<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d3640593\x26blogName\x3dHugo+Stop\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dSILVER\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://hugostop.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://hugostop.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-8093545002261338892', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>


I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

I Approve Of These Links

- A Blog Supreme
- AdamRiff
- AdFreak
- Hermitology
- Losanjealous
- Piano Jazz

Sunday, April 13   >>

cars, sawdust and the worst place to get lost in on a sunday.

You know this place. It's full of people who get totally pissed off because they can't find their 12 Gallon jugs of Mayonaise. It's full of vendors trying to give you samples of their new synthetic, yet edible, radioactive pizza. And, recently, it's a place which has an aisle dedicated to self-playing pianos with inner brains which have no sense of a little thing musicians know as "dynamics".

But, putting aside the total chaos that goes on in there for...infinite time, why do we (as consumers) go there? Well, I ...don't know. Honestly, the deals are a waste. By the time you get the end of your bottle or bag of...ANYTHING purchased at the superstore, it'll be out of date and spoiled. So why bother taking the time driving to some super store for ridiculously large tendered meat? Or 30 pounds of bread? If you think about it, going to your local chain supermarket is much more better.

These superstores are dangerous, too. It's literally full of thousands of people on any given weekend. Why bring your young children? Are you stupid? You'll be looking for corn, and then your little Susan will be GONE in a whip. After hours and hours of searching through miles and miles of towered aisles, you'll find your precious one on the top of an Indian rice bag on shelf 38.

Costco - The 200 Dollar store (no one can go there without spending UNDER 200 bits, it's impossible) - is a monopoly, too. Hell, they make Microsoft look like an e-business. There's no competition when Costco is around. Why?

One word: KIRKLAND. DAMN YOU, KIRKLAND. Tell me this: What DOESN'T Kirkland make? You want shoes? Kirkland makes them. Want condoms? Kirkland makes 'em, too. Want pink tires? You guessed it, Kirkland.

It's a mass conspiracy. You just can't deny the fact that Costco is the Evil Superstore. Them with their oversized shopping carts and cement floors...how dare they. Ugh. They make me sick. Then again, I could be thinking like stupid Henry Rollins, former singer of Black Flag, who thinks every company is some evil superpower which think consumers are nothing but materialistic shopping whores with embedded serial numbers on their necks (thus the stupid tattoo on the back of his neck).

Well, you might be asking, "why is Hugo so hostile today?"



For the past 16 years of my life, my father and I always attended the Long Beach Grand Prix. Today, we didn't break that tradition. We went in our little CART hats and brought our 9 year old checkered flags to the racing stands for the greatest race and track in the history of racing. Best of all, like every year, PIT Passes! It's like...courtside in basketball. You get to meet the racers, talk to them, look at the cars upclose and run into the occasional celebrity to make fun of.

The LB Grand Prix is like no other, let me tell you. It's a week-long event. The whole city gets excited when streets are closed and set up to be used as tracks. See, this track is really the streets of LB, right near the LBArena and Aquarium. While most tracks in the nation are usually a long oval or a circle with the occasional twisty turn, LB breaks the boundary by making this track F________________ HELL for racers. So many turns, so many twists and best of all...NO HANGING WALL.

The hanging wall is usually the track being twisted upward, making it easier for racers to turn. But when your whole track is a street with bumps and dips in it...you get drama! We love drama, right? Right...? You'll see blown up tires in a few laps, some cars get tangled and some exhaust smoke explosions that make the racing experience so much funner than watching...NASCAR.


As you can see, I get very enthusiastic about the LBGP. CART Racing in general, actually. That, tennis and basketball are the only sports that appeal to me. While racing takes no (if any, little) brain power, it's still amusing to watch when you have the Track from Hell some odd feet away from you. The cars are great and it's just ...fun. Plus, the LB hotties make it top-notch.

So now's the hitpoint. After the race, I go to Montoya's pit garage and here comes Mario Andretti sr. I won't go into it, but my dad and he got into a little argument over whose son was better. Just kidding, but they did debate on how regulations the past THREE years have changed the face of racing. That was cool. I met Mario A. when I was 10, that was pretty much a mark in my life. I didn't care too much this time because...he's old, doesn't race and his son sucks at racing - period.

OH, and we had barbecue waiting for us when we got home. Mom rocks your mother...socks. That was nice.

As for sawdust: Don't eat any; it's bad for you.