The Hot Chip Show

An old video, not to mention of poor quality, but I wanted to make sure Hot Chip got represented here on the blog. This was an amazing show; unfortunately, the camera's whopping five megapixels and tiny microphone couldn't handle that rockin' bass. Still, this song needs no excuses – it comes through with commanding presence. Now, if only the guys standing in front of me would shut the fuck up, yeah?

This is No Fit State.

The Corpse Mouse

After five days of searching, we discovered the source of a nauseatingly pungent odor in the apartment. Do you think he did too much blow?

The Trapped Gas

I love carrots. I could eat pounds and pounds of them. They are sweet, crunchy, not too filling, and damn good for you. However, I recently discovered something about carrots that left me in near unbearable agony for 24 hours. This is my story.

After consuming about a pound and a half of baby carrots late Monday night – two at a time for efficiency's sake – I found myself with a bit of discomfort in my upper abdomen, around the diaphram. I dismissed the slight pain as mere indigestion and proceeded to bed. Throughout the night, I awoke with the same discomfort, but it would quickly subside allowing me to easily fall back to sleep. The next morning, the same. I thought, "What the hell is going on?"

Later, things got worse. The pain became almost unbearable and I couldn't do anything to control it. I had, after some simple deduction, decided it had to be gas, and, given its location and refusal to escape, it had to be trapped. I proceeded to try Gas X, Pepto-Bismol, ginger ale, saltines, peppermint tea, even rubbing the affected area in an attempt to push the gas somewhere else, anywhere else. Alas, nothing worked. In a desperate moment, I even forced myself to vomit. This moved the gas down, but not out. The pain had now rendered me completely immobile, moist with sweat, and utterly fatigued.


I had heard about what they do when you come to the emergency room with trapped gas: after inserting a tube into your ass, the nurse will fill you with water and let the combination of gravity and suction pull the elusive farts from your bloated body. Needless to say, I was not ready for this.

My mother, a former gas-draining nurse, had told me to walk around, to pick my feeble body up off the couch and get things moving. This seemed to help. I was excited. She also told me that the culprit may have been those wonderful orange roots I had so gluttonously shoved down my throat the night before – something about the sugars not digesting fast enough. I couldn't believe it – my favorite vegetable had suspended my life in some distended, pain-filled dimension for one whole day; I will never get that day back. Tuesday night, I returned to my normal state, passing gas like a champ.

Let this serve as a warning to all carrot-loving men and women out there. I'm no doctor, but I'd now wager that eating a pound and a half of baby carrots, two at a time at 10pm, is a bad idea. Who knew?