Journal

03-25-2008 | Peepin’ Hilarious

Rarely do I do a follow up journal entry on a topic but I have just discovered that more than 800 people in the Seattle area recently participated in the Second Annual Peeps Diorama Contest. The gallery is appropriately named Peep Show II and perusing the pictures is well worth five minutes of your time.

My favorites:
1) Amy Winepeep (They tried to make me go to rehab, and I said, “peep, peep, peep.”)
2) Peepbusters! I Ain’t ‘Fraid of No Peeps!
3) Tie – The Trouble with Tribbles & Crouching Tiger, Peeping Dragon

I think they should have a similar contest for songwriters, however, and I’ve already thought of a couple of award winning titles: “Take another little peep of my heart” and “Don’t worry, peep happy.”

PS Jon and Christie, I blame you for encouraging the crazy, and thanks for the email. You really are my kind of peeple.

03-11-2008 | Pole Dancing with the Peeps

Almost everyone has that ridiculous defining “thing” from their freshman year of college. As in, the thing that all of your closest college friends remember about you even though you forget it. Unfortunately, my thing happened to be peeps. Since I mock them but don’t eat them, I put many a peep in the microwave during those early college years. It seemed as if every spring care package contained several packages of the bird shaped treats, and what better way to bond with your roommates and neighbors than to subject them all to a yellow goo explosion? Perhaps even a peep jousting match? To top it off, my dorm room computer screen faced the doorway, and I had the following picture as my background for the entire year.


Even now, I still think peeps are completely hilarious. Even if I didn’t, my friends would make sure I remembered that I once did. For example, I unwrapped a package of peeps for my birthday this year (ha ha). Just yesterday my friend Ryan sent me the following picture of a “Peep Show” (ha ha, ha ha ha).


Since Easter is approaching, I’m sure several more peeps will make an appearance in my mail box and email inbox because people will see them and think of me (ha ha, ha ha ha, ha ha in advance).

Oh, the peepibilities.

02-23-2008 | Three Cakes & the Zombie Sledgehammer

I didn’t know my birthday would be so delicious! A long time fan from Tacoma, Dee, made me the most wonderful guitar cake I have ever seen (pictured below). If you saw my reaction upon cake arrival, excited wouldn’t even begin to describe the high pitched and barely intelligible squeals of delight that were coming out of my mouth.


Next, we had the Darth Vader cake. Yep, those are flames coming out from under the Vader head. Surprisingly enough, the Vader head doubles as a voice distorter you can attach to your keychain. Talk about a way to keep the Force with you.


Finally, the owners of NPCC, Mike and Liz Myers, bought me a chocolate frosted cake decorated with red roses. Though we didn’t cut into it, it is sure to be the highlight of the dessert table at the Oscar party I’m going to tomorrow afternoon.

Aside from the treat of triple cakes, Scott Andrew wrote and performed the most hilarious zombie song I have ever heard, and we concluded last night’s show with a zombie rendition of “Sledgehammer” by Peter Gabriel. I have to give a shout out to everyone in the audience who participated by mimicking zombies. You totally made my night.


01-28-2008 | Songwriter Love Crush of the Month: Ryan Adams

When it comes to artists I like, I’m one of those obsessive people that will play a twelve song album over and over and over until I’ve memorized every melody and metaphor that is unique to my ear and candy to my brain. Even after I have picked apart every note and phrase, I will keep on listening to the same tracks again and again. For example, Damien Rice’s O was heard in my car stereo up until the time the stereo was stolen from my car two years after the album purchase. Jason Mraz’ Live at Java Joe’s disc traveled with me for a little over a year and still makes guest appearances during long drives home. I went through an eight month infatuation with both Bright Eyes’ I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning and Calexico’s Garden Ruin. Ray Lamontagne’s Trouble remains one of the most listened to EPs on my mp3 player and is spun at least once a week while I’m running at the gym. And now, thanks to a brilliant and intuitive friend, I have a new rock star obsession. I am a most fervent Ryan Adams fan.

Putting his less than perfect reputation aside, Ryan Adams has a depth and quality to his writing style that is comparable to few lyricists I have come across thus far in my twenty four years on the planet. Though I have not experienced his entire catalogue, I’ve listened to tracks off of Demolition, Heartbreaker, Gold, and Love is Hell. In my opinion, not a single cut was a waste of my time, and it’s rare to make a statement like that these days when it seems as if one song sells an album while the rest of the tracks are filler. To say the least, I have been intrigued, impressed, and inspired by this man for the last two weeks, and it comes of no surprise that I found myself at Seattle’s Paramount Theater last Saturday night watching him perform live. Sitting fourteen rows back from the stage, I fell in love crush with a skinny guy wearing tight jeans and an almost well-fitting black t-shirt. He said whatever random thing came to mind and kept raking his hands through the most insane hair I have ever seen while smoking cigarettes and drinking cans of squirt. I have to admit, there was something sexy in the disaster of him, and overall, the show was phenomenal. If you haven’t heard him already, I highly recommend going out and finding yourself a CD.


12-01-2007 | Fifteen Seconds of Fame

A few years ago, I was challenged by a fifth grader to a drawing competition. I was assistant teaching a group of kids about the anatomy of Puget Sound salmon, and I had just finished labeling the caudal fin when one of the boys piped up.

“Jerin the Librarian, you totally shouldn’t draw stuff. I could do way better than that in fifteen seconds.”
“Oh really?” I said. “I bet you couldn’t. This is an awesome drawing.”
“Bet I could!”
“Bet you couldn’t.”
“Bet I could! Your drawing’s so rotten I can smell it from here!”

And so the contest began. The piece of chalk I had given him scratched furiously on the blackboard. A smile crept across his confident little face. When time was up, I polled the class for a vote. Our terrible drawings tied! You’ll be happy to know, though, that there were no hard feelings. I was even renamed “Jerin the Rockstar-arian” after they learned about the music.

For your viewing pleasure, have posted a sampling of my most memorable creations below (all done in roughly fifteen seconds), minus the salmon drawing that cannot be recreated. If all else fails, at least I have my drawing abilities to fall back on. Please note, however, my platypus interpretation is still a work in progress.


11-05-2007 | Bovines and Road Signs


Tacoma never ceases to amaze me. I was invited to play the first annual Moozeke Ultraminifest at Mocha Moo and spent seven hours at the coffeehouse yesterday listening to people perform. The artists were talented. The audience was plentiful. The food and beverages were delicious. I made a painful number of cow jokes on and off stage and took random pictures of the bovine décor. In the above photo of the cow serenade, tall Bessie on the left was my absolute favorite. If I was a cow, she I’d be. Mooost certainly. A big kudos goes out to my friends, Jay and Gwen, for hosting an exceptional event.


While on my way to a post-performance meeting, I was thrilled to discover the epitome of one-stop shopping. Apparently, the B&I brings a whole new meaning to the word diversify. Where else can you buy your dog food AND certify important documents? Need a cell phone? No problem! Pick it up with your hair removal cream and gold teeth. That’s right, gold teeth. Even more, there’s a dollar store and fabric galore. And don’t forget, the clothing store.


10-27-2007 | It Tastes Like the Color Orange

To those of you who don’t know me, I could be considered an ambitious chef. To those of you who do know me, you probably wouldn’t touch any of my kitchen creations with a 10-foot pole. Aside from a handful of dishes I am an expert at making (7-layer bean dip, box brownies, grilled cheese, mom’s meatloaf, and chocolate mousse pie), I am a disaster when it comes to cooking. Don’t get me wrong, I take directions well when being instructed by someone who knows their measuring cups and tablespoons. When left to my own devices, however, I burn, fry, melt, undercook, and over bake. I forget to sift the flour and to spray the bottom of the cake pan. I never have the right utensils (Garlic press? Potato masher?), and more often than not, I have to purchase every ingredient on a recipe right before I want to make it. As a result, I end up eating a lot of minimalist chicken dishes and quite a few salads.

Tonight, for some reason, I was up for a culinary adventure. As I walked down the aisles of the grocery store carrying the same old frozen chicken tenders and heads of romaine lettuce, the cheesy boxed dinners called to me. I had a brief flashback and remembered a friend in high school making “real” macaroni and cheese, which involved grating high-end cheddar and melting it over expensive, handmade pasta. For some reason, the $2 all-in-one dinner didn’t seem quite the same but it had a tempting enough picture on the front of the box. Shells and Cheese. A meal of champions.



I got home, boiled the water, cooked the pasta, strained the pasta, and opened the silver package containing the cheese. Now, I don’t know how many of you have cooked a Shells and Cheese Dinner but the cheese was such an unnatural color of orange that I had to stop and assess the intelligence of eating the substance. As you can see from the above pictures, the cheese’s neon radiance did not dull even when it fully coated the shells. And truthfully, the dish didn’t even smell that appetizing. It reminded me of the plastic scent that wafted out of the Mr. Potato Head box I opened as a kid. That being said, morbid curiosity drives individuals to do uncharacteristic things, and I tasted a few forkfuls just for kicks. It tasted chewy, slimy, and like the color orange.

At this point, I think it’s safe to say that I will either marry a cook or be content with my chicken. As of right now, my gurgling stomach is telling me, “No more fake cheese, if you please.” I guess it’s time to make a salad.

10-2-2007 | Fighting the Fleas

+ = Itch Prevention, Bootie Style

Tonight I poured myself an extremely large glass of white wine after 60 minutes of vacuuming. I put on my junior soccer socks and pulled on the booties my grandma knitted me circa 1992. Thinking back, the last time my shins and ankles looked this cozy was during my catholic grade school days. Knee-highs were trendy. Leg warmers were the dance accessory of choice. All the sports I played involved thick, tall socks. But those days were fun. These days, my shins are in need of protection because I am being attacked by my carpet. Correct that. I am being attacked by something that lives in my carpet.

Though I’ve found no certifiable evidence of fleas, the 14 bites on my legs would suggest that I am not alone in my new apartment. Apparently, fleas are extremely prolific and unbelievably demanding guests. According to Wikipedia, the bites can remain itchy and inflamed for up to several weeks. To quote the woman I spoke to at Home Depot while buying Real-Kill Indoor Foggers, “Fleas totally suck. I mean, totally.” I wonder if she was being literal or figurative. Either way, the apartment is definitely worth it.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

8-7-2007 | I’m a Barbarian!

A couple months ago, I had the pleasure of sharing a cup of coffee with Matt McCormick and talking about independent music and the Seattle scene. Matt was in the process of creating Barbarian Music, a website dedicated to promoting local music and helping independent musicians make a living by selling their art. As it turns out, I was paid a high compliment by being featured as one of 15 Seattle artists that kicked off the website’s launch on August 1. Visit Barbarian’s Homepage to see me and the other 14 artists that made the cut!

7-17-2007 | The New Nasty Habit


I don’t know what has gotten into me but I’ve picked up the nasty habit of taking pictures while driving. My friend Brad opened an art show last Thursday in West Seattle, and I decided to cross a couple of bridges and sip deliciously independent Verite coffee while contemplating his exceptional paintings. While driving back to Greenlake, however, I wedged my white paper coffee cup between the dashboard and windshield and proceeded to become obsessed with the picture for the entirety of my twenty minute drive home. I probably took fifteen pictures of the cup (none of which are that swell) and managed to avoid hitting several honking SUVs that were undoubtedly wondering why I kept swerving into their lane.


Posted above are a few completely random pictures from the Empyrean Coffee show I played in Spokane last weekend with my friend, Laurie Katherine Carlsson. I had enough time before the show to read a bit while enjoying an Americano and staring at a little blue bird that decorated my mug. I also got to hang out with E. Wash. friends, Dena and Farah.

7-8-2007 | Gigging Gig Harbor


If Farmers’ Markets were rated on a produce scale, I would give the Gig Harbor Farmer’s Market 11 out of 10 ears of corn. Thanks to a recommendation by my friend and fellow musician, Kristin Connell, I spent last Saturday enjoying the sunny outdoors and singing among booths of fresh fruits and vegetables. Not only was the venue ideal, everyone I met at the Market was happy to be alive. I started my afternoon set to hoots and hollers from guitarist Billy Farmer of a local blues rock band called The Weekenders. Post-performance, I was given the most tasty juice beverage (pictured above) made by Neil Chiddick. He also gave me an invitation to his 4th Annual Caribbean Boat Ride on August 25th that is promised to be the best steel drum cruise of the year. If you find yourself near Gig Harbor, the GHFM will be open every Saturday from 8:30am to 2pm through the end of September. I highly recommend stopping by and purchasing a vegetable or two and chatting with the locals!

6-13-2007 | Safeway and the New Paper Shoe

I love Safeway for so many reasons. Fresh fruit, clean aisles, easy to understand product placement. The checkers are always friendly, and I can usually get in and out in less than 20 minutes. Lately, however, the most entertaining part of my shopping experience is seeing what group is campaigning for my $1 donation at checkout. Every time I shop, I am asked to give money to AIDS, Breast Cancer, or MS. In return, I can write my name on a little piece of paper shaped like a shoe or a heart or a hot air balloon and feel good about my oh-so-generous buck drop. Everyone once in a while though, I am taken by complete surprise.

While making small talk with my favorite and delightfully sarcastic checker, I noticed a bin full of dog tags next to the credit card scanner. Upon closer inspection, I realized that I was being asked to donate $2 to Prostate Cancer research, and in return, I could take a dog tag. Apparently, these little metal badges are the new paper shoe, and like the AIDS wrist band, should be worn proudly. Though the spirit is in the right place, the idea of wearing a dog tag that said “Prostate Cancer” was so absurd to me that I asked my checker rock star if he had sold one. He replied that he hadn’t, and I made a really bad joke about not enough people naming their dogs Prostate. However, I bet if I had gotten to etch my name on the tag, I would have totally donated.

5-22-2007 | Catch-up on Meat Loaf

Thanks to the generosity of my best friend, I now have a new stereo sitting on the floor behind me in a purple tub waiting to be set free. And by set free, I mean plugged in, turned on, and cranked up. I spent some time admiring the features of this new toy and suddenly started singing tracks from Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell II album (the cassette-love of my pre-teen life). Talk about blast from the past. First off, I had no idea that record was release in 1993, and I momentarily felt old. Secondly, did you know that Meat Loaf has TWELVE albums out, including his recent release, Bat Out of Hell III: The Monster is Loose? Where the hell have I been? Apparently, the bat got out a third time and failed to let me know. Seriously, I would probably do anything for the love of ML if his tour bus stopped closer to Washington State.

Just in case you’re crazy like me and curious about the current state of Mr. Loaf, click here for all the juicy details.

4-07-2007 | Here's Your Boy!

I was waiting for my usual Starbucks beverage this morning when the strangest thing happened. From behind the bar, a smiling barista handed me my coffee and brightly said, “Here’s your boy!” I was shocked. I was stunned. I definitely didn’t know what to say after becoming the proud holder of a gendered Americano. A boy. Who would have thought? I was so obsessed with the odd comment that I brought it up several times today. Honestly. Who says, “Here’s your boy!” when handing a customer a cup of coffee?

I just got back from a mini-road trip to and from Portland with fellow friends and musicians Scott Andrew, Nathan Wade, and Laurie Katherine Carlsson where we attended the opening of a new CD Baby warehouse. Derek Sivers put on a networking barbeque for area musicians, and it was well worth the drive to hear him speak and to meet Portland locals. I also got a tour of the current warehouse and saw row after alphabetized row of CDs. My heart definitely skipped a beat being in the middle of such a massive amount of musical creativity. Thanks to Scott for posting pictures here. I think the one with me in it is appropriately titled, “Jerin freaks out."

As a side note to my delightful driving company - it’s doubtful that I will brush up on my Whitesnake and Queensryche trivia or learn any Rush covers. However, I’ll be sure to remember that if there’s nothing left to do, I can always light myself on fire. Or maybe I'll just randomly say, "Here’s your boy!"