wanted to see St. Peter’s Bisillica, but hadn’t dreamed of what we would see. We took a bus, since no underground transportation is provided there, and arrived at the Pope’s city. The Vatican: the center point for Catholicism, the best combination of religion, arts, and mad made accomplishments, and of course: Pope Benedict’s bachelor pad. Every step was more heavenly than the one before, and Jeff and I kept asking us: how could man build something so incredible, so monumental. The lines were pretty long, but it didn’t matter. Apparently, we went to Rome on the most perfect day, weather wise. Following that wonderful sight, we grabbed some lunch, with a monumental price, but it was well worth it. Italian’s know how to eat, I’ll give them that. We sat next to an interesting pair of Irish gentlemen, one with a strong (and loud) Irish voice, the other with nothing shy of a whisper. It was interesting. For the next few hours, we managed to see a whole, whole, lot by simply walking. We passed thru the Forum, and a few famous piazzas and monuments here and there. We stopped at the Spanish Steps (my favorite spot) and took in one of the most beautiful sights in Rome. Our appetite growing with each stride, we stopped by a small bar for food. Both of us got café lattes (always good in Europe), and a hamf and cheese croissant. Our waitress (who spoke English with an accent almost as beautiful as she was) chatted with us for a moment, giving us ideas on what still needed to be seen. For the remainder of the night, we just strolled randomly around, enjoying every street corner. We eventually ended up at the train station for another midnight train. This train was slightly better because we had seats, but our cabin was full, the heat was all the way up, and I sat next to a larger man who was at least seven feet tall and 300 pounds of solid muscle. This meant that he took up most of my seat. At least it was quiet. I didn’t get sleep there either, and was kind of miserable. But, we did arrive in Venice on time.
Venice was freezing, and started snowing that day. It was interesting because one never would think of Venice as a city with snow. So, instead of going down the water streets in a gondola, we used a covered taxi, which was almost as nice.
We only had a few hours, but it was amazing. It was just so different from any other city I’d ever seen in my life. The shops, which consisted of Italian foods, glass stores, and masks (literally that’s all they had), were tiny, yet beautifully simple. Even the toilets were different. Only in Venice, though. They are missing the top seat that all American toilets have, so it was an interesting experience. Making sure we had enough time in each city, we left for Florence.
Florence was deceptively beautiful. I say deceptively, because when we got off the train (which was a beautiful, peaceful, snow-filled ride), we were in a ghetto of sorts; with graffiti filling every street, trash on the side walks, and no art in sight. We kept walking, and headed to our hostel. It was nice, but it turned out we had booked the wrong day online, so they were out of spaces. They did let us sleep on the couch, for a little cheaper price. We met an assortment of travelers: one American in the navy, an Aussie girl, and two guys from Finland, among others. We went downtown, to see why Florence was “supposedly” the art capital of the world. Wow, were we deceived. It was beautiful. The streets were old with age and had signs of being painted for hundreds of years, represented in countless works of art. We saw the Duomo there, and several other gothic churches, all in beautiful piazzas there. It was too late for any Museums, but we were glad to even be in the same city as years and years of famous and unknown Italian artist representing a beautiful culture. We grabbed some good pasta for dinner and headed across the river on the famed Ponte Vecchio (known as the golden bridge). It was magnificent. Right off the bridge, we jumped inside a gelato shop. It was delicious. And by delicious, I mean it was the best dessert I’ve had in my life. It was some sweet caramel flavor and was so soothingly tasty, that I didn’t want it to end. But it did, and we returned to our hostel, ready for a good night’s sleep.

January 7, 2008
11:45am

As early as we could manage to wake up, we headed for Milan. We lucked out again and got a train car to ourselves, leaving us plenty of room to sleep. The ride was fine, no complaints. We immediately hopped on the nearest train to Geneve, Switzerland. This was an interesting ride, indeed. We sat across from an English-speaking Swiss/Italian girl who was very helpful. We hadn’t had anything to eat all day, so we gathered up our change to buy train food. The food cartsman was awesome. He sang loud, Italian songs, and sat down and asked us about our journey thus far. He alone made it worth all the money we spent on a single ham sandwich. An hour or two down the tracks, a strange character boarded the train. He had the appearance of a homeless man (lots of layers, fingerless gloves, and countless things around his neck) but was slightly different. His face was cut up (I presumed from a close shave gone badly) and had words we did not know stitched across his jacket, fanny pack, and backpack. He asked if we wanted to take a picture of him (not with him), and could not say no. He did not smile, just lifted up his sweater to reveal more written gibberish. As he was leaving, he gave Jeff a parting gift: a picture of him (portrait-style) and on the back was an assortment of random numbers and the words, “Rainbow help to follow dreams.” And thus, Rainbow came and left our lives, and will never be forgot.
Upon arrival in Switzerland, we were in awe. Vevey was beautiful, clean, and didn’t have one graffitied wall. It was pleasantly cold. Our hostel turned out to be incredibly nice, keeping us off the streets (and trains) for a good nights sleep. We grabbed pizza and chocolate mousse at a restaurant near by, but only after we stopped by a fancy piano store that was open late. The owner said that this Austrian piano was considered the best in the world, and it was. I hope to save up an extra $400,000 someday for one. Key word: someday. The food was incredible, and the dessert even better. After a perfect night’s sleep, we went to the store to buy chocolate for our families. The choices were endless. Our original plan to get to France had changed drastically. We took a ferry across Lake Geneve and arrived in Avian, France (you know, the bottled water). We had trouble getting to Paris, but were well-advised by some local high schoolers as to what to do. It was surprising how helpful everyone was to us on our trains. Somehow we made it to Paris around evening time. We walked down the Champ d’Elysse, which turned out to be a lot livelier on a Saturday night. We had time to kill, so we thought we’d see a movie. We saw “Gone Baby Gone” which turned out to be a brilliant film. We continued to walk down the streets, and figured we would climb to the top of the Arch de Triumph. The view was incomparable with anything I’d ever seen.
The plan was to stay awake until the Louvre opened, but we met some locals who let us sleep on their apartment living room couch for a few hours instead. Waking up a little late, we made it to the Louvre (which turned out to be free on the first Sunday of every month) and saw the Mona Lisa, among other things. It’s fascinating how one piece of art could be so well-known and preserved for so long. We returned to Montmartre and our favorite creperie/piano bar: Le Tire Bouchon, for two amazing crepes. Our time was soon up and we arrived at Calais, where the ferry would take us to Dover, England. It was closed. It was another night on the streets until we found a ticket office open. We made the ferry on time and just barely made the airport in time for Jeff to catch his flight. All in all, it was the best experience of my life. I would do it all again; the ups and the downs. Well, time to board my flight; time to go home.

A Great Man

2007-08-15T10:57:00.000-07:00

Yesterday night, my family and I returned from Charlotte, North Carolina for my granddaddy's funeral. He passed away last friday and it is still a surreal experience. The saying really rings true, that you don't realize what you've got until you've lost it. Or whatever it says. The funeral was beautiful and many people showed up to honor an incredible man. I am thankful for that. For although I didn't know everything about him, I do know that he was an incredible man and will leave a truly amazing legacy. Just as my grandmommy keeps reminding us, he is with his heavenly Father, and I believe that is true. And I know he is up there making new friends, and cracking jokes like there's no tomorrow. Like I said at his funeral, if I can grow up to be half the man he was, I will have lived a worthwhile life. Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers. We will all miss you granddaddy!

Travels

2007-08-02T17:42:00.000-07:00

I returned from Connect Day Camp a week or so ago, and am now finding time to write about it. For those who want a constant update of my boring life, this is what I did for 3 weeks in July.

On July 4, 2007, I left with a group of 20 20somethings and 3 oldersomethings to go do camp. It's called Connect Day Camp and it was it's first year. It would take too many posts to describe what all happened, but I will sum it up. We basically took a team down to a church in Cullman, Alabama called Northbrook Baptist, and then to Dallas, Texas at Prestonwood Baptist. And we did camp. It's like vacation bible school and sports camp and fine arts camp all mixed into one day camp. It was an amazing experience being a part of a team of such strong Christians and getting the opportunity to share the Word with 1st-6th graders along with other skills such as sports, music, cooking, etc.
I attempted to teach the Drama track, which only happened the second week due to lack of signing-upage. We successfully put on a 5 minute play of Daniel and the Lion's Den, written by, costumes by, and performed by 1st-6th graders. It was a difficult task, and by difficult I mean nearly impossible, yet it worked. The kids actually understood drama and acting and the Bible story itself, and it was an amazing thing to be a part of.
The first week, there was this little boy, Leo, who basically followed me around all week. He was a 1st grader and a total of 6 years old, yet he was one of the brightest boys there. I do not understand him to this day, but he was awesome. I got to share Christ with him, and he understood it all. At the end of the week, he asked me: "Mr. Michael, you want to know my three favorite things?" Naturally, I replied yes with a smile. "First is you, second is your name, and third is camp." I wasn't sure why he loved my name so much, but it made the whole camp experience worthwhile.

I loved it. Working with 1st-6th graders, teaching drama to such a young age, and the whole camp experience was incredible. I will most likely do it again or something to that extent. So there you have it. Not too much description, but a summary of my 3 weeks away. I encourage all of you, if you ever have the opportunities, to do something like it. It will change your life for the better. (insert witty remark here)

La Vie en Rose

2007-07-02T22:43:00.001-07:00

Last night I saw a truly amazing film. For your information, I think I will start writing about amazing films I have seen for your reading entertainment. I saw "La Vie en Rose" (aka "La Mome")at the Belcourt Theatre in Nashville. It is the story of Edith Piaf, the Ella Fitzgerald of France apparently. I did not know too much about her before seeing the film, save for her voice on a few songs I'd heard. First of all, she is an incredible talent and pioneered the way for other lady singers at the beginning of the 20th Century. Not to mention that her voice is flawlessly beautiful. Her life, ranging from growing up in her grandmother's brothel, to dealing with alcoholism and an early sickness as well as the dangers and joys of fame when it was first a part of the culture. The film was beautifully filmed in French and in France with clever shots and an intriguing plot which went back and forth from the beginning, middle, and end of her life. Marion Cotillard played Edith brilliantly. Playing a lifespan of 40 or so years is not an easy task for any actor, and although it is a foreign film, I believe her portrayal deserves a nod. Not going into any of the other details for times sake, I encourage anyone who has the opportunity to see it because I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

just watch

2007-06-27T15:28:00.001-07:00

Good Cop, Baby Cop

What Do You Call Two Doctors?

2007-06-19T17:35:00.000-07:00

I've always known my life was in some ways contradicting itself. I don't mean in a hypocritical way, although sometimes I find myself one, but I am talking about the various things I do in my life that are in strict opposition to each other. I know you're thinking, "Mike, honestly, you are a moron and need to stop using such big words, oh and what are you talking about?" Well, it is all a part of my newest discovery. This summer, due to the overflow of free time in my life, I have been attempting to "get into shape" which means, for me, that I actually attend a "gym" or the nearest physical work-out facility. Frequenting the gym only seldomly in my lifetime, it's all new to me still. Anyway, I have been going to the YMCA this summer, which is the trend out in the south. There is no 24 Hour Fitness, or LA Fitness, or any other kind of fitnessess you can think of, there is just the Y. Once looked upon as a poor man's sleep or an almost too-flamboyant dance, is now the haven for working out. There is an abundance of work out machiney-things, almost to the extent of being intimidating. Continuing with my story, I was informed by my mother that they have re-done the YMCA nearest me, and I thought I'd check it out. There appeared to be new running machines. Now, being the skinny pansey of a man I am, I naturally go to the running machines first. They had installed televisions on each one! Now, I didn't have to watch countless games of golf or informercials over and over again. I could watch what I wanted to.

Now, I reach my contradictions. Flipping through the channels, I stopped briefly on VHI's "The Fabulous Life of People Better Than You", or something close to that, and changed it once I realized that they were in fact better than I was. Passing "The View" and too many versions of CSI, I finally came to it. Star Wars: A New Hope. I thought to myself, I haven't seen this in a long time, and since the beginning scroll had just finished scrolling, I was still on time to watch the whole thing. And so I did. Well, most of it anyway. Yes, I, Mike Rosenbaum, ran/walked (or ralked, as some might say) while watching the Fourth Episode of Star Wars. It was a magical experience. I continued this for the next two days, watching all 3 of the older Star Wars Trilogy whilst running on a treadmill. This, my friends, is a paradox. I did something athletic while watching Star Wars. I just thought I'd let you know...

I Am Nerd, Hear Me Score!

2007-06-17T22:46:00.001-07:00

Hello, my name is Mike Rosenbaum, and I am a monopoholic.

If only there was such a thing called OMPA: Online Monopoly Players Anonymous. Yes, I am addicted to playing online monopoly. This is true. At least I admit it, right? That's the first step to recovery. To let some of you in on how bad my problem is, am playing right now and it is 12:48 in the morning and I am typing a blog about it while it's not my turn. You laugh, but you don't know the feeling you get deep down inside your soul when you play a "short game" and the computer gives you a monopoly randomly at the beginning. Or when you land on "free parking" after 15 rounds and get $2,000. It'll change your life, I swear by it. Online monopoly isn't just for nerdy online players to find true love by typing "a/s/l" (for you non-gamers that means "age, sex, and live (place of residence)). And it's not just for adults to play quickily on their lunch break at the office. It's a safe haven, for people everywhere to go play online monopoly together, against each other, gaining or losing points based on your winning percentage. To me, online monopoly symbolizes the benefits of living in a free world. I mean, we are basically fighting the war in Iraq right now so that Iraqis can live in a world where online gaming is free and acceptable to both men and women. That, my friends, is a comforting feeling. Ah, shoot, I better go, I just got this message:

HUBBYKISSME: CAN WE PLAY A LIL FASTER PLEASE?

Sure thing, HUBBYKISSME, sure thing.

* games.atari.com in case you wanted to know

Myspace, a Place for Fiends!

2007-05-28T23:17:00.000-07:00

"Hey there, my name is Chastidy and I'm new in town. I was looking at your pictures and you're super hawt and was wondering if you'd wanna show me a good time. Oh, and I've got a webcam of my feet playing footsie with each other."
Don't worry, folks, it's just me. But how many of you have logged onto your once-amazing myspace page, seeing the wonderful sight of "New Comments" or "New Messages" on your home page, only to find some whore-robot with a not-so-flattering picture, leaving some lame, cliche pick-up-line of a message in your once holy inbox? Well, my answer is, TOO MANY! Just now, as I was playing online monopoly due to the fact that I can not go to sleep, I logged into Mikesplace (that's my pet name for myspace, fyi) just for a quick check, and had two messages from Stan and LaShandra, and although Stan looked like a nice enough guy, he just wanted to give away a free iPhone to me. That was really nice of him, however, he wasn't sincere! They never are. I have no clue who's idea it was to allow whoresale (get it, like wholesale, I just invented that) on Myspace, but I say we take it up with Tom. Yes, Tom Nolastname, the creator of all that is Myspace, alone in his rolly chair in some far away office building, responding to every comment left by adoring fans. That Tom needs to be warned. I, Mike Rosenbaum, hereby warn Tom of Myspace: If you don't do something about all this whoresale (it's really got a nice ring to it) than I publicly state that I will check my Facebook more than I check my Myspace! And you can quote me on that one!

Super Snape

2007-05-28T18:36:00.000-07:00

ATTENTION:
This blog may contain spoilers, or Harry Poilers, as I like to call them.

Can we just talk about how excited we all are for Harry Potter? I mean, honestly now. Anyone who doesn't enjoy the magical world of wizardry is pretty much crazy. The month of July will be a wonderful one. I will be in Texas working as a counselor for Connect Day Camp for most of July (keep me in your prayers, I'm stoked!) so I will have to commence the HP festivals by myself. If you are reading this and will be in the Dallas area, let me know! Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix, which comes out July 13th, is just going to kick some major muggle butt. But the most anticipated book of my young life is coming out July 21. That, my friends, is Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I'm not sure what a hallow is, but it sounds awesome. And the fact that it can be deathly makes it even better. The biggest debate, of course, has to do with Snape. I know that any true Harry Potter fans have been debating this ever since the 6th book came out, but I thought it might make for good discussion. Snape simply owns. There is no earthly way he is a bad guy. He's too awesome. That's why I've spent the last twenty minutes trying to draw this on Paint. Your comments are welcome.

Irony At Its Finest

2007-05-27T13:59:00.000-07:00

There is a reason why ketchup is red. Red is associated with Satan, evil, blood, danger, Elmo. All bad things, right? For those of you who know me, I hate Ketchup, Catsup, or anything having to do with it or slightly resembling it. I can't even touch the stuff or I get grossed out. I'm not exactly sure why, but I think it has something to do with the guy from Reading Rainbow joking around once and saying that "if you eat too much ketchup, you'll turn pink". Well, obviously I didn't want to turn pink as an 8 year old; pink's a girl's color, duh. Why have I brought up my distaste for ketchup, you might ask? Well, while I was in California (it was an amazing trip by the way, thanks for asking) Jeff, David Neale, and I decided to join the craze that is the Heinz Commercial Contest. Heinz came up with this idea to let the world make their own 30 second Ketchup commercial, and so we did. It's not amazing or anything, but compared to some of the lameo's out there, it's pretty good. Feel free to watch it as many times as you want. Come August, a panel will pick the top 15 and then people can vote on them. If we get lucky enough, I will let you all know and you can vote on it so I can win lots of money. Fair trade, right?

Summer Lovin'

2007-05-07T21:19:00.000-07:00

The end. I've almost reached the end of my first year of college. Twas strange happenings. School was amazing, don't get me wrong, but it's always an interesting situation going off to live on your own for a year (although my family seemed to have gone off alone with me). A lot of people end up switching majors, or even schools within their first year. I'm still going strong. I'm not a huge fan of change, although I decided I need more excitement in my life. Like instead of going down the stairs one by one, I have attempted skipping a few, and it has thus far ended up in success. I return to the Ia of Californ's on thursday and will be there a solid 12 days. So whoever misses me a lot can see me, or don't I really am just excited to go back. And then there is the rest of the summer. Oh, summer, what an awesome season. It means no school, sleeping in past 4 in the evening, no school, otter pops, no school, throwing people into the pool with their clothes on. Ahh, good ole' summer. I am basically doing nothing, which excites me even more. I have a select group of friends in the Nashville area, and hopefully I am getting a job at some decent smelling place. I believe I will try to make more adventures this summer; go on more explorations and take more chances. All I know for sure is that the seventh Harry Potter book comes out and I'm freakin stoked.

The 5th of Suckiness

2007-05-05T21:17:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure if Hitler was alive today, he'd be a tower. Yes, that's right, not mass murderer or IRS agent or even DMV worker, he would most definitely be a tow worker. Why do I say this, you might ask? Well, let me begin at the beginning.
May 5, 2007-
It's Cinco de Mayo! Or the "Fifth of May" as I like to call it. Yes, the Mexican holiday used by the college students of the world as another night to get drunk off of Spanish-named drinks no one can pronounce correctly. Originally it acknowledges the victory of Mexican forces over French in the Battle of Puebla on May 5 (Cinco de mayo), 1862. Bet you didn't know that! Well, to be honest, I just looked it up on wikipedia to look smart. But regardless, a holiday that most Americans, and sadly a large number of Mexican Americans, do not know the reason of celebrating. But then again what holiday is really remembered for its original context? Possibly Mother's Day, but it could have another reasoning as well. But back to my story. Cinco de mayo, and after a solid four hours of playing GoldenEye on 64, my friends and I decide to do something more constructive...eat. So we felt it would be honorable to remember our dear Mexican American friends by going to a Mexican restaurant: Fiesta Azteca (or Aztec Party, I believe). Upon arrival, it finally struck us brilliant college freshman that it was crowded, and by crowded I mean there was no where to park. After driving up and down sketchy and sketchier streets, we became disgruntled. There was no chance I would pay $10.00 and certainly not $5.00 for parking when we could easily park in the empty church parking lot across the street. There were other cars, and we were way to excited for our queso dip and chips to read any of the obvious signage around, so we parked. After a few hours of waiting, eating, failed attempts at speaking Spanish to the non-English speaking workers, we left the Fiesta Azteca. Remembering that I could see my car from the restaurant, I looked toward the church excited to see my beatiful turqoise toyota camry and to my surprise it was not there. Witnessing my own double take, as in the movies, I started running towards the parking lot screaming at my friend Brad "Where the crap is my car? Oh, they did not tow my effing car (yes, I say "effing" when I'm mad, it sounds tough to me). When finally coming to the realization that my car did not move by itself and once the bum outside the Methodist church said it was closed, I sank to my knees with my hands grasped upon my head yelling at the top of my lungs like in the movie "Platoon". That did not actually happen, but I'm sure if it did than my car would have reappeard magically. Luckily we had another car with us, so Brett took us to the towing place, or hell as I like to call it. The thing that made it suck even worse was that there was no way into the tow-yard and no one in sight. I kept calling the stupid place and the guy on the phone said each time "we're sending someone over right now, sir." He told us to park in the sketchy parking lot next door and wait until someone can come unlock the gate. Naturally, it had to be the parking lot with the man riding his bicycle in circles around it. He did not look the least bit dangerous (brief sarcasm). Well, we waited once again and a few of us had to use the little boy's room, and since there was none in sight, we improvised. On our way back, Michael and I see a cop car drive by the street in front of us, and immediately he pulled around as we assumed he would. He put on his lights and parked close to Bret's car. I began walking towards him in hopes he'd let me explain our situation. Being the kind soul that he was, he yelled at me to stay where I was. Now, my whole deal with cops is that I understand they are just doing their job and sometimes get people who are not willing to listen, but you just don't have to be a jerkoff about it, you know? After he checked me for any past wrongdoings (thank God I didn't get caught for that triple homicide in the fourth grade), it took a little bit of persuading for the cop to realize we weren't tresspassing on private property or part of the Nashville Bloods or something. After what seemed like ages, I paid the $65.00 and got my baby back. Not in the best of moods to hang out with my friends, I came back to my room to vent on this little blog of mine and suffice it to say, I feel a lot better. And what it all comes down to is that Methodists and tow-workers need to figure out their lives. Oh and Happy Mexican Independence Day?

Ferraby Lionheart

2007-05-04T14:43:00.000-07:00

So I thought hard and long about it (approximately 1 min. 32 seconds) and came to the decision that I will start endorsing artists on here every once in a while. My latest and favorite discovery is Ferraby Lionheart, a singer/songwriter based out of LA. And unlike most singer/songwriters out of LA, he doesn't suck. His music is original and inspiring; easy to listen to and difficult musicianship (I swear it's a word). His style is more indie/folk/pop/, according to the categories on his myspace. In my favorite song by him, "Crack in Time", he gently swoons over simple guitar rhythms, the words "If you finnd a crack in time, call me up we can just be friends this time." It's simple, yet beautifully deep at the same time. He deserves to be listened to, and has just put up some new songs. I highly recommend that all five of you go and listen to him now. Go now, put down your taco bell cheesey gordita and log on to www.myspace.com/ferrabylionheart. I believe in the sharing of small musicians, so if anyone else has some band or songwriter who needs to be shared, do it! Think of it as a not-lame pay it forward. Enjoy, I know you will!

The Amazing Race for World Domination (aka Bad Technology!)

2007-05-01T16:43:00.000-07:00

Well, look who it is. I'm back. And boy, does it feel good to start blogging again. I never blogged that much to begin with, but I think I will give it another go around. As I was logging into my neat little blogger account, I was forced to sign up with a G-mail account as well in order to re-log into my blogger account. Not only was I furious, but I came to the realization that technology is too complicated these days. I say "these days" in reference to the good old days of junior high when it was "cool" to get an AIM screen name for free instead of paying $13.99 a month for AOL. Then there is Google. I mean, sure, it is great that they have a nifty search engine that changes its logo whenever there is a holiday (polar bears skiing, that's pretty awesome), but I don't think anyone is really FOR Google taking over the earth one corporation at a time. Or is it just me? They're already on their way beating the likes of McDonald's, Starbucks, and Wal-Mart. Soon we will see Google frappicino's that you can order online and have dropped from an air balloon. Wow, that would actually be really sweet, but still. But technology these days, it has got to at least slow down, so we can enjoy the simpler and more beautiful things in life. That is all I am saying. I've got to run, though, my iPod is finished downloading the free episode of "The Hills."

It's Beginning To Freeze Alot Like Christmas

2006-12-07T14:14:00.000-08:00

Tis the season to be jolly. Ah, the feeling of Christmas. Everywhere you go you can see it, smell it, feel it on the soft winter breeze. Not to mention, it's freaking cold. Living in Sunny California the past five years has not prepared me for this God-forsaken weather. My friend from Chicago goes outside in shorts and a t-shirt, while I have on at least fourteen layers of clothes I didn't even know existed. I think the low was 14 today, but who's complaining? But there are benefits of Christmas (I think). There are several things that tell people Christmas time is near:

1. People start putting up decorations (except for the house who keeps them up all year long, you know who I'm talking about)
2. Dogs bust out their wonderful Christmas sweaters. Oh, the dog sweater. Not going to even get into that, but you should all know that they are ridiculous, yet somewhat cute.
3. Department stores start playing Christmas music. Yet, they always seem to find the worst possible recordings of each song. I swear I heard a pop version of "Good King Winceslas". To each his own.
4. Christmas specials on T.V. Not just the usual Grinch Stole Christmas or Charlie Brown. Now there is a Christmas special of every stinking show on television. Need I mention "Jessica Simpson's Family Christmas" last year?
5. And last, and probably least, Santa at the mall. What used to be a cute, fun, tradition, has now turned into something absurd. It's bad enough that there is some poor old man posing as a mythological creature giving false hopes and dreams to already spoiled children, but now there's a Santa at PetSmart? PetSmart, for crying out loud. What are you supposed to do, stick your poodle on ole' Saint Nick's lap?

Well, my best wishes to everyone over the holidays. I'm not going to mention the twenty different holidays, because frankly, I don't care, but I hope everyone stays safe and doesn't waste too much money on unnecessary presents. Merry Christmas everyone, and so on and so forth.

There's Nothing Blue or Toothy About it

2006-11-30T05:35:00.000-08:00

Alright, now that I am a busy and important college student, I am less and less likely to write posts on this thing. However, there is a very important subject I would like to address to the few who actually read me. It's basically come down to this: Bluetooth and other crappy hands-free phones have got to go.
You might be asking, "But Mike, aren't they benefiting society and creating less car accidents due to the wonderful hands free aspects of this delicious new phone?"
Well, yes, of course they are, but the cons are much more severe.
How many times, and I don't think I'm the only one here, have you been casually walking down the street, enjoying a nice raspberry gogurt and all of a sudden a large businessman, with his belly slightly out of control, comes walking towards you pointing and swearing profusely? It certainly has happened to me all too often. Or how about this, for instance. A cute blonde chick sees you in line for the latest Star Wars Video Game and begins to make conversation. You might think you're scoring and about to put on the moves. She is talking back, but then when you ask her what she's doing tonight she replies "Do you really think your Mother would enjoy sleeping on the floor over Christmas?" Then you're just confused, so you answer with "Well, I really don't think she would mind, even though she might be weirded out." With a slight brush of her unnatrual blonde hair, she releases any cover from her ears, revealing a small robotic contraption on her right ear. And then she slaps you. That has got to be against some law of nature. It certainly is not what the good Lord intended.
Sure, it could just be me. And that is usually the case. But I am enough of a majority to say that we have got to fix this issue. I want betterment (shuddup i like that word) for the whole world. It's not fair to give hope to the geeks and losers by girls pretending to talk to them, or for crazy men off the street to yell at you for no reason (cause THAT never happens). I say we ban all telephones from now on; it's the only way to stop this monstrosity. Who's with me? Wait, hold up, my agent's calling me...

One Concert and a Funeral

2006-09-11T22:10:00.000-07:00

Well, well, well. Look who it is. That's right, it's been a while, hasn't it? I have to admit, this whole "college" thing is wearing me out. I haven't written a solid post in a good while. It's alright though. A lot has happened over the past week or so. I started college, Steve Irwin passed away, and I saw Sufjan Stevens. I will start with the first.
College. College is incredible. I love it. There are few things I do not enjoy about college, and they are as follows:

1. Diction class
- No one needs to understand how to pronounce words correctly. (et sukz)
2. Wearing a man thong to Ballet
-There is only one thing less masculine than wearing tights, and that's wearing what we in the dance world like to call a "dance belt." A dance belt is nothing short of a man thong which, excuse my french, rides up your butt constantly. I don't know how women do it but I applaud you ladies.
3. Sharing a bathroom with 3 other smelly dudes
- Having a bathroom is nice, having a smelly bathroom is not nice. That's all I have to say about that.

But overall I thoroughly enjoy college. It's a great place to be and I am actually learning things as oppose to pretending to learn in high school.

This brings me to my second subject. Steve Irwin. Let's have a quick moment of silence, and I don't mean to jest. Steve Irwin was, in my opinion, the manliest man out there. Sure there is Chuck Norris and He-Man, but they don't count as humans. As far as humans go, Steve Irwin was the ish. He will be sorely missed, and I will never say "Crikey" again without my full respect.

And lastly, but certainly not leastly, I attended Sufjan Stevens tonight. It was utterly breathtaking. I have never felt so attached to a concert and actually felt emotion. He has a way of combining the right words with the right melodies to make the perfect song. I honestly can say that I think he is one of the best living American songwriters and composers of our time. Ahh, good stuff.

Well, I need to get back to reading some philosophical crap about something important. Live long and prosper.

College Schmolege

2006-08-27T21:02:00.000-07:00

Welcome back, me. It's been a while since I've last posted anything. That is mainly due to the lack of computer availability. But anywho, I am now officially a college student. I pretty much love it. The work is a butt to do, but at least it's something I enjoy doing. Except for diction class, which is basically the study of how to sound and act like a total prude. Everything else is amazing, from my crazy English teacher who is probably not from this planet, to staying up late and going to movies, to eating at the "Caf" like a real college student.

College is a very interesting and amazing place to be. It brings out the best and worst out of everyone. It is where people find love, marriage, careers, whether or not eating 12 packs of Fun-Dip will make your poo a different color. I am excited to see where my college career will lead me. I am excited to see how many late night taco bell runs I can make in a week. And lastly, I am excited to see how many times I can see Snakes On A Plane before it leaves theaters.

The Great Equalizer

2006-08-15T21:22:00.000-07:00

The D.M.V- Department of Motor Vehicles (aka. Hell on Earth). Now, most people have been to the DMV several times and have experienced first hand how sucky it is, but let me just remind you how much you hate it.
I drove to the DMV in Franklin, Tennessee at around 10:00AM this morning. I have been to several of them over the course of my 3 year drivingness, so I have had my fair share of it. I had to go 4 seperate times when I was 16 to first get my license. Yes, I failed it twice, I admit it. But that's another story for another time. Naturally, I have a unique hate for those government owned facilities which try to suck the life out of everything good and holy.

For those who are unaware, the Franklin DMV is located in a blue trailer attached to a police station. It has the maximum capacity of 30 or so people, and there were at least 70 in there at one time. Luckily, after waiting in line an extra 45 minutes just to get my number, I found a spot on the ground. Of course, it had to be right in between the men's and women's restrooms and right underneath the leaking water fountain, but I'm not complaining. All I can say is thanks to my mother for reminding me to bring a book, or else I would have done some harm to somebody. I waited there for a good 3-31/2 hours. It was fantastic. And I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible.

I don't see why it's necessary for the DMV to be the way it is. Everyone hates it, and everyone knows that everyone hates it. It's a fact of life. You learn several things growing up as an American child:
1. You need water, food, and sleep to live.
2. Don't eat the food at Dairy Queen.
3. The DMV is the worst place in the world.

I say, forget all the business in Iraq, or the money put into curing cancer, let's make the DMV a fun place to be. It could be the next Chuck E. Cheese!

I must say, however faulty the place is, it is the Great Equalizer here in America. When I was there this morning, I saw people of all races (which in Tennessee means black and white), creeds, and social status. All pissed off that they had to be in that crammed little trailer. Well, I got my Tennessee driver's license, and at least they didn't misprint me as a female like the kid in front of me. Score!

I Am Funny Now

2006-08-10T14:49:00.000-07:00

Alright, so I have some new and exciting news in the life of Mike Rosenbaum. No, I am not pregnant. Close guess, though. Myself, and my good friend Jeff Koch have decided to create our own comedy team. This has been in the works since we met freshmen year of high school, and have collaborated on endless comedic sketches, plays, and videos throughout our high school career. We finally have made a Comedy Myspace as well: www.myspace.com/mikeandjeffcomedy (very original, I know). So there you have it folks, now I have a website for me to deposit all my creative and humorous energy into. It will contain videos of the past as well as new videos, podcasts, essays, blogs, pictures, and anything else funny we can think of. Feel free to add us or just visit the site and let us know what you think.

Drive Across America

2006-08-04T10:45:00.000-07:00

Day 1- And So It Begins

The first day began as I woke up to go to Denny's for breakfast. It was a farewell meal, and I got to see most of my best friends before I left. I was content; it was a good way to end. Everyone, except Brad, who was working. My dad and I, after we packed, went to get free Starbucks as I said goodbye to Brad and a bored Jeff who was waiting there. I really am blessed to have such good friends who care about me. Now, I know that sounds pretty lame, but I can't be funny all the time, sometimes I got to go for the sentimental stuff (my mom is reading this too, so give me a break). After Starbucks, we were off. And by "off" I mean we we ON the road for the rest of the day. A good 12+ hours straight, with the exceptional pee-break or fast food run. Eventually, around 9:ooPM or so, we made it to our first destination: The Grand Canyon. Well, techinically we stopped for a hotel in a place called Tuscanny or something. In the morning we would venture to one of the greatest natural landmarks in the world.

Day 2- Grand Indeed

Waking up at 7:00AM on a Tuesday morning during the summer does not sound very appetizing, unless of course you are going to see the most beautiful place in the world, than it's excused.
For those who have not been to the Grand Canyon, I highly recommend it.
I could have literally sat there and looked at it for hours. Each crack in the Earth's surface outlined in red by the sun. The clouds move over canyon slowly, yet noticeably at the same time. With each floating cloud, the rocks below are covered in dark shadow, resembling the grey sheets above. My dad put it best when he said, "How can anyone not believe in God and see something like this." He was right. This is quite possibly the most beautiful thing on Earth, and people still believe that it happened by accident. I don't understand how anyone can see something of that magnitute and beauty, and not at least acknowledge God's presence. I don't know, I guess you could call me old fashioned.
After the Grand Canyon, my Dad decided to take us to another great landmark, "Monument Valley." The valley was another beautiful place, where the vast desert is sprinkled with large random pieces of rock. It's a spectacular drive. I guess a lot of movies had been filmed there, so we stopped to see an homage to the great John Wayne. John Wayne, I've decided, is the most manliest person who ever lived. Case closed.

Day 3- The Long and Winding Road

I use this title to describe day three because of two things: 1. We drove all day, not stopping anywhere except for gas, food, or to empty our bladders. and 2. We listened to a lot of old classic rock songs, including many Beatles. It might have seemed like a boring day, but I was kept entertained. Me and my dad had a lot of good conversations about this and that. He had to make a few business calls here and there, but it was interesting to find out more about his work. Also, through his phone calls, I realized what an incredible man my father was. He is constantly going out of his way to help others, not for a second putting himself first. I am so blessed to have a father like him and I hope I can become half the man he is someday.
One exciting thing that did happen on the third day was our lunch break. We stopped at the "Texan Steakhouse" in Texas, you know, the place where if you eat a 72. ounce steak you get it for free. Well, obviously I've never eaten anything that weighs more than ten ounces in my life. But it was good. Filled me up very fast.

Day 4- The Birthplace of Rock N' Roll and the Fellowship of the King

On the last day, we passed through Memphis. Well, that was our plan anyways. But we ended up staying there for a while. We started off our Memphis tour with Sun Records. For those who aren't musically aware, Sun Records is where Rock N' Roll started. It's where Elvis Presley recorded his first song, Johnny Cash recorded a lot of his albums, and so on and so forth. It was an awesome tour. I even got to kiss the spot where Elvis stood recording the very first combination of country, blues, and gospel music to form what we now know as rock n' roll. It was amazing.
Hungry and eager for some good country cooking, we ventured over to Beales Street (the home of the blues) and ate an incredible barbequed lunch at B.B King's. I've never had a better rib. Before leaving Memphis and heading to our final destination, Nashville, we stopped by our friend's house real quick, Elvis Presley.
Graceland was amazing. Not only was Elvis a great entertainer, but he embodied everything that was or is cool for generations to come. Excited as a Hillary Duff in a jewlery store, we took the tour. I loved it. It was a good inspiration for whatever the heck I plan to do in life. Elvis was the king. Maybe I could be the prince or something. Who knows.
Well, we finally made it to Nashville around nightime. It was a great trip. I grew closer to my dad, had a lot of fond experiences, and gained a few pounds. I am now about to start a new chapter in my life, and until then, I'm going to watch a lot of movies.

To Tennessee And Beyond!

2006-07-30T15:54:00.000-07:00

Alright, so as many people should already know by now, I am moving to Tennessee. Speaking of which, I leave tomorrow morning. My dad and I are going to drive his car from Orange County, California on a three day trip to Nashville, Tennessee. This whole moving thing is kind of surreal. I don't even know if I used that word correctly, but it sounded appropriate enough. I mean, I'm super bummed about leaving all my friends, yet really excited to experience the whole college deal as well. I sort of feel like Frodo. Frodo had to leave the Shire and his family to destroy the ring of doom to save all of Middle Earth. Orange County is like the Shire and going to college is similar to saving all of Middle Earth. Okay, so not the best analogy but I think you understand what I'm trying to say. It's bitter sweet. More like lemonade. Yeah, that's a good one. So pretty much I love all my friends and I know I will continue our friendships even across the country, but also going to meet new people and new experiences. This is a new stage of my life. I should probably start becoming more responsible. I don't even know how to do the laundry. But they have maids in college...right?

The 12th Happiest Place On Earth

2006-07-29T11:40:00.000-07:00

What are the two best words for a teenage guy to hear? No, not those. Get your mind out of the gutter. I'm talking about the best combination, maybe ever made up by the English language. What are they? you may ask. Summer and Friday. When combined, Summer and Friday can be ultimately awesome. Now, you may be wondering why I brought this up, so I will tell you. Last night was Friday, during the Summer, and it was awesome. Here's how it went.
Yesterday was Friday. It wasn't just any regular Friday, but a Summer one. After a long, hard four hours of reading magazines and going on myspace at work, I decided to venture on over to my good friend David Hughes' humble home. Being the kind, warm-hearted friend that I usually am, I offered to drive. Since I had just finished work, I figured I should probably have something to eat. Why? Because I earned it. Where else would we go besides Carl's Jr. I don't understand Carl's Jr., I must admit. I simply don't get why they call it Carl's Jr. on the West Coast and Hardees everywhere else. I'm going to be honest, it kind of pisses me off. I mean, if you're going to change the name of a fast food chain, you at least got to make it a cool one. They could have come up with something better than Carl's Jr. What about "Cheese Madness" or "The Burger Burndown". I would have even settled for something as simple as "The Burger Store." But, Carl's Jr. is just dumb. But anyways, that's enough about my distaste for people's poor naming skills.
Since I had neglected breakfast and had yet to eaten lunch, I looked on the menu for something that would quench my appetite for the good. The words "Six Dollar Burger" repeated in my vision several times. Never having eaten one before, I look to David and ponder the question, "Should I try it?" We both agreed that I should, so I did. And let me just say that it was high quality. From the large, supposedly 100% Angus Beef paddy to the special sauce I added, the Six Dollar Burger was indeed worthy of its name.
From Carl's, we went a few streets down to Brad's house. His little sister had some supposedly cool friends over. They all looked like they were enjoying themselves. So we decided to take over the pool. After an hour or two of "Try to jump on the inflatable seal" we got bored. Now, let me remind you. It was a Summer Friday. We should have been having the time of our lives. Yet, we were bored out of our minds, and even subjected to talking to Brad's little sister once or twice. As soon as Sam came over, we decided there needed to be something done about our boredom. Where can three, mildy-cool dudes go on a Summer Friday and have fun. Well, the answer of course is obvious. Wild Rivers.
Yes, I did say Wild Rivers. And no, Wild Rivers is not only for 7th grade girls trying to be cool. Anyone is allowed, it is a family fun park. The best kind. We started getting ready for the water park when we realized we should probably get another person to come, so we won't be faced with the "Third Wheel" problem. I don't mean that in the dating way. But think about it. How much does it suck when you have an odd amount of people to go on rides. One person always ends up sitting next to the awkward big guy the whole ride. And I didn't want that to be me. So we called Luke. We hadn't seen him in a few days, and we missed the guy. Luke met us in the parking lot across Wild Rivers, because we aren't willing to pay 8 extra dollars for decent parking. As soon as we arrived, it was fun from then on.
Wild Rivers is still fun. Doesn't matter what age you are, but a water park will always be freaking awesome. After hiding our belongings in a tree, we went on all seven of the rides several times. Taking only an occasional break for the wave pool. The night was almost flawless, except for an awkward situation I put myself in.
We were waiting in line for one of the rides (I don't remember which one because they all had lame names) and we were looking down below us at the people riding the tubes. We were carrying tubes of our own up the stairs and I got distracted by the people below. Sam started calling my name. "Mike, what are you doing?" I turn around, not having a clue what he's talking about. "I'm looking at the rides, what do you think?" "Mike, what are you doing." And he points right to my right side. I look down. I am pressed up against this little eight year old boy's tube. He is stuck. He has a look of pain upon his face. I slowly walk away, looking as if I just woke up from a comma. "Sorry, little man, I thought it was mine." Luckily his parents weren't with him, so there's no lawsuit to be filed, but there was plenty of awkwardness to go around.
Regardless, we still had a great time. Wild Rivers should certainly have one of those "happiest places on earth" titles. I don't know which one they are on. Disneyland gets first, Family Honda has second. I don't want to offend anyone by taking theres, so let's just go with "Wild Rivers: The 12th Happiest Place On Earth!" Sounds good to me.

Saints, Cakes, and a Spanish Jesus

2006-07-27T00:56:00.000-07:00

Today was a long, yet quite eventful day. I went to Los Angeles for a good ten hours. And this is how it happened. This morning, after a long and eventually satisfying duel with the alarm clock, I woke up. In a natural zombie state I took a shower, etc. Sooner or later I ended up at Emily's house, parking a little bit farther due to the numerous amount of SUVs along her driveway. I casually walked in, unaware that a Opra Book Club was being hosted by Emily's mother, I awkwardly took a turn upstairs. They were studying some philosophical book that had something to do with Aliens or post-modern America (I get the two mixed up). Long story-short, Emily and I went to pick up our friend Natasha. I guess Brad was going to tag along, but being the responsible friend that he is, wouldn't wake up. We ventured over to the Owen's residence, where we found out Brad was too tired (and lame) to come to LA with us. Well, then, it will just be me, and the two blonde vixens, on our way to Tinseltown in pursuit of the American Dream: Cupcakes and Vintage Clothing.
It was a long ride, making stops along the way in Santa Monica, Venice Beach, and Beverly Hills. Venice was fun, if you're into the whole weirdo-slightly dangerous people scene. Which we were, naturally. After walking the longest my former PE-seasoned legs could take me, we left. I didn't leave empy handed, however. Not only did I buy some sweet neon green running shorts for $5, but I bought this wicked awesome blue blazer with a Catholic Jesus on the back stating with pure gusto "Jesus Cristo."
After leaving Venice, the home of the infamous "Muscle Beach" (which disappointedly only had one scrawny old man working out), we made our way up and down the 405 to finally end up in Beverly Hills. I happened upon an article in a celebrity gossip magazine (so, sue me) describing a world famous cupcake store. Now, being born and raised on homemade cupcakes, there was no where in Hell's Kitchen that I was going to pass this opportunity up. This place, entitled, simply "Sprinkles", was quite possibly God's gift to humanity. We ordered a good four cupcakes, all different flavors, which we devoured quickly (except Natasha, who despises the things, God save her).
Next, where else would a couple of crazed teenagers go except to get hot dogs. Yes, Pink's hot dogs. Emily and I shared the "Today Show Dog" (stupid name, but the guacamole mixed with chili made up for it.)
Tired, beat, and exhausted, we decided to come back home. Ten hours of Los Angeles. It was a good way to spend my last few days here on the West Coast. I came to two conclusions on that trip: 1. Cupcakes are friggin awesome. and 2. Gnarls Barkley's song "Crazy" is quite possibly my favorite tune ever.
Thinking the night was over, Emily and I tried to hang out with Mr. Owens once again. "What do you wanna do, Brad?" Two words. Boondock Saints.
I had never seen the flick before, and man was I in for a spectacular movie. If anyone wants to have testosterone pulsing thru their veins, Boondock Saints is the movie to watch. For a good two hours, I felt like a man. That ended shortly, when the movie finished and I realized I was covered in a blanket for warmth, however. Still, it was what one might consider "Bad-Ass". Well, that was my day. And I think I left the air conditioning on upstairs, so goodnight to you all.

Mike Rosenbaum Enters the Bloggerverse

2006-07-21T11:13:00.000-07:00

Yes, I repeat, Mike Rosenbaum now has a blog. This isn't a simple myspace blog to post something describing "10 WaYs 2 bE a gOoD bOyFrIeNd" or anything like that. This is a true blog. I will try my best to stay true to this blog with everything I have. Now, I don't know what will end up on this blog. It could be beautiful rhyme and meter combined to make a Shakespearian sonnet of my own, or it could just be me babbling on about how the person in front of me at Blockbuster needed a serious haircut. Whatever happens, I hope everyone (the two people who are reading this) enjoys Mike Rosenbaum's Blog. Feel free to comment and give me your thoughts, or don't, I could care less.