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James O. Thach "@JamesOtisThach" RSS Feed (Los Angeles)
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Paradise Valley
Paradise Valley
Offered by RYU'SHOP
Price: $9.55
105 used & new from $2.48

34 of 41 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars A guilty pleasure, December 5, 2013
This review is from: Paradise Valley (Audio CD)
Christmas came a little early to the Patterson house, with the arrival of a precious gift I've been waiting for all year. I'm not talking about our daughter Amanda's return from the Middle East--though we're grateful for that, too. No, I'm talking about the release of John Mayer's new album, "Paradise Valley".

Since my husband Brad's unspeakable accident, I have been left with certain needs--for companionship, understanding and emotional fulfillment. And who better to supply that than John Mayer? With his pound-puppy eyes, breathy voice, and probing poetry--well, don't get me started! So for Christmas, I decided to treat myself to John's new album.

Now ladies, I'll bet a lot of you feel the same way I do about John Mayer--maybe more than some of you would care to admit! Sad to say, most men just don't get it. I think some of them are downright threatened--as ridiculous as that is. For instance, Brad is an amateur musician, and if it were up to him, he'd provide 100% of my musical entertainment for the rest of my life. But as much as I love our John Denver sing-alongs, sometimes you just want to sit back, press play and enjoy the work of professionals. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about! And that's when I reach for John Mayer.

I know I'm not alone in this. But we gals are often forced to enjoy our John Mayer in secret, in those stolen moments at home. Like the other day, while I was shining our front door's brass handle--tedious work, but not when I do it with John. Or take my dear friend Lizette. She lives with her husband and their three sons on a ranch in Virginia, raising chickens and squash. About the only place she can find to enjoy John is in the chicken coop, as she prepares the family supper. So whether it's me polishing my knob, or Lizette choking her chicken, John Mayer is a pleasure we women have to enjoy alone.

As crazy as it sounds, I actually keep my stash of John Mayer tucked away in the back of a closet. I only have about five albums (including Continuum, which I never get sick of), but Lizette is a fanatic. She's got a box full of all sorts of John Mayer-- live albums, bootlegs, things she downloaded off the internet and even bought used off of Craigslist. Frankly, I think it's excessive. She loves the variety, but if her husband ever finds that box, she's going to have some explaining to do!

Anyway, we are not talking about bootlegs today, ladies. We are talking about John's brand spanking new album, "Paradise Valley". So let's get down to it.

Yes, it's called "Paradise Valley" for a reason. That's a place where John has spent plenty of time, if you know what I'm talking about. I'm referring of course to his ranch in Montana, where he retreats when the pressures of stardom prove too much to bear. The picture on the cover is of him on that ranch, wearing a hat, with his dog. On the back, the dog is wearing the hat! What a wonderful glimpse into life in Paradise Valley. It's like an invitation to spend a whole hour with John Mayer--an invitation I could not resist.

But since buying the record on a quick run into the city, it had been sitting in the back of the closet, unopened, waiting for the right moment. The other day, with Brad off to work and Amanda in therapy, I snuck it out. I felt more than a little naughty as I grabbed that secret CD and settled in for some serious me time.

Now, I have a ritual whenever I listen to a one of John's records for the first time. Before I slide in the CD, I lock the door, draw the blinds and take out a box of Kleenex. That probably sounds totally bananas to you men out there, but I'll bet the ladies can relate!

Then with a trembling finger, I hit play.

Things got off to a frisky start with "Wildfire," a gospel-tinged finger-snapper that had me grinning with anticipation. "You look fine, fine, fine/Put your feet up next to mine/We can watch that water line get higher and higher." I could almost feel John's well-muscled calves and the warm, rising water beneath us, as John's fingers ran playfully up and down his fret board. There was no doubt where this was going.

I felt a little flushed by the start of the next track, "Dear Marie." Suddenly John was serious, pining for a lost love, an unfillable space in his heart that haunts him still. His fingers still worked away, but I could hear the hurt in his voice. This was a man who needed to be cradled, and I could tell pretty soon I'd be reaching for a Kleenex.

The next song, "Waiting on the Day" busted the floodgates wide open. Here John just confesses all his needs and dreams, and gals, I lost it. It was only ten minutes into the album, but my whole body was shaking. I grabbed that tissue box in the nick of time and filled three hankies with my hot, throbbing tears.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the front door--it was Brad and Amanda! I must have jumped three feet in the air, and had the overwhelming sense that what I was doing was wrong, wrong, wrong--shameful and wrong. The sheer terror of being caught on the couch, in that moment of self-indulgent release, surrounded by balls of used tissues--it's every mom's worst nightmare!

"Just a minute!" I yelled. I threw a magazine over the CD case and stuffed the Kleenex under the couch, then leapt over the coffee table and turned off the stereo just as Brad and Amanda pushed the door open.

"What's going on?" Brad asked, as Amanda glared at me through her mascara.

"Nothing," I said, trying to catch my breath, wondering if I'd wiped all the tears. The two of them stared at me for what felt like an eternity, while I pretended to study the surface of our flawless 85 inch TV. They finally left the room, and I stood there, marveling at how quickly a moment of ecstasy can turn into a bottomless pit of guilt, shame and humiliation.

So that's my review of the first three songs. There are eight more on the album, but I guess we'll all have to wait. After that close call, I have been trying to be "good." But you know us gals--leave us alone in the house with a box of John Mayer, and sooner or later, we'll be at it again. So, ladies, stay tuned!

BTW, the other day Lizette told me she caught her oldest son masturbating to pornography. Isn't that just disgusting?! I swear, sometimes I am so grateful not to have sons.
Comment Comments (6) | Permalink | Most recent comment: Feb 7, 2014 12:04 PM PST


Spicy World Black Cardamom Pods Whole 3.5 Ounce Bag
Spicy World Black Cardamom Pods Whole 3.5 Ounce Bag
Offered by SimplyBeautiful
Price: $8.49
9 used & new from $2.76

160 of 175 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Pure, sweet cardamom, December 3, 2013
Don't be alarmed, don't scroll away. What you're gazing upon is no heap of dead roaches, nor a pile of petrified rat filth. It's cardamom. Pure, sweet cardamom.

Cardamom. Ancient spice of the East. Cinnamon of royalty. The thinking man's nutmeg. What coriander wishes it was. The spice that kicked sand in cumin's face and left caraway single, broke and pregnant. Cardamom.

Can you smell it on the wind? The cardamom? This intoxicating scent of India, wafting through streets of Delhi, like a whisper from a forgotten world? No, not that, that's the cows...not the stench of crushing poverty...that's a dead guy--right under that, that kind of sweet smell? That's cardamom.

Sweet, intoxicating cardamom. Nectar of the gods, breath of the immortals.

With what did Cleopatra tempt Caesar? Cardamom.

What brought the smile to the Mona Lisa? Cardamom.

Who shot Biggie? Cardamom.

Don't run from it, don't show it fear. Embrace it. Fold it into your pies. Sprinkle it on fresh greens. Throw it in the dryer. Drop it in a hookah and pass it to the right. Other right. Breathe it in. Deeper. Draw it into the center of your being. Hold it. And exhale.

You feel a little messed up, don't you? Like you want to dance but you might throw up? You know what that is?

Cardamom. Pure, sweet cardamom.

*****

Cardamom. It is the answer without a question, the truth that knows no words. It is the How inside the Why within the What now? Cardamom.

What killed the dinosaurs? Cardamom.

What came before the Big Bang? Cardamom.

What was in Marcellus Wallace's briefcase? Cardamom.

Sweet elixir of the 1%. Corrupter of the incorruptible, savior of the damned. Cardamom.

What keeps Superman up at night? Cardamom.

Who broke up the Beatles? Yoko.

How do you solve a problem like Maria? Cardamom.

Knock, knock. Who's there? Cardamom.

Pure, sweet cardamom.
Comment Comments (36) | Permalink | Most recent comment: Jan 27, 2015 1:42 AM PST


Phillips' Mint Chewable Laxative Tablets, 100 Count Box
Phillips' Mint Chewable Laxative Tablets, 100 Count Box
Offered by Mr. Medical
Price: $9.80
12 used & new from $5.80

33 of 40 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Grandmother's bowl, December 1, 2013
I love these cool refreshing mints. They're a little addictive, but they settle my nerves. Especially with all the G.I. problems I've been having lately.

My grandchildren love them, too. I keep them in a cut glass bowl for when they come over. In fact, they're here now, upstairs, playing in the bathroom. Heaven knows what they're--Oh, mercy. I'll have to cut this short.
Comment Comments (7) | Permalink | Most recent comment: Jul 8, 2014 10:54 AM PDT


72 Chinese Finger Traps
72 Chinese Finger Traps
Offered by THE BT GROUP
Price: $6.22
28 used & new from $4.70

186 of 216 people found the following review helpful
4.0 out of 5 stars Worst birthday ever, November 30, 2013
This review is from: 72 Chinese Finger Traps (Toy)
Please be extremely careful with these. I got one for my daughter's fifth birthday. I thought it would be fun gag. That's how they market it. Leanne had no idea what it was. So I told her to stick her fingers in it--and if I could take back those words, believe me, I would. But she did it. Then she tried to pull her fingers out, and they wouldn't come. At first it seemed funny. God help me, I think I even laughed. But then she really couldn't get them out. I tried to pull them out for her, but the thing with this contraption is, the harder you pull, the tighter it squeezes. The Chinese are an ingenious people. I tried looking for the instructions but I couldn't find them anywhere. So I tried pulling even harder, but that thing clung to her tiny fingers like the cold grip of death. So now I really began to panic, and I did what I think any parent would do. I got a hacksaw. Bad call, in retrospect. Bad, bad call. And I don't do well around blood, so now I'm really losing it. I figured I'd go back to basics: the claw hammer. Heaven knows I meant well, but it was the wrong tool for the job. I won't go into all the other things I tried, but after the miter saw, I realized I was in way over my head. Long story short, she wound up losing both arms up to her elbows.

I'm giving it four stars, because I guess it did what it said it would do. But it sure wasn't what I was expecting. Some other reviewers really seemed to like them. I guess I just don't get it.
Comment Comments (10) | Permalink | Most recent comment: Apr 24, 2014 9:28 PM PDT


TravelJohn Disposable 5 pack Vomit/Urine Bag for Children and Adults
TravelJohn Disposable 5 pack Vomit/Urine Bag for Children and Adults
Price: $9.98
6 used & new from $5.95

35 of 43 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Man on the go, November 30, 2013
As a hard-charging executive, I'm constantly finding myself in need of a bathroom. The other day I drank a half gallon of Diet Dr. Pepper shortly before hopping on the L train. Huge mistake. Five minutes later, it felt like I was holding the ocean in a weak water balloon. I would have whizzed on the third rail if I could have gotten those #@&! doors open, but none of the other passengers would help. (What is it with people in this city?) Then I remembered I had a box of TravelJohns in my attaché. I whipped it out and filled all five bags. What a relief! That could have been really embarrassing.

BTW, this works just as well for #2. But that's a whole other story.
Comment Comments (2) | Permalink | Most recent comment: Apr 13, 2014 4:09 PM PDT


Quilted Northern Ultra Plush Bath Tissue, 48 Double Rolls
Quilted Northern Ultra Plush Bath Tissue, 48 Double Rolls
Price: $23.94
47 used & new from $23.94

89 of 122 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Movement conservative, November 30, 2013
There's nothing I wouldn't give for liberty, but they'll take my Quilted Northern from my cold dead hands. This is toilet paper for real Americans. As a conservative, I respect its lack of recycled material. And as a supremacist, I'm proud that it only comes in white.
It's ultra plush but septic-safe, perfect for life off the grid. It's hard enough defending freedom without having to wipe with pine needles and poison oak.

It's not just me--our entire militia depends on these double rolls. On cold Idaho nights, nothing works better for lining the timbers of our log compound than this quilted 3-ply. And for us, the 48-Pack is a God-send. You haven't seen anarchy til you've watched 48 well-armed patriots wrestling over the last square of tp. I'll face down the Dems at the gates of H-E-Double Toothpicks, but I sure don't want to get poo on my hands.

When the rapture comes and I'm sitting at the right hand of the Lord, I'll wipe with cumulonimbus clouds. Thanks to Quilted Northern, I feel like I already am.
Comment Comments (11) | Permalink | Most recent comment: Sep 2, 2014 8:39 PM PDT


o.b. Tampons Multi-Pack, Variety Pack, 40 Count (Pack of 3)
o.b. Tampons Multi-Pack, Variety Pack, 40 Count (Pack of 3)
Offered by True Beauty Brands
Price: $25.00
8 used & new from $20.95

29 of 42 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Three times a lady, November 29, 2013
As a woman with three vaginas, let me begin by saying "Thank you thank you thank you!" I have been calling for a 3-Pack of 40 tampons since I don't know when. At last, someone listened.

Those of us with tri-vaginitas are not alone. In fact, we're never alone, believe me. But I was tired of asking my husbands to swing by 7-11 just one more time. Or walking home from the A&P, arms straining under the weight of 120 tampons, trailed by packs of feral dogs and Italians. They don't make a Pamprin strong enough for those moments.

So thanks, OB. You've turned OMG into LMTVO.
Comment Comments (7) | Permalink | Most recent comment: Dec 19, 2013 6:49 AM PST


Fake Vomite, Puke, Barf
Fake Vomite, Puke, Barf
Offered by Hepkat Provisioners
Price: $3.76
4 used & new from $2.54

25 of 25 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Barvo!, November 29, 2013
This review is from: Fake Vomite, Puke, Barf (Toy)
As any serious student of barf will tell you, it's been a sadly dry decade. Since the frothy days of the late 70's, the puke movement has been, at best, stagnant. To be honest, I haven't seen anything that made me want to hurl in 15 years. Until now.

It may be too soon to call it a renaissance, but I believe we are witnessing the emergence of a major new talent in BWacky, and his cleverly titled "Fake Vomite, Puke, Barf" is the real thing (not the "real thing" mind you, but a brilliant facsimile) that left this critic heaving.

Coming out of seemingly nowhere, this Picasso of peristalsis puts it all on the floor. His Pollack-like pallet combines rich creams, jarring browns, and gut-churning greens. He's clearly experimenting with texture as well--swirling, chunky, oozy, hints of coagulation--it's all in there. Your eye is pulled in every direction. Like Dali, he uses juxtaposition to pose fundamental questions-- What did this person eat?--but leaves the answers to the viewer's imagination.

So when I was curating an exhibit on Neo-Formalism in Post-Mastication, I jumped at the chance to drop this floppy masterpiece on the floor. At first, nothing. But as one and then another patron took notice, it electrified the gallery. A young woman in a black caftan, utterly overwhelmed by the artist's intention, dropped to her knees and spewed forth her own masterpiece. Life imitating art--now the audience was engaged! The impulse passed like lightning through the crowd. One and then another and another aficionado joined in, and what started as a static art exhibit turned into spontaneous performance art. The gallery floor itself became the canvas; the medium--chardonnay, bile and semi-digested bris. By the time I left, there wasn't a full stomach in the room.

Inspiration followed by imitation--friends, this is how movements are born! I urge you to pay close attention to BWacky, and see if you aren't swept up in the movement yourself.
Comment Comments (12) | Permalink | Most recent comment: May 19, 2014 5:53 AM PDT


Clean Rite 2-252 Bag of Rags- Tshirt Material
Clean Rite 2-252 Bag of Rags- Tshirt Material
Price: $6.07
10 used & new from $0.99

14 of 14 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars A bag of Christmas cheer, November 29, 2013
Christmas shopping used to be a chore. How much to spend? Who wants what? Will they admit this into a prison? So much to think about. It got so I was dreading the holidays. Then I discovered Bag of Rags. What a relief. Finally, something for everyone. Whether they're into polishing doll-house furniture, quilting on a budget, or soaking up puddles of blood, these old shredded t-shirts make any Christmas wish come true. The only limit is your imagination.
Comment Comments (4) | Permalink | Most recent comment: Jan 27, 2014 8:14 PM PST


TOPPIK Hair Building Fibers, Dark Brown, 0.97 oz.
TOPPIK Hair Building Fibers, Dark Brown, 0.97 oz.
Price: $46.95
9 used & new from $46.95

20 of 27 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Hot Toppik, November 29, 2013
Awhile back, I started going bald. But not without a fight. Hair pieces, Rogaine, surgery, spray paint--I didn't waste my money on any of those. I relied on Elmers glue and dryer lint. That is, until I discovered Toppik. Just shake this medical breakthrough over your bald spot and out comes a little pile of...HAIR? Yes, almost! Keratin fibers are virtually indistinguishable from hair--just compare Toppik to the hundreds of clumps of real hair littering your local barber's floor. There's no difference!

The best part is, no one will know. They make it in black AND brown, so color matching isn't an issue. Can you swim with it? Absolutely. Toppik will not harm your pool filter. Just remember to put more of it on when you get out. No one will associate the bald guy in the pool with the tousled-hair stud drying off after.

Amazingly, it works for both men AND women. My brother's wife is thinning on top. I gave her a bottle of Toppik last Christmas. That was quite a moment. She cried tears of joy, before they asked me to leave. I guess they needed some "alone" time, if you know what I mean.

One caveat--it attracts jays. They like it for their nests. I've taken to wearing a baseball cap when I go out. It's kind of a goofy look, but I'm not letting anyone take my Toppik.
Comment Comments (6) | Permalink | Most recent comment: Mar 24, 2015 12:30 PM PDT


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