All things shall be revealed

Disc #6 revealed its shiny face this morning, and boy is it a goodie: Keep It Like a Secret, by Built To Spill. I should have known for two reasons:

1. Beyond being one of my all-time faves (and I do mean ALL TIME--I don't like being boxed into any "top ten" corners, but I can almost guarantee that if someone put a razor to my throat this would end up on the list), the album's first track "The Plan" is the best way to start, well, anything--but especially a daytrip to Santa Barbara.
2. After spending quite a long time wondering "what the H happened to that album?!", my friend Cameron burned me a copy a mere 3 weeks ago. Of course.

With this cd changer thing all wrapped up like a Scooby Doo ending, I guess I'm back down to two Great Life Mysteries.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

A couple of weekends ago my friend Ashley and I were rocking the Best of the Bay party at the DeYoung (hooray for Nan Kempner and paper flowers) when we were hit on by the woman to the left of this text (and if you click no other link in this post, click that one). While I waited in line behind her to pay the parking machine she chatted me up about the event, thinking that it was an exclusive deal put on by the SF Bay Guardian for their customers ("I used to advertise with them"), and seemed sorry to find that it was actually open to the unwashed masses. She starts asking me pointed questions and, by the time Ashley came around with the car, she had a camera out to take our pictures. Why?

She runs a professional matchmaking service. And she had a client in mind for me.

Now I'm not here to discuss the merits of dating, or internet dating, or executive offline matchmaking, or blind dating, or speed dating, or mail-order brides. But I would like to discuss how I got into the position of letting a complete and totally sketchy stranger who wanted to set me up with older asian men take my picture. MORMON GIRLS ARE NICE. Perhaps too nice. Now maybe you're a Mormon boy who would care to take issue with this statement, but I'll leave you to that offline. All I know is I couldn't put off this woman, who was essentially a stand in for some awkward man out there, without feeling like a total jerk, so I gave her my least-favorite email address and let her take my picture. So did Ashley. I can't explain it.

I've been trying to imagine the potentially humiliating things that might result from this encounter and the list has gotten uncomfortably long. Do me a favor: if you find my picture in one of those ghastly "where is she now?" classmates.com pop-ups, please let me know.

It's all coming back to me now

It's been almost 3 years since my sister broke the CD changer in my car. It was midway through a day trip to Santa Barbara to go kayaking, and we were heading over to the Paseo to catch this new movie Garden State that everybody had been buzzing about (spawning the fun new adjective "brafftastic") when Rachel attempted to slip in a new CD and the whole thing went kaput. I never doubted the changer would break--CD changers ALWAYS break (there has to be some inherent design flaw), and I only have one because I bought my car used and the previous owner was lame enough to pay extra for it. After a short but painful period during which I was forced to rely upon radio in the car, I obtained a new iPod + FM adaptor and I've never looked back.

Fast forward to last Monday...

I get in my car to go to work and, upon ignition, notice a noise coming from the changer. It's the sound of the carousel scooting around to find out where it's holding discs, a sound the poor little H hasn't made for years. When it's through, I look at the display and notice that numbers 1-6 are lit up, indicating that the thing holds CDs. Of course I know it's holding CDs--they're the same 6 CDs that were ripped from my life 3 years ago, but the display hasn't recognized them since a couple of months after the changer first broke. Just for funzies I hit eject (and yes, I used to try this all the time, but gave it up after a year or so of no effect), select a spot and, Braff-be-praised, out shoots a disc! I hit eject again, and out comes another! Holy H! I end up getting 3 of the 6 CDs out that morning, but the rest remain stubbornly locked in changer purgatory.

Wait, though...the next morning, I get in my car and without even so much as looking at the CD player, out pop 2 more. Can you believe that?! WTH?!

What's most fun about this whole thing is remembering that the changer-breaking episode occurred shortly after a trip to Rhino where I had purchased several new albums. I'd listened to them each maybe once before I lost them to the changer's inevitable demise. I could remember what 2 of them were, but the other 4 have remained a mystery. Until now.

This all has a very time capsule feeling to it, so I now present to you the albums I was listening to back when Garden State was in the theaters:

1. Early Recordings, Quasi
2. Veni Vidi Vicious, The Hives
3. a burned Black Eyed Peas album I lifted from my brother
4. Want One, Rufus Wainwright
5. A Ghost is Born, Wilco
6. ?

That's right. All but one disc came out and I can't for the life of me remember what it is. And it's still in there. Any guesses what it might be, faithful blog reader? Point your mouse over to the comment section and let's hear it...