The Awesomeness That Is German Musical Theatre

As I mentioned last year, my roommate gave me the most amazing idea: drop the minor I hated and take what I wanted. The class I was dying to take was German.

So far it’s wonderful. There’s a smexy Russian, some really talented voice majors, and a professor who’s tons of fun. I love languages but I was tired of French. Every class I’ve been to reminds me why I made the right choice — to do what I want as opposed to what I think I should do.

Ask a teenage girl why she wants to take a random class and the answer is stereotypically a boy. I am not a teenage girl. My far geekier answer is German musical theatre.

As much as I love a good musical, I dislike 85% of musicals. Most are too frothy and frivolous. If it weren’t for the hilarious Book of Mormon, I could honestly say I’ve disliked every non-revival Broadway musical since The Producers.

So what’s a picky theatre-lover to do? Head over to Europe. Germany and Austria produce a ton of gorgeous musicals. They have better lyrics, edgier plotting, and very original staging. And they do stuff that a lot of Broadway theaters wouldn’t touch due to the Equity hazard pay costs. Like stages that separate, rise up like the stern of a boat, twist like a demonic Tilt-a-Whirl, and allow all the actors to slide into a trap door. It’s badass.

Here is a send up to some of my favorites. They and my roommate are responsible for giving me a kick in the ass to follow my heart.

Those who are expecting something lifestyle related, just stop reading. This is pure Mimiservice.

My gateway drug was Tanz der Vampire.  ’Twas a dark and boring night when I was trawling the Phantom of the Opera forum, ranting about Emmy Rossum and cursing Joel Schumacher.

Then I saw it: a clip of a vampire musical. I clicked, intrigued. Then, “what the hell, it’s in German?!” Color me stupid, but it never really occurred to me there were original musicals in other languages. I just thought it was a British/American thing and other countries translated and performed them. But the music was epic even if I could not understand a word of it. After scrounging up a translated libretto I was even more smitten. After that, it was a trawl through forums to find bootlegs and cast recordings. This was in the early days of YouTube, so I had to rely on my guile and desperation. The rest is sweet procrastinator heaven.

Tanz der Vampire

Edward Cullen is not invited to this party.

Based on Roman Polanski’s vampire parody film, The Fearless Vampire Killers, Tanz is a mix of everything great in a musical — great songs, good story, fun characters, skilled dancing, comedy, romance,  drama, and an intriguing darkness.

An eccentric professor and his young assistant are traveling in Transylvania, on the professor’s academic quest to track down vampires. They come to a Jewish hamlet where the assistant falls for the innkeeper’s daughter, who wants a way out of her dead-end life. Meanwhile, a vampiric count offers just that and invites her to a ball at his castle. The professor and assistant give chase and end up becoming the count’s houseguests. Things get crazy from there.

This musical originally starred Steve Barton as the vampire Count von Krolock, who was the original London/Broadway Raoul in Phantom of the Opera. It was the performance of a lifetime. Steve’s dead now but dang, what a legacy:

(I’d track down one with subtitles, except it was written by Jim Steinman so the song’s actually “Total Eclipse of the Heart”)

Tanz rocks because it’s the perfect mix of darkness, drama, and comedy. The characters are striking, the mood is a roller-coaster, and the music swings between classical beauty and rock tunes.

Oh, Broadway fans might be thinking of failed musical called Dance of the Vampires. Ignore it. That was the abomination crafted by Broadway peeps and Michael Crawford, and was mangled beyond recognition from the original.

Elisabeth

I’m a history nerd. Elisabeth is a very historically accurate (for a musical) retelling of the life of Empress Sissi, the last legit Empress of Austria. Her hubby Franz Josef would go on to inadvertently start World War I. Sissi’s own haunted life was a virtual opera — she was gorgeous and athletic but very disordered, she helped ally Hungary with Austria but despised politics, and she was always losing her relatives (including her son).

In the musical, Death is personified as a handsome young man who falls in love with her. When she marries the Emperor, Death gets pissy and stays by her side, making mischief in the crumbling empire.

Elisabeth has it all: powerful characters, a riveting story, and some beautiful songs. It’s a love story, but a weird one. Despite the personification of Death, it’s actually a very skillful historical drama, and portrayed Sissi very fairly — both as the beautiful girl forced into a world she hated, and the selfish woman who pushed away all who loved her. It also looks quickly at Rudolf, her equally tragic son. In the musical he’s visited by Death and they agree Austria’s going to hell in a handbasket. Oh, and Death’s not trying to make out with Rudolf. It’s called “Kiss of Death” for a reason:

 

Jekyll & Hyde

Hyde's kind of a bastard.

Technically this is an American musical. Thing is, it sucked on Broadway (except for the lovely Robert Cuccioli). The original Houston production was fine but wow, Broadway. The music and story are melodramatic, but the craptastic lyrics and weird story changes were awful. When it went to Germany it got a facelift — Germany’s best lyricist improved the lyrics and tweaked the story so that it made sense and had real character arcs. And he upped the gore. The result is a bloody marvelous melodrama.

The story is well-known: a nice doctor tries to separate the good and evil in man. In this version, he’s engaged to a lord’s daughter and denied human testing for his experiment by her jealous suitor. He also meets a sassy call-girl who falls in love with him and gets caught up in his fate. Testing his formula on himself, he becomes Hyde, an avenging demon who slaughters the people who wronged Jekyll. It’s a really challenging, virtually double roll:

As Jekyll:

As Hyde:

And together! This song has caused some actors to need oxygen masks after…

 

Der Glockner von Notre Dame

Has anyone noticed Disney’s takeover of Broadway? The Lion King is amazing and Beauty and the Beast is pretty cool, but the rest suck. Hunchback of Notre Dame got a different treatment — it got exported to Germany. Disney execs were nervous about putting it on Broadway because of its relative unpopularity; parents tend to get cranky when a kid’s movie features a rape ditty sung by the villain. Anyhoodle, the Germans rocked it. The director made a few astute changes. Esmerelda stays dead (as in the novel); Phoebus gets man-whored up; and the silly gargoyles become aspects of Quasimodo’s conflicted mind. It was beautiful and striking. Disney didn’t flip a shit, as they’d agreed to the changes, but they are still gun-shy about bringing it to Broadway. Some day, perhaps.

 

Rebecca

Rebecca is my kind of romance novel. It’s creepy as hell — a mousy girl marries a much older man who’s haunted by the death of his first wife, Rebecca. The girl feels adrift on his beautiful estate and tormented by the housekeeper who served as Rebecca’s maid. Secrets come to light and things get twisted.

The musical was a great adaptation. They captured the best quality of the book — that the most prominent character in the story is dead the whole time. This one is coming to Broadway, hopefully in April.

 

Dracula

This is another musical that premiered on Broadway and bellyflopped. For good reason. Frank Wildhorn is a cool composer (if you don’t mind bombastic music), but he can’t find a good lyricist to save his life. His best musical was easily Scarlet Pimpernel because, guess what, he had a librettist with a brain in her head. Finally, Dracula found a home in Austria and Germany.

It’s a retelling of Dracula in the vein of Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula film. Dracula  is besotted by Mina; Mina struggles between her love for her husband and her passion for the Count. It’s definitely flawed — the story doesn’t really explain why Mina and Dracula fall in love, and transitions way too abruptly from Dracula wanting to be with Mina to him wanting to die. Coppola’s film had the backstory of Mina as Vlad Dracula’s reincarnated wife, but that’s never mentioned here. Still, despite this, it’s a gorgeous if melodramatic piece. That, and the Austrian production had every hot  German-singing musical theatre actor in it. Yum.

 

There are plenty of other musicals, but I don’t want to completely alienate all of my six readers.

Long story short, German musical theatre kicks ass. If you hate The King and I and think Broadway’s gone to hell, do yourself a favor and procure a copy of Elisabeth!

Across the Highlands

Muahaha, I managed to sneak in a Kamelot reference. But I was in Scotland! Granted, I went to Edinburgh, which is in the lower-lands of Scotland. But there were still a ton of hills.

But first, I want to thank all of my readers. Each and every one of you who put up with my pseudo-intellectual shtick, encourage me when I’m being an emo preteen, look past my cultural imperialism, and smile and nod at my obscure pop-culture references.

A while back, I entered my blog in USC’s Webfest 2011. Sophia won it last year, so I thought “what the hell” and entered mine. My dear friend and I sometimes have oddly parallel lives — I won “Best Column” at the Daily Trojan one semester and she won it the next, for example.  Well, a few mornings ago, as the coffee fumes percolated in my brain, I opened my email to find I’d won $1,000 and that my blog was voted more badass than 21 others.

Without sounding too much like a beauty pageant entry, this blog is only possible because of you guys. I don’t really market myself. I don’t whore around for high traffic, largely because I’m lazy and know I don’t contribute much to the blogging world. But I don’t like talking to walls either (at least not online). Readers, each and every precious one of you, are why I blog. Thank you.

And while it’s on my mind, is there anything y’all would like to see more of? I have ideas for a lot of things but it’s hard to get to all of them. I am rather curious as to what makes you lovelies still read my little blog.

Anyway, back to my highland adventures.

They were rife with vistas

Strange but true: I hate the film Braveheart. Mel Gibson irritates me and the story is horrifically inaccurate. It glosses over the douchebaggery William Wallace was capable of. Just like in Gibson’s other English-hating film, The Patriot, where they conveniently leave out that Gibson’s character was inspired by Francis Marion who, while valuable during the Revolution, also had the rollicking hobbies of hunting Native Americans and raping slaves.

Put in a bunch of peasants screaming "Why, William Wallace?!" and you've got a better historical picture.

But what I did like about Braveheart was the setting. Scotland’s such a gogeous land of myth and mystery. It’s haunted but earthly, and the frequent rain and wind make the days of sun and warmth even more glorious. I wasn’t here just to pay hommage to my non-existant Scottish ancestors though.

I came to visit my best friend from high school, Maddy. We were always odd ducks together, along with our coterie. I don’t make close friends easily. At all. So our friendship is something I treasure more than anything.

Maddy and I aren’t entirely alike. She’s an intellectual hippie scientist, atheistic, and a savvy liberal. I’m an intellectual non-hippie journalist, apathetic, and a snarky fiscal conservative. It makes for wonderful debate. But we  have a lot more in common. Literary and pop culture geekery, an affinity for the bohemian, a dislike toward waste, a love of good food, and an ADD approach to conversation and stream of thought.

Basically, why Maddy and I are friends: we can passionately discuss Shakespeare one minute, then giggle over Stephen Colbert’s “Friday” the next. We are almost white hipsters. But not quite. Because white hipsters can’t recite the Prologue to Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales in Middle English.

“Whan that aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of march hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour…”

I arrived in Edinburgh on Monday. Picture a hound on the trail for cookies, and that was me sweeping the train station.

Maddy and I hadn’t seen each other since my freshman year in college. We were housemates during my freshman-sophomore summer, but my depression put a a downer on what should have been lovely arrangement.

People do change over time. Certain traits fade, others grow, and some people seem to change altogether. When we last met, we were younger, virginal, and less worldly. I was also in desperate need of happy pills. But while our lives have gone in different directions, our reunion was a wonderful one.

“Hey,” said an all-too-familiar voice. It was everything I could do not to glomp her. Thank goodness for my rolley-carryon.

Chez mon amie, I toured her lovely Bohemian flat, complete with her flatmates. I had a bit of freelance to do (and Game of Thrones and The Borgias to hunt down online), so I worked and we caught up. Dinner was an awesome homemade stew of peanut butter and sweet potato, as well as a fun meetup with her friends and boyfriend. The boyfriend definitely gets my seal of approval. He has to be the only white boy I’ve met who can handle dreads.

The next day, I explored Edinburgh.

Edinburgh is a gorgeous city. The weather was perfect. The architecture is glorious.

Cherry trees in blossom

Beautiful streets

Neat nooks

And wonderful old buildings

First stop: Edinburgh Castle

Would you kindly move your bus out of my shot?

Though the area has had people since 900 BC, Edinburgh’s castle was largely rebuilt in the 1570s. One of the chapels has been around since the 13th century.

There are a bunch of mini-museums. Like about this dude who carried his baby in a knapsack into battle.

There are many cool little ledges and buildings to climb on.

I like my Scottish history with a side of America! Ahem, it's obvious who was a POW behind this door -- check out the flag.

Then we hit up Edinburgh’s coolest musuem: Camera Obscura. It’s a museum dedicated to optical illusions.

Unfortunately Maddy did not survive the visit

A hobby of Maddy and her friends is skipping. Not the schoolyard kind. Skipping, aka diving in America, is hitting up grocery store dumpsters after hours. This sounds horrific and hoboish but hear me out: grocery stores typically dump vast quantities of perfectly good food out each day. Overstocks, busted twin-packs where one item survives, etc. It’s huge waste of perfectly good food. And the stuff is sealed up after all. Apparently it’s big in LA.

I got my first taste of skipping that night. One of the flatemates walked in with two pots of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.

“Yeah, there’s two bin bags of it just down the street.”

Picture three yipping wolves tearing down the stairs and out onto the street. Replace wolves with girls.

I could get used to this skipping thing

Impromptu ice cream party? Oh yes. Our 20 pints of ice cream were delicious. We theorize the store’s freezer broke and since they could not break the seals to properly refreeze it, they just chucked it. A wee bit of ice crystals does not ruin that quality of ice cream.

If you want to raise mostly-melted Caramel Chew Chew or Baked Alaskan to orgasmic levels, add amaretto

And when you've skipped a case of Coke the day before and have ridiculously high-quality vanilla...well, you get it

Remember the wolf simile? Still applies.

For my final full day in Edinburgh, I went to a place everyone recommended. The Chocolate Tree.

Part chocolate cafe, part sugar addict's Valhalla

With exotic chocolate

And the best mocha to ever pass my lips

I also hit up a jewelry store, the National Gallery, and the Museum of Scotland. Lunch came from the Gallery restaurant.

Haggis, Neeps, and Tatties: an offal-and-grain concoction with mashed potatoes and turnips.

And a buttermilk scone

It’s official. I don’t like scones. Sometimes I find a decent, freshly-baked doughy warm one that holds together better, but most are too crumbly and induce dry-mouth. Even with a side of tea, coffee, or cider. You know what else is crumbly? Old tombs. And I’m not a necrophiliac. 

Even if I do like graveyards

Did I mention how awesome the weather was? It was perfect for sun-basking (like sun bathing but with no intention of tanning).

I do sometimes think my friend is a reincarnated tabby cat.

I could get used to having this down the street

We were going to climb Arthur’s Seat…but we were a bit knackered. Later, we went to Maddy’s favorite Indian restaurant, Mother India. It was amazing. The best pershwari naan  and saag paneer I’ve ever had! With light still out afterward, it was the perfect chance for a roll in the…

Petals.

But I still can't paint with all the colors of the wind.

If Jesus turned female and took to rolling in cherry petals, he would be my friend's flatmate

But alas, all good things come to an end. The next day I was bound back for London.

I had so much fun in Edinburgh. Hell, I was reminded just what fun is, as I’ve been having little of it lately. As a train carried me off, I felt a pang of, not jealousy, but longing. Of course my friend and her mates have their stresses and hardships, but I crave the friendship they have. My USC posse here (read, anywhere) is far from that, except for a precious few people. I need more opportunities to roll in the petals.

I had little time once back in London to sink into a mood. Because I had to skedaddle to a Kamelot concert. Kamelot is my absolute favorite band, and I’d heard tell that Roy Khan, the amazing lead singer, was leaving.

I went alone because no one at my flat shares my eclectic taste in music. I considered taking a shower first but then it hit me…I was going to a metal concert. Slightly greased tresses are a hallmark.

Kamelot had two preceding bands, Amaranth and Evergray. Amaranth is good but Evergray bores the hell out of me. Luckily, I had a hilarious Scottish guy to talk to. But first he had to break my heart.

“Eh? Khan already left. The singer from Rhapsody of Fire— Fabio Lione — is filling in.”

I guess he noticed my face, torn by anguish, spackled in rage, and two seconds from booking it out of there.

“No, trust me, he’s really good.”

Turns out it’s a small world. My Scottish friend, while in a small metal band himself, is also a geologist who regularly travels to Houston for work. He’d just gotten back that day. I added I’d just gotten back from Scotland. It was fun chatting with him, and there might have been a Snakebite involved. Then it was time for Kamelot.

Fabio Lione is no Roy Khan, but he is a very good singer. Where Khan’s voice swings between crooning angelic and rougher mortality, Lione is an exotic wolf with a slight predilection to howl. Not that howling is bad when you’ve got good pipes and it’s a metal concert. His voice sometimes had a reedy quality in its diction though, perhaps affected by his accent.

A neat suprise was the backup vocalist, Tommy Karevik, who got to sing “Center of the Universe.” Wow! I was lusting. He could be the new singer and I wouldn’t complain. Any Kamelot fans, check him out:

A second suprise was Epica’s singer, Simone Simons, popping by for one of Kamelot’s catchiest songs, “The Haunting.”

I have a total girl-crush on Simone. She is an example for redheads everywhere.

Even though there are better Kamelot songs, I have a very soft spot for “The Haunting,” as it’s the song that introduced me to Kamelot. You never forget your first .

Casey Grillo also had an awesome drum solo. I can only describe his look as adorably satanic, but it works. And he always has the cutest smiles for the audience.

Though I missed Khan, it was an awesome concert. As I squeezed past all the drunks and said bye to my (also drunk by this point) Scottish friend, I realized I’d had a pretty good last few days.

Of course, once home, I fired up the Google to find out why Roy Khan was not there. It’s probably for the best, as I always have the urge to throw myself at my screen and make out with him, so I don’t know how I would have contained myself seeing him live. His wife might have killed me. But I still wanted to find out.

Poor baby. He left because of total burnout, anxiety attacks, and depression. Something to do with religion too, but mostly stress. But I’m glad he had the sense to back off before he had a total breakdown.

After Steve Barton’s tragic death, I get chilled when I hear about troubled artists. It’s so much of a cliché — the emotionally unstable artist — that I believe real artists who are going through a lot of pain get ignored or made into media mockeries. It has nothing to do with the “pain of pursuing art” or some bullshit romantic notion. Like the same idiotic notion of dumbasses who say Heath Ledger died because he played the Joker. Creating art is not like going through labor…some pretty bad writers block excepting . There are so many non-artistic factors, like the exhausting experience of touring, or completely unrelated personal problems. Meh, sorry for the tangent.

I’m sad Khan’s gone, but he’ll be back eventually. Probably not with Kamelot, but he’s too talented to retire. As for the new singer…ooh la la, I wait with baited breath. Change isn’t bad. As long as the core remains, change is cosmetic.

Thing is, Kamelot’s last CD, Poetry for the Poisoned, while technically brilliant, was not up to their normal emotionally-arresting standard. When change is ready to happen, there is no stopping it. Another funny thing…Fabio Lione’s best songs were all from their last CD.

Farewell dear one...

Yes yes, I saw the Royal Wedding. It was cute. But news-created highlights will give you a better sense of it than I ever could. Now I need to work on my journalism project. It should be interesting, as the interview my whole project hinged on just fell through. The game is on?

Adaptations

Psych! For those of you who thought I was going to delve into metabolic adaptation, effeciency, or a melodramatic philosophical monologue…no, I’m thinking of a totally different kind of adaptation.

When people take my favorite things and adapt them into films.

With Game of Thrones premiering soon, and hopefully an entertainment internship in the works, my film and television geekery are returning to the fore.

Just might want to cover the kiddo's eyes at certain parts.

Basically, saddle up for a film spiel.

I remember the day: back in high school, classes had been cancelled because of a tropical storm. I was chilling in my room, reveling at the vacay, and goofing around online. Then I saw it: A Song of Ice and Fire coming to HBO.

I choked up. I hiccuped. Then I let out a howl of triumph and spammed everyone’s Facebook wall. Oh, and I taunted my BFF who is a bit of a literary snob and who refused to admit the series could ever be adapted for television.

From the footage I’ve seen, the adaptation looks fantastic. Meanwhile, I trust HBO. They’ve yet to deliver a show I’ve hated…only a few I’ve been lukewarm about, like Boardwalk Empire.

Adapting a book, video game, or musical into a film is complicated. Despite the keening of fans, you can’t transcribe a book, musical, or video game into a film. The plotting, pacing, and imagery just don’t translate. It’s like translating a language — some expressions and connotations don’t carry over. The art of adapting for screen is knowing how to retain the feel but find ways to express that using visuals and sound.

It’s also surgical. Movies have to cut things. Take Harry Potter: a reason I believe the movies, with the exception of Deathly Hallows Part 1, have been mediocre is the lack of cutting skills. The films often cut out feelings or moments that could really bring compulsion…while keeping in fluff that only appeals to a squealing fangirl. Of course with Harry Potter, there are many other nitpicks I have such as acting and screenwriting, but the lack of surgical skill is the chief one.

Finally, adaptation need a Patti Stanger-figure who will pair up the right team. I don’t want to see Michael Bay tackling Shakespeare. Take Peter Jackson, for example, he’s crafted some kinky stuff. But he also has a romantic streak and grandiose sensibility that worked well for Lord of the Rings. Not so much King Kong. Also, while a director needs to have a feel for the material, he needs to refrain from slavish devotion. This was a huge problem for Zack Snyder and his fanboyism for Watchmen.

In fact, for Watchmen, the best moments were when it drifted away from the source material, such as the sick-ass intro:

Meanwhile, there are good films that I do not consider good adaptations. I may love the movie, but I prefer to think of it as inspired by the book rather than based on — more than just the events, the feel itself is completely different. A chief example is Howl’s Moving Castle. Brilliant novel, brilliant movie, and never the two shall meet. This is not the same as films which bastardize the source material

How does this come together in something that does not offend my film snobbery? L’example:

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Hands down it’s my favorite stage musical. Considering the atrocity of Phantom of the Opera on screen, I was nervous. But what a payoff. Tim Burton got a lot of flack for cutting out the chorus. Ultimately I think it was for the best. Preserving the Greek tragedy motif wasn’t worth alienating the audience who might otherwise be reminded of froo-froo chorus lines. There was one song, “Kiss Me,” I wish they had retained, but otherwise I was ecstatic over the dark mood, the gore, the madness, and the beauty…all in incredibly well-translated songs. I was also worried they would try to pretty up Sondheim’s score — which is meant to sometimes sound discordant and strange — but Burton’s a guy who can appreciate weirdness.

And understand the concept of hilarious macabre.

A few of my other favorite on-screen adaptations are Cabaret, John Adams, Rebecca, Dexter (which surpasses the original), Lord of the Rings, The Crow, Dangerous Liaisons, Titus, The Wizard of Oz, The Godfather, and Sin City.

But there are plenty more stories I think would make great adaptations. Here are a few (producers, take note).

Best Served Cold by Joe Abercrombie. To be honest, I’ve love to see his First Law trilogy a bit more, as I prefer the characters, but Best Served Cold is a self-contained book. And it’s awesome. A crazy mercenary chick is bretrayed by her nobleman employer. After being haphazardly put back together, she goes on a bloodthirsty path of vengeance, taking down all the people involved in the plot. The characters she draws in are an amazing odd bunch, from a drunken mercenary captain to a megalomaniac poisoner, and the story zips along for such a big scope. We have too many fluffy adventure stories like The Eagle. It’s time for something with some teeth.

The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi. I like sci-fi that intelligently speaks on current issues, and does so without sounding like Al Gore or Green Peace. Windup Girl, which is more biopunk than sci-fi, is an intriguing look at what could happen if big corporations like Monsanto continued to grow in power, and takes place in a future Bangkok. In this future, GM plants have contributed to unstoppable GM plagues, most of the earth’s original plants are gone, and corporations get choke-holds on countries as they possess new seed crops. But what keeps this one from being a preachy piece of cautionary fluff is the real story and interesting characters. The societal implications stay in the background. This could really be an interesting film.

Godchild by Kaori Yuki. I would actually prefer to see this manga series adapted into a TV series, but a movie could work too. Imagine a sexier, more twisted version of Sherlock Holmes. There’s the leading man, a Victorian aristocrat with a crazy family who always stumbles onto macabre mysteries. It’s both a messed-up family drama and a great mystery series that takes advantage of a lot of English lore, literature, and nursery rhymes. “Baa Baa Black Sheep” has never been so creepy. It may be high melodrama, but there was a time when melodrama did not equal “crappy and overwrought.” Godchild, in some ways like Sweeney Todd, shows off the fun, spectacle, and emotional heart that can make a melodrama compelling.

Yuki’s other big series, Angel Sanctuary, would also make a great tv series…but it has so many touchy subjects and taboos that I don’t think even HBO would touch it. And poor Yuki would probably get death threats.

The Legacy of Kain series. Yeah, a video game. Guess what — video games can have great stories, and Legacy of Kain is among the best. Take a story of fate, time travelling, redemption and destruction, throw in a few vampires, and you come out with a kickass story. Plus, any game that ends with the main character refusing to sacrifice himself to save humanity and deciding to take it over instead is just hardcore. Of course, the series has multiple entries. I would adapt the original Blood Omen and if it was successful, skip Blood Omen II and move on to Soul Reaver. Character designs would need some upgrading, but that’s all in due course. When you have dialogue and characterization this kickass, things happen.

Alas, while I like to plot, I’m no director. That isn’t conducive to how my mind works, with lots of little tasks scattered all around. I’d rather be the publicist who gets said adaptations onto all the magazine covers.

Eagles and Butterflies

I’m going to miss a few things about England. The pretty accents, Cafe Nero, the standard cloakrooms, and the well-dressed people. More specifically, bloggers and my Vantra peeps.

A social butterfly I am not. Instead, I’m a professional butterfly. My social element is when I have a goal or a purpose, or when I need to make something else besides myself look really good.

I had a bit of an emo-kid fit the other day. A company turned me down for an internship. Cue the tears, howls of despair, wails of professional castration, mental ass-whoopings, and a driving desire to run and hide at the nearest gelato bar.

Luckily, I know how to network. I barely know what I’m doing at a nightclub or party, but I do know how to make a good impression. So I’m in talks with a cable station. *smashes fists on wood* Hopefully this works out. Still haven’t heard back from those Discovery peeps. I hate it that I feel like I’ve jumped the shark at the ripe old age of 20.

I got to rock my “I am a savvy journalist” shtick at the Natural & Organic Products Europe show at London’s Olympia. It was a last minute thing. A friend I made at the Vantra party mentioned it. I didn’t even know if I’d for sure be able to get in for free. But I was bored, so I went.

Wow, I’m going to be so jaded when FoodBuzz rolls around.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t take pictures. Each time I tried to whip it out, I was scolded by staff. But luckily I have almighty Google.

A few highlights…

• Food for Life, aka the Ezekiel bread people, are coming to the UK. They have some pretty good gluten-free bread too–much better than Glutino’s.
• Demeter has a great line of skin products. I got a big thing of samples, so I look forward to trying them.
• Kinnikinnick Foods (a gluten-free company) has really good doughnuts. And I don’t even like regular doughnuts.
  
• Doves Farm Foods has some lovely flapjacks that are a lot lighter than ones I’ve seen. Gluten-free too.
• I met Amy’s mom! Amy’s Kitchen is coming to the UK and thus had a stall. I shook hands with Rachel Berliner (and Amy) herself. I got to personally thank her for giving me yummy things to eat my freshman year of college when the cafeteria was crap and I was trying to eat healthy. I also tried the vegan mac ‘n cheese and wow, it was good. That Daiya stuff really does live up to its rep.
• Moo Cluck has a delicious ice cream without any added sugar. It’s made just from cream, milk, eggs, and fruit. If you’re not vegan, this ice cream is lovely.
• Numi Organic Tea is also coming to the UK. It also has a new Pu-erh line of teas…in chocolate and magnolia! They are responsible for me burning my mouth on the ultra-yummy chocolate one.
• Simply Ice Cream is as yummy as it was at IFE. Which is omgyummy. Those Kentish cows must have magic udders.

On the tube ride back, I chatted with one of the exhibitors. She represented a fish oil company. She mentioned how a lot of the capsule fish oils out there are rancid–but you can tell by biting into one. I got home and tried it. Score, Costco, you sell decent (and cheap) fish oil!

I really love these events. It’s way more than the free food. It’s the conversing, the learning, and the chessboard feel of it all. There are so many people who believe so passionately in their products. Each sample of chocolate bears the possibility of business deals and publicity. And a lot of it comes down to good networking. I guess if the entertainment industry throws me on my ass, I have another one to infiltrate.

And meeting up with bloggers always makes me smile.

Later on, I met up with the lovely Alison @ Physically Philosophical. We met at a lovely vegetarian Indian restaurant called Sagar. We opted for the vegan menu so we could share.

Sagar is very much southern Indian. Instead of korma or butter tofu, there are lots of dosa, idli, and sambar dishes. We split a dosa, sambar, lemon rice, and chappati. Of course we had to start off with poppadums.

I had no idea dosa were that huge. This thing could cover a manhole. Super delicious.

 

I think my spice threshold has increased through my Indian eats. I probably would have found this a bit too hot a few months ago. Now it's just nice and punchy.

 

I was curious to try kulfi, which is Indian ice cream. It's really good. Dense, but not super rich. Sort of like compacted gelato.

I had so much fun! Alison’s working on Immanuel Kant for her PhD, so I was all ears. Kant is a fascinating philosopher. Most people I know who utterly loathe Kant tend to be selfish assholes…or just stuck around for the “duty” part of their philosophy 101 lecture.

If you want to start something, bring up Kant in front of Ayn Rand followers. You will fire up so much shit there could easily be riot control and news crews. PETA at a fur-based fashion show? Got nothing on some of those Rand crazies.

Lovely food and great conversation make me a happy Mimi, so I was a cheerful little ducky on the way home. I hope we meet up again! My pick is Amico Bio.

Last night, Aisha and I got together to see The Eagle. Yeah, Channing Tatum’s foray into historical drama. It was sort of an MTV hybrid of Gladiator and Rome, but with much less kinkiness…and compelling narrative. Considering the veiled “come hither” looks between the main characters, I can only conclude from the ending they went off to enjoy hot buttsex. Even if it’s not an Oscar winner, I had a super fun time. And got to oggle Tatum.

"Don't deny you want me."

"Hands off my Centurion, biatch!"

I had to hop the Tube back to my neck of the woods, but Aisha and I will be meeting up soon — at the chocolate and coffee festivals this weekend!

Among other things I’m excited about is HBO’s new Game of Thrones series, which premiers in about a week. It’s my favorite book series of all time (A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin). The footage I’ve seen has been really impressive. HBO, Sky, and internet users be on the alert…if you like a little kickassery, complex storytelling, and the defenestration of small children in your prime time.

Snarky knights!

And sadistic teenagers!

Anyway, I’m off to poke fun at Ayn Rand suss out all the crazy Row shit going down at USC.

Meat and Veg

Source: The Stir

I am a lady of extremes. Opposites.

I can get extremely happy, to the point I’m a giggly poof who you think just tried E. I also get extremely moody, to the point Linkin Park’s saying “We are SO not touching this.”

I love to be a little high-roller and shop for Lucy workout pants, Nordstrom tops, and Anthropologie skirts. I also go into hissy fits when I see inferior-quality clothing marked up because of a fancy name , and I laugh hysterically when people pay blood money for clothes not realizing the $$$ does not make a burlap sack not a burlap sack.

The should be holding potatoes, not Posh Spice

My food choices greatly perplex my roommates. Some days I’ll walk in crowing about an awesome vegetarian place I discovered. A few hours later I’ll make a steak for dinner.

Paws off mah quinoa!

A few nights ago, I embraced the former, with a lovely dinner party at Vantra. The guest of honor was Philip McCluskey, a raw food advocate and motivational speaker.

I will say, with utmost sincerity, Philip is one of the kindest people I have ever met. You know those people who walk into a shop acting like they just won the lottery, and you realize that the miracle of their day was waking up to clear skies and fresh air? Or those people who will have a breakup and instead of dive-bombing into an emo fit or a pint of ice cream, will be thankful for the good times and move on to the next fulfilling relationship?

Philip’s like that, which makes him adorable. But he’s cool about it — no creepy-wide smiles and giddy adages that make you want to puke sunshine.

Another reason Philip rocks is epic transformation. I thought I was in bad sorts when I weighed 190 pounds. Philip weighed 400. He had to over half of himself to get down to a lean and healthy weight. For him, the answer was a raw vegan diet.

Jared who?

But who cares about how it was done? It’s the results that are the most telling. All of them.

I speak from experience. A massive weight loss changes your life. It can also fuck you up. You’ve created a new reality for yourself and sometimes you just don’t know how to deal. Suddenly being chatted up by fetching guys; being able to choose clothes based on your likes, not “because it fits.” There’s tons more at play: realizing losing weight can be immensely helpful for your social life but not knowing how to conduct yourself in said social situations (having been awkwardly tucked up against the punch bowl for years). Realizing you won’t be a magically confident vixen unless you make yourself a confident vixen. Egads, the list spirals on into something worthy of a few Snakebites.

I'm still not a drinker, but these are kind of nice

Weight loss can also carry its own baggage. Obsessive compulsive types are suddenly left without the need to closely monitor intake. Oh nos, what to obsess over now? Those with one-track minds, self-destructive tendencies, or any number of unfortunate quirks can wind up with a damaged relationship with food and strange compulsions. Talk with almost anyone who’s lost a large amount of weight and I guarantee you’ll uncover some shadows.

I’m sure Philip has his own shadows. But the light he gives off far overpowers them. You see just from his blog how positive and inspiring his take on life is. The guy saved his own life and forged a new reality. That’s cool.

It was so lovely to find he was just as nice as he is on his blog and videos. No squeaky celebrity persona either — we got into a rather profanity-laced co-tirade on LA driving.

As it turns out, Philip’s most likely returning to New York when he gets back to America. I mentioned I might be living there this summer for an internship, and he told me to look him up. Score!

There was no pontificating on diet or philosophy — yeah, it was a raw food party, but the event was less about The Eats and more about The Socializing. In which I promptly remebered I knew abolsutely no one there.

Meh, when you have nice peeps, it’s easy to socialize. By the end of the night, I’d met tons of amazing, kind people.

New peeps!

This wasn’t a Kool-aid party. I made no effort to hide the fact I was neither vegan nor a raw foodist. As one charming gent put it, “Ah, an open relationship. That’s a good thing, you’re too young to marry!”

It’s probably good the party wasn’t as much about the food though. Vantra is a vegan restaurant, not a raw one. After you’ve had Pure Food & Wine, the standards are pretty high. Vantra tried hard–the appetizer plate of crackers and pates were lovely. So were the drinks. My new goal is to recreate their strawberry-rose lassi.  The main course, though, was pretty meh– a red pepper stuffed with some kind of nut crumble.

Nom. This made me want to make some kale chips.

A mistake some restaurants make with raw food is an overemphasis on nuts. What makes restaurants like Pure Food & Wine so stellar is their use of vegetables and spices. While I swooned over Sarma’s mole sauce, I was just as smitten with the nori rolls.

Luckily, Vantra was also serving their normal vegan menu, which they do incredibly well. I snagged some vegan Stroganoff and Thai salad and was a happy bunny.

An apple pie sealed the deal--I loved the cream they put on it. Made me miss my Vita Mix.

To say I had a lovely evening was an understatement. I made new friends, had some tasty treats, and got tons of new ideas for stuff to do in London–like ice skating at Canary Wharf!

But no, I’m no more tempted to “go vegan” than I was before I attended the party. Even if I do want to make my way through the list of veggie restaurants I now have on my harddrive!

The aspect of raw veganism I most admire is the return to whole, simple food that can still create dynamic cuisine. Even better, these creations are much less likely to over-stimulate  and spur cravings. They are comforting and nourishing without being addicting. From personal experience, I find it far easier to eat to simple satisfaction instead of snarfage with delcious raw cheesecakes and truffles in comparison to a conventional cookie — vegan or not. It’s not the veganism that attracts me to veganism, even if I respect the ethics. That’s also why I kind of roll my eyes at soydogs and fakin’bacon.

But you know? That’s why I also like aspects of Paleo and Weston Price philosophies.

Teehee!

The reason Paleo’s on my mind is actually because of an adventure I had today. My day started out in Borough Market, where I hunted down some wild boar bacon and 90%-meat venison sausage. Today Borough was also having some pre-gaming for the Chinese New Year, which is celebrated Sunday. I’m always up for some music and dancing dragons.

British people (who aren't vegans) seem enchanted by their sausage.

I was also in the same area as a gym I’d wanted to check out: Crossfit Central London. I’ve always been curious about Crossfit — it’s hardcore, but with a group dynamic.

And has some pretty sexy turn-out

What’s always felt missing from my fitness is community. None of my friends have any interest in working out with me. Classes can be fun, but there’s still not much camaraderie. Group sports are a no-go at this point. For example, I’d wanted to try fencing, but the practices are held on the one day I can’t attend.

I haven’t been the most inspired to work out…but I think it’s more I haven’t been as inspired to work out alone. I noticed it when I unintentionally started doing the same exercise as another dude at my gym, and we got into a friendly competition. I was psyched the rest of the workout. CrossFit is hugely rooted in a group dynamic. It’s also great for well-rounded strength, conditioning, and agility. Check it out!

However, some CrossFit gyms can be sketchy. Cultish. Valuing numbers and macho-ness over form. So I wanted to check it out myself before signing up for a class.

Talk about awesome! The facility was no-nonsense and practical. No goofy posters or promotion. The building wasn’t even marked — I had to ask two random Texas boys also on study abroad to help me find it. Yes, my terrible sense of direction is somehow offset by my excellent ability to find helpful guides.

Took a trip down McRapey Alley

Inside, I met some regulars and staff. They have a manditory 2-week introduction section, THEN a series of newbie classes. They are quite thorough. I think I’m signing up! I don’t have anything to lose.

I'll need to borrow those assistance bands though...

For those who aren’t fitness geeks like I am, eating Paleo is very popular in CrossFit, largely because of the awesome warrior nerd Robb Wolf. We don’t always agree, but he’s legit. And considers jumping onto a 42” pommel horse pure play.

World-class gymnastics tools for some, toys for others. And like hell if I could jump onto that!

No, that doesn’t mean I’m going Paleo either. Leigh Peele explains very well why the Paleo framework has a lot of fallacies. The problem with Paleo is not the stuff it promotes–veggies, an awareness for where your food comes from, high-quality meat, and the removal of sugar and refined carbohydrates– but the stuff it brands as Satan’s work, such as grains and legumes. Some people get very sick from grains and dairy. But not everyone. The Paleo supporters who fall back to fearmongering and dogma just piss me off…as do most extremists.

Is this some inner cry to simplify my life? Perhaps. I love flux, but I don’t like craziness. Simple, well-flavored food has been calling my name lately. In honor of the British Isles, here are some tasty things I want to make. Gordon Ramsay is one of my favorite chefs. I love how he makes no excuses about being a cranky bitch. But he’s also funny and knows how to make damn good food.

What I also like about Ramsay is that he has no patience–he makes food fast. Which is good for me because trips to Indian restaurants and the Tower of London really cut into the day.

Epic history

Who knew Ann Boleyn died on a coffee table?

Contemplated swiping the Crown Jewels to fuel my manicure fund

The Showdown Begins

Anyone remember Pokémon The First Movie? Definitely a highlight of my 4th grade year. Yes, I was a Pokémon kid.

Ergo, when I see big showdowns, I inevitably hear a strain of “Pokémon mon mon!”

Five minutes ago I was even humming along to the trailer on YouTube. Because there really IS an ultimate showdown.

Presented by Kevin Gianni, for seven nights, The Great Health Debate.

Basically, take a bunch of people very passionate about their ideal diets and throw them in an iron cage…figuratively. In real life, this might end up as slaughter and riots  However, to preserve the pacifists and calm the hotheads, the debates will be over the internet. Though if Robb Wolf is indeed a guest, my money’s on him walking out alive.

Do you want to mess with these groupies?

I have several different views on this.

First, it’s great there is actually a debate. Paleo, vegan, nourishing traditions, pH-based…all of these camps are bursting at the seams with enthusiasts who decry other forms of eating. But they never actually talk to each other.

There are going to be some incredibly interesting debates. I am looking forward to David  Wolf & Daniel Vitalis. Wolfe is a pa$$ionate raw foodist who seems to live off of cacao and goji berries. Daniel Vitalis is a former vegan/raw foodist who switched to a longevity-oriented omnivorous diet because of health concerns.

For the record…I’ve been in love with Daniel Vitalis ever since this video, an awesome spoof of himself, David Wolf, Matt Monarch, and the “Longevity Now Conference 16-DVD Series Superfood Elixir Tonic Smoothie.”

This could be Star Wars epic!

I’m also incredibly interested in seeing some of these people defend their research. Because seriously, there are holes on all sides. Dr. Campbell’s famous China Study is like Swiss cheese (I know he’d hate the comparison) when you actually read the study and look into his statements. I also want to see how Paleo-enthusiast Robb Wolf defends the nitty gritty (and occasionally implausible) aspects of embracing Grok.

"In the name of Loren Cordain, I shall smite you!"

What I do not like as much is these speakers are all extremes in their fields. They are passionate–there’s no way in hell discourse will be completely two-way, just by virtue of their beliefs. It would be interesting to also open the floor to more casual vegans or those who flirt rather than marry Paleo. Or, omg, people who borrow a bit of everything?

That said, Kevin Gianni is a cool dude. He and his partner Annmarie rove about the countryside advocating a high-raw lifestyle–but they do it in a very friendly, open way that avoids much dogma or throat-shoving. As the host of the event, he wants to include a finale in which he, Mike Adams, and Sean Croxton “put it all together” for a healthy mean–be it Paleo, vegan, pH, etc. Basically, an optimization for whatever kind of way you roll.

For example, a Paleo-style diet can be a good solution for certain people…but those who still carry lingering 80s fatophobia can really mess themselves up trying to adopt that protocal. Meanwhile, I’ve seen vegans and raw foodists who look like scrawny hippies–which is obviously preventable when you have gorgeous vegan atheletes like Robert Cheeke and Koya Webb.

Brendan Brazier can veganize my pantry anytime he wants...as long as he makes me dinner afterward. Garowwl!

This final segment will be interesting too, considering Mike Adams and Sean Croxton are an odd mix of similarities and polar opposites. I’d love to see them wrestle it out. That would be kind of hot.

Ultimately, I love debate and discourse. I do not think anyone is going to abandon his tofu and throw himself at the Altar of Bacon or cast off cheese in favor of chia seeds…but my greatest hope is that it makes people think.

People don’t think enough these days. People watch TV, scratch their heads at easy-to-understand-if-slightly-complicated movies like Inception, and hop on bandwagons as if they’re the last coach out of Dodge.

Why are you vegan? Omnivorous? Paleo? A mix of all three?

Do we all have our golden calves to bear?

 

Ethics, personal experience, and research are fine and dandy reasons.

Trendiness is not. Masking a disordered attitude toward food is not. Being desperate for any miracle diet that doesn’t appear to involve a caloric deficit is not.

Meet your dieter's dream food!

Watch the jar disappear, along with your waistline!

I’ll be tuning in, as I really want to see what arguments some of these people make. The point of a good debate isn’t to force people to adopt your point of view. That’s impossible. But the discourse can stir up a wealth of thought.

Me? Loving my food right now. I’ve been playing around with some things, and I think I’ve finally found a groove where I can get back into better shape, enjoy my London restaurant adventures, and not care so much about the minutae of either. But more on that later. Right now, I’m PSYCHED for my party tomorrow at Vantra!

Fall Drama

Even if you live in LA, fall is here. You just have to pop over to Target and you’ll see Halloween ghouls and goblins, right next to reindeer and sleigh bells. Or, just look at your Google Reader for three dozen pumpkin recipes.

One thing I love about fall  is the drama. Starting in fall, everything takes on a dash of the theatric. Take desserts. In the summer it’s simple sorbets and granitas. If you want to get hard core, you take a peach cobbler to the Fourth of July picnic. In the winter, it’s…well, everything’s more awesome.

Like homemade Cream Puffs, courtesy of Sophia's housemate!

Then you have film. Summer is a time for pirates and superheros and exceptionally vapid chick flicks. Come autumn, we start hitting our dramas, dark fantasy, and Oscar bait.

Now jail-bait free!

This goes back to history. In colder months, people spend more time indoors. They need distractions. You notice a big gooey apple pie more than a cup of sorbetto. But I also think this goes back to people themselves– when people are packed together, sparks fly, for good and bad.

My fall certainly kicked off with a bit of drama. Things have wound down, for now, but I draw sparks like a sailor draws bar brawls.

Today though, the drama was hopping at the LA food scene. This weekend, it’s Artisanal LA. Aka, pre-gaming for Foodbuzz Fest.

Basically, you get a bunch of Los Angeles butchers, bakers, and oven-mitt makers together and let them sample and sell their goods. This has definitely been the tastiest get-together I’ve been to in awhile!

More so, Artisanal LA perfectly encapsulated what’s so great about the colder months.

Families get together, like the mom-and-sister crew with Villebois Kitchen. Their pâtès, butters, and quiches are EPIC.

People get creative, like the chocolate artisans of Compartes Chocolatier…

Too pretty to eat? Almost.

People also get open to experimenting. Like S’muffins, the brilliant, delicious, hybrid of s’mores and muffins from Gotta Have S’more.

And bring on the heart griddle cakes, not the delicate crepes. The Welsh Baker knows where it’s at:

Free samples make me a happy girl

But while Saturday was a blast, today is work work work. Not the best part about being indoors. But hitting up warm coffee houses with your roomie always helps…

She’s more of a boba girl, but studying requires caffeine over sugar.

Even if I’ve grown to like the outdoors more as I’ve gotten older, I don’t mind the warmth of the indoors. And I can get creative too. Or, in this case, uncreative. I wanted to roast a chicken. Which intrinsically calls for simplicity. One of life’s great balances.

I followed Nourished Kitchen’s recipe for an herb-roasted chicken…until I realized it would take 2 1/2 hours to cook. Maybe some day, but that was too long. So I looked up Martha Stewart’s recipe and used the time from that, cutting the roasting time to 90 minutes, plus 15 standing minutes. My results:

People who say leave the skin? Screw ‘em! I gnawed through skin, crunched on the bones, sucked on the marrow, and licked my fingers. I did not pull off HEAB-levels of badassery and eat the whole damn thing, but I don’t have Pregnancy Superpowers.

I’m just a beast when it comes to a juicy cock. Or maybe it was a hen. I dunno.

Weekly Badassery

So, I’ve seen a lot of these “Five Things Friday” and “Sunday Link Love Things.” Because I’m a fifth-grade copycat, I want to get in on this stuff. But a few things…

- No specific day. I’m lazy…uh, that just makes things more sneaky. Like ninjas. Who are badass.

- The focus will be on badassery. The world needs more badasses.

For some it's just natural.

Why should you care about badassery?

- Badasses experience a compression of morbidity. Badassery is not broccoli. It won’t help you live longer. In fact, if your field of badassery involves pirates or ninjas, it might knock a few years off. But the trade? Very few badasses spend their final years rotting away in bed, slowly creaking up to the Pearly Gates/Valhalla/Elysian Fields. Instead, most badasses have some blazing, crazy-as-hell death, or just randomly croak at a ripe old age after his or her morning bear-wrestling ritual.

Biblical Badassery

- Badassery transcends the linear progression. Translation: I’m a history and literary geek. This will rear its head.

- Badassery has many forms. People, places, events, acts, and objects can all be badass. You might not agree with all of them. Such is with any art (aka, screw Gilbert and Sullivan).

So, without further ado…

WEEKLY BADASSERY!

M is for 'Shrooms!

- Nintendo. On September 13, 1985, Nintendo created Super Mario Bros. Somehow, this sexually-ambiguous plumber changed the world of video games forever. All of you blasting away Wild West riffraff with Red Dead Redemption or slavering over the upcoming Call of Duty…you owe it to tilt your head to Nintendo, and to a plumber who really loves his mushrooms.

Wish my grandpa had that picture above his fireplace...

- Grandparents Day. The Sunday after Labor Day is Grandparents Day. Why is this on here? Because Clint Eastwood is a grandpa, and he could kick your ass six ways from Sunday.

Still have no idea about the corpsey twins, but at least it's not some semi-topless Viking lady

- Kamelot’s Poetry For The Poisoned. Kamelot’s newest CD just came out, and it’s a big smack down of symphonic badassery. Kamelot is not a “hard and heavy” band as far as metal goes, but Roy Khan has a voice like an operatic ninja (meaning it’s capable of all sorts of crazy stuff) and the music effortlessly blends classic and modern. Next time I workout, this is so my playlist.

You may be about to decapitate me...but I still have 14 wives!

- Blackbeard. September 19 is International Talk Like a Pirate Day, so hands up for one of the most badass pirates of them all. This guy was so badass that his idea of a drunk parlor trick was lighting his beard on fire, locking himself and his crew inside a cabin, and calling them all a bunch of pussies when they flipped out. He didn’t need a battle-cry — he just stuck a few burning ropes in his beard when he boarded enemy ships and scared the crap out of everyone. In a crazy blockade, he totally made the port city Charleston his bitch. Lastly, epic finales are always badass, and when Blackbeard went down to Captain Maynard, it was with no less than five bullet holes, 20 knife wounds, and a slashed jugular.

- My Giveaway. Pimps are not badass (though the same cannot be said for the pimp slap). But I’m pimping out my giveaway anyway, because a pack of soda that won’t make you fat or give you cancer is pretty badass. Ends tomorrow!