In this post, it’s all about the music, from the perspective of this semi-charmed life.

Nate was on a lot of hits. These are the baker’s dozen for which I’ll remember him most (click song titles for YouTube links):

Regulate (with Warren G): The most memorable track from the “Above the Rim” soundtrack — a movie I’ve watched often since I was about 10 — as well as the (sort-of) title track from Warren’s album, “Regulate … G-Funk Era”. A catchy-as-hell loop from an old Michael McDonald track, and a crowd-pleasing staple of this author’s karaoke repertoire…usually with the third verse a capella and audience participation in Nate’s finish.

Ain’t No Fun (with Snoop Dogg, Kurupt and Warren G): Oddly enough, Nate wasn’t really part of the hook on his contribution to “Doggystyle”. He did, however, take the first verse and set the tone for a true classic. After all, it ain’t no fun if the homies can’t have none.

Xxplosive (with Kurupt and Six Two): Nate was on “The Chronic”, but “2001″ contained his best contributions to Dre tracks. When I met you last night, baby / Before I blew your mind often was the start of an impromptu, drunken, a capella lyrical exhibition with one of my buddies in college on the sidewalks/streets of Spokane.

The Next Episode (with Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg): Just when you think it’s over … Hold up / Heyyyyy… and there’s Nate sending out Part 2 of one of the greatest three-song runs on a hip-hop album (“Forgot About Dre”, this and “Let’s Get High”). Also, a surefire way to impress people is, after the final “Heyyyyy”, to hit “Smoke weed everyday” right on cue. Try it sometime.

Bitch Please II (with Eminem, Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg and Xzibit): With a West Coast producer and a West Coast label, it didn’t take much to put a West Coast track on an Eminem album. It’s basically a Murderer’s Row with Eminem, Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg and Xzibit, and Nate keeping it all together as only he can.

Lay Low (with Snoop Dogg, Master P, Butch Cassidy and The Eastsidaz): Snoop went to No Limit, and Dre “didn’t say shit on your whole motherfucking album.” Even then, Nate was on the hook, reminding basically everybody they better lay low. Also, what the hell was so great about Master P?

Area Codes (with Ludacris): Nate did a little bit of branching out after a while, heading south to tell people where they can find his hoes via telephone. This song, probably more than any other, only makes me wonder who else he could’ve collaborated with had his body not started to fail him in recent years.

All Bout U (with 2Pac, Snoop Dogg and the Outlawz): A predecessor to “Area Codes”, but Nate basically has the same premise on this track from when 2Pac was still alive. Basically, Nate had a lot of hoes in a lot of places.

Can’t Deny It (with Fabolous): The song that introduced me to Fabolous, and eventually subjected us all to DJ Clue screaming about “NEW SHIT!” on a shitload of, well, new shit afterward. While Jay Jackson was showing off his throwback collection, Nate may have managed to actually give the Los Angeles Clippers (of which I was a fan at the time) a tad bit of street cred.

From LB to Brick City (with Snoop Dogg and Redman): OK, so this is far from a single, there’s no actual hook and Redman’s the one who makes this track. It’s my list. And you can’t really go wrong on a track with Redman, Nate and Snoop.

Get Up (with Eve): If you actually bought Nate’s self-titled solo album, or if you played “NBA Street Vol. 2″, you know this one. I did the latter — a lot — so I heard this one often. It’s really the only track I’ve heard that’s actually his, where he carries the bulk of the load. No matter what role he was in, it certainly seemed to work.

Too Much (with The Game): The Game tried to bring the West Coast back. It almost worked. Either way, he had an OG’s seal of approval.

Gangsta Nation (with Westside Connection): The best 11-word assessment of Nate comes from Ice Cube at the end of the third verse: It must be a single with Nate Dogg singin’ on it. That’s really all you need to know.

Nate Dogg’s voice changed my life, in a positive way. Now he’s gone. And it legitimately made me sad.

I’m white and suburban, if not rural. I wasn’t quite 9 years old when “Regulate” came out. The only Long Beach I’ve been to is in Washington. Even then, the music he was on had an effect.

Notice I said the music he was on, not his music. That’s because that’s how he operated. When West Coast rap was at its finest, there was a delicate balance between smooth and hardcore. Nate wasn’t soft by any means, but he provided the smooth by, of all means, singing on other rappers’ records. The content fit the bill: not-so-subtle lyrics, often boastful about the eventual conquest of a female of questionable virtue.

But the delivery. The delivery was what made Nate Dogg unique, what made him a specialist of which there really was no equal then — and really hasn’t been since. Nobody could sing a hook like Nate Dogg. That specialization probably kept him from success on his own, but it put him on some of the most transcendent albums with some of the best rappers of the best 20 years.

As a result, he was on music I listened to as the aforementioned white boy in the suburbs. It wasn’t a coincidence his hooks were on many of my favorite songs that I discovered in my late teens (admittedly a few years behind). Therefore, it’s not a coincidence his voice is a part of some of my fondest memories of one of the best stages of my life, when self-discovery was high, but responsibility was still low.

If my life had a soundtrack, Dr. Dre would provide the beats. Jay-Z would be the MC. And Nate Dogg would take every single motherfucking hook.

Bill Simmons, an ESPN columnist I’ve read regularly since about the time I started listening to Nate Dogg’s genre regularly, probably came up with a perfect sports analogy when he compared former NBA player Robert Horry to Nate. Horry wasn’t a superstar, but he had a role he fit perfectly (hit 3s and other assorted big shots) and simply cashed his checks and won titles (seven in all). Horry was the perfect role player; you knew if you had a championship-caliber team, he would help you get a ring. Nate was the same in West Coast hip-hop; you knew if you had a good or great single, he would take it to the next level.

After all, it must be a single with Nate Dogg singin’ on it.

Not a fan (photo from Unleashed Moto)

Being the son of a gearhead, it wasn’t difficult for me to become a fan of racing. At about this time last year, I stumbled upon a sport I once followed closely and drifted from — motocross.

It took one race on TV to totally get back into it — it’s still exciting to watch, it looks great in HD, and a couple of the riders I watched as a kid are still around … one even still wins on occasion. It took about two races on TV to decide on the riders I wanted to win … and the ones I didn’t.

I plan to post about this sport frequently (Round 2 of this supercross season was Saturday), so you’ll probably read plenty about the heroes later. Therefore, I’ll start with Petrie’s Public Enemy No. 1 — and rider No. 2 — Ryan Villopoto.

As a sports fan, there’s always something about a certain athlete that rubs you the wrong way (usually the fact that they play for the opposing team is sufficient). Almost everything about this rider rubs me the wrong way. Here’s a short list of (ir)rational reasons why:

• Maybe young Ryan actually is a nice guy, but he looks absolutely pretentious. Granted, self-confidence in one’s abilities is a necessary trait in an elite athlete, but everything about his body language takes it too far. And grow a real beard already.
• He wears the number of my favorite rider in the history of time, Jeremy McGrath. It’s obviously his right to wear that number, and one he earned on merit (only past champions are allowed to wear single-digit numbers), but you know how if someone’s in a new uniform (or someone else’s old one) and it just doesn’t look right? This is Villopoto with No. 2. Plus, as we mentioned above, he looks absolutely pretentious doing it.
• My family appears to be a Honda family. My dad owned (at least one) Honda. My uncle raced a Honda. My stepbrother owns a Honda. I stay off the bike (where it’s safe) and cheer for Honda. Ryan rides a Kawasaki. That’s not a Honda.
• I’m probably one of the few people who practices brand loyalty when it comes to energy drinks. Well, name an energy drink, and it probably sponsors a motocross team. Villopoto’s team is sponsored by Monster Energy, which tastes like cat piss. If you don’t like what he’s selling, it’s kind of hard to like him. (Sidenote: If you like Red Bull, like I do, this probably would make you a KTM fan this year. Last year, Red Bull was the main Honda sponsor and a secondary sponsor of KTM. KTM’s primary sponsor last year? Jagermeister. Now that’s product synergy.)
• Like a lot of top riders, he rides on the edge. That’s fine. For him, on the edge also appears to include dirty. That’s not fine. In the admittedly small sample of races I’ve seen (up until his epic, leg-breaking crash that kept him out the final 5 months of last season), he seemed to have a knack for (1) unnecessarily running a guy off his line to pass him (sometimes this is necessary…he seems to do it because he can), (2) knocking said guy off his bike, or (3) knocking himself and said guy off their bikes, screwing both of them over.
• He’s so damn fast. As a result, he wins. Often. His combination of success and perceived arrogance makes him, in my mind, the two-wheeled equivalent of Duke basketball, the New York Yankees and Boise State football. It’s a great day when those teams lose a game, and it’s a great day when Ryan Villopoto crashes and loses a race.
• Villopoto. Villain. Villain. Villopoto. Coincidental similarity? Or fitting alliteration?

Anyway, Ryan Villopoto has a lot of fans, and deservedly so. I’m just not one of them. Catch a couple races and decide for yourself.

One thing everyone can relate to is music. Granted, not everyone can relate to a particular song, and those who do usually relate differently, but rare is the song that doesn’t invoke an emotion or take you back to a place and time stuck in your memory.

For basically any period of a person’s life, there is a song or batch of songs that serves as an anthem or soundtrack to that era. There are plenty of songs that serve as the soundtrack to Petrie, circa 2010. They’re listed below, with significance noted and links when applicable.

• “Angels” by Sean Combs and Notorious B.I.G.: The world is just a better place when Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/Diddy/Diddy Dirty Money/whatever Sean Combs calls himself this week is making music. One of the tracks heard constantly when I went north to see the boys (and work a little) in February, the first solo trip out of town in a long time…

• “Exhibit C” by Jay Electronica: …and this was the other. I had never heard of this dude, but I fell in love with this song immediately. Great beat, great flow, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one of my friends who likes it.
• “Carry Out” by Timbaland and Justin Timberlake: A great track combining two of best in music right now, and really only one of two songs that reminds me of better times with the ex. Before I got lazy and stopped giving myself a buzz cut every few weeks, I was often compared in physical appearance to Justin Timberlake or Kevin Federline…either way, a dude who speared Britney. Anyway, during this era, the ex compared me to Justin and constantly wanted to get me in some fedoras. Admittedly, it was quite an ego stroke.

• “Rock Me” by Great White: This is the other reminder. She has her reasons for liking this song (ask her and she’ll surely elaborate), but mine are that it’s just a kick-ass song. Then again, I’ll listen to damn near anything from a hair band…especially when I can watch a video with an ’80s-hot blonde in leather.

• “Careless Whisper” by WHAM!: A karaoke staple of the Petrie repertoire, and apparently quite the crowd pleaser when sung outside the town in which I currently live. I distinctly remember getting the “family” together for a Saturday night of stiff drinks and great friends, and tearing the house down with this track. I also distinctly remember my drunk-as-hell best friend randomly becoming a backup singer for the outro. All in all, one of the best nights I’ve had.

• “Burn In My Light” by Mercy Drive: Yes, I know. This is a(n old) professional wrestling theme song. But I like the wrestler (Randy Orton), I love the song, and it’s my damn soundtrack. If there’s an anthem to The Semi-Charmed Life, this is it. The lyrics speak of defiance, perseverance and a bit of arrogance…basically me in a nutshell. People will always search for ways to bring me down; it’s what they do. But, now more than ever, I’ll rise above every last one of them and have my time to shine, my time of happiness and success. To the people scrambling to bring me down, I have this to say (followed by “F*ck you”): “You tried to hold me under / I held my breath // Alone and now you wonder / what I possess.”

• “D.O.A. (Death of Autotune)” by Jay-Z: We can debate this at another time, but I think Jay-Z is the best rapper of all time. I bought The Blueprint III right before certain marriages were called off, but didn’t listen to it until right after. I distinctly remember pulling out of a parking lot and damn near breaking down over then-current events…then this song came on. I turned it up, let the beat take over, let that defiant/arrogant smirk slowly show, and felt fantastic for 4 minutes. Let’s put it this way: It got some play in my truck. Often.

• “Deuces” by Chris Brown: “All that bullshit’s for the birds / You ain’t nothin’ but a vulture // Always hopin’ for the worst / Waitin’ for me to fuck up // You’ll regret the day when I find another girl, yeah // Who knows just what I need / She knows just what I mean / When I tell her keep it drama-free” This was on MTV Jams on a loop for most of the summer, and on a loop on my laptop through the fall.

• “Drugs” by RATATAT: In September, I decided to do something for myself, by myself. After all, I felt like I deserved it…if you had the summer I did, you would’ve felt the same. That self-spoiling came in the form of a RATATAT show in Portland. The whole ordeal was pretty lackluster — a 5-hour drive took 7 because a fugitive was on the loose on the preferred route of travel, the band took the stage mad late and might’ve played for 45 minutes, and everyone else at the show either had (1) friends, (2) a significant other, (3) marijuana or (4) all of the above with them. I had…well…me. Needless to say, the next show I see better kick a lot more ass than that.

• “Psycho” by Puddle of Mudd: I like this song. I’ve heard it a lot this year. And I’ve been with some psychos in my day. That’s really about it.

• “Fuck It (I Don’t Want You Back)” by Eamon: Says it all.

• “Dead Memories” by Slipknot: “But you asked me to love you and I did / Traded my emotions for a contract to commit // And when I got away, I only got so far / The other me is dead. I hear his voice inside my head.” The “other me” (a.k.a. the “actual me”) truly was dead for a long time, even longer than I imagined. It took a failed engagement, unsafe amounts of alcohol and a trip to the depths of despair and back to fully realize that. When I hear this song, I think of the start of this year. When I hear or read the “other me” line, I basically think of every moment of my 20s to date, and try to find where exactly I lost me. On another note: Emotional significance aside, I absolutely love this song, though I can’t say the same about the rest of Slipknot’s body of work. There’s something therapeutic and beautiful about a dark, hardcore song carried by a powerful *singing* voice, not yelling, bellowing, growling or screaming. This, to me, is a prime example of what current rock music should be.

• “Like a G6″ by Far East Movement: Catchy. As. Fuck. That’s really about it.

• “Grenade” by Bruno Mars: In parts of my past, I certainly could relate to this song. Now, all I think about is how a late ’70s/early ’80s Michael Jackson would’ve killed this song. If you don’t believe me, put this track on and either (1) imagine Michael singing it or (2) bust out your Thriller-era Michael impression. I promise you will not be disappointed.

This is Petrie, circa 2010, the soundtrack. What’s yours?

Fast-food heaven...for $1.09 a pop

OK, so I kinda stole this idea from B. Davis, but oh well. I’m sure she won’t mind. Plus, it’s a cheaper alternative to her idea, so everybody wins. With that being said…

I am officially addicted to Wendy’s Double Stacks. Like whenever I’m hungry, the first thing I crave is a Double Stack. Actually, I crave two of them because they’re small…and cheap. For $1.09 each (hold the onions, of course), I’m happy.

Throw in these essential items, and I’m set. Yum.

• 5-piece chicken nuggets (with sweet and sour)
• Side salad (with Italian vinaigrette, ditch the tomatoes)
• Large 7-Up
• Actual retail cost: Less than $6

So basically, B. Davis can keep her Big Macs. Just gimme my damn Double Stacks!

RIP

If you’ve had Michael Jackson overload the last few days, skip to the next post. If not, read on.

I grew up after the peak of Michael Jackson’s popularity, but he still was very relevant in pop music. I saw the videos. I heard some of the music. I actually didn’t become a full-fledged fan until my junior year of high school, when I watched his 30th anniversary special and was floored. Dude still had it.

A few months later, I stopped at the now-defunct Fred Meyer on Grand in Vancouver because I was too tired to drive back to La Center just yet. I ventured into the CDs, where I picked up a couple gems the week before — Barry White’s greatest hits and the Beastie Boys’ License to Ill. I saw a special-edition, remastered release of Thriller, bought it, went home and fired up the stereo. That album, top to bottom, is quite possibly the best pop album ever.

Next payday, I bought the remastered edition of Off the Wall. Next one, I bought Bad. On a trip to Idaho, I picked up Dangerous used. Soon after, Invincible. The summer of 2002, as well as pretty much my entire senior year, basically had a Michael Jackson soundtrack. Some of my best memories with My Buddy Dan (proper noun form because this is how he’s always referred in the workplace) were going bowling, to the movies or whatever, having to stop for gas and cranking some Michael song full-blast while Dan pumped gas and Vancouverites looked at us funny.

With basically every radio station in America doing a Michael Jackson tribute, I listened to a few songs I hadn’t heard since then, as well as some of his work with his brothers. I took it for granted because the beats and lyrics were always so catchy, but dude had an amazing voice. He had so much vocal control that he could literally do anything, make any sound he wanted.

Also, obviously, there were plenty of music videos and performances on because…well…he’s been in a couple. I watched the Motown 25 celebration almost immediately after he died and watched him do the Moonwalk for the first time. He did it twice, for only like three or four steps at a time, but people went crazy. I also remember how captivating the rest of the physical performance was. No matter the song (it was easy in this case because it was Billie Jean), he could draw you in — whether it was with his facial expressions, mannerisms or incredible dance moves.

I was shocked when I found out he died, and it’s still hard to imagine he’s gone. Michael Jackson truly was our Elvis and, though he was out of the spotlight for a while, I always hoped for a new album or one jaw-dropping comeback performance.

RIP, King of Pop. We’ll miss you.

I didn’t get into Friday Night Lights until a few months ago. I’m a pretty loyal Bill Simmons reader, and he has ranted and raved about the show since it started. Like with One Tree Hill (what can I say? I’m a sucker for teenie-bopper drama) I saw the first season on the cheap at WalMart, picked it up and gave it a shot.

Aaaand I’m hooked.

Two things make a great TV drama for me: Sports and hot women. FNL clearly has both, so I’m definitely satisfied.

I don’t have cable (I’m a sportswriter in Klamath Falls, Ore…therefore, I’m poor), so I didn’t see any of Season 3 except the first episode until about two weeks ago. It took only four nights to get through it, and now I can’t wait to see the next one. I actually want to get DirecTV with DVR because of this show and a couple others.

It’ll be interesting to see how FNL continues in Season 4. Everyone except for McCoy (who now will be a sophomore) graduated and is supposedly leaving town except for Julie (coach’s daughter) and Saracen (QB/receiver extraordinaire). Coach Taylor got forced out of his job, basically by McCoy’s dad, and is going to coach at East Dillon when it reopens. He’ll have no talent because the boosters at Dillon, where his wife still is principal at this point, skewed the redistricting map in their school’s favor.

If you haven’t seen this show, find a way to do so. Immediately. Trust me. If you enjoy reading, pick up the book of the same name, from which the show is based. It’s a fantastic look at football as God, which is how things are in Texas.

Also fantastic is Lyla Garrity, played by Minka Kelly. Yowza.

My best friend is awesome. He’s smart, cool, funny and always has your back…no matter what.

And he forgets almost everything.

He never has had the most reliable memory in the world. If he smoked weed, he would be screwed. Nevertheless, it’s often entertaining when he remembers things, but even more so when he forgets.

His latest go-to move has been to place things (usually keys) in the cup holders of whatever vehicle he is in, then forget where he put them. He did this Tuesday night in my truck, then followed suit Wednesday night in his future wife’s car. The catch the second time was that he forgot the keys to the Escalade we used for Thursday’s bachelor party (he’s getting married Saturday).

If you see him or know him, and he seems to have misplaced something? Now you know the first place to check.

Some elements/characters of TV, cinema and/or theater are easy to relate to…that’s what draws us in. Some characters remind us of our friends, our enemies or even ourselves. The only character I had was my namesake, a pterodactyl from a mercilessly long series of cartoon movies that I’m sure you’re heard of.

Then about this time last year, I met this girl who was *fantastic.* I caught a season finale of One Tree Hill, got lured in by basketball and hot women, and came away impressed. I got bored in the summer, saw the first season for $20 at Wal-Mart, and gave it a shot.

And realized I’m kinda-sorta basically the real-life Lucas Scott.

There are *some* basic flaws in this premise. It’s not like my dad abandoned me and my uncle stepped up…that would’ve been weird. Also, I tried out for the basketball team as a freshman and was horrible.

A lot of the rest of it, though, checks out. I’m that creative guy who doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense to others…or himself. I’m right at home in an old, ratty hoodie, beat-up pants and sneakers. There are so many things I want to write down (and could write well), but I’m not entirely sure how to say them, which puts me at the point of his second book. I get carried away with almost all my emotions — happiness, love, fear, anger, etc. — and dwell on things far too much. I try to do things to help, but end up screwing myself or others (namely women) over in the end. I can never decide on exactly what/who it is I want, even though the right thing/girl has been right in front of my face in the past.

There’s one thing I would do differently, though. Instead of Peyton…I would’ve been hung up on Brooke for years.

My parents split up the year before. My mom and I moved into a new place, and I had the basement to myself…with cable. One day that summer, I flipped through the maybe 30 or so channels we had and came across TBS at some point around 2:05 p.m.

It was then that I wanted to become Zack Morris.

I’ve been girl crazy basically since about…oh…kindergarten. It explains why getting the girl almost always has been the most important aspect of life, and why I went through an awkward New Kids on the Block phase at about age 5 or 6 (they got *all* the girls…what can I say?). Every afternoon on Saved by the Bell, Zack Morris got the finest girl of them all:

Mmm...'80s hot. *sigh*

Zack could get any girl he wanted, plus he always dressed well, was well-liked and a decent athlete (track, basketball, baseball). I knew Zack Morris wasn’t a real person, but from age 9 on, I wanted to be as close to the real-life version as possible. A bunch of my friends in fourth grade watched the show, and some of us even started putting together our own podunk Idaho version (fuck The New Class…it sucked). In junior high, some of my friends even called me ‘Preppy’, though that may have had more to do with my vast selection of Tommy Hilfiger clothing.

Alas, being Zack Morris wasn’t in the cards for young Petrie. I was destined for something completely different…which you’ll read more about in a little bit.

Until then…according to this, maybe Zack Morris *is* real.