February 2002
Homer Simpson once told Bart, "Boy, there are two things I've learned about women: Never give them nicknames like Jumbo or Boxcar, and always get receipts. It makes you look like a business guy."
I should have listened to him.
Summer 1996
The summer of 1996 was a great time to bus tables at Red Robin, thanks to all of the great jams playing in the restaurant.
There was Tupac's California Love.
And Beck's Where It's At.
And Primitive Radio Gods' Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand.
And Novocaine for the Soul by the Eels.
March 2002
The Eels' first record was pretty good. Their second record was okay. Their third album was fantastic.
It had Fresh Feeling and Woman Driving, Man Sleeping and the awesome b-side Jehovah's Witness.
Most importantly, it had my favorite track, Dog Faced Boy.
Not only are the ultra-fuzzy guitars awesome and the fuzzed out vocals even better, the lyrics are fantastic.
"Life ain't pretty for a dog-faced boy," goes the chorus.
It felt less like a refrain and more like some eternal truth.
August 2003
For the first few years after Traci and I were married, we didn't have cable TV.
That was fine. We were still able to get The O.C. and CSI: Miami with our bunny ears.
But with no access to MTV, watching music videos took some creativity. After a while, we discovered a station at the top of the dial called Altarnet that played Christian rock videos late on Saturday night. We were desperate, so we didn't care that most of the stuff was garbage.
But there was some good stuff in there, too, like the Grits and Relient K. And so much Dashboard Confessional.
It was around this time I said something that would have made Homer Simpson cringe. Traci and I were driving somewhere and she was complaining about something, looking for sympathy.
I turned to her and said, "Well, life ain't pretty for a dog-faced boy."
"DID YOU JUST CALL ME A DOG-FACED BOY?!"
Apparently, in addition to being called Jumbo or Boxcar, women don't like being called a dog-faced boy.
November 2017
Last night, Traci and I did something we hadn't done in probably a decade. We stayed up late, watching music videos from the '90s. Not on Altarnet, but YouTube.
We flipped through all sorts of hits — Fiona Apple, The Rentals, Spice Girls. It was wonderful.
Right before we turned off the TV for the night, I snuck in one last video — just to check my luck.
Dog Faced Boy.
It took a bit for Traci to recognize the song, but the second she did...
"DOG FACED BOY?!"
She still remembers.
She'll never forget.
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