<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

Tuesday, July 27   >>


The Commodores have been on heavy rotation lately. It all started with "Lady" some weeks ago.

If the internet existed in the '70s, there'd most definitely be a "Which Commodore Are You?" quiz circling the web. I'd be the black guy.

I like killer bass lines that intimidate me. Not because they're so well-written, but because they have a life of their own. Like, I imagine this bass line to be a 35-year-old ex-NFL player stud who is as witty as he is strong as is he seductive. This bass line could make you cry. Don't mess with the bass line. No one else does.

No one.


The not-so-exciting Tony Robbins story: My aunt became friends with an entrepreneur (Mary) in the '80s. This lady's business exploded in just 3 or 4 years--she was of the first to create "firms" for high-end wedding consulting/planning--and she eventually started hosting her own bridal conventions around the country.

She eventually ended up being my first employer. I started working when I was, like, 7, just putting stamps on all her companies mailers. It was fun. My aunt encouraged it, but my parents weren't so down with, oh, you know, CHILD LABOR. Still, they let me because the worst thing that I could buy with that kind of money would be Gak. #nostalgia

Anyway, one time I was stuffing envelopes and other miscellaneous stuff with my sister (who was also working on mailers) and the doorbell rings. It was Tony fucking Robbins, who was friends with Mary. Even at that age I knew who he was because was always on television.

This is all I remember from that visit:
MARY: This is Hugo and Gaby. They're doing mailers for the next expo.

TONY FUCKING ROBBINS: How nice of you two!

And that's it. I was genuinely terrified by his height. At least I wasn't star-struck. That would've been really gay.

I told you this story sucked.


I love live/in-concert records.

I don't love live/in-concert records on Pandora.

[Song Ends]

"Are you ready for the next one? ONE! TWO! ONE TWO THREE FOU--"



I think I'm allergic to my shirt.