ikeepitreal

ikeepitreal.com is becoming a multimedia extravaganza!

I got some sweet recording gear for my birthday a while back, and I'm just getting around to recording stuff with it. I've always had a dream of playing cheezy covers in an funny but good way, giving listeners the hehe-wait-this-actually-sounds-ok experience. Plus if it's a joke, I don't actually open myself up to critisism! Hooray for low self-confidence!

Since I don't quite have the stones to hit an open mic, I'll stick to for recording for now. The end goal is to have an album full of these covers sometime this year.

Check out the first tune, recorded last night -- The Sign.

Please be gentle on the bandwidth and only download once. :) And just for kicks, some legal mumbo-jumbo...

This music free to share under a Creative Commons Music Sharing License.

Posted by Mike at 09:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I like the idea of branding yourself as "non-something" to communicate your desired similarity to that something. From here on out, please start referring to me as "non-Seth Green".

Posted by Mike at 07:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Fellow real keepers,

3 years ago, Mrs Ikeepitreal and I bought a house on the Eastside of Seattle. Right in the heart of the 'burbs. One of the worst things about this house was the neighborhood we moved into. Well, actually, the neighborhood itself is great -- nice houses, good schools, tidy landscaping. But the name of the subdivision is horrible. I won't name it specifically here -- I hate even writing it, and I'm slightly afraid of some lurking online predator waiting to come steal my Spice Girls CDs or, worse yet, the keys to my SUV (gasp). But suffice it to say, the name isn't pretty. It's one of those nonsensical two-nature-words-meshed-together subdivison names that were so popular in the mid-80's (not that names are much better now, just often a little more simple or edgy).

ANYWAY, I have had long standing plans to join the homeowners association of our subdivision on the platform of changing our name. Hasn't happened yet. One year we couldn't make the meeting, the next it was in a house with a cat and I spent most of the time sneezing and wiping my nose. The name I prefer for our development is -- "subdivision". All lower-case, simple block letters. Picture *that* on the brick sign. Meta, dude.

Last summer some friends of ours were visiting, and to keep some of my street cred, I started ripping on the current name (again withheld, but it is something akin to "briarsnest" or "brookforest"). We got the idea to put together an automatic name generator for subdivisions. It took me until just last night to break out the list of words and throw the page together. Perhaps the homeowners association is willing to roll the dice and rename using this tool?

So, without further ado, I present the Subdivison Name Generator 1.0. Enjoy.

Posted by Mike at 07:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

No post here, I just wanted to see if I could become the millionth person to headline a blog post or newspaper article that.

Posted by Mike at 03:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Yesterday morning while I was heading to work, I was sipping on my Starbucks "tall nonfat not-too-hot latte" (no joke, that's how I ordered it), peeking over at the two dozen Krispy Kremes in the passenger seat (for a meeting I was hosting), passing strip mall after strip mall, and wondering where it all went wrong.

I started taking a mental state of my real-keeping, and friends, I am here to say that it was not pretty. I reached up and felt the 'product' in my hair that a younger me would never have worn, looked down at my LaCoste shirt and Steve Madden shoes, felt the George Michael facial hair I'm trying to nurse into a scruffy beard, and worst yet, saw my Abercrombie jeans that I now regularly lament not being able to find a replacement for without holes in them (I swear -- the only brand that fits my big ass).

About the only think somewhat 'real' about me were my Dickies socks with holes in them. Meh. Then it hit me. Why is the engine whining so loud? Why are people passing me on the on ramp to the freeway? OH YES. I DRIVE AN AGING STATION WAGON WITH A SOCCERMOM STICKER ON THE BUMPER. Thank God for that wagon, it was covering for the rest of my non-representin' (and aformentioned large) booty.

Story short, I have had a bit of a come-to-Jesus moment. I need to get back to keeping it real. It is time to break out the wolf t-shirt. It is time to make my lattes at home *every* morning, or at the very least order them the right way. It is time, my friends, to finally mount the campaign to change the name of my subdivision!

Posted by Mike at 07:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Can anyone tell me what type of toy this is from?

Posted by Mike at 08:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (283)

Dear Sam,

A year ago today, at 6:31 AM, you joined your Mom and I in the middle of a pretty crazy couple of days at the Overlake Hospital. I was the overwhelmed, emotional guy who came after your umbilical cord unmercifully with big pair of scissors. You were the little yellow thing with a gurgly voice and a big head capped (pun intended) off with a suction lump the size of a raquetball. It was love at first sight.

I wish I could write about you the way Heather (Dooce) does about her daughter once a month, or the way Aaron does regularly about his kids. But, as you probably know, eloquence isn't one of Daddy's strengths. If I ever started a 'parenting' blog, the posts would be about as short as, well, most of the members of your family. 'Round these parts of the interweb, we traffic mostly in the arcane and ridiculous.

Although I complain loudly about the way you worry Mom and me, the fact that you don't sleep a whole lot, and about how hard the last year has been, I want to make sure that you know that I wouldn't give those memories away for anything. Anything. In fact, just last night Mommy kicked us both out of bed because of a rather convenient 'sore throat' that left me alone to change/feed/binky you and get kicked in the throat all night long. But I know that years down the road, when you are less pick-upable and not likely to want to snuggle with me, I'll cherish that memory.

I now tell people regularly that on a emotional scale of 1-10, where I used to spend almost of my time in the 4-7 range, I now spend quite a bit more time at 2 and 3, and 8, and 9. But boy do those 8s and 9s feel good. Just last night you completely covered yourself from the neck up in mashed potatoes and teething biscuit, so I hopped in the bath with you. What followed was 10 minutes of spazzing, splashing, and screeching with the biggest smile I think a boy has ever had. You were pretty happy too.

Happy 1st birthday son. I love you.

Posted by Mike at 08:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In this world of dissention and sectarian violence, we all could use ray of hope. I bring you a true example of peace and understanding. This picture should be the official logo of skiier and snowboarder unity. If i was sure it didn't downplay the civil rights movement, I'd go ahead and break into a chorus of "We Shall Overcome" right now.

Taken at Schweitzer with my camera phone a couple of weeks ago. From left to right: Nels, Seth, Clay, Mike.

Posted by Mike at 09:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)