My mom before me.
Here's a story about the Garage from my friend Scott.
We must have stayed at Raina's house 3 or 4 times before anyone bothered to ask, "Hey, what's in your guest house?"
"Oh, that's not a guest house," said Raina, "that's our garage." Now first, I had only seen detached, 3-car garages on shows like Dynasty and Falcon Crest. So this was pretty cool. Second, there were already 2 cars parked outside, so if there were 3 more cars inside, that would also be pretty cool. Like Krystle Carrington and shit.
Anyway, we asked her, "So what's in your garage?"
I'm pretty sure Raina replied, "A lot of crap. Do you wanna see?"
We strolled across the driveway. Raina popped open the flimsy, unlocked little door, and behind it, like a sunrise, rose the most fantastic glowing crap ambrosia I'd ever seen. Wall to wall piles of books and records, swells of plastics bags stuffed, bursting with mystery items, crates of trinkets obviously sorted with a purpose, then somewhere along the way given up on. But nothing ignited wonder like the garage's coup de grace, the death blow: racks and racks of clothes. Now, I don't mean racks like the one your mom brought out for Easter. I'm talking about the huge, rolling, chrome motherfuckers fools be zipping around the Garment District with. I'm talking Fashion Week racks. Full on, like 10 of them, packed with clothes that read like like both a diary and history book.
Our girlfriends pushed past us like chumps as they proceeded to catfight with each other who laid claims to this and who was going to try this on first. Wilson started digging through old records and laserdiscs and cassettes, and I poked around for old cameras. I'm sure Raina was mortified as not once did she offer for us to touch anything in the Infinite Garage.
Scott Louie edits Eat Geek and lives in Oakland, California.
I'm going to Austin to be on a karaoke panel at SXSW since in my other life I'm a karaoke slinger. Haven't quite flushed out my presentation and musical number. The panel should be like social media nerd Glee but I am going to try to find a way to integrate Laserdiscs, those freakishly large CDs that only developed a following amongst the karaoking Chinese.
We always had two Laserdisc players at home, one for the den and one in the TV room just in case there was a fight over what to sing. My parents were practical that way. One of the LD players even had "auto-reverse" so you'd never have to get off the couch to flip the disc. After big dinners our extended family would come over to rock out to Chinese oldies like Teresa Teng, the ultimate icon of Chineseness:
from on Vimeo.
My parents adored the songs of their youth. My dad bought a pirated box set of English "Old Style Love Songs" from Taiwan that included Paul Anka, Skeeter Davis, and House of the Rising Sun. I don't think it should have been shocking to my family that I become a karaoke nut. It was genetic.
Check out Top Hit Chinese Love Songs right here.
ask away. I might just have what you need.
I received my first request yesterday.
I received my first request yesterday.
Q: Do you have any old school culinary artifacts that would look cool in a bakery? I'm opening up one up this year and am looking to decorate.
- Bread Lady of Glendale, CA
A: Well, Bread Lady you're in luck. We didn't bake but my parents owned a pizza restaurant in the 80s. I have a 3-feet tall whisk if you are mixing supersized batches. I hope you are making giant French macaroons, preferably pistachio. I'll post a photo of the whisk for the grand opening of the Infinite Garage eBay store.Email or tweet your requests!
Pretty fun NYT piece on how a reticent guy in a bear suit comes to your house, takes things that remind you of an ex, and puts them in his "cave". Not too far from what Lacuna did in The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
It's too bad Death Bear only takes what fits inside a shopping bag. He'd have a grizzly aneurysm if I asked him to take away the contents of my garage.