Chris's TRANsparent Thoughts

Excuse typos and grammatically incorrect sentences. Written, but never proofed.

Formerly Snapshots and Tunes, now a depository of random thoughts, photos, and songs.

I will from time to time update this with my photos and song pairings. You will also find reblogs from my contributions to my other projects including

Please feel free to follow me on Twitter or check out my reviews on Yelp at the links below.

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Year - 2013

Post - Update


Perfect campus recruitment photo @liapapaz @danzawayne

Perfect campus recruitment photo @liapapaz @danzawayne

Yup. That is a line razored in.

Yup. That is a line razored in.


I voted sticker

This is more than just a mere sticker saying that you voted. This is a badge. A medal. A token. It’s a symbol of your opinion being heard in our political system. It represents your power to shape the nation, your state, and your immediate surroundings. Just as importantly, and oft-overlooked, you’re shaping how we affect the world community.

Those of you with this sticker (or any variation of it), thank you for taking the opportunity to shape our lives today.

Wear your badge proudly.


The cover of this week’s NY Mag


The cover of this week’s NY Mag

(Source: benzoid)


Hair, man, hair (Also, “hair” looks like a really strange word)

It’s almost time for me to head into the salon (yes, salon) for another haircut. I’ve found the process of getting haircuts an awful and exhausting experience resulting in causing me to go through periods of life where I’ll just let my hair get a bit unruly. I present to you Exhibit A:

and Exhibit A(2):

I let my hair grow out to these unmanageable lengths not so much because I think Korean/Japanese pop star style hair suits me, but rather to avoid the embarrassment of a cut gone awry.

Ladies and gentlemen, Exhibit B (the bowl cut):

Why does this happen? Because there are maniacs in the hair styling profession!

I’ve been happy with my haircuts for the past year, but after pulling that picture from the depths of my hard drive I’m almost convinced getting in a butcher’s chair isn’t worth it again.


Will Smith (Jim West) - Wild Wild West



Just spent this past weekend at Lollapalooza. Just making little bullet entries that will trigger memories when I read this in the future.

By the way, hi, future Chris. I hope you’re not lame. 

  • Nathaniel, Vincent
  • Bottom floor squalor with great hosts
  • Poop and pizza all weekend long
  • Broville, USA
  • Wall of Bro
  • Creepy jump-on-shoulder-girl
  • Electrotent that turned out to be a giant ad tent
  • Childish Gambino afterparty show
  • Being the only people dancing like crazy to Star Slinger
  • Evacapalooza
  • Mudapalooza

Now I’m looking forward to being back in the bay and settling into my new place. 


BBQ BANDITS! and the Canadian conundrum

After visiting Canada several times and now seeing this news report, I declare Canada a nation full of ketchup fiends and barbeque chip thieves. 

The following are a few select quotes from the clip:

"That particular brand of barbecue…is quite tasty."
- “For two university students, too tasty to pass up.”

"There had been some illicit chip tastings."

"Crumby crime."

Americans love their bbq sauce and if there were any bbq bandits coming across the border looking to steal our bbq sauce and bbq Lays chips they better turn around. Chuckling cops and reporters aren’t the norm in the States. They can expect to have their greasy fingers booted back to the Great North.

Canada has given us some great things such as hockey, Wayne and Garth, and poutine. Wait, Imma let you finish, but I gotta say that poutine is the best potato dish of all time. There few things that I’m glad have never made it south of their border—barbecue chip bandits and their love for ketchup.

When I visited Canada the first time I remember seeing ketchup flavored chips. It made sense; we dip french fries into ketchup so why not flavor another potato product with that flavor? I didn’t think much of it until I was at Pizza Hut with relatives and there was ketchup on the table. Ketchup at a pizza joint? Well it’s Pizza Hut, they’re not exactly known for their fine dining; maybe they even replaced their tomato sauce with ketchup. Maybe they had fries? Nope. No fries to be seen at least until the McDonalds a couple doors down.

What was the ketchup for?—I pondered. As I grabbed my first slice of pizza, I watched in horror as my relatives took the ketchup bottle and *poot-poopootpoot* smothered their cheese pizza with ketchup. Before they set the bottle down they turned, looked at my stupefied face, and asked if I wanted any ketchup. That was when I knew, Canadians were nice, but essential crazy at their core.

I think I now want to be a “Barbeque Bandit.” Goodbye former lifelong dream of becoming “Money-taker.”

*This post has no rhyme or reason. Sorry if you took the time to read.

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