Daily Slag

SATC: Episodes 1-3

2008-03-12T23:50:00.005-04:00

Every 2 years or so, I seem to revisit Sex and the City. At least some of the episodes. On DVD. Don't do the syndication thing. I do it to glean different things as I get older. Lame, right? But seriously, for some reason I appreciate it on different levels during every biannual semi-marathon because of the wisdom age brings. Yeah, yeah. I just sounded completely gay. One of my few definitive "chick" things. So why not rewatch the episodes before the movie comes out? And this time, I'm gonna watch all of them.

I just stubbed my toe and its throbbing in pain. And typing on my laptop in bed. It's so Carrie! No, I'm just kidding (about the last part).

Pilot

I cannot understand how this show is 10 years old. I grow nostalgic for the time when you could smoke in public places and decide to break my personal rules and have one in my bed. Because I'm so Carrie Bradshaw! The job description "website creator" is mentioned in the same breath as "publishing executive" and some other stuff. The dial-up world was sooooo cute, wasn't it? I realize I celebrated my 30th birthday at Lucky Cheng's last year. My toe is throbbing. I wonder why they never brought back Kurt Harrington, who Carrie sleeps with "like a man" even though he screwed her over at ages 26, 29 and 31. Because in actuality, you bump into those a lot. I still don't get Charlotte and I still absoeffinglutely love Big. And my toe is still throbbing.

Models & Mortals

Did Carrie have more straight male friends when this show began? Oh wow, I forgot how large the cell phone was in 1998. "I believe there is curse put on the head of anybody who tries to fix up their friends." Amen, Carrie, Amen. The underwear model Stanford manages has odd jettisoning shoulder bones. My toe is still throbbing. I am wondering why I still live in Boston when NYC is so damn close. Not because I think this show is a realistic depiction, but because I like it better. "I thought I had come to terms with my looks when I turned 30...", uh oh, this changes? (SEE? Gleaning new things here, gleaning new things.)

Bay of Married Pigs

This episode begins with Carrie going to the Hamptons and carrying one of those atrocious Vera Bradley bag. I am now wondering if this is what made those dreadful things so popular. Vera Bradley bags are some of the most terrible things ever constructed of fabric. My toe may have stopped throbbing. Do I fear married people? Do they fear me? Do I think I'm the "marrying kind"? Have I ever been on a surprise fix-up? No. I would like to think my friends know better. The "marrying guy" is dreadful and reminding me of some really bad dates. If a guy busted out a baby mobile in front of me, I don't even know if I could be polite. Should I wear more dresses? Oh wow, the "angry wife" who retrieves her broker husband from Samantha is totally the chick who plays Stabler's baby factory on L&O: SVU. My head is spinning from this contemplation!

If you were an Emperor's Club girl, what would your profile say?

2008-03-12T11:11:00.007-04:00

Today's Gawker posted a blurred out profile for "Kristen" , who may or may not be the high-priced call girl who made some decent coin off NY Governor Eliot Spitzer.

Personally, I really don't care what politicians do in the bedroom. Or, for that matter, even in the Oval Office — unless it has to do with national and foreign policy. I don't think he should be forced to resign, even if he did go after several large prostitution rings on his way to the top. (I'm sure the dens of prostitution he went after featured sub-par employees who have been to say, Daytona Beach and not every "far-flung island in the world".) I don't even think prostitution should be illegal. Plus, I could get all philosophical here and say we're all a bunch of whores at some point in our lives when it comes down to it.

As a writer, I wonder who does the content and copy for these sites. Who writes the descriptions? I do like the vagueness attached to the final word of the description — refinements.

In the words of Jack White, you can't be a pimp and a prostitute too. So I'm gonna opt for being a pimp. At least for now. Because I am a pimp. However, I did feel the need to break up my morning grind by writing my OWN Emperor's Club profile. Just because it seems like a fun thing to do.

(NOTE: I didn't think swimsuit models were allowed to be 5'5". But the term "swimsuit model" is one of those very broad terms, much like "event coordinator" when used in the bio of any reality TV show chick who makes a complete asshat of themselves while trying to gain the affections of a single man with a seemingly big bank account.)

Daily Slag, Boston
Daily Slag
Daily Slag's career as an esteemed journalist and copywriter has led her on extraordinary adventures on several continents. She has tiptoed through the world's most reknowned wine-making regions without stumbling from intoxication and interviewed some of the entertainment world's most exciting filmmakers. But the DS is truly a renassiance woman, as she is just as likely to be found crudly bashing Tom Brady, warbling Blondie's One Way Or Another with adorable tone deafness at a karaoke dive bar and explaining the importance of the former Yugoslavia in regards to the future of EU economic development. And all on the same night. While she enjoys the artistry of the fashion industry and owns several dresses, she prefers dressing casually, in snug-fitting jeans and tank tops that proudly show off her best assets. But don't let her laid-back nature fool you, as she definitely enjoys big refinements.
5'7"
130
34C-27-36
Brown hair
Green eyes
27 years old

(NOTE: So I shaved a few years off my age. Whatever. It's not like I couldn't pass for 27.)

Fun with Haiku (and American Idol)

2008-03-06T14:44:00.004-05:00

Actually, if you want to get technical, I think I actually wrote senyru, which is a humorous satrical form of haiku (there is no mention of snow or leaves or transendental ponds).

I'm not going to even get into how all of this began, because I hate myself for watching such manipulative tripe (I blame the writer's strike). In any case, my weekly "commentary" evolved into haiku during the last round of ladies' semifinals.

(Note: I'm totally not racist, but sometimes that one dirty Japanese word is just fun to bust out on occasion. And I have no right making fun of anyone who can sing, as I am pretty much tone deaf)

#1 Asia'h
Asia'h, I don't like those pants
Or Whitney Houston
Remember "Crack is so whack!"

#2 Kady
Oh Kady, so very cute
I'm sad you will leave
I hardly knew thee

#3 Amanda
I want to drink beer with you
And clink our glasses
Before starting a bar brawl

#4 Carly
I think I like you Carly
But I am not sure
Just pour me a tall Guinness

#5 Kristy Lee
Oh, Kristy, I don't like you
Its not jealousy
It's just that you are boring

#6 Ramiele
Tiny Asian going home
Will find fame one day
There is always bukkake

#7 Brooke
When you sing, I see tofu
Though you might eat meat
But I bet you shop Whole Foods

#8 Syesha
Syesha, don't let me down
I know you are fun
Don't go and get all boring

He's Like The Wind

2008-03-06T11:29:00.003-05:00

For some reason, I'm really sad to hear that Patrick Swayze has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I've never found him sexy, or one of the best actors ever to grace the screen, but it's Patrick Swayze. You kind of just gotta like a little Swayze now and again.

Before the news was made public, Best Week Ever posted this great entry detailing Swayze's Top 20 Ridiculous Faces made in Ghost. Wow. Talk about scary timing (quantum physics?). After hearing the sad news about Swayze's condition, they also added the Top 5 Most Hansomest, Well-Acted Faces of Patrick Swayze in Ghost.

Personally, I think Swayze would get a kick out of the first entry. He's always appeared to be one who can make fun of himself. You have to be able to make fun of yourself, really, if you were in both Roadhouse (Doubly-sad, as Jeff Healey died of cancer earlier this week) and Point Break. You can't really take yourself seriously in a) a movie about a Phd-in-philosophy-bouncer-in-a-very-backwoods-Missouri-town-which-also-has-a-really-hot-blond-chick-doctor and b) any movie co-starring both Keanu Reeves and Gary Busey. Plus, when Swazye hosted SNL, he had no problem lampooning his "hunk" reputation in two of the show's greatest skits (Hanz & Franz and the oft-viewed Swayze vs. Farley Chippendale's Audition). Granted, Black Dog was definitely a career low, but we all have to pay our bills, and straight-to-DVD movies — especially ones involving driving semis, Randy Travis, an ominous black canine and "nail-biting" moments at a weigh station are probably a decent way to earn an easy paycheck. And hey, a couple years later, he had a great bit part in Donnie Darko.

When you think about it, Swayze is kind of an American treasure. Christ, he fought all those commies in Red Dawn? Wolverines, bitch, wolverines!!

I hope Swayze puts cancer in the corner.

Bill Clinton dons appropriate "ethnic" clothing, too

2008-02-26T12:07:00.003-05:00

Ok Hilary. Stop acting like a desperate woman...Your husband wears appropriate dress when the occasion calls for it, too. There's nothing wrong with being respectful of another culture.

Most Amazing Song

2008-02-24T23:23:00.004-05:00

While I am usually always disappointed with the Oscars, tonight hasn't been that bad. And Falling Slowly from Once won for Best Song!! It's the most beautiful, hopeful, heartbreaking, et al song and film. And thank you, Jon Stewart, for being effing classy. You brought Marketa Irglova back on to finish her speech. And she was lovely. I want to go curl up on my bed and listen to the Once soundtrack. And drown in sweet hopeful musical misery.

But dead people parade, that's all you give Heath? Come on!

Wonder how the picked the soldiers to announce the short film award. Had to have been some sort of competition on base. But do they get the $40K giftbag for presenters and nominees? I be thinking those kids need a relaxing private Caribbean cruise more than Cameron Diaz.

Ok. I stop now.

This would have changed my life in high school

2008-02-06T09:57:00.000-05:00

Summers during my adolescent years were spent at Riverport Amptheater (I think it is called something more corporate now...the UMB Bank Amptheater?), catching all those outdoor concerts in the cheap lawn seats. I saw a couple Lollapaloozas, Stone Temple Pilots, the Gin Blossoms, Reggae Sunsplash, even Jimmy Buffet (which, incidentally, is the best place for a teenager to find eager willing adults to buy them alcoholic beverages). For awhile I had a crap ID from "Ohio" that worked like a charm. A security guard once apologized to me for carding me while I was walking away with my Bud Light. I was smart. At the American ID Systems on 4th Ave & Grand, I chose Ohio, while others my age chose more "glamorous" states such as California, Hawaii or Florida. The lost their IDs not long after purchasing the "2 for $40" special. I think I had mine for a couple of years.

In any case, I thought back to the days of underage drinking when I saw this special item online. The Booze Bra (aka Wine Rack) can hold up to a full bottle of wine in a handy hydration pack nestled in an unassuming sports bra. It's like a Miracle Bra lined with the interior of a box of Franzia, but smaller — When its full, it even makes your breasts bigger. Had I had a Booze Bra in high school, perhaps I would have had more dates. Although I have always been a fast drinker, so the gig would have been up fairly soon after I arrived to the party.

Someone stop this man

2008-02-05T11:49:00.001-05:00

First off, the only good thing about being on a cruise with John Mayer would be the possibility that he might go overboard. But having to see John Mayer in Borat-style swimwear is more than I can take. Was this an attempt at being ironic or witty, or showing off his ability to poke fun at himself? No. It's lame. It's lame like a CBGB's T-shirt from Urban Outfitters, Hilary Clinton breaking down into tears, green & purple colored ketchup, artisan water and any other pathetic stab at irreverence.

I am such a geek 2.0

2008-02-04T14:41:00.001-05:00

I want this to be my next road trip. Still some debate on whether it is or is not open to the public, but I may start begging this man by email.

It's lunchtime

2008-02-04T12:22:00.000-05:00

Oh, Whole Foods. You're so eco-conscious and all natural and pseudo-European and all that good stuff. And you have such pretty prepared foods, how can one resist picking up a sandwich for lunch while on their way to work? Especially since you're supposed to save money going to a grocery store, even if you're just a tad bit overpriced.

This $7 chicken salad sandwich better be the world's best damn chicken salad sandwich. But I'm already guessing it's not because it was not $5, approximately 9" long, nor does it come on fresh-from-the-oven bread like the I-want-to-make-love-to-it sandwichs from Al's State Street Cafe in downtown Boston.

Part of me hates everything you stand for, Whole Foods. Sometimes, you make me just want to litter and eat Hot Pockets and drink Lil' Hugs and everthing else with artificial flavor and color.

Oh snap!

2008-02-03T22:32:00.001-05:00

Tonight, I will sleep soundly knowing Tom Brady is sobbing like a little bitch!!! (And before you call me a "hater", think before you speak. He choked. I can finally say mean things about Tom Brady and be somewhat justified. And he will be sobbing into a supermodel's breasts so trust me, he doesn't deserve your pity.)

I am such a geek

2008-02-01T14:43:00.001-05:00

Because this is the coolest thing I've seen all day. The Dark Knight trailer...in LEGO!!

Where was my invite??

2008-02-01T12:12:00.000-05:00

I'm going to just believe it got lost in the mail because there is no reason I should not have been on the guestlist for Ice-T & CoCo's (charitable) Tupperware party.

Between all the Tupperware and CoCo's rack, the amount of man-made awesomeness could barely be contained in one measly little nightclub. It is so what Mr. McGuire was envisioning when he told Benjamin Braddock he had just one word for him. Plastics.

Smurfs are dobro in Hrvatska

2008-01-31T12:13:00.000-05:00

Words fail me. This is incredible, yet a wee bit bizarre. Nearly 400 Croatian men, women and children dressed up as Smurfs in the hopes of breaking the world record. But they celebration turned to disappointment when they discovered they had found erroneous information on the Interweb and were still a few Smurfs short. I guess some crazy American college kids are the current title holders, which no doubt came about after some chick in the dorm bought boyshirts at Urban Outfitters with a faded "retro" Papa Smurf on the ass, which subsequently lead to Smurf mania taking over whatever dorm they lived in because of those uber-obscure retro pop culture references only made by the really cool underground hipsters who handle product assortment for Urban Outfitters. And then they decided to dress up as Smurfs because it was a really cool thing to do.

Ok. That's just my theory.

What don't they give world records for these days? But more importantly, I just want to know who decided to organize a bunch of people into a gaggle of live Smurfs. How much Sljivovica did you drink to come up with that idea?

But I did always think Gargamel was Serbian.

The coolest puzzle ever

2008-01-31T09:47:00.000-05:00

Well, not really, but someone took one of my Flickr photos and made this little ditty. It's kind of cool, and there are even varying degrees of difficulty.

Completely random separated at birth thingey

2008-01-30T14:58:00.001-05:00

Was I the only person who has been thinking this? I can't be.

An observation for Sunday

2008-01-27T18:18:00.000-05:00

You know how you know you're in a ghetto Target? The women's department is fronted by maternity wear.

See? I'm not the only one!

2008-01-24T16:14:00.000-05:00

BeehiveHairdresser posted similar thoughts on a possible conspiracy behind Heath Ledger's death in relation to those fun-loving scientologists. There is also the Google translation-to-Spanish-like-playing-a-Beatles-album-backward oddity. Oh, and what about the mysterious masseuse? And if you've happened to catch Jeff Conaway on VH1's Celebrity Rehab, you start wondering about all those people who died young of "possible drug-related" deaths because he, somehow miraculously, continues to exist.

Hey, I'm not accusing anyone, but anything is possible.

One of the most offensive items I have ever seen

2008-01-23T13:54:00.000-05:00

You're curious, aren't you? Just know you can't go back once you've seen it. Because when I say it's that wrong, I seriously mean, it's just that wrong.

If D.W. Griffith made ashtrays...

I'm pitchy

2008-01-22T20:47:00.000-05:00

Damnit. I think I'm watching American Idol again. Yet I am not being taken in by any of these sob stories or the subtleties described to me by an anonymous friend who actually places financial wagers on this competition (He is amazingly accurate, too). The show fills me with hatred, which I do not need any more of in my life. It makes me hate dumb blonds even more than usual. I spend most of the time wondering what Simon Cowell's closet looks like. Seriously. Are all those nearly-identical shirts color-coordinated, folded, on hangers? How many does he have? How big is his closet and exactly how is it organized? Are some of the shirts folded and others hanging?

But there is nothing else on, right? Damn writer's strike. Wait, who is this guy...he's not bad looking...not a bad voice...STOP. I'm not getting hooked. Oh, but Paula is...you can see it in her eyes. She wants this guy. Oh, and he's going to Hollywood. Ok. Now this chick, someone tell her she does not sound like Mariah Carey just because she has a huge rack. Why are there so many commercials? How can someone not watch this crap without Tivo? Didn't there used to be people with some sort of talent on here?

I'm merely watching this season to count how many times "I think you're good, but not as good as you think you are" is said by Mr. Cowell. Because this is the second I've watched this tripe this season and I think I have heard it about 5 times.

However, allow me to present my very own American Idol, by way of Deutchland and New Jersey.

Presenting the Mad German:

My thetans are smelling a conspiracy

2008-01-22T20:21:00.000-05:00

Ok, ok. Hear me out. I think the Scientologists killed Heath Ledger. They had to do something to get out of the spotlight, right? Look what 9/11 did for Gary Condit!! Set up the supposed accidental death / suicide of an actor NO ONE was expecting to go so soon and boom, Tom Cruise's crazy rants are relegated to page five of the gossip blogs. But why Heath Ledger? Because he was in the "gay cowboy movie?" Or perhaps because Michelle Williams is a far better actress than her former Dawson's Creek co-star ever will be, oh, and since Ms. Holmes did get booted from The Dark Knight, which also stars Ledger as The Joker. Oh, and throw in some sleeping pills, which obviously proves "psych" drugs are bad and kill and should not be abused and will destroy the world, if not just those promising celebrities. So boom. Tom Cruise's anti-Xenu rants are sent temporarily to the back burner and he's the Hollywood version of Gary Condit.

It's really not so implausible, is it?

'Tis a shame, too, because I really liked Heath Ledger. Sometimes, you just get a hankering for a guy with just-past-the-chin hair. But most importantly, he was talented, which was obvious even in one of my favorite guilty pleasures, 10 Things I Hate About You. He brought me to tears in Brokeback Mountain. And as a huge Batman fan, I still cannot wait to see him as The Joker in The Dark Knight. But I guess its a fact of life, really, the talented ones go and we're left seeing unnecessary press on people in MTV pseudo-reality shows and people like Tom Cruise making $20+ million a picture.

Shocking family confessions

2008-01-18T17:05:00.000-05:00

I am suffering from a wicked hangover. Just in case you were wondering. But this is my first entry using my brand new MacBook Pro. And that's really effing cool.

I am now going to watch Celebrity Rehab. Because it will put things in perspective, knowing I'm not in nearly as bad shape as Jeff Conaway.

In other news, I drunk dialed my mother. I typically do this, so don't laugh. I know she loves it. If you know anything about my mother, you know that she's a die-hard Republican in name, yet will not come to terms with her closeted liberalism. I often tell her she raised me to think the way I think and her openness about certain subjects makes it impossible for her to be conservative. Because I'm drunk and filled with piss and vinegar, naturally I bring up politics. Instead of fighting...the most beautiful thing happened. The most beautiful and incredible thing in the history of political parental discourse. I notice she is not as combative to the things I am saying and I realize...I realize she may have begun coming around. She says she would vote for a democrat if they were the best person and she has done this before in the past. My hopes were buoyed when I discovered she does not like Huckabee, and she has better sense than to elect a Mormon. She doesn't like McCain's position on immigration. She will always bash Hilary, and that is fine, but as we've been occasionally discussing politics for the last few months, I have noticed she is completely and totally unable to express her dislike for one man. I continuously point this out, but this time, oh, there is something different in our conversation this time. She's not telling me to shut up or trying to change the subject with as much fervor as she usually does when I bring up such topics. I push a little more and she doesn't want to go there but it is too late to turn back. And it basically went down like this...

"Mom, if the election were held tomorrow, who would you vote for? If you do not answer this, your drunk daughter will not allow you to get off the phone."

"Well, the election isn't being held tomorrow -"

"Just say it, Mom, say it! Say it!"

"I don't know what you want me to admit."

"ANSWER THE QUESTION, Mom!!"

"Fine. I would vote for Obama."

Every Kitchen Needs Butter Boy

2008-01-11T14:50:00.000-05:00

Upon writing SEO content in my day job, I stumbled upon a most curious item.

Introducing Butter Boy. Butter Boy is a corn cob butterer, because in this day & age, why should you be expected to actually butter your ear of corn all by yourself. If there are remote controls, there should be corn cob butterers, right?

At first I thought I was just a bit of a sicko. My sense of humor leans towards the perverted or lewid at times. One look at Butter Boy and well...look at him.

But then I read the description of good ol' Butter Boy and that's when I was sold. This was not your average corn cob butterer (But then again, is there such a thing as an average corn cob buttering tool).

Butter Boy makes buttering your corn-on-the-cob fun and easy! Just insert a stick of butter, pop the top, and butter your corn. Put him in the refrigerator in between uses. Take him with you to barbeques, picnics, or just have fun with him when eating at home. The Butter Boy makes kids smile from ear to ear. Made of plastic and dishwasher-safe.

Come on! You know you're thinking the same nasty things I'm thinking, too! Read just a little bit more...have you gotten to the feature stating Butter Boy hugs the corn for easy gliding on of butter?

Hot butterly pleasure can now be yours. For $6 + shipping. Just admit it. You know you want a Butter Boy to call your own.

Best Spam Ever

2007-11-08T14:45:00.001-05:00

So I'm checking the spam folder of my AOL account today and I discover this little gem:

FW: Satanic ecological VIAgRA $1.30

Satanic. Ecological. Viagra.

So, um, does this mean you're hard-on will be sustainable throughout the entire sacrifice of your neighbors cat?

This effing green trend is even taking over the Viagra spam market.

(BTW, I'm all for saving the earth. I'm just tired of hearing about everything being green. Spare me. Half the people preaching this crap could care less, they just heard about it on TV from some asshat like John Mayer.)

Gimme my CoCo

2007-10-31T21:21:00.000-04:00

I cannot tell you how excited I am for this upcoming event. (Scroll down...you'll see what I'm talking about.)

Ice-T's beautiful and talented wife CoCo will bring her (Well, I've never heard her speak, but I know she's gonna be a nautral) subtly nuanced acting abilities to a guest starring role on Law and Order: SVU.

That's right. Ice-T and CoCo. Together! On television and not just on my computer or in my dreams!

Do you think they would let me attend Thanksgiving at their house?

What goes on sometimes in my neighborhood

2007-10-30T14:33:00.000-04:00

I like being able to walk out of my apartment building at 12:04 and still catch such chaos on film.

That's gotta be Schilling's ginger son.

No more helicopters

2007-10-30T11:34:00.000-04:00

In about 25 minutes, I'll take my camera outside and photograph the masses coverged upon my neighborhood to see the Red Sox go by in duck boats. Yes, I'm a fan. I'm glad they won, although I am a bit saddened to see today's children grow up to only know a time where their sports teams dominated the field and there was little question over such domination. A person can't really live without experiencing a decent amount of pain and frankly, the same holds true for professional sports. It's safe to say in 20 years, teetering-on-adulthood Yankees fans will be more well adjusted and more able to adequately deal with heartache than their New England counterparts.

Child psychology aside, I really just want these damned helicopters to quit circling overhead. It's getting old. I suspect Oskar is losing his mind, judging from his behavior over the past week. Or maybe not. But I'm getting a bit tired of the constant background noise.

Boring blog post for a Tuesday morning. Because Tuesday is a rather dull day if you think about it.

Wanna write a convicted criminal?

2007-10-25T15:50:00.001-04:00

I swear I've been productive today, but I did take a small break from productivity, watching a true crime show on A&E. Which led me to Crime Library. Which then led me to wondering about prison pen pals.

No. I do not want a prison pen pal, but I've always been curious about the people who seek out the incarcerated for online friendship. Born-again Christians intent on saving a soul or meeting like-minded individuals? Lonely women who would eagerly engage in coital activities with the Ted Bundys and Scott Petersons of the world?

So I began perusing some of these pen pal sites. There are quite a few of them out there. I wasn't so much looking for the profiles as I was sifting through the pages which lead to the actual profiles, for information about how they operate.

I then stumbled upon the most peculiar marketing photograph.

Just look at it. I imagine, judging by the model's attire, it's meant to suggest she is a prisoner longing for a pen pal. But wait. Is it the image of a woman who wants to write to an incarcerated man? She's in full make-up, her hair is styled and she dons semi-ornate earrings. Are the bars in the background to suggest she is in prison or do they serve as a simple metaphor for lonely women with a yen for dangerous men? Judging by the crude graphic design and model's appearance, it appears to have been created over a decade ago because brings to mind the opening credits for Saved By The Bell.

I just found this to be amusing. And now I'm wondering if it is stock photography found under the search term "prison" and the ilk. Who was the creative director on this shoot?

Why am I fascinated?

Ok. Must stop this inane curiosity. The productivity is slipping...

Even Oskar has had it with me

2007-10-23T21:35:00.000-04:00

A red wine-induced hangover got Tuesday off to a less-than-auspicious start and things went downhill soon after I awoke. The laundry is still not done and my living room floor is covered in a massive pile of travel literature accumulated in Croatia.

Even Oskar has had enough of me. He no longer wants to sit in the same space, gazing up adoringly at me in between naps. He is hiding somewhere, my sweatpants and glasses-clad personage has become persona non grata in the scruffy orange commie cat's eyes.

He wants me to get a life. Perhaps then I can return to his good graces. But he best come around in the meantime. I'm the hand that feeds him.

Yo, asshat. Did you pass high school history?

2007-10-21T21:17:00.000-04:00

<-- (I may be only 15, but I'm plump 'n' pure pirate booty in fetish boots)

As a person open to attending gatherings sometimes referred to as alternative by the general public, I have often wondered about the ye olde renaissance fair. This year, I was finally able to attend the King Richard's Faire in Carver, MA on its final day of the season.

Ok. Renaissance. That's French for rebirth. It refers to a period of time between the 14th and 17th centuries (or 1300–1600). It was a cultural rebirth following the middle or dark ages.

When I think Renaissance, I think, oh, Shakespeare. Some Michangelo. The last vestiges of knighthood, perhaps. A new beginning for philosophy after forced Christianity and stupidity. A rediscovery of things thought lost since the Greek and Roman empires.

I don't think PIRATES.

Pirates. Um, yeah. First off, popular culture does not depict the "golden era" of the pirate until extensive European exploration of the Caribbean. These pirates we tend to think of, in all their glory, really didn't come into their own until the early to mid 1700s.

That's not the effing Renaissance. So why the eff are you, an adult, running around a Renaissance fair in full pirate attire? Why is it I am forced to hear someone say ARRRR every 10 goddamn minutes?

Pirates, in the traditional sense, as perceived by popular culture or manufactured by Disney and Jerry effing Bruckheimer, that's something entirely different. I get that a vast number of men with nary a homosexual tendency what to speak of would drop the soap for Johnny Depp (or at least want to be him, whichever you prefer), and his Jack Sparrow character is today's ultimate personification of all things pirate.

I'm not saying pirates aren't cool, at least the romanticized concept of the pirate — whether Long John Silver or even Han Solo. (I also think there has always been piracy since the dawn of humanity, but whatever, such is not the point I am trying to make.)

But screw the ride at Disney. Forget the movie. Forget Johnny Depp. Forget all other pirate legends and lore. YOU WANT TO BE A GODDAMN PIRATE SO YOU CAN GO AROUND SAYING ARRR ALL THE GODDAMN TIME.

That's what makes you an asshat. Not only do you sound like an asshat, going around, saying ARRR all the goddamn time, you're dressed like a pirate at some silly little festival typically celebrating a period of time which ended at least 100 or more years before your idealized pirates commanded the seas. Therefore, you've proven you didn't learn the slightest thing in your high school western civilization class and get your history from Netflix. You're just looking for an excuse to dress like a goddamn pirate and say ARRR. You think you have some sort of pirate ancestry because you enjoy downloading your music from Limewire?

Do you think actual pirates in the 1700s went around saying things like ARRR? No, seriously, do you? The first documented incidence of any "pirate" saying ARRR was in the 1950 Disney film Treasure Island. (Again, Disney had something to do it...)

I think I should mention, however, that the organizers of King Richard's Faire do offer pirate shows. According to the schedule, Pirate 101 and Pirate 102 are offered in the kiddie area. Ok. So I get you're trying to make it all family friendly when you have a bunch of women offering up cleavage they really shouldn't be offering up outside of their completely darkened bedroom. I could point out your bastardizing history at a young age, but whatever. I guess children need something to do and obviously, everyone likes pirates. But can't you offer something like Plague 101 and teach about hygiene as to not repeat the mistakes of the dark ages (or perhaps just do your part in preventing more nasty little grubby children)? I don't know.

I get it. Renaissance fairs are not supposed to be historically accurate, educational events. They are pure entertainment, a reason for adults to dress up in random costumes of whatever age they choose. I didn't think I was going to learn anything upon attending this little festival.

Wait. I did learn something. People who walk around saying ARRRR all the goddamn time are asshats.

Stupid Surveys

2007-10-20T14:00:00.001-04:00

I used to sometimes like these things via email. Now they're always used in MySpace bulletins. I hate posting MySpace bulletins. But I figured, with my intentions of writing more on this damn thing...I would do a stupid bulletin.

How old will you be in 13 months?
31

Do you think you'll be married by then?
Ha

What do you look forward to most in the next 3 months?
I can't think of a thing. Let me get back to you.

Who was the last person to text you?
Aural Lice

Do you prefer call or text?
Texting

Do you have any pets?
Oskar! The scruffy orange commie cat with dog-like tendencies

What were you doing at 12 am last night?
Uh, sudoku and watching Degrassi: The Next Generation. Shoot me now.

Do you like carrots?
I am carrots.

When is the last time you saw your mom?
December 29, 2007

How many houses have you lived in?
10 (including apartments)

How many city/towns have you lived in?
5

Do you prefer shoes, socks, or bare feet?
Huh? Depends on what the eff I'm going to be walking on, you eff-nut.

Are you a social person?
I can be.

What was the last thing you ate?
Cheerios

What is your favorite color?
Black

What are you doing for your next birthday?
I don't even know what I'm doing next week.

What is your favorite TV show?
Battlestar Galactica, South Park, Entourage, Flight of the Conchords, ANTM

What kind of jelly do you like on your PB & J sandwich?
Sometimes you feel like grape jelly. Sometimes you feel like strawberry jam.

Do you like coffee?
Sure. But I'll make sure to have someone slip a note in its locker during study hall to see if it likes me.

What are you listening to?
Relative silence peppered with white noise

Do you sleep on a certain side of the bed?
Right

Do you know how to play poker?
Yes. But there are several forms of poker so I think this question has a much too general scope.

What are you thinking about right now?
Why am I doing to ridiculous survey?

Any plans for this weekend?
Cleaning. Laundry. Shoot me now.

Have you ever been in an ambulance?
Once. Valentine's Day 1998. Lake Ozark, MO. Very glamorous.

Do you prefer an ocean or pool?
One should not be made to choose.

Do you know how to drive a stick shift?
Bit rusty, so probably not anymore. But I'm a quick learner.

What is your favorite thing to spend money on?
Airfare. Clothing. Origami.

Do you wear any jewelry 24/7?
A pair of earrings and a ring. And often a necklace.

Who is the funniest person you know?
I tend to surround myself with funny people. Why choose?

Do you sleep with stuffed animals?
The Stay Puff Marshmellow man is technically not an animal, but a character. He hangs out, ok? I'm a grown woman. He doesn't travel with me, but he hangs out. Don't judge me, you sick honkey.

What is the main ring tone on your phone?
Call Me by Blondie

What is the color of your bedroom walls?
White. I rent.

Do you shut off the water while you brush your teeth?
Actually, I do. Or I try to because it saves X many gallons. Does this make me green?

Do you wish someone was with you right now?
I would like to shower first.

Are you mad about anything?
Mambo. Max.

Are you taken or single?
Why are you asking?

And another one for good measure...

Who was the last person you hung out with, actual one-on-one?
Gusto

Do you think you're approachable?
Sure

How do you feel about the person you kissed last?
I did good.

Do you regret doing anything in the past several weeks?
Christ, no.

When was the last time you had alcohol?
Wednesday evening

Are you a partier?
When the mood strikes

What do you think of when you hear the word "slut"?
John Mayer

Do you have a dirty mind?
It's the one thing I refuse to clean up.

Would you ever work as a stripper if it were the only available job for you?
I suppose I have the skills, but I'm not a very good liar. Donning a polyester "evening gown" and
lapdances would probably get me fired on my first night out.

Have you been pressured to do anything recently?
Pressuing. How all after school specials begin.

Who's the sweetest person you know right now?
Goatboy

Do you know anyone with a serious illness?
I know a few people with serious mental problems.

Do you like your name?
Sure

Is anyone interested in you right now?
Who knows

Who is the 5th text in your inbox from?
Mandie

What's your favorite number?
13

Would you ever cross-dress?
According to those in the Pentecostal faith, I already do.

Do you have a Facebook?
Unfortunately

Do you hate anyone?
Don't be a hater

When was the last time you went to the movies?
A month ago, to review some crap called The Brothers Solomon

Are you a good speller?
Yes

What's your worst habit?
I don't need to make a list

Are you listening to any music? What song?
No/No

Would you ever give your number out over the Internet?
617-867-5309

What's your shoe size?
7–8 in US sizes

Do you still talk to the person you last had a thing with?
That's a complicated question

Do you love someone?
My black heart is overflowing with love

Have you ever lost the person you loved?
Huh? Another much too general question.

What would you do if you found out your ex is engaged?
Which ex?

Would you ever cheat on your bf/gf with a really hot guy/girl?
I'll decide should I ever get myself in such a situation

Would you rather feel pain or be numb?
Pain

Do you like competition?
Depends on the game

Would you ever stay with someone, just because you didn't want to break their heart?
No

Have you ever taken anyone/anything for granted?
Sure

Do you hate being alone?
Everyone needs to be alone sometimes

Has anyone ever broken your heart?
Sure

Last time you went swimming in a pool?
A little over a week ago in Dubrovnik

Where was the last place you went shopping?
7–11

How do you feel about your hair?
That I want to know what its feeling.

Christ, I feel so gay right now. I just remembered why I never do these things.

Jesus Built My T-Shirt

2007-10-20T00:12:00.000-04:00

Christian clothing fascinates me for some reason, typically pentecostal, ankle-length skirts paired with high-collared blouses, that sort of thing. But it can extend further than the obvious, especially as this emerging subculture of Christian hipsters appear to be exposing themselves outside the confines of acoustic youth ministry rock bands.

Do you call them Chipsters?

Call me a heathen, but I didn't understand some of the designs. Maybe I didn't look closely enough, but this Jesus Branded line is just um, I guess its sort of like those guys I went to high school with who sported pothead attire with floppy hair and chonging wood crosses around their necks. You always scratched your head when you saw them, because they seemed to be stoned. Or were they just high on Christ...I suppose I will never ever know. And I'm okay with that.

In hip hop, this is called a shout out

2007-10-19T12:37:00.001-04:00

You may notice some design / template changes and some adds to my links sections. The template change is just an experiment, but I wanted to add some great new people / sites to my random links list.

In any case, if you feel my opinion has any sort of worth whatsoever, I'm gonna direct you to checking these out whenever you have a chance.

Adventure Girl — This is an amazing new friend of mine from LA, Stefanie Michaels. We traveled through Croatia together as part of the press tour. She's smart and gorgeous and funny and has done all sorts of incredible things (for instance, she MUSHED in the Iditarod. Mushing has been a long-time dream of mine). Stefanie and I went off on our own a couple of times during our trip to do more adventurous activities. We also had a knack for stumbling into unbelievable jewelry stores and blowing cash we should not have been spending.

Aural Lice — Aural Lice and I have been close friends for over a year now. When we were first introduced by a mutual friend, I was excited because I needed to do a profile on someone "interesting" for a feature writing class I was taking. I discovered Aural Lice loves audio in ways extending far beyond enjoying the ability to hear sounds. For instance, he's saved every voice mail he's received for the last eight years. So I'm REALLY excited AL is back to getting creative these days because he's one of the most visionary people I've ever met. His blog and podcasts chronicle a lot of the bizarre things people discuss on a daily basis. And yes, he tapes people with their knowledge so there's no Linda Tripp action going on. Keep checking, because he has some upcoming posts that are absolutely amazing. You will definitely want to subscribe to his podcast.

On The Globe — This is a longtime travel website written by Andrew Princz. Princz was also on my press tour of Croatia. He recently moved back to Montreal after spending the last eight years in Budapest. He was also an author for the Frommer's Budapest and the Best of Hungary guidebook, as well as contributed to the Wall Street Journal's international edition. He's a great writer and talented guy. I also like to refer to him as The Cleaner, because he just reminds me of the guy you call in after a botched hit job (e.g., La Femme Nikita, Pulp Fiction).

Kling Bags — My cousin, Natasha, makes these incredible handbags out of vinyl and duct tape. Check out her goods, they're quite extraordinary. If you're like me and would rather carry something original than a big designer label, this is definitely up your alley.

Home Sickeningly Sweet Home

2007-10-19T12:10:00.000-04:00

A mere week ago, I was having a perfectly nice time in Zagreb, stopping over to visit friends at the conclusion of a week-long press tour of the Dalmatian Coast in Croatia. I was constantly referred to as an American Journalist, which made me sound semi-cool and as if I had unlimited job prospects.

A week later, here I sit on my computer, in my apartment, sometimes gazing at my scruffy orange commie cat, Oskar. My time is now spent going through general bouts of wanting to slam my head against the wall, perusing photos of both my time in Croatia and the previous week in Oregon wine country, sobbing internally with each phone call or email query I make regarding any open copywriting positions, and slapping myself for feeling like an ungrateful asshat after I've just spent two weeks seeing some of the most beautiful places and things a person could imagine.

The life of a copywriter / travel journalist should be a bit more glamorous, right? To go from getting a nightly knock on my hotel room door asking if I want chocolate to wondering if any educated 30-year-old woman should be contemplating ramen for dinner and if anyone will ever hire me is sick & twisted. Especially in the span of days. While I was prepared for this to happen, it was easy to put it out of my mind while I was getting fed copious amounts of homemade chardonnay in a tiny bar in Korcula while singing along to Guantanamera with the bar owner and two bike tour guides. It was easy to put these frightening thoughts aside when I was driving an ATV through the hills in Trogir, surrounded on each side by the Adriatic. It was easy to forget I had no real job to return to while I was walking the wall in Dubrovnik.

But all good things have to come to an end. And reality is always right there where we left it.

It's a cruel world. Wait. Allow me to amend. It's a beautiful cruel world.

Random thought of the day

2007-09-17T15:50:00.000-04:00

Why to kids with bowl-shaped haircuts only appear in tv and movies? Especially in films with single parents. Bowl-shaped haircuts look ridiculous on anyone and it makes children look completely stupid. Because in real life, if your kid went to school with a bowl-shaped haircut, they would live a life of misery and ridicule.

Tween Culture is Scary

2007-08-17T16:15:00.000-04:00

I have no idea what High School Musical is, except that I often wondered what it was whenever I saw it as the number one most downloaded album on iTunes last summer. However, I have now only recently discovered it was a popular Disney Channel movie because even the curiosity of wondering what it was last summer and why I kept seeing the title everywhere did not make me actively seek out such knowledge. (I really need to call my nieces about this, because I have a feeling at least one of them could recite the film's entire script even if it stars neither Orlando Bloom nor Dakota Eff-ing Fanning.)

Anyway, I guess there is a sequel to this supposed cultural phenomenon. And I guess the male lead is some sort of teenaged sex symbol? Huh? He looks like Clay Aiken. His name is Zac Efron. I recognized him from some of those gossip sites I sometimes peruse . He is one of the people I scroll past really quickly because I have no idea who he is or what he does. And I don't like his eyes.

So this got me thinking about "teen hearthrobs". Now I was never into New Kids on the Block, nor did I watch Beverly Hills 90210. When I was 13, my celebrity crush was Alec Baldwin. I made fun of Kirk Cameron before he became Jesus Christ's biggest groupie. I've never been one for overtly pretty boys, even as a child.

My current knowledge of teen pop culture only extends itself to Canada's prized export, Degrassi: The Next Generation, which I have faithfully watched since 2003. I cannot tell you why I enjoy Canadian adolescent melodrama, but I do, even through several cast changes. Since last season, there has been a main character named Peter who embodies the ultra-Aryan look I have typically only witnessed in a handful of Brazilian young men who also have Italian citizenship because that's where their grandfather was from. Peter is a petulant brat whose mother is the school principal. He is portrayed by a kid named Jamie Johnston.

(I just looked this up, too, which says a lot about how much this kid irritates me because I typically remember useless information about show credits without my knowledge. This can sometimes be useful in the scheme of things, as I discovered in Prague when I planned my exodus with an actor whose name I remembered from the credits of a recent Law & Order episode.)

Jamie Johnston is a terrible actor and while I typically ignore him while watching the show, I felt myself unavoidably creeped out by him during the season finale. Those creepy eff-ing big blue eyes. I can't explain it, but that look just skeeves me out. It made my skin crawl, to be honest, and I was forced to send a text to my good friend Adam (a fellow Degrassi fan) about this while watching. Of course, I forgot about being skeeved out within a few minutes after the show's conclusion, so no harm done, I suppose. I get skeeved out at least once a week in my neighborhood 7-11. You can't let these things control your life.

But I started thinking about this kid after reading the aforementioned article in the New York Times on High School Musical. Because I was forced to learn who Zac Efron is and why he is, in some circles, famous. I realized that there are pre-teen (er, tween) girls from Toronto to Tennessee wallpapering their rooms with these guys' photos. And this scared me. Perhaps because I have nieces and a nephew hovering in these age brackets. Particularly my nieces. Do I want them to grow up thinking wide-eyed pretty boys with strategically mussed hair are the way to go? It's not so much that I have never been into this particular look in men, but maybe more so that when I see such boys with such cartoonish features (Neither Efron nor Johnston look entirely unlike characters found in Anime), I automatically think "future date rapist" much more so than "closet case"? Or maybe this look has long been appealing to young girls, and I am now just so far removed from those years of my life, I don't actively recall such information?

I'm not quite sure what the answer is and hopefully, this is the last I will ever think about such nonsense.

Jesus would shop here

2007-08-07T13:33:00.000-04:00

I had forgotten about this incredible online find until a friend sent me a link for Wholesome Wear .(A "swimwear" company which claims to be the only swimwear retailer that designs to draw attention to your face. I wonder if anyone has drown while wearing such wholesome ensembles to the beach.)

But this is not only one of the greatest web retailers I have ever stumbled upon, but it also has the most RIDICULOUS url in, quite possibly, the history of the Internet.

http://www.modestapparelchristianclothinglydiaofpurpledressescustomsewing.com/

The site even includes a Statement of Modesty, pledging to uphold the standards of good old J.C. and those necessary morals.

For this reason we DO NOT sew: sleeveless, slit skirts, mid-rifts, low cut neck lines, or low backs. We apologize if this offends anyone but our goal is to help both ladies and men keep from inciting lasciviousness (wrong lusts). We view this as a sewing ministry and only want to plant good seeds.

Explore this beautiful thing. Touch it. Love it. And if you've ever had a thing for modestly-clad chicks holding a metal pail while hanging with their horse, look no further.

You should do this

2007-08-03T09:34:00.000-04:00

Random thought for Friday morning:

This weekend, you should go see The Bourne Ultimatum. Because I say so. Plus, its just really effing good. I saw it on Tuesday because I'm cool (Actually, I just have cool friends). And now I must go to Tangier.

Thursday's Conscientious Writing Effort

2007-07-19T14:35:00.000-04:00

I should try and write something everyday, regardless of how mundane or inconsequential to anyone or myself. A close friend told me I should do this, even when I do not feel like writing anything at all.

I need a break from looking at this work garbage. Let's play the tired "shuffle songs" game on the iPod.

1) Always — Erasure
I have had a soft spot for the very gay British duo since 1992's Abba-esque. This song is making me sad. The Abba-esque CD is in some unknown place, somewhere in my parents' house. (My mother did something with the big book of CDs I had been accumulating since I was 10 when they remodeled/cleaned after I moved away. Its been 6–7 years now. I still have hope.)

2) Just Can't Get Enough (Schizo Mix) — Depeche Mode
I guess I have a thing for Asexual Brit Pop from the early 80s. Isn't that the same as New Wave...sort of? But this song sort of bothers me. Too bouncy. You have to be in the mood for something so bouncy. While the "Schizo Mix" gives the song more of a multi-layered fluency in the middle, it's still too bouncy for me. At least right now. I've had enough.

3) Hung Up — Madonna
Is Madonna still culturally relevant? Does it even matter? I don't think there is a person on the planet who doesn't like at least one Madonna song. I've enjoyed a lot of her electro stuff, but her first foray into that realm, Ray of Light, is by far the finest. I think her music from the early to mid-90s is terrible, with the exception of Justify My Love. I find Vogue bland and This Used To Be Our Playground is one of the most grating and uninspiring ballads I have ever heard.

(Does this fit into the British Electro Pop category since she sometimes talks with that British accent? Nah.)

4) As You Are — Travis
Scottish band. Non-electro. Some people refer to them as "Radiohead Lite". I love them and own every album. I am furious I did not get tickets for last week's show at the Pavillion. They haven't toured the U.S. since 2001, a double-ticket with Dido. This song is from The Man Who, which is known in these parts for the single Why Does It Always Rain On Me? Travis never took off in this country like they did in the UK, but I'm okay with that. Because I can still buy their albums. While doing a live radio show, they ended up performing this amazing cover of Britney Spears' Baby One More Time which was later released on a B-side. It's awesome and I say this without the slightest hint of irony.

5) Around The Way Girl — LL Cool J
Ok. Who doesn't love cool James? Exactly. Besides smooth rhymes, that man has amazing abs, too. Did you see him do sit-ups on Conan O'Brien back while promoting S.W.A.T. in the summer of 2003? Probably not. I have no idea why I thought of that. But it was amusing, Conan and LL, doing sit-ups.

6) Nancy (With the Laughing Face) — John Coltrane Quartet
I have been into John Coltrane since 8th grade. I was babysitting for this yuppie family and they had the Giant Steps CD. I played it after the kids went to sleep one night and was hooked. I then went out and bought a few jazz CDs at Best Buy. The only reason I enjoyed babysitting for this family was because I loved their house. I wish they would have let me borrow their VHS of Blue Velvet, though. They wanted parental permission. Hey, I was totally curious about David Lynch at age 13. I swear (Duh. I liked Twin Peaks.)

7) Song For The Lonely — Cher
Shut up. I love Cher. Not all of her songs, but I love the woman. You think Madonna is ever going to win a Best Actress Oscar? Doubt it. This woman was hawking crap on QVC without any shame and dating men 20 years her junior before it was the "cool" thing to do. I'm still sort of bummed I missed her farewell tour, even though it came to this area about 15 times. There's always Vegas.

8) Joey (Acoustic) — Concrete Blonde
I love this song. An all-time favorite, yet I cannot remember when I first fell in love with it because it was so long ago. I downloaded the acoustic version last summer because I was listening to the original so much. The lyrics and Johnette Napolitano's vocals are amazing ("Because if you're somewhere drunk and passed out on the floor..." and so on).

9) Somewhere Else — Travis
More Travis. From the 12 Memories album.

10) Sublime — Supreme Beings of Leisure
Their self-titled album is from 2000 and its sort of that ambient mellow lounge sound. I bought it after hearing Strange Love Addiction, the first song (and strongest) off the album. Wow. Upon looking them up on Wikipedia, I discovered that they wrote the theme song for Frontline / World.

11) Pueblo Nuevo — Buena Vista Social Club
Great documentary. Great soundtrack.

12) The New Year — Death Cab For Cutie
Death Cab is the musical equivilent of a Slurpee. When you get in that particular mood, you have to have one and you will accept no substitutions. And then buy the really big one because you have to have it. Then you just end up with a brain freeze but you rationalize it somehow and continue to drink the Slurpee. What I'm trying to say is that a person often to listens to Death Cab when they're in a crap mood because they just want to lay there and be in that crap mood. Misery's first love isn't company. It's music.

13) I Do — Jude
This guy is to kind-of-attractive-guitar-driven songwriter-dude-who-writes-music-chicks-dig as Jon Secada was too 1999's Latino invasion. Both were just a few years too early. All those lame John Mayers and James Blunts and similar honkies took the same thing a few years later and made it more palapable for adult contemporary stations. This song is kind of sad, all about a guy who gets a wedding invitation from his long-lost love. I'll admit. The first time I heard it was on Dawson's Creek. Anyway, he's got a few decent tracks off that album. And he's not John Mayer. And if most people have anything at all going for them, its that they're not John Mayer.

14) There'll Be Another Spring — Dianna Reeves
From the Good Night and Good Luck soundtrack. She has a lovely voice and the soundtrack is relatively enjoyable, but I've never been one for a lot of vocal jazz. So I can never listen to the album as a whole.

15) Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall — Dianna Reeves
Spring. Rain. Stop it, damn you. Stop it. I think my iPod wants me to listen to this album more. Whatever. I'll thwart your plans, iPod, because I have the power. Next.

16) Fire & Rain — Me First & The Gimme Gimmes
This band does punk versions of classic songs. For some reason, I love them because they're just fun. Simple as that. We used to listen to this album when I worked at a store/tattoo & piercing parlor back in college. Spider, the resident tattoo artist, got me into this group. Spider wore all black and only drank Yeagermeister. You, too, would do that if your real name was Lyle.

17) We Looked Like Giants — Death Cab For Cutie
No, Death Cab. I am not going downstairs to get that Slurpee. Not today. Not now. But your guitar strains are reeling me in. And the sky is grey...

18) Who's That Man — Toby Keith
Random, right? Yeah, this song is from 1994. Maggie liked this song. I think it was during her country phase. She may have had a hat. While we fully understood it was a sad song about divorce, for some reason, we got a kick out of it. While driving around and singing it. Hey, come on. I was a senior in high school. Not all country is bad. I don't know that many songs, but I know the lyrics of the ones I do enjoy.

19) Denis — Blondie
I love Blondie. Plus, I can sometimes sing One Way Or Another and it doesn't sound too terrible. There are only a few songs I can sing and not offend the greater population. This song is kind of fun, a throwback to early 60s girlsounds, but you know, done by Blondie.

20) Some Unholy War — Amy Winehouse
I love Amy Winehouse. Saw her live back in May. Amazing.

I'm now bored with this exercise and have to get back to work. Hey, I wrote something "creative" today. Mission accomplished.

Typing is to easy, but that's the way it is

2007-07-16T20:55:00.000-04:00

So here's the story from A to Z...

I want to say it was a morbid curiosity which forced me to turn on NBC's Victoria Beckham: Coming To America. But it was more that I was curious about her speaking voice. Sure, back in 1997, I owned the Spice Girls CD. But I don't think I could distinguish between Posh, Scary, Sporty, Ginger or Baby even after listening to Wannabe 100 more times. I've seen numerous pictures of Posh Spice, but I wasn't sure if she spoke. For all I know, removing one's vocal cords is akin to that urban legend of removing one's ribs in order to have a small waist.

(On a side note, I've never quite understood the whole "If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends" lyric. Now in college, there was some overlapping as the years went on, yet you never made it "forever" let alone 2 weeks with one of those. Maybe they meant that you just had to like their friends? I'm not sure. But it is a catchy song. And I still talk to all my close college friends, so maybe friendship never ends? And the Spice Girls are doing that whole reunion tour now. Oh, I don't know...)

I turned on the show late, when Ms. Beckham was attempting to drive and get her license at the Los Angeles DMV. Her handlers did her makeup for the photo. She asked if they did retouching. Cut to the commercial break. I want this woman dead.

I continued watching and I have so say that she doesn't look as scary as she does in photos. The situations she entered were completely staged and contrived, and I still think evading the "dreaded paparazzi" could be much easier than some elaborate plot involving a blow-up doll. (Couldn't one get a room at a hotel, put on a modest disguise and then leave without anyone following? I would hope this would even be possible at the Chateau Marmont, but I have not been to L.A. since 1999.)

I decided it wasn't so much Victoria Beckham that frightened me by the end of the show, but more so the feracity in which photographers seem to be everywhere in L.A. I have close friends living there and they sometimes talk about being places where the paparazzi is staked out, but I began thinking about how anyone with a decent SLR can seemingly metastisize a career out of such a thing. And how a continuous regimen of plastic surgery will inevitably lead to L.A. becoming a virtual zombie state, if the Beverly Hills Socialites are any indication (For some reason, I found Posh Spice almost charming during this scenario, as it reminded me of those orientations for college or grad school and how you spend the day with the first people you meet, who will most likely become the people you despise more than anything by the time you graduate. But mainly I wanted to know where one gets an oil painting of George Clooney circa the between Facts of Life and Roseanne era).

Don't worry. I'm not a fan. I'm sure she's already taking Scientology courses. And I could ramble on and on about the decline of journalism and how celebrities are covered more than real news, how this is just another sign of a cultural apocalypse, blah blah blah. But its Monday and I don't feel like it at the moment.

Now this Age of Love show is on. Back in 1997, I thought Mark Phillipousous was hot. At that time, he clocked the fastest serve on record. I suppose he still is someone I wouldn't exactly deny, but the idea of this show disgusts me. For starters, any Bachelor-esque show is despicable and always will be. I find it amusing how these women get so broken up over discovering the guy that they, and 10-20 other women are "dating", may have screwed around with one or every other one. Hello? Why wouldn't you? Its the closest most men come to having their very own harem. You take advantage of it. I've seen some men do wonders with less and nary a rose to hand out.

I'm actually not watching the show. I'm typing. It's on in the background. I'm just wondering that about the whole premise. If women in their 20s are "kittens", and the around-40-year-olds are "cougars", at 30, what does that make me? Am I simply a cat? Would I eat the Indoor Formula Iams for adult cats — as opposed to the bag of kitten chow providing extra nutrients for growing felines or the mature cat formula, which prevents against bone density loss?

Oh, I don't feel like thinking about such nonsense anymore. I'm going to go finish my book. And listen to Oasis or the Verve Pipe, or maybe the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack. Things were a lot simpler when I was 20. And I know no one is picking me up for Monday night's $1 Rolling Rock and Ouzo shots at George's in a few minutes. (BTW, I never liked Rolling Rock, but the Ouzo would go down a few times by 12:45am.) But that's fine.

I would rather be a cat than a kitten. But I still really wanna zigazig ahhhhh.

Happy Monday

2007-07-16T10:39:00.000-04:00

Its Monday and I'm in a semi-foul mood.

Here are some things you shouldn't be paying attention to while wasting time at work today:

Why is this "celebrity wedding" news? I would rather sit next to "Lard Ass" at that pie-eating contest than attend (or even) read about these nuptials.

Definition of irony. You know you don't want to admit it, and you feel bad doing it, but you read this article and sort of snickered to yourself. More of a snicker than a giggle. And you only did it once.

While that whole never-ending Iraq / Middle East debacle rages on, the U.S. has also managed to pretty much screw things up with Russia. Remember them? They're that really big country responsible for a bunch of dominating pairs figure skaters, Victoria's Secret models, mediocre tennis-playing blond sexpots and vodka. They also still have all those bombs that whole "Cold War" thing.

Look @ My Photos

2007-06-10T15:03:00.000-04:00

I know. I suck and don't write very often. And when I do write, I promise I'm going to write more and it never happens.

But I am alive...and I have been taking pictures. Check them out.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/thegreengirl/

VOTE FOR MANZO!!!

2007-05-05T22:09:00.000-04:00

One of my dearest friends, Katelyn (aka KB), has a charming and alluring younger brother named Manzo. Manzo's biggest dream is to be on VH1's I Love New York 2.

Within the next 12 days, he needs to make the Top 5 to make the show. PLEASE vote for Manzo every single day and make this young man from Philly's dream come true. He just wants to love this gal.

You can't not want to help this kid's dream come true after seeing his heartfelt video.

This is news?

2007-05-05T15:18:00.000-04:00

Ah, the Boston media does it again. For the last several days, the city has responded in outrage and horror after the publication of one shocking & disturbing photo.
Yes, close your eyes. Patriots’ Quarterback Tom Brady is strolling the streets of Manhattan with his Brazilian supermodel girlfriend…wearing a Yankees hat.
The last time I checked, Tom Brady played for the Patriots. A football team. Football & baseball are two different sports played in two different seasons. But the city is reeling in horror because Tom Brady is not wearing a Red Sox hat.

I remember the last time a picture like this emerged, back during the 2004 playoffs. Seems one of the Northern California-bred Brady’s good friends from his NCAA days in Michigan plays for the boys in pinstripes. That bastion of journalistic excellence, the Boston Herald, warned Brady that one should not wear a Yankees during “high season” in these parts.

Over two years later, he’s done it again. Who the hell cares? I certainly don’t — and I don’t even like Tom Brady. We’re the same age, Brady and I, and while I can admit he is attractive in that All-American quarterback kind of way, every time I look at him, I am taken back to the mid-90s. He’s the kind of hot football star in your AP History class who you might have a pleasant if tipsy five-minute conversation with at some parents-are-out-of-town party because you’re sharing a joint with his not-going-to-play-collegiate-sports, weed-smoking buddies. And for those pleasant if tipsy five minutes, you briefly entertain the thought of going on a date with this guy, riding with the windows down in his slightly-used GMC Jimmy as Blues Traveler plays on the car stereo. But then you snap back to reality because you know the teenage caste system was pre-determined by the second week of 7th grade, and gals like you, the ones that resisted the Rachel haircut and never even tried out for any sort of cheerleading squad, just don’t get that sort of dating option. You know on Monday, he’s not going to recall your pleasant if tipsy conversation when you get to AP History. He will take his seat next to the short obnoxious kid who is his good friend only because he was grandfathered into that particular crowd because he had two soccer star brothers who went on to Princeton, and they will laugh at the short obnoxious kid’s jokes which are loud yet never funny.

Honestly, I do not suffer from any high school caste system scars, but there are some truths that remain universal. Perhaps it is because we are the same age, but every time I see Tom Brady, this is my association. Wait. I will amend that statement. Brady does get props for the Digital Short he did while hosting SNL last year. It’s all about sexual harassment in the workplace and it too provides another universal truth which people never want to admit.

Maybe I don’t think it’s a big deal that Tom Brady was wearing a Yankees hat because I, too, am not originally from this area. I’m from St. Louis, where our baseball fanaticism runs as deep or deeper than that of Red Sox fans. Sure, I can finally admit that in 2004, I really did want the Red Sox to win. I was conflicted about my devotion, yes, but you couldn’t not want the Sox to win after watching the incredible comeback against the Yankees in the ALCS. I also knew the Cards would win it within the next couple of years and the Sox would possibly have to wait another 76, so hey, my rationale makes perfect sense. And for all the fanaticism that runs rampant in St. Louis, I can never recall a situation where a Blues or Rams star player was publicly chastised for his support of another city’s baseball team.

I don’t understand why Sox fans expect a player from another team in another sport, one that doesn’t even make Boston his off-season home, to be a die-hard fan. It’s stupid, yes, but the truly annoying thing about the “situation” is the media’s eagerness to cover it. They’re the ones that created this nonsense, and I understand it even less than I do the need for St. Louis sports fans to wear cheap plastic beads for any home game (and "rally", parade, open-air mass gathering and apparently whenever anyone wants to sit down and take a crap) when it is not Mardi Gras and New Orleans is a 14-hour drive south.

best quote of the day

2007-03-29T11:32:00.000-04:00

Overheard while sitting outside:

"You probably saw my brother-in-law the news. He stabbed his cousin right after Christmas."

I heard the rest of the story, too. I guess the family has foregiven him. And he got manslaughter 2.

Civic duty continued

2007-03-29T11:19:00.000-04:00

Still sitting. Tired of reading. Also did Globe crossword. Impressed by depth of makeshift snack hut in hallway, even though I didn't order anything. Took 3 minutes to get stench of cheap perfume out of nose after walking by offending woman on way to restroom. I also need a nail file bc I tend to destroy my nails & cuticles while bored & sitting.

Another break. They have 5 more sessions left to fill. I'm not leaving.

Blogging via CrackBerry

2007-03-29T08:41:00.000-04:00

The gig is up. After going nearly 12 long years, I have finally been called for jury duty. Its nice to see that my peers are such a wrecked bunch. I would take pictures if I could, but that seems a bit unethical. Perhaps they're pissed about being here, too. No one wants to do jury duty. I can't tell if I am as wrecked as the motley crew or just groggy from the bottle of Bogle syrah & 7 clove cigarettes.

Oooh. We are now watching a video narrated by some dignified female judge with one of those regional accents that's somewhere between Conneticut & Kennedy. I'm surprised they don't have Sam waterston doing these across the country. Maybe on a federal level? It would fit, honestly, especially since this whole process is beginning to remind me of waiting in line at EPCOT. You wait in line. You watch a video with some random personality, be it Gary Sinese or Steven Tyler. So far, its kind of like that except not as visually stimulating & I'm pretty sure no ride is awaiting me in the next room.

If they pick me, can I run for foreperson? Do they really have to explain what a trial is? If I was on trial, I wouldn't want anyone on my jury who just learned what a trial was in the pre-selection video.

I am babbling on about absolutely nothing.

Open Letter to the British

2007-03-20T14:31:00.000-04:00

More than anything, the British fascination with crap escapes me, not because it’s complete crap but because it makes absolutely no sense. You’re British. I expect MORE of you. You’re more cultured than us. You’re smarter. You have better fashion sense and let’s face it, the dollar is so not the leading currency in the world (Just over $2 = 1 British Pound) these days. You have Amy Winehouse. We have Jessica Simpson. You have Robbie Williams. We have Justin Timberlake (well, we got you beat on that one). You gave us Ab Fab. We gave you Madonna past her prime. Your game shows are infinitely more interesting, as your version of Wheel of Fortune was the only time I was able to sit through an entire episode. Your models, like Kate Moss and Naomi Campbell provide interesting news copy. Tyra Banks makes headlines when caught eating a doughnut.

Your high-level government sex scandals are the stuff legends are made of. The best we have done involves cigars, PG-13 instant messages and a boat called the “Monkey Business”.

However, in this celebrity-obsessed world we currently live in, I will give us some credit where credit is due.

In the U.S., we at least have the good sense to send reality TV sensations back to where they belong after the show’s finale. We don’t allow them to put signature fragrances on the shelves of Selfridge’s after they rolled around in pig slop on national television. They move to L.A. for awhile, maybe end up on a couple of VH1 or MTV vehicles, and inevitably end up going home to wherever they came from if they don’t get hired by the TV Guide Channel for temporary work.

I was over there at the beginning and end of your Celebrity Big Brother. I even watched the finale. I was thinking that you guys learned something because your beloved Jade Goody and her signature fragrance were over with once she called Shilpa Shetty “Shilpa Poppadum”. You just can’t give these reality TV stars any real sort of fame (However, Shilpa is a real find and very big back in Bollywood. You should keep her around. Does she have her own fragrance yet?).

I know that you like to make bigger celebrities out of has-beens and G-listers, too. While watching the CBB finale, I did forget about Dirk Benedict’s tantrum regarding Starbuck being cast as a woman in the (vastly superior) modern update of Battlestar Galactica. Jermaine Jackson, you and all your I-read-Buddhism-For-Dummies wisdom was sort of endearing, too, and I didn’t think about the fact your created-in-a-test-tube-and-medical-assistant nieces & nephews are one day going to write books that make Christina Crawford’s Mommie Dearest look like a novel by Nicholas Sparks. Come on, you guys stick this stuff on BBC. We stick it on VH1. You’re a smaller country. Me, for one, would prefer watching Verne Troyer get bombed and then piss on a wall but the American public seems to prefer situation comedies starring Jon Cryer (Duckie!) and Charlie Sheen. I get your fascination with B-list voyeurism more than I do semi-wholesome one-liners recited by Heidi Fleiss’s most valued customer.

You British, you’re sneaky. I know we brought you into this whole Iraq thing. I’m really sorry. It’s not my fault. I’m sure Prince Harry will be fine (Plus, anyone who knows anything about your country knows that you couldn’t give a crap about the royal family.), however, you stuck us with Posh & Becks. Oh, not that the second Vietnam and football trash even compare, but they both are blatant symbols of the Western economic powers’ inherent need to show off the size of their cojones. People think the Beckhams are cool in your country, too. I know better. You were glad to be rid of them. Of course, not only do they come here and take up space in our celebrity gossip rags, they have become the BFF to TomKat, our most obnoxious celebrity couple in the history of scones. At first I thought Posh only had that copy of Dianetics because she was hungry and the pages have fairly few calories, but now I think she’s reading it. I hear they’re going to get their own reality TV show on NBC, too. I guess TomKat didn’t warn them that in this country, reality TV does not earn you the sort of A-list status as it does in the UK. Oh, and you think they’re gonna show up on your show to boost ratings? Probably only if you show the four of you going the Celebrity Centre for a little auditing, but you know that closeted mo-fo ain’t going to let cameras capture you and his faux wife shopping at Barney’s b/c you and your show are small screen.

You gave us Heather Mills. We didn’t embrace her — Vegas oddsmakers began taking money on the how good the chances are that her prosthetic leg will go flying while ballroom dancing. We give you David Gest (he couldn’t even make VH1 after Liza kicked him to the curb like an empty bottle of gin) and you guys adore him. We get Robin Leach and make him the poor man’s Reege.

I love the irony of it all. We give you crap and you turn it into your gold. For some reason, our not-even-on-the-list celebrities land at Heathrow and their dollar value actually increases. Your semi-famous types come here and are lucky if they make it on Perez Hilton because of their bra size or drunken antics. I don’t know about the Beckhams yet, but I bet you 20 quid that Posh is going to be hawking her fashions on QVC within 2 years. Of course, I’m sure she will come crawling back to your side of the pond once her sales are outdone by those Marie Osmond dolls. And you, Great Britain, will certainly have a place for her on Celebrity Big Brother.

Cheers, M

Summing it all up a month & a half later...

2007-03-11T15:27:00.000-04:00

It was a bit difficult to make proper blog posts once I left Prague, so I'll sum up a bit of my trip before posting on anything else. Since I promised to do so. (It's a good thing I don't necessarily believe in promises.) Obviously, I will probably get a bit more verbose as I get into it, so just try and keep up.

First Detour in Austria (Vienna)
Recommendation: Go to Prague for 2-3 days. If you're there for a 4th day, you will want to get the hell out of there at some point, even if it means slitting your wrists. Perhaps that is too extreme, but even when I ended up at the wrong train station in an effort to get to Ljubjana (Slovenia), I still took a train to Vienna, just to get the hell out of there. Unfortunately, mine was the last train that night and I would not be able to get to Slovenia until morning. Finally found a hostel after roaming the red light district. I slept for a few hours. I showered. I took some pictures on my way back to the Sudbahnof. Had no idea Vienna was so big. Already a bit sick of hearing Mozart.

The train ride from Vienna to Ljubjana was beautiful, just as one would picture the European countryside. The hills. They were totally alive. Since I got into Ljubjana in the evening, I decided to stay the night and depart for Rijeka the following day.

Ljubjana
Stayed at the Hostel Celica, the "hippest hostel in the world" according to Lonely Planet. Very cool and incredibly nice. It's a coverted former military jail. There is a nice bar and restaurant, plus an art gallery. Went downstairs for dinner and had some dark beer. Met some Slovenes. They go there because it is supposedly one of the few places in town with dark beer. Hung out. Learned about why the E.U. isn't that great an idea and that people actually do miss socialism (they don't like us to know these things in the U.S.). Still don't understand why an unofficial national anthem of sorts is a remixed, electro version of John Denver's Country Roads (in Slovenia, not just like in Prague where they played it in English).

Next day, roamed around the city with Tim, a guy in my room who had just been through Serbia and Croatia. Ljubjana is an incredibly beautiful city, with a laid-back & youthful vibe that was much needed after those few days in Prague. The river that runs through the city center is one of the most exquisite shades of green I have ever seen. Prices are still inexpensive and they have perhaps one of the most beautiful markets of fresh food I have ever seen. Most Americans have no idea what, let alone where, Ljubjana is located. Perhaps that is a good thing, but I have definitely been recommending this city to everyone I met while traveling and since I've been back.

Rijeka, Croatia
I arrive in Rijeka, the third largest city in Croatia, following a 2.5 hour train ride. I go to the only hostel in town via a bus from the train station. This is probably the first and last time I will be the youngest person in a hostel. Ivana, the fellow pole dancer I have been communicating with since she found me on YouTube, then picks me up and takes me to the health club where she dances and works. I meet Vesna, a manager and pilates / pole dancing instructor. There is a beginning class that night. As we sit outside the gym smoking cigarettes (Yes, there were tables out there with ashtrays...outside a gym. Never in America. Love it.), Vesna informs me that I will be teaching the beginning class that evening.

So less than 3 hours after arriving in Croatia, I am standing in front of 6 or 7 Croatian women who only know some English. Vesna translates for me. They do it differently there, more emphasis on the actual moves and less on the transitions and "exotic" dancing. I have video and photos. This was definitely one of the more unique experiences of my journey.

Ivana takes me for burgers after we leave the health club. She says I must eat Croatian burgers since she has no homemade wine. We do go to some quasi-scenester bar near the water that seems to have a Sopranos theme. Literally. With posters and images of the cast located in several places. I drink the main Croatian beer, as I have been trying to drink all the beers indignous to the countries I have been in.

The next day, Ivana takes me around Rijeka. We take pictures. She is the most incredible amatuer photographer. I meet her other friend named Vesna, who also pole dances. Ivana and her boyfriend take me through Opatija and we eat the "best burgers". We then go to Trsat before I have to leave. At this point, I am sad to go and wish I could spend more time because I've had the most incredible experience, seeing how beautiful just a small part of this country is and meeting such great people. This isn't the main tourist destination in Croatia and obviously, I was traveling everywhere in the off season, but it was still one of the most beautiful places I have seen. Just walking along the clifs and touching the Adriatic was incredible.

At this point, I realize I am probably not going to get to Berlin. I am pissed, but I decide to go to Munich. I get back on the train and will have to switch in Ljubjana. It will be a 6-hour ride, overnight. Of course, nothing is that easy. On my way to Ljubjana, I share a compartment with a wonderful older man who is returning home. He owns an electronics factory. We trade cigarettes and he gives me his business card. I tell him about the magazine (and website) Wired. He thanks me profusely. He helps me out of the train with all my stuff and goes to meet his wife. Even with his limited English, we still managed to have a great conversation. I make a point to tell my mother about this, as she thinks I would be targeted by "sexual predators and / or terrorists" while traveling alone in Eastern Europe. Sorry, mother, but its been the exact opposite.

Somewhere in Slovenia / Austria
I do not get a sleeping car because I do not think the train will be that crowded. I was wrong. There are 3 other people in my compartment. I am finally starting to fall asleep when a conductor comes in and tells us, in both Croatian and then English, that there are "hurricanes" in Germany and we are being diverted to Salzberg. The man in front of me asks if I am British. I reply no, that I am American. By this point in my trip, and perhaps b/c I spent a few days living with my British friends and have been making a point to speak more clearer just so people will understand me better, I realize that I can almost fake a slight British accent when speaking in short sentences or giving one word replies. (Nicole later points out that it is because I have begun to phrase all sentences, even statements, like questions, in certain instances. Good observation.) I say, no, I am an American. He goes back to reading. I realize I am starving and there is no food cart and that I will once again be stranded in Austria. I am thinking about these things only to stop myself from asking how there can be hurricanes in a landlocked nation.

Later on in the journey, the train is forced to stop somewhere in the middle of nowhere for a couple of hours. I go in and out of sleep. I put my backpack on when I think we are there, but we stop again. The Croatian woman in my compartment nudges me to wake up. I have fallen asleep while leaning on my backpack. I am once again in Austria. It is 8am.

Second Detour in Austria (Salzberg)
I find someplace to eat and do not care that it costs me almost 10 Euro. I realize that I am eating ham & cheese sandwichs for at least 2 meals a day (You simply ask for "toast".) No one seems to have any knowledge of when the next train to Munich will be leaving. Although all service has been suspended, the departure times will not disappear from the screens. I go to a platform, hoping that I can leave. Ha. That would be to easy. It is here I meet, Tom, the first American I have spoken to in 5 days. He, too, is trying to get to Munich. We join forces and we discover that we probably will not be leaving until 3pm. It is then we decide to get beers (it is now 10am).

We have a beer and then decide to go look at things. He has already been here and says he knows of a good beer hall & restaurant. The winds are rather high, but since I live in Boston, I wasn't too amazed. I couldn't quite understand why train service was canceled, but I suppose it is better to be safe than sorry. Tom is my age and is traveling before he begins his studies at a seminary in Rome. He decided to go back to school and get his masters in theology, leaving a good job with IBM. I find this fascinating, not because I am a greedy slave to the dollar, but I wonder about why people turn to religion at certain points in their life. The beer hall is not open, but we do find someplace to eat. We talk about whether or not priests should get married and scandals in the Catholic church. He says he would be a priest but he wants a family and he thinks that priests much devote to much time to their church and the congregation to be able to do both. He says all his friends think he is going to end up a priest but that is not his plan.

Tom did his undergrad at Purdue so I ask him what it is like to go back and be in an entirely different environment. The school where he has been studying for his Masters is all-Christian. He told me stories of the dating scene there, as it is a small school and everyone knows everyone. He tells me that he thinks much of what goes on is ridiculous, as some people will not go out on second dates unless they think they will fall in love with the person. I find these stories to be absolutely hilarious. Even though I know him and I can drink beer together and talk about such ridiculous things, I don't have the heart to tell him that I am pretty much an atheist. (If he reads this, he will discover this fact and I welcome the intellectual discourse. Hope you're doing well in Rome, Tom!)

We finally get on the train at 3pm, the first one out. We hop on the U-Bahn somewhere to go to the city, but we must get on a bus for part of that trip because of what I rightfully assume is because limbs have fallen on some of the tracks. The bus ride lasts an hour. Imagine standing on a city bus with 100 other people, half of which have tons of luggage. We get on another U-Bahn train. Even though getting to Germany has been the most insane ordeal, I am already amazed at the quality of their public transportation.

Munich
Leaving the train station and entering the city was almost a shock after spending a week in Eastern Europe. It was as if I had forgotten what "Western" looked like. I am impressed with how modern this area is, as I feared being innundated with more Mozart. (Honestly, I do not need to hear Mozart for awhile. Even at this point.)

We check in to the Wombats hospital, which is only a block away from the train station. I check into a big room and Tom checks into a smaller room. Upon entering my room, I meet Yannick, a 21-year-old Austrailian guy who has been traveling for the last month. We go to the bar downstairs and meet up with some other Aussies and decide to go to a nightclub.

I have to run...but will continue the rest of the adventures shortly. I'll do my best to "promise" as much.

The European Journey (Volume 1)

2007-01-14T19:04:00.000-05:00

I've meant to post more frequently since flying out last Monday, but I just haven't gotten around to doing it even though I've had ample internet access.

First off, I do not even want to see my mobile bill because I have been constantly texting people back in the states (35 cents/text). I've made a couple of phone calls, too (99 cents/minute) so you know, it can't be pretty (not to mention the fact that I get charged for every 1MB of emailed content or something), but how many times am I in Europe? Plus, sometimes you just need to share some random observation with those near and dear to you back home.

Let's start from the beginning, shall we? I landed at Heathrow early Tuesday morning. My buddy, Gaz, picked me up. I met Gaz back in 2005 when I interviewed him for a piece in Skope Magazine. We stayed in touch and he offered me a place to stay. I figured I could easily book a hostel if he was truly a freak, but he passed muster and I took up residence in a comfy spare bedroom for 3 nights. Gaz lives with his ex-wife, Sue, and they are absolutely wonderful (And yes, I love the fact that they are divorced and live together). They made me feel right at home and by the end of the first day, I felt is if I had actually been living over there for some time.

Gaz and Sue live in the "suburb" of Harrow, about 20 minutes from London. This was actually pretty cool because when I was in London before, I stayed in the city and never left. We actually only went into the city the second day I was there, which was fine, because I got to see some of the outlaying parts like St. Albans and Windsor. It was definitely a great experience staying with a family rather than a hotel, which I think everyone should get the opportunity to do at least one time when visiting another country.

Gaz let me drive his car for a few minutes. So I can now say I have driven in the UK.

I know Americans suck in many, many ways and instances, but I find it amusing that while we are seen as uncultured nitwits, the British appetite for crap culture consumption almost blows us away. For instance, reality TV stars just don't go away after their 15 minutes of fame are up. They become actual celebrities. And every tabloid rag is devoted to celebrity weight gain and loss. Everyone was talking about Celebrity Big Brother, which also features overnight coverage so you can watch the cast sleeping if you so desire. So while I find it impossible to defend my heritage in most instances, I will have to say that in terms of pop culture, the British have absolutely no right to criticize.

My new favorite slang is "camp". Camp = gay.
e.g., Tom Cruise is so camp.

Tescos and Marks & Spencer Food offer a wide array of takeaway edibles that I wish was available in the states.

On Thursday night, Gaz got me into Reading so I could meet up with Sonia, an instructor for Polestars. I attended a "teaser" pole dancing class in the basement of The Purple Turtle. It was great. I got to show the UK girls some moves and Sonia was awesome. She uses a lot of the same music I do and she taught me a couple of things I need to master when I get home. After the class, we had a beer and talked more pole. The pole dancing has actually proved to be a great hobby to have for more than the obvious benefits. Its enabled me to talk to people all over Europe. I'm actually going to Rijeka (Croatia) and meeting a girl who found me on YouTube and I'll get to attend her pole class on Tuesday night. There is also another woman who I may meet up with in Brussels, too.

Friday morning meant heading back to Heathrow and getting on a British Airways flight to Prague. Ironically, most of the people on my flight seemed to be American and I sat next to a couple from North Carolina. My friend Sandy, from D.C., was meeting me at the airport and her flight got in an hour or so after mine. I sat at an airport bar, listening to Czech radio, and drank a Pilsner Urquell while waiting. We then went over to the Hotel Josef where we've been staying ever since (This place is amazing...and the included breakfast is top notch).

Prague is absolutely beautiful and our hotel is centrally located in the Stare Mesto section of the city (near the Old Town Square and Astronomical Clock, two of those quintessential tourist meccas). At first, you just take pictures of everything because everything is just so exquisite, even if you have no idea what it is. Getting lost is inevitable, mainly because the city is mapped out crazier than downtown Boston and streets frequently change (and the street signs are on building walls). There is also the fact that the Czech language is fairly difficult, so its taken me a couple of days to figure out how to get to places without looking at a map (I was able to do this all day today). I think I can now navigate Stare Mesto and Nove Mesto with little trouble now, of course, I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon.

There are no stoplights so driving is a free-for-all. And it is incredibly cheap to eat and drink here, especially because the portions are huge. Drinking is strongly encouraged and I have definitely consumed my share of Budvar and Bechrovka (this Chai-like liquor that goes down WAY too easy). This final night was spent going back to the hotel early and drinking only Coca Cola Light. Sandy and I lost a good portion of the days because we were slightly hungover. We went to a few different places, the first of which was called U Supa and featured a jazz string quartet that played whatever our requests until the place got busier. We then met an older couple from Norway and then a young British couple who just got engaged on the Charles Bridge the night before. They were fun and we closed the place down with them. We then decide to go into the Casino Palais Saverin, but we never got a drink or did any gambling. But I wish I could have gotten some pictures because this place was great, with that lush velvet dodginess straight out of a Bond movie. This was my first European casino and there is a totally different look (much darker) than any in the states.

After the 10 minute casino visit, we decided we were hungry so we went to McDonald's. We were pretty drunk at this point, so we quickly consumed 2 McRoyal with Cheese extra value meals. What is nice about Czech McD's is that a bottle of water is included with the extra value meals, but Jesus, I feel sort of dirty about eating McDonald's in a foreign country (you know...its just so stupid American of me). After that, we find this place called 120 Days. This bar is notable because on a big-screen television, the same 3 or 4 episodes from the final season of Friends is airing at all times. We went back for a bit the second night and the same damn episodes were on. They are closed captioned in English. I had never seen these episodes because I had stopped watching that show by then, but I think I know these particular episodes line-for-line now.

Perhaps the Czechs have a fondness for American Clinton-Era culture. It seems that way, especially when you listen to the radio. A lot of the music was last heard in 1998, for instance, since arriving on Friday, I have heard that "Let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel" song 3 times. The mullet remains a popular hairstyle for both men and women. The first night, we turned on the TV after getting home and Dawson's Creek was in all its dubbed splendor for our viewing pleasure.

Tomorrow means getting up early to pack in some more sites before we go. As I said, we were mesmerized by the power of Bechrovka and that led to reduced efficiency on our parts. Tonight, after dinner, however, we did check out the Museum of Sex Machines. I would have preferred a proper gift shop to the measly postcard rack, but how can one complain when they're given the chance to view adult films from the 1920s?

Okay. I'm tired. Will write more tomorrow or when I get to Rijeka. And if any of you get bored, feel free to text message or IM me (if I'm online via the Blackberry) because I'll be on a train all tomorrow night. Yeah, that bill is going to suck but as I mentioned before, its not everyday that I traipse around Europe. I'm curious to see if all these other nations have the same abundance of KFC restaurants as both London and Prague. I had no idea this was a worldwide fast food destination. They really should have confined such nastiness solely to the states because the Colonal's gag-inducing blend of 11 herbs and spices is wrong in any nation.

(The picture is me on the stairs leading up to the dodgy casino, by the way. In case you were curious.)

What the hell am I doing?

2007-01-07T17:35:00.000-05:00

Its around 5:30, Sunday night. A few hours ago, it finally dawned on me that I am leaving the country for 3 weeks. Tomorrow night.

I know I'm flying into London, arriving early Tuesday morning. I was going to fly out to Budapest on Thursday, but now it looks as if I'm going to be meeting up with a couple of grad school friends in Madrid. I guess I'll figure out how I'm getting from Spain to Eastern Europe tomorrow. Or Wednesday.

That was sort of the point of this whole excursion, to be spontaneous, that sort of thing. All I know is that I have to be in Brussels on the 21st to meet Nicole (then travelling onto Amsterdam and Paris). I have a camera, my passport...oh, Melina is lending me her backpack. I'm packing lightly. I'm bringing a scarf and gloves. Maybe an umbrella. And now I'm worrying that my iPod will freak out midway through the trip and I'll have no way to update it. I need to get one of those voltage adaptor things or whatever the hell they are.

This seemed like a really good idea a few months ago. And 3 weeks didn't really seem like that long a time. I think its still a good idea and that 3 weeks probably isn't very long when you consider all the places I'm trying to go. And while it seems crazy that I am leaving work for 3 weeks without pay, I'm looking at this as an investment in my future (I sort of dig the travel writing thing) and well, I've ALWAYS wanted to do this, so...

But you know, you get kind of apprehensive and jittery when you realize you're doing this in about 24 hours. Yeah...so what the hell am I doing?

Justin Timberlake: Comedian

2006-12-17T12:33:00.000-05:00

I have decided that I am, without any guilt, a Justin Timberlake fan.

Not only was Saturday's SNL one of the funniest entire episodes in recent memory, Timberlake is a borderline comedic genius. The one weak skit, the Target bitch (played by Kristen Wiig, who, in my opinion, is so one-dimensional, especially when compared to Maya Rudolph and the increasingly-amazing Amy Poehler), was made memorable just because of Timberlake's bizarro stock boy who had lip issues.

The episode also brought back a variation on the classic, "Bring it on down to Omeletteville". In this version, Timberlake, dressed as a cup of soup, went head-to-head with Will Forte's Salvation Army Santa in promoting Homelessville, where the homeless are given free soup and coats.

I was hoping for a "Barry Gibb Talk Show", figuring Jimmy Fallon would be available to make a cameo. What ensued was the funniest of the three "Barry Gibb Talk Show" sketches, with Fallon yelling "I'm Barry eff-ing Gibb!" and kicking at Wiig's Sandra Day O'Connor.

You really just have to see it.

I've always been a regular viewer of SNL, even when it sucks. At age 6, I decided Father Guido Sarduci was brilliant and watched ever since (strange, right?). I've read books about the show. I own the Trivial Pursuit edition. And yes, I even did buy new glasses once I discovered Tina Fey.

Even if you're not an SNL fan, I dare you not to nearly pee yourself during this episode's SNL Digital Short (certain to become a web favorite). Evoking the days of early-90s, white-boy R&B (er, Color Me Badd), Timberlake and Andy Samberg sing about a special holiday gift for that lovely lady. You just have to go to the site and check it out. Priceless.

The episode was so good, I'll forgive the act of having Cameron Diaz introduce Timberlake's first musical number.

Another choice line from the episode:

"That's a stalagtite, Jo-Jessica, yo. You need to learn the difference between your sedimentary rock formations."

Exactly. Where the hell does that come from? Who knows, but it was some great comedy.

Check out this snazzy article

2006-12-10T14:40:00.000-05:00

I've done others for the JSONS site, but I figured I should share at least one. As well as my deft writing style, you can also check out my fine amateur photography in this lovely article I wrote on Friday.

She Should Have Changed The Channel

2006-12-09T20:42:00.000-05:00

Random self-confession. Sometimes, perhaps once every 6 months, I decide lay on my couch for a maximum of 4 hours and check out what sort of Moment of Truth I can have while watching the Lifetime Movie Network.

Usually this happens when I'm scanning through the Tivo guide while procrastinating doing anything of real substance and because I didn't get enough sleep the night before. I usually end up stopping because one of the terrible titles intrigues me (The hands-down winner for best Lifetime-aired film is always going to be Mother, May I Sleep With Danger). Many times, I'll just scan through the upcoming programs on LMN because I enjoy reading these ridiculous titles, some of which can be interchanged with adult films. Most times I stop because the cast synopsis is just too terrible not to at least check out what's going on in the films. Sometimes, you'll find credible actors before they had credible careers, for instance, you can see Christopher Meloni with HAIR in some film with Connie Selleca and Gregory Harrison as her stalker. (FYI, its always a Lifetime movie when you have Selleca and Harrison.)

One of my favorite loathesome actors is Jack Wagner. Jack Wagner is simply terrible, with a smarmy look that makes my skin crawl. In 1997, I met Mr. Wagner at the Deja Vu nightclub in Columbia, MO. Wagner is from Missouri and hosts an annual celebrity golf tournament in nearby Boonville (Home to the "wineries" we would frequent on Friday afternoons once the weather would warm up).

Because its Columbia, MO, Wagner thinks he can show up with an actual entourage and throw out $100 bill for drinks, maybe scoring some coed tail or something. The bar was packed that Thursday night and I kept hearing how "Jack Wagner's here." This was incredibly amusing for the group of friends I was with. At one point, I ended up actually bumping into his P-list smarminess and he turned around, giving me some sort of grin that said, "You want to talk to me because I'm famous." I wanted to laugh in his face, but I didn't want to be rude, so all that came out was "You're Jack Wagner."

He replied, "Why, yes. I am." (Repeat smarmy grin chock full of self-satisfaction.)

I walked away laughing because it was just too funny. That ridiculous answer. Just too damn funny.

Eventually, I saw a ridiculous Wagner movie on Lifetime called Frequent Flier. Good ol' Jack is a commercial pilot juggling wives in both Dallas and Chicago (major hubs, obviously). This movie is absolutely horrible, yet hilariously so. It's up there with Mother, May I Sleep With Danger and the Ricki Lake masterpiece, Babycakes (All you really need to know is that she seduces a ice skating-subway driver played by Craig Scheffer and then he has to choose between his skinny & wealthy — and MEAN — girlfriend).

This afternoon, I stumble upon 1995's Lady Killer about 15 minutes after the start. I encounter Judith Light (Angela Bower! Angela Bower!) getting into a bathtub with Jack Wagner. And Wagner is beyond smarmy, sporting that chin-length hair and sideburns only considered desirable between 1994-early 1996.

This is disgusting. I really could have gotten through life without having a mental picture of Judith Light and Jack Wagner doing it. (And no offense to Judith Light. She's done Broadway and some credible work, so I won't really bash her, however, I don't want to see her in a bubble bath with Jack Wagner.)

She ends their affair but he's an obsessed psycho (Duh! This is a LIFETIME MOVIE!), so he ends up getting involved with her daughter. The daughter is played by the one-tiny-step-above-Kellie-effing-Martin Tracey Gold. Anyway, the whole family is at some cabin and Wagner does it with Gold so Light can hear them.

The whole experience was painful and made me feel dirty, although the requisite psycho-falling-off-high-place death scene was good (However, the gold standard for this sort of scene will always remain 1996's Fear, when Mark Wahlberg bites it on a bunch of rocks in the end.)

I know people need work but, even in 1995, there is absolutely no reason for anyone casting ANYTHING to think the general public needed to visualize the coital goings-on of those three individuals.

Must. Go. Bathe. And not watch any television for at least 12–24 hours. There are reasons such crimes are only committed every six months.

Don't lie...

2006-11-30T17:47:00.000-05:00

Thanks, Marybird, for giving me such an interesting and productive way to spend about 7 minutes. I didn't lie, but there were definitely some questions I could have gone both ways on.

Try it for yourself. I had to follow my dignosis by reading the Sinner Guide.

You're not making me feel fresh

2006-11-22T21:10:00.000-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, I had a rental car and decided to venture to the Natick Mall. I like the Natick Mall. They're getting a Nordstrom and Neiman's, but right now, I'm just happy they have a Delia's. I don't care if I'm almost 30. They have some neat 'n' cheap stuff, particularly these tanks and ribbed tops that fit unbelievably well. Granted, I'm not going to buy a little baby tee that proclaims "I got the hook-up", but whatever. Delia's is cool.

As I'm casing the Natick Mall, I see some new store called Aerie. Because it's directly next to an American Eagle, I quickly figured out its obviously part of their gimmick. One of my oldest friends works for American Eagle and occasionally, I will buy the random garment (Like this killer navy sundress I wear whenever I want to poorly execute the bad girl persona and follow it with vapid pouting and/or sobbing into a flask, a la Marissa Cooper) from this chop shop they call a retail chain. I've never gotten into AE, mainly because it feels like they're still ripping off the whole Abercrombie thing from the mid-90s. They're still doing Dawson's Creek in a Degrassi: The Next Generation world.

I guess AE wants to get in on some of the Victoria's Secret Pink or Gap Body action. I didn't go into the store, but it definitely was Pink for The-N set. Personally, I think its a bit late to cash in on the too-cute-in-cotton loungewear trend, but honestly, I never thought American Eagle would still be in every shopping mall across the country after 2000.

I don't find Aerie annoying because its part of American Eagle. I find it annoying because their in-house ad department should really re-think the branding. It's not so much Aerie is a bad name — it does incorporate the parent brand, but it's not very good when you see the entire logo.

Look at it. You know what I'm thinking, right? It's a feminine hygeine product. When I first saw the storefront, I even got that quasi-uncomfortable feeling previously triggered only by douche commercials featuring fresh 'n' clean women swathed in white linen skipping stones along the shore (Just FEEL the depth of this metaphor!). Aerie suggests being free and clean and air-dried. There's the little birdie, all liberated and happy, flying wherever she may without having to worry about not feeling fresh.

I don't want to buy loungewear or lingerie from a store mirroring the brand identity of Always and Playtex. In fact, if I'm trying for the whole "playful & cute" seduction vibe, the last thing I want to think of is butterflies, beaches, and Judy Blume.

(Judy Blume had to have been on Stayfree's payroll because she built her entire career on writing about teenage girls anxiously awaiting the arrival of their first period. A first period became the literal climax / turning point of her novels. The woman turned menstration into plot structure!)

Ok, Aerie. I know you really don't care if I won't shop your store. And even if you didn't use that sanitary napkin font, I probaby still wouldn't shop there. Even if panties and tampons are all "intimates" in some capacity, I just don't want to associate my boyshorts with douche everytime I need to run into a mall.

Kill the cheerleader. And McDreamy. And McSteamy.

2006-11-20T18:09:00.000-05:00

I would typically tell anyone, when voicing such an opinion, not to watch it or not to pay attention. And I, myself, have tried to do this, yet there seems to be no escaping it.

I have a lot of distrust for things that a ridiculous amount of people seem to agree upon. I thought Meet The Parents sucked. I won't see Braveheart or My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I have never, nor will I ever read The Da Vinci Code. I will not play Sudoku.

Nothing, however, seems to annoy me as much as this phenomenon does in regards to network television. I don't know anyone who watches Survivor, or, for that matter, many people who any watch shows on CBS (I think the last time I watched something on CBS was the mid-80s when Kate & Allie was on). Wait. I did try CSI a few times, but could never get into it — mainly because when I'm watching television, I don't want the reason for some horrific accident to be bad brakes. No. You watch fictional television to see horrific crimes and motives.

However, the popularity of CSI has never irked me as much as the new breed of nicknames or catchphrases that seem to be everywhere I turn.

Let's start with Heroes. Of all the networks, I probably Tivo NBC shows more than any other because I love my Law & Order(s) and enjoy The Office, Studio 60, and My Name is Earl. I never want to see another commercial for this show. NBC also owns the Sci-Fi channel, of which I religiously watch Battlestar Galactica and some other random programs when the time is right (but never Stargate). Sci-Fi reairs Heroes throughout the week, so they also feature several ads for the show.

I don't even watch much television, yet, there are just some things one cannot escape.

I swear that I cannot avoid these ads, even with the Tivo. This stupid catchphrase they've come up with — Save the cheerleader. Save the world. Seriously. I cannot take it anymore. I was in high school once and cheerleaders only wore their uniforms on game days. I get that they're trying for the whole pesudo-superhero vibe and all, but girlfriend is not wearing the skirt and spankies 7 days a week. Every time I have seen an ad for this show, she's wearing the damned uniform. To my knowledge, she doesn't even throw on an (equally annoying) Juicy Couture sweat ensemble when she gets home.

Would somebody PLEASE kill the cheerleader? Really. At this point, I don't even care if the world is completely screwed because I'll never have to hear that inane voice whispering this inane catchphrase ever again. I like a lot of sci-fi shows. I like twists and turns and all that good stuff, but come on! Save the cheerleader, save the world? It's apparent you tried too hard for the "quirky catchphrase". And you've killed it. It's gone beyond Is that your final answer territory.

Although I have several friends who tell me I would enjoy Grey's Anatomy, I won't do that, either. As much of a huge fan I am of Sandra Oh, I still won't do Grey's Anatomy. I've been told I would really like the character of Grey, that I would even identify with her. Perhaps I would, but I'm not going to now because I'm so eff-ing sick of hearing about this "McDreamy" and this "McSteamy".

Sure, women come up with nicknames for those whom they get involved with. I have several. Perhaps I am biased, but they are much more clever than "McDreamy". Hey, I've never had anything against Patrick Demsey and I'm happy his career has been revitalized and he's gained sex symbol status. He seems like a nice guy. But I'm not ever going to refer to him as "McDreamy".

This would be easier to avoid than Heroes, considering I do not watch much on ABC. I don't even know if they reference these names in the ads. All I know is that I can't buy a soda or pack of cigarettes without "McSteamy" or "McDreamy" staring at me from near the register. I hop on a various webpages and there seems to always be something about these "McSteamy" and "McDreamy" people. Enough already. Between terms like McMansions and McChow, don't we have enough Mc-euphanisms in popular culture?

Are "McDreamy" and "McSteamy" the fast-food equivilent of hot men? Is that what you're trying to tell me? I just don't know and I really don't care.

Hmmm. I've just come up with a moral dillema: Would I save the cheerleader if she took out McSteamy and McDreamy? Or just stopped the use of their ridiculous nicknames?

I'm going to have to think about this one for awhile.

The Weekend of Little People

2006-11-19T20:59:00.000-05:00

Okay. I didn't really suggest this little excursion to New Haven, CT. I just showed the picture I found in some free magazine absconded from the store of ill repute near my apartment to a friend and he took it from there.

Meet the "Little Sisters", two little person strippers named, respectively, Little Lacey and Little Pixie. The Little Sisters were headlining some random club called "The Catwalk Cabaret" in the bowels of New Haven this past weekend.

Anyway, around 10pm on Saturday night, I found myself in the back of a Volvo and travelling to see this tiny duo on stage. I was curious as to see what sort of pole work they might do, or if they really built their act on being "midgets".

It's a good thing we didn't arrive at the Cabaret until 1am, because this appeared to be the first time the Little Sisters took the stage (I was told they would be performing shows from 11pm until 5am). This was one of those BYOB places and we had no alcohol. I had consumed some red wine before I left my apartment, followed by a decent White Russian at this diner/gourmet truck stop somewhere along the way.

The crowd at the Cabaret was bored and unenthusiastic, sans for one middle-aged man who was most likely a regular. The stage was not impressive, with one pole in the middle. The dancers seemed to spend their time in the back, sometimes just leaning over the rail of what may have been the "VIP" section (it was reminiscent of a backyard deck).

Judging from their press pack, my group expected that Pixie, the blonde was going to be more the dishy attraction. Not so. Perhaps it was like that when they first started their act, but it was apparent Lacey was now the star performer. Maybe it was because Pixie was broken.

When they both got on state, Lacey went front and center to the pole and began dancing in some two-piece ensemble (none of the gals at this place wore those obnoxious polyester gowns). Little Pixie went straight to the back. She seemed to have put on weight since those pictures were taken, or perhaps her stomach was distended because she was incredibly inebriated. She was also wearing white, K-Swiss-like sneakers.

Lacey did her thing. She was entertaining, especially when compared to the club's regular line-up. I didn't know what they were doing most of the time. I guess you really don't have to do any sort of dancing in these places anymore. All you have to do is show certain things to your audience. And that's about it. Not even much mixing up, or flipping sides. Nope. None of that.

Meanwhile, I wasn't quite sure what Pixie was doing near the VIP area, but the large bouncer ended up walking her off the stage. At first I thought she was upset. Perhaps those "VIPs" made fun of her. However, I soon realized that Pixie was broken. Little Sis was wasted beyond belief.

Lacey remained on stage. She never went nude, but she finished her act wearing a g-string which housed a Solo cup in the crotch area. You could win a free picture if you successfully landed a dollar bill in the cup. After launching about 20 ones, Middle-Aged-Regular-Man finally figured out the best way to achieve the feat would be to ball up the bill and then toss.

She didn't even appear next to her sister for the photo opportunities. That's right, folks, for $20, you can have your own Polaroid. I went over there when the DJ said it was the "last chance". There was no line, only Lacey hanging out with a club employee wielding a Polaroid camera. I had already wasted $20 to get in this place, but I felt bad there was no line so I ponied up another $20 to get my picture taken with Lacey.

I wanted to ask about Pixie. But I didn't. It just didn't seem right.

My two friends then got their picture with Lacey. As photographers, they obviously have higher standards then most people, but anyone would have been disappointed when finding, as the Polaroid developed, that Lacey's eyes were closed. They asked if they could have another and she obliged. She even let them keep both and did not charge extra.

(In case you were wondering, she signed the pics, too. I will be scanning and posting mine on this blog soon.)

When we were finished, Middle-Aged-Regular-Man had come over, his hands trembling as he held the prized picture of the "Little Sisters" in his hand. He ponied up another twenty for something more personal.

We tried watching a few more of the dancers, but it was obviously getting late. It's not so much that I enjoy these types of places. I think I enjoy them less since taking up pole dancing since it always disappoints me that these women don't ever actually dance. The crowd wasn't even fun to watch. You would think two little strippers would have commanded a big, boisterous group. Not so. When the DJ named the winner of a raffle for a free private dance with one of the dancers, he called about 30 numbers in rapid succession before someone finally got up.

We left and drove back to Boston, stopping only at a TA truck stop off Ruby Road. The same TA where I was imprisoned for an hour 2 years ago when the driver of the charter bus I was on accidently hit a car and tried to outrun the cops to no avail. For some reason, I love truck stops. I love looking at all the random items available for sale, whether Vanillaromas or die-cast big rigs. The music and DVD selections are always a pleasure to look through, too. As a thank you for driving, I bought my friend a tape of trucker stand-up poetry done by some guy named "Thunder Britches" (she only has a tape deck). This kept the 3 of us awake for most of the way home. We also learned what "crackerheads" (still not sure about this one, but I think its just a word for a jackass trucker) and "lot lizards" (they're hookers that wait in the truck stops for drivers to pull up for the night) were, and that cops and dispatchers are not well liked in the trucker community.

I'm trying not to dwell on the money I spent, perhaps $60 after food and beverage, because I could think of much better ways to spend $60. I thought about calling the Catwalk and demanding half my entry fee back since we really only got one Little Sister for the price of two.

Although I'll always remember the experience, I was thankful to crawl into my bed.

Just random

2006-11-03T13:51:00.000-05:00

I don't feel like outfitting my MySpace page with all of this crap, so...I thought, why not put it on here? I've been lackadaisical in my postings for some time now. Don't know about the accuracy of these things, but I was bored...

You Are 76% Democrat

You have a good deal of donkey running through your blood, and you're proud to be liberal.
You don't fit every Democrat stereotype, but you definitely belong in the Democrat party.

You Are 12% Republican

If you have anything in common with the Republican party, it's by sheer chance.
You're a staunch liberal, and nothing is going to change that!

Your Stripper Song Is

Master and Servant by depose Mode

"There's a new game
We like to play you see
A game with added reality
You treat me like a dog
Get me down on my knees"

Yawn, dancing is so boring without a little spice.

What Song Should You Strip To?

Your English Skills:

Grammar: 100%
Punctuation: 80%
Spelling: 80%
Vocabulary: 80%

Does Your English Cut the Mustard?

Your Inner European is Russian!

Mysterious and exotic.
You've got a great balance of danger and allure.

Who's Your Inner European?

Your Geek Profile:

Academic seeking: Highest
Movie Geekiness: Highest
Music Geekiness: Highest
Geekiness in Love: Moderate
General Geekiness: Moderate
Internet Geekiness: Moderate
SciFi Geekiness: Moderate
Fashion Geekiness: Low
Gamer Geekiness: Low

How Geeky Are You?

Things which perplex...

2006-10-23T20:01:00.000-04:00

For the past week or so, I've been attempting to mentally compile a list of things that irritate me and / or I just don't understand. Here we go...

People who insist on pressing the elevator button after it already been pushed
While at work last week, I decided that this tiny act drives me nuts. Three people are waiting on the 1st floor to go up. A woman comes over and re-presses the already-lit up button. Seriously, woman, do you think it's going to come faster just because you pressed it?

Complete strangers who ask you for a cigarette
When I pull out a pack of gum in any public area, no one asks me for a piece. I figured out that this may not be socially acceptable. However, if you're smoking, and some yahoo wants a cigarette, they figure they can ask you. Maybe I should have more sympathy for other casual smokers (or smokers in general) but they should buy their own damn pack. I don't know them. It's not even as if we were technically breathing the same air in a bar, yet random people can come up to me and ask me for a cigarette? Yet, you can pull out a pack of gum and no one asks for a piece, even though chewing gum is much more socially acceptable than smoking. I don't get it.

The intense media fascination with Lindsay Lohan
Sure, Mean Girls was a good movie, but I don't see why every time this girl is photographed not properly holding her legs together while getting into the back of an Escalade should make the news. How does this affect my life except to point out the obvious fact that normal people are never hospitalized for exhaustion, nor can they call into work and cite "exhaustion" as the reason they won't be in.

Why the taxes & fees on an overseas flight nearly equal the ticket price
I'm sure I could look up the reasons why, but I'll do it later. Orbitz has no right to tell me a round-trip ticket from Boston to Heathrow is $228 in boldface when the taxes & fees total $225. The last time I flew, my Lancome Juicy Tube was confiscated. I don't even know if I can bring carry-on my iPod or even a book on this flight in January, but I can be charged $225 in fees.

Bachelorette Parties
Now the source of extra cash, I am gaining even more insight into these spectacles. I don't want to hear about how you're too good, or too embarrassed to dance on a pole, when you willingly attended the damn party. Especially when your breasts are clearly popping out of your bar clothes. My breasts are firmly held in place and I'm wearing less than you. So shove it. You know you're going to be all over the first loser who buys you a Coors Light. And don't start "whoo-hooing" because the Pussycat Dolls' Buttons is playing. (The Pussycat Dolls...The one musical act which makes the Black-Eyed Peas almost decent.)

Inanimate objects with MySpace profiles
Seriously, am I really going to want to add a Gilette razor or pink iPod Nano to my MySpace friends? I know this stupid site is an advertising & financial goldmine, but giving profiles to material and or personal goods? That's just a jackass move.

Quench my thirst!!

2006-10-09T12:24:00.000-04:00

I can't believe I just saw these now! Thanks, Laura, for sending me these. (Courtesy of Dlisted)

http://dlisted.blogspot.com/2006/10/its-coco-time.html

Brief burst of negative thinking

2006-09-29T17:52:00.000-04:00

Yeah. So I've been trying to think more positively these days. I think this partly-sunny disposition works for me. But obviously, I'm just not me unless I am bitching about something.

If you know me, you know I have those things I just can't stand. Things like:

Vegan/vegitarian food named after meat products (Dude. If you hate eating animals so much, then I don't want to see you cramming your face with veggie sausage or veggie chicken nuggets. Or at least make Morningstar Farms change the damn name.)
Scientologists
Evangelicals
Tom Cruise
Jennifer Love Hewitt
The vocal stylings of Anne Murray
Soundgarden (Black Hole Sun. Nuff said. One of the worst songs ever made.)
Manheim Steamroller Christmas music (Do they make other music besides Christmas music? I'm not sure, but that crap makes my ears bleed.)
Chick lit
Adding people you have never conversed with to your MySpace "friends"

I know there are more but the whole point of this exercise was to name what may be my newest pet peeve.

Dane Cook.

I do not understand why Dane Cook is so popular. It's like Ashton Kutcher doing stand-up in a lot of ways. And he's everywhere. He's hosting the season premiere of SNL this weekend (I won't even get into my thoughts on the direction SNL is taking. And I'm one of those who watches it even when it sucks). He hosted it last year. It blew (ok...I did sort of laugh at his monologue but the rest of the ep blew).

I guess Dane Cook has a zillion MySpace friends or something, too. And he was rumored to be doing Jessica Simpson. Maybe this how a person makes it nowadays. Not sure.

I just want someone to explain to me the appeal of Dane Cook. I will sit. I will listen. I will not interject. Just someone please tell me why Dane Cook is everywhere. Thanks.

And I guess to balance out my list of things I loathe, I'll include some random things I really like:

Slipping into just-out-of-the-dryer jeans
Battlestar Galactica (The new one. Duh.), Entourage, America's Next Top Model
Ice-T & Coco
Creed Barton
Anna Nicole Smith (Say what you want but that woman is a survivor who's done a whole lotta living)
Pole dancing
Water

Maybe I was stretching a bit, but I would like water even if it wasn't the essence of all earthly life.

Is it just me?

2006-09-27T15:53:00.000-04:00

Is it just me, or is T.O. the male, professional athelete equivilant of Lindsay Lohan? I'm going to call in Terrell Lohans. It's just at thought. I don't think I'm that funny or anything, but those two are just in the news for temper tantrums and stuff way too much.

Ordering another Ice-T & Coco

2006-09-09T15:17:00.000-04:00

Yeah. I admit it. I just love them. I will continue posting pictures of them whenever I feel like it because I adore them. I don't care if these pictures are old. I just love me some Ice-T and CoCo.

I wonder what they wear when they're just sitting around the house watching SVU reruns. I've read Kimmora Lee Simmons has the largest private collection of Louis Vuitton. CoCo is bound to have the largest private collection of fishnet.

They are the new American dream. Ice-T is a former Army Ranger and revered "father of gangsta music" who then became a semi-respected actor. CoCo, aka Nicole Austin, was obviously a girl with a vision (and a plastic surgeon) who made it into Playboy and assorted swimsuit catalogs.

You know they have a sense of humor about themselves and I seriously find that beautiful. CoCo isn't trying to be something she's not and I don't see her trying to launch any lame ass fragrance on the market. And Ice-T is just Ice-T. He doesn't have to be anything he's not because he's Ice mutha-f**king T. (Yeah, and I'm a big L&O fan.)

An open letter to NASA

2006-09-09T14:17:00.000-04:00

From the AP:
Astronaut Daniel Burbank, center, adjusts his launch and entry suit while sitting in the space shuttle Atlantis at the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, FL. Saturday, September 9, 2006.

You know those astronauts are thinking it would be a lot cooler trip if NASA would have just let Lance Bass come along for the ride.

Yeah. Lance Bass, the gay kid from NSync. But before he was the "gay kid", he was the "boyband kid who wanted to go to space." Doesn't anyone remember that? I do. And in my mind, he will always be the kid that didn't get to go into space. I don't care if he likes men or women, or if he pitches or catches. He's Lance Bass, the kid who was this close to living out his astronaut fantasy.

Let Lance Bass live out his dream.

Lance Bass:
On The Line, out of the closet and into space!

NASA, let's face it, you guys are screwed. The remaining space shuttles are dreadfully out-of-date (um, yeah, you lost two pretty much because of maintenance issues that weren't taken care of before liftoff). Launches haven't been a big national event in several decades. You're not getting the proper government funding because, well, there is that little war going on.

Russia lets millionaires take a celestial journey when they pony up around $20 million. Richard Branson is promising space flights on his Virgin Galactic within the next five years at $100,000 a pop. Maybe NASA should do some of the same.

Frankly, NASA, the only really "positive" shout-out you've gotten since the Columbia tragedy was when Bush decided to talk about putting people on the moon again in last year's State of the Union address. You guys were that year's "let's end steroids in baseball" insert. You know what I'm talking about. You were just an attempt to distract the American public from what's dreadfully wrong with this country's policy.

NASA, not Social Security, should be privatized. You know how much funding NASA could get by letting millionaires -- who have nothing better to do than fly hot air balloons around the world -- travel to space for a few days? A lot.

Let Lance Bass live out his dream. Please? The First Openly Gay American in Space has a nice ring to it, right? I think it does. Sure, the Christian Right may be super pissed, but their arguement is going to be hilarious. They'll say such things as "homosexuals have no place in the realm of great American heroes like John Glenn" and other such ridiculous nonsense. But yet, they will all be wearing t-shirts that say "If you can send a homo into space, why can't you send all of them?" Their arguement will be hilarious and full of gross contradictions, and even those against gay marriage would probably start to look at this whole "morality" arguement as complete bullshit. But above all, people would start caring and talking about NASA again. It would be a PR bonanza on every level.

Putting Lance Bass on the Discovery or Atlantis would be one small step for man and one giant leap for gay mankind. Yo, NASA. I got four words for you: Work it out, girlfriend!

EEEEEEK! (Second Coming of L. Ron / Freakboy's Little Sugarcube)

2006-09-06T12:59:00.000-04:00

I am so ashamed to have two celebrity-related posts in a row, but this is just way too scary.

The first pictures of Suri Cruise have been released. There is just something slightly off about the child. I mean, it appears to be a normal healthy baby (I have never purported to be a medical expert), but if it truly is the spawn of Tom Cruise, something must be not right? (Not to mention how Scientologists feed babies with fruit juices. Yeah, um, what does that do to little baby gums?)

Some have described the child as looking like an Asian Elvis but I would rather liken it to a Bjork facsimile. Yet, Bjork is kind of cool so that would be insulting her. But it really does look like a miniature Bjork.

I just hope that Suri kid is somehow able to get some therapy when it grows up.

Ice-T & Coco-licious!!!

2006-09-03T00:07:00.000-04:00

YAY! I guess Ice-T & Coco attended the VMAs. AWESOME!! Because that means there were photos!

The Stranger in a strange hand

2006-08-30T12:14:00.000-04:00

This curious news item appeared mid-August. Obviously, I have been living under a rock since I only found out about it the other night. Lina and I were sitting in her torn-apart living room (she's moving) and going through the latest issue of Vanity Fair.

She says, "Did you see something about Bush reading The Stranger in here?"

She tells me this because she knows The Stranger is my all-time favorite book. Ever since I was 17. It was assigned reading. I told my Honors English teacher I wanted to adapt it into a film. (I think at the time, I mean, it was 1995, I envisioned Keanu Reeves as Mersault. Come on! I was only 17!)

Obvious, we were enjoying vodka-based beverages so we naturally got sidetracked and began looking up crap on YouTube. The next day, however, I Google-ed the information.

Sure enough, Lena was correct. It may not have appeared in that particular issue of Vanity Fair, but it certainly made the news earlier this month while Bush was on vacation at his Crawford ranch.

Of course such an event would make the news. Bush has said his favorite book is the Bible and his favorite "philosopher" was Jesus. And the only other book I know for certain he has read is The Pet Goat.

Why the hell would Bush be reading the most famous novel by the beloved French author Albert Camus?

Media outlets like Slate begged for more information regarding the President's vacation read. On The Daily Show,Jon Stewart pointed out, for those who have never had the pleasure of reading The Stranger, "it's a book about a Westerner who kills an Arab and dies with no remorse. Why it would strike a nerve, I don't know."

White House Press Secretary Tony Snow said that the President found the book to be an "interesting read" and commented that they had a brief conversation on the origins of French existentialism.

This disbelief that Bush would read such a novel stems not only from the book's ironic subject matter, but because, well, the President reading any deep literature is just amusing in itself. When it became public knowledge that President Clinton (all hail) gifted Monica Lewinsky with Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, it didn't seem that odd. In spite of what many may (still) think of Clinton, and all of the coverage surrounding the Lewinsky scandal, the fact that Clinton presented his mistress with a beloved piece of American literature didn't seem completely bizarre. Clinton was a literate intellectual. But President Bush reading The Stranger while on vacation? Absolutely and completely bizarre (er...absurd).

Why the hell would Bush be interested in French extentialism? Granted, over a year ago, he quoted Camus while speaking in Brussels, but we all know he doesn't actually write those speeches. And his use of "freedom is a long-distance race" is quite ironic, mainly because Camus' idea of freedom was one which could only be achieved once society was freed from the restrictions of religious dogma.

Going back to Tony Snow's comment about he and the President's dicussion of "French Existentialism", it is important to note that most Camus historians believe Camus would have rejected his work being classified into the extentialist genre. Many would say that he subscribed to absurdist philosophies, but much of Camus' work questioned how absurdism played into our lives -- can life be meaningful while having no meaning? Subconsciously, could Bush be questioning his motives and the legacy of his politcal career?

During his time, Camus was well-known as a vocal political activist opposed to totalitarian movements. His extentialist contemporary, Sartre, was an ardent Marxist (this supposedly led to the end of their friendship, as Camus opposed totalitarian politics on each side of the spectrum). He was a member of the French resistence to the Nazi Occupation and spoke out against the Soviet Union throughout his life.

There is no doubt in my mind that Bush sees himself as the leader of anti-totalitarianism in today's world, a concept he so frequently contradicts in policy and subsequent action. However, it is obvious he fails to see any of this contradiction, even though the simple statement of being "either with us or against us" reeks of totalitarianism. His blind faith in Evangelical Christian "morality"? Also totalitarianism.

In 1957, in a speech commerating the 1956 Hungarian Revolution against the U.S.S.R., Camus made this statement:

But I am not one of those who think that there can be a compromise, even one made with resignation, even provisional, with a regime of terror which has as much right to call itself socialist as the executioners of the Inquisition had to call themselves Christians.

If he were alive today, don't you wonder what Camus would be saying now?

Maybe I should give credit to Bush for reading The Stranger, but I doubt it was done to broaden his horizons. I think he really just read the words, reading...but numb to what the words are acutally saying.

When Mersault killed the Arab, he may have not felt the "remorse" we are trained and conditioned to feel after doing something wrong. But Mersault was not completely immune to the affects of his actions.

Then I fired four more times at the motionless body where the bullets lodged without leaving a trace. And it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness.

Mr. President, are you knocking on that door of unhappiness?

Screw You Jonathan Franzen

2006-08-29T15:55:00.000-04:00

Ok. Jonathan Franzen recently published his memoirs. Fabulous.

I have read both The Twenty-Seventh City and The Corrections. The first of which is a fictional account of several families in St. Louis. In The Corrections, a mythical city of St. Jude (the Patron Saint of Lost Causes, as he points out upon first mention) stands in for St. Louis. Both books were engrossing yet mired in pompous dribble. As I finished both, I felt sort of dirty and empty, although I had devoured each novel in record time. It could be compared to eating a incredibly rich meal in an expensive restaurant with the most amazing ambiance, yet when you clean your plate, you realize that the food just wasn't that good.

Yo, Franzen. We get it. Your intellectual & pompous ass just has to prove it's better than where they grew up. You really should get some serious therapy and learn how to deal with the fact you were born and raised in St. Louis. You obviously can't get over geography and frankly, it is beyond annoying AND offensive.

I take offense because I was born and raised in St. Louis. Yes, I moved away. No, I do not plan on ever moving back. Am I ashamed of where I grew up? Hell no. Every time I get on the plane after visiting I still get a bit teary-eyed because it means I having to leave people I love. The majority of my family still lives there. Many of my closest friends have built lives and families there. Are they ignorant and blind to the world beyond Highways 40, 44 & 270? No. Most of them are not (Hey, we all know morons). And after living in Boston for over 6 years, I can attest that close-minded ignorance is epidemic of every region. It's just part of life. Stupid people exist everywhere.

The fact Franzen can't stop whining about his formative years is clear-cut evidence of his ignorant blindness to the world.

The NY Times just reviewed Franzen's memoirs, The Discomfort Zone: A Personal History. For those of you unfamiliar with the St. Louis area, I feel the need to point out some things which would be lost upon the casual reader. The Times' book reviewer, Michiko Kakutani refers to "the town of Webster Groves" (which Franzen apparently describes as "in the middle of the country in the middle of the golden age of the American middle class". Yikes. A nice description in some sense, but stop trying to be the second coming of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Franzen).

Webster Groves is not a "town", per se. It is a suburb. St. Louis is structured differently from most municipalities. The City and County are separate, referred to as St. Louis City and St. Louis County. True "towns" do not exist for perhaps 50 miles outside (in most directions, and if you're from St. Louis, you think of this in terms of the highways). Webster Groves is also one of the older suburbs in the area, located in closer proximity to downtown than the other areas which have been so heavily populated with strip mall monstrosities (Hello? THE VALLEY? THE VALLEY?). It is an area of St. Louis county with older, charming houses and a lot of character (Shall I throw in something about it being now being a gilded suburb in the golden age of upper middle class?). There is a pleasant lack of aluminum siding and Poltergeist-ish subdivisions. The "downtown" area of Webster Groves remains a "downtown" area in which people could explore on foot, unlike the newer suburbs which have been overrun with chain restaurants.

(To Franzen's credit, on his website, he refers to Webster Groves as a suburb.)

Sure, St. Louis has its faults. But no place is perfect. There are places which make me cringe...and there are places which overwhelm me with their beauty. The Calvary Cemetary in South City has the most incredible masouleums (one of which was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright) and driving electric boats with my father in the lake at Forest Park remains my most treasured childhood memory.

So, Franzen. Shove it. You really should direct your gift with language into something more constructive than bitching about your childhood neighborhood. In your memoirs, you apparently own up to being a judgmental prick. Good. That's a start. It's okay to be a judgmental prick. Just stop whining about something you can't control. You were born and raised in St. Louis. Deal. Maybe you should get drinks with Brad Pitt. He's from SPRINGFIELD. Have you ever been to Springfield, Franzen? The birthplace of cashew chicken and numerous marry-me-on-reality-TV stars? The home to many a store selling W.W.J.D. merchandise? I doubt it. Jesus, Franzen, I bet you never even ventured into Bridgeton. But that Brad Pitt. I hear he still actually visits Springfield. I've never even heard about him publically saying an unkind thing about the Southwestern Missouri town (almost in Oklahoma!) he grew up in.

And he's doing quite well for himself, don't you think? He got over it. I got over it. Maybe you should get over it, too.

(Being from St. Louis, I believe this is where I have to throw in the obligatory "Go Cards".)

greenmelinda rides again

2006-08-28T12:25:00.000-04:00

As promised, greenmelinda is now up and running. It's my portfolio site -- and still a major work in progress. (So don't hold that against me if you want to find me a job or something.)

Tom Cruise Wants Yahoo! Cash

2006-08-24T21:41:00.000-04:00

I was instructed to add this bit of "very true gossip" from an L.A. buddy on my blog...

(And since we all now how much I loathe those pesky scientologists and Tom Cruise, I felt obliged.)

Today, Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes went to the Yahoo! offices in an attempt to drum up cash for his production company (if you've seen the news, Paramount dropped him this week). He went in to meet with executives with his very miserable-looking slave girl in tow.

(Obviously, it would be unrise to leave Slave Starlet at home, lest she run away with Suri, er...the "second-coming" of L. Ron.)

I guess he thinks Yahoo! will pony up some cash since they've had him do corporate events in the past. I don't understand why he doesn't just go to that big scientologist movie-making factory located somewhere in the desert.

Appalachia is HOT

2006-08-21T15:25:00.000-04:00

A friend sent this to me. I really cannot think of the words that may best describe it.

Hot, hot, hot, perhaps?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVENWl8uBeg

The Passion of the Drunk

2006-07-28T16:59:00.000-04:00

Awesome! Okay, I know I shouldn't laugh at anyone's misfortune of driving while intoxicated. But Mel Gibson? Mel Gibson?

Awesome! I've read he used to be a big drinker, but you know, he found Jesus and grew a religious beard and all that crap. And he would always say how he was so above needing a drink now and again, how its against his faith, yada yada yada (even though boozing is cool in Catholicism).

Ooops. Busted along the PCH for a DUI. I love it when smug, "pious" celebrities and / or public figures get busted for doing something they claim to be beyond or above at this point in their life. Sometimes, there is a little justice in this world!

I can't wait for Tom Cruise to be busted snorting Ritalin and going all gladiator on Lance Bass.

http://robots.cnn.com/2006/SHOWBIZ/Movies/07/28/gibson.dui/index.html

It's Not TV. It's HBO

2006-07-28T13:54:00.000-04:00

Behold the power of HBO original programming. The Defamer and the L.A. Times picked up this story which may or may not confirm that negotiations are being made to make a feature-length film version of Aquaman.

Any fan of Entourage is familiar with the fictional, record-breaking, James Cameron-directed film starring the also-fictional Vincent Chase. Ironically, one of the agents named in the discussions is Ari Emanuel, the inspiration for Jeremy Piven's brilliant Ari Gold.

Would I go see Aquaman? Yes. If it starred Adrian Grenier. And it would be wise to throw in Mandy Moore as Aquagirl. It would be even more incredible to get Cameron to direct an actual film based on a second-fiddle comic hero. I don't really think this film could be done any other way.

I would love to see this made just because it would make Hollywood interesting. A television show satirizing the industry creates a fake movie, initiates buzz and popularity about the "project", and then leads to an actual feature-length film? It's art imitating life imitating art.

And that's just why the only Aquaman can be Vincent Chase, er, Adrian Grenier.

Hoff his fracking rocker

2006-07-23T16:46:00.000-04:00

David Hasselhoff continues to astound me. For instance, how does he continue to keep making music? The whole "big in Europe" thing is largely a farce, as I have met several Germans who say a Hasselhoff concert is something you would only take a small child to.

His new song, Jump In My Car, is supposedly poised to break the Top 10 charts in Britain. People are talking about a Hoff resurgence. When was this man ever taken seriously? I've always equated him to being the second-coming of Michael Landon.

Out of a sick curiousity, I felt it necessary to seek out this song. Obviously, people like me are everywhere because it's become quite popular on Google Video and You Tube. I think it may be an ode to streetwalkers while simutaneously capitalizing on his Knight Rider and Baywatch glory.

Watch it. It does not disappoint. Your make choke on a tiny bit of your own vomit, but it is impossible for one to turn away.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-3382491587979249836

It's not over. You can even watch the short documentary on the making of this video. The fact that the crew and female co-stars are allowing themselves to be filmed without a hint of shame or irony is almost compelling. These poor young wannabe actresses. This has to be a fate worse than falling into amateur adult videos.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2088885157790085053

Because it just demands to be posted one more time...

2006-07-23T14:18:00.000-04:00

This is a copy of the "Meat Papers", which was written nearly a year ago. You can also find it at Where's Axl if you are so inclined.

This was initially exchanged on July 29, 2005.

I will begin with Katelyn's letter to ground beef. What follows was (my) ground beef's heartfelt response.

Dear Hamburger Meat,

I am sorry to have to do this, but I think we need some time apart. I know you've been there for me for so many years, but I really think it's time to move on. After seeing you last night in my toilet bowl, after a half an hour of nausea from your undercooked-ness and whatever parasites you may have been carrying, it occurred to me: we're moving in opposite directions. Last night, you were clearly moving up, while I wanted so badly for you to stay down. It finally took me popping a blood vessel in my eye from all the retching to realize that this is just not meant to be.

It's not you, it's me. We've had a lot of good times - you let me eat you in secret while maintaining a facade of vegetarianism so that I could keep my vegan friends happy. You were there on roadtrips, at concerts, at late night burger-fests. You even managed to stay in my life during that 2-day stint in Toronto with Jeff. We've been through everything together - patty melts, North End burgers, South End burgers, mushroom melts, and even steak tartar at that Ethiopian place (yes, you were hot naked). But let's not let the goud times we shared cloud the reality that is the essence of us: we're moving farther and farther apart.

Don't cry, Hamburger - I'll always have a special place in my heart for you. Every time my dad throws a veggie burger on the grill, I'll always wonder, "What could have been?" But for now, Darling, I need some time to regroup, some time to reintroduce myself to my old friends - Mushroom, Soy, and Tofu. I'll still see you in passing and have fond thoughts, but I think this time apart will do us good. Maybe there will be a chance for us, someday, but I don't want us to dwell on that. Find a nice girl - a Viking, perhaps, or a Southerner - someone who really appreciates you for who you are and doesn't want to change you. I wish I could say I'm the one for you, but I think it's obvious I'm not. We're too different: I like Radiohead and you like Kenny Chesney. I like Jon Stewart, you like John Wayne. I like ketchup, you love mustard. Let's let bygones be bygones. The world is our oyster, Hamburger; let's shuck the heck out of it.

With tenderness, Katelyn

Dear Katelyn,

I think I take offense to that. Kenny Chesney prefers fried chicken. John Wayne ate buffalo. A hamburger is more the tastes of your cute little indie rock boys that arent as pretentious as the vegan ones. The cute little ones you really desire, the ones who (like you) have a disdain for daddys money and long to subsist on the greasy goodness found on the grills of such dive establishments as Bukowskis and Charlies? Come on, you really think I dig listening to Moby and Coldplay? I wouldnt want those overexposed pipsqueaks to enjoy the succulent tastes that I have to offer.

What else was I going to do with my life besides offer the world a tasty snack in medium well form (mainly because anyone that doesnt eat their burgers medium well should have their heads examined. Cook me!). If I could find a cure for cancer, get Bush impeached, or prevent Britney Spears from having babies, of course I would. Unfortunately, for now I am but a mere cow and the only thing I look forward to is finding out how I am prepared in the after life. And what sort of friend were you? Ive provided sustenance for centuries and you know you enjoyed sinking your teeth into my carnivorous goodness.

Ah, but your pretentious veggie friends could never see. You couldnt pretend to do this radical bit if you enjoyed a bacon & swiss burger now, could you? Its a lot like when Ryan first arrived in Newport and Marissa wouldnt give up her relationship with Luke because he was a more dignified suitor. Of course, he had to slum it with her in the end when all of his friends dissed him because his father was gay. See? Vegans are much like those popular people in school that you just want to be like, but know youre not. Theyre also willing to diss you if something bad came out, because owning DVDs of The O.C. and the soundtrack to On the Line is pretty much the equivalent of having a gay parent in Newport. And if youre really as liberal as you claim you are, would you really want friends like that?

Oh, Katelyn. Perhaps they made me too rare last night. Or maybe you drank too much (its not as if you NEVER do that). Like everything in life, we cannot all be perfect. Getting cooked or marinated improperly is much like being a Scientologist. You cant tenderize meats with vitamins, can you? NO! I always laugh at how you flip back and forth about what is right and wrong (or cool and uncool) oh so easily. Because I know that you always come crawling back to me, however, enough is enough.

I dont want your friendship if its only on your terms. I hate the South and Ive never been to Norway and I find your liberal, open-minded viewpoint appaling. Why would I want you to enjoy my meaty goodness when you spend your time denying my existence in your life or speaking about how you shouldnt enjoy me. Its a lot like Whitney Houston telling Barbara Walters that crack is whack, isnt it? She wanted the viewers to think that she was over that part of her life, when she really was speaking of her addiction as something she loved more than putting corn rows in Bobbi Kristinas hair. Well this bag of ground beef wants to dance with someone that loves me. Someone like Benjamin McKenzie: that Texas-bred boy just loves piling me up with ketchup and onions and biting down. Something of which I can assure you, will never happen to the likes of your wannabe vegan butt. Jon Stewart adores me without cheese, but your brand of wannabe original politics aint kosher. And we all know Richard Chamberlain prefers the meat. You think Kevin Costner is going to serve you up some curried tofu if you snuck into his Montana ranch. I dont think so, sweetheart. I can understand if you had religious issues that barred you from enjoying my awesome angus-ness, but babe, youre Catholic and your parents wrapped you in proscuitto as a child. And that was no exotic doll they gave you to sleep with. That was 1.5 pounds of pure Italian Sausage with a curly blonde wig on top. So you may think youre being different. You may think youre being cool. I know youll want to meet up again in the near future, but Im not coming back. Getting stuck in your poser belly is the last thing this USDA prime cut wants to do.

Because youre technically still employed at Starbucks, capitalist America at its worst. Thats nice you offer the choice of free trade coffee now, but really too little and too late. Its a wonderful thing to see all of your people at work in the same conglomerate (oooops, I meant neighborhood coffee emporium), you know fighting the system and believing in PETA. Ha! I almost spit out my cud and grass smoothie thinking of you hawking mocha lattes and Norah Jones CDs. Yeah. And the other day I was in Jersey, sitting on the table in front of Bruce Springsteen and he wanted me to tell you that only meateaters (aka tramps like him) are born to run. So you can take your gardenburger and hang out with Lauren Bush. Im hanging with The Boss now.

Think of me the next time you complain how broke you are and then shop at Whole Foods. You know, in the frozen food aisle when you pick up some meatless sausage links. Because if being a carnivore was so nasty, vegans wouldnt be making things out of soy to simulate what I am naturally. Which makes dining on soy burgers a rather phony act. Its not like I would expect anyone who worked at Starbucks to be phony now, would I?

Good riddance, The Hamburgler

John Tesh: Ultimate Renaissance Man

2006-07-23T14:05:00.000-04:00

I somehow stumbled upon this and initially believed it to be a joke.

http://www.myspace.com/johnteshlive

Yes...THAT John Tesh. Although, I suppose I should give a man with such a diverse resume a bit of credit. How many other people have anchored an oft-watched celebrity "news" magazine (while sitting next to a woman who supposedly induced epileptic seizures in a viewer), commentated AND composed music for women's gymnastics (at a World and Olympic level), and creates music that "sounds like" Yanni and is "influenced" by Christ's love? Not many. And he's even married to Connie Selleca, which probably guarantees him a meeting with top executives at the Lifetime network at any time and place he so desires.

He's sort of like Hasselhoff without the stench of booze. Or a multi-faceted Jack Wagner. I'm not really sure what to think of this John Tesh honkey.

Dark & Twisted Puppies

2006-07-21T15:42:00.000-04:00

From E!Online...

The 30-year-old actor reportedly led Bradford straight to NBC's awaiting security guards, but not before, according to Access Hollywood, she left a copy of Colin Farrell: A Dark Twisted Puppy, a self-published book detailing her alleged encounters with the Irish actor, on Leno's desk.

(Check out this chick's MySpace page. It's seriously whacked. Seriously. She supposedly penned another tome devoted to her S&M adventures with Alec Baldwin.)

That is fabulous. I hope I can have someone else publish a book I write one day with "Dark Twisted Puppy" in the title.

She also offers a recipe for the "Colin Farrell is My Bitch" cocktail. It sounds potentially lethal.

1/2 oz Bacardi 151 rum
1/2 oz Goldschlager cinnamon schnapps
1/2 oz Jagermeister herbal liqueur
1/2 oz Patron

http://www.eonline.com/News/Items/0,1,19556,00.html?fdnews

I Want SexyBack

2006-07-21T11:02:00.000-04:00

I figured out that Justin Timberlake was actually sort of cool a few years ago. It began when I realized I really dug Rock Your Body. Then, a friend of mine was convinced he could get tickets to the VMAs for cheap at the last minute. Ha. We did, however, attend Justin Timberlake's post-VMA show at the Hammerstein Ballroom. The guy could actually play instruments. My view of the stage was obstructed by an overweight, teenaged goth girl.

This disturbed me not because she was obstructing my view and yelling obnoxiously, but because I found it so amusing someone dressed so "goth" was so into a Justin Timberlake performance. In my pubescent halcyon years, someone who was a goth was a goth. I decided that today's "goth-looking" kids are just that -- goth looking. Goth has been reduced to Hot Topic in this day and age. It sort of made me sad. I wanted to go home and curl up on my bed in a deep melancholy while listening to The Cure.

The night also included my friend most likely being roofied at the previous bar, as she is a champion drinker and was unable to barely move from the circular booth surrounding the Hammerstein after consuming only 3 miniscule vodka beverages. While tending to her, I also encountered a pile of vomit on the floor. It was covered in sawdust, a la elementary school.

I digress. And I'm going to digress further. Justin Timberlake has a new song out called SexyBack. It's from his forthcoming FutureSex / LoveSounds album. The title of the album sort of annoys me because its reminiscent of that whole LoveAngelMusicBaby thing Gwen Stefani did (essentially to promote her clothing and handbag lines). I suppose JT's album, and recent comments that he enjoys using drugs recreationally, is the final stage in breaking free from those boy band shackles. I think it is a more dignified and gradual release, much unlike his Mickey Mouse Club peers Britney and Christina.

And since I'm bringing up Britney, I have to admit something. Although celebrity love lives factor very little, if at all (except Ice-T & CoCo!) into my existence, I have a little fantasy. I don't think it's at all uncommon, and everytime I see a tabloid or see a photo of stringy-haired, barefoot & pregnant Britney wearing 2003's smocked terry cloth dress, I think about what might have been.

I just want Britney & Justin back together. Not because they were each other's first loves or because they were the bubble gum pop duo of yore. I have no problem with Brad Pitt running off with Angelina Joile, but Britney & Justin, they belong together.

Seriously. Look at what happened to her after they broke up. He was her rock. She was his Eliza Doolittle. If Justin stepped in, you think she would be pumping out potential short-bus children with a ne'er do well former back-up dancer who raps about Brazillian ass slang? Hell no. He would have gotten her a one-way ticket to Timbaland's studio and she would have a hit record. Would she be snapping gum at Matt Laurer or driving through the Sonic five times a week? Hell no. She would be sitting, perfectly coiffed, front row at the Cavalli show.

They would be like Seal & Heidi Klum, the Southern Fried American Version. I picture it going down much like A Mighty Wind, except it's at the Grammys, and they're opening the show. Some acoustic duet talking about getting the lover you always wanted back and by your side, finishing with an embrace. It would be huge. A kiss with Britney and Justin? Bigger than Britney kissing Madonna.

Alas. A girl can dream. Here's the song, since it's not yet available on iTunes and I haven't found a pirated version that works. My friend says it reminds her of Slave 4 U, maybe a bit, but not really. If there is any similarities, well, that's just further proof that things would just be better if Britney & Justin were back together. Hell, I bet even Hezbollah may stop for a moment to ponder the power of love.

Here's the link. This song does really make me want to go a bumping and a grinding. This new JT album may just be the perfect companion to the Gorillaz' Demon Days or Gnarls Barkley's St. Elsewhere.

(You can also listen to the song on the official JT site)

http://pdl.stream.aol.com/aol/us/aolmusic/artists/bmg/justintimberlake/justintimberlake_sexyback_bmg_a_dl.mov

Scenes from the UPS Customer Service Center

2006-07-21T10:54:00.000-04:00

One of the biggest pains in the asses has to be retrieving one's package from the UPS office. Whenever I miss the three attempted deliveries (Hello? People work. So don't deliver between 2 and 5.), I'm forced to go out to some side street in Watertown.

It's not busy, but of course it will be a excrutiatingly slow process. I expect this. What I do not expect is animal noises. Yes. That's correct. When the man went to retrieve my package, he began to meow (sort of a meow-grunt type sound, not sure what it was meant to be).

Don't really understand why this happened. All this for a damned bikini bottom that was on back order from J. Crew.

Craigslist Follies: Vol. 1

2006-07-17T18:02:00.000-04:00

I've been talking about doing this (er, blogging about) for sometime, although the idea is neither new nor earth shattering.

I rarely scan through the "Casual Encounters" section of Craigslist, but when I do, I am always amused.

Here are several that made me giggle (and I'll keep it quasi-clean):

Reply to: pers-183090308@craigslist.org
Date: 2006-07-17, 5:01PM EDT
MY GIRLFRIEND...
does not like to go down, give head, suck cock, and she doesn't like it when someone goes down on her...she won't talk about it...just won't do it.... i'm so in need of going down, i crave the taste of a woman, it's been over a year....i want it so bad, is there anyone out there who would like a guy just to go down on them, nothing else other than u being pleased orally.....please let me go down on u, and taste u....

Um...okay. So why are you still with this woman? You don't sound very happy in the relationship.

Reply to: pers-183090837@craigslist.org
Date: 2006-07-17, 4:59PM EDT
ISO WOMAN WHO WANTS TO RIDE MY FACE — m4w — 52
SEARCHING FOR A WOMEN WHO WOULD ENJOY HAVING HER PUSSY LICKED UNTIL YOU DROP. I'M MARRIED AND WIFE DOESN'T GET TURN ON BYE THIS AND IREALLY ENJOY EATING PUSSY. SO IF YOU WANT A OLDER MAN TO EAT YOU TILL YOU COME WITHOUT ANY PAY BACK THEN I'M YOUR GUY. ME 235/6'11" IRISH CURSE BUT LONG LASTING TOUNGE FOR YOU. PHOTO A MUST. ALL STYLE AND SIZES ARE WELCOMED WILL NOT DISAPPOINT YOU.

Okay. I understand that maybe the whole spark has been extinguished from your married sex life. Fairly common, right? In any case, when requesting these sorts of acts from anonymous strangers, I feel it is necessary you check your grammar. You don't need an AP Stylebook to know that "bye" is the incorrect form of "by". In the context you are using, "come" is erroneous, too. But most importantly, if you really are 6'11", you shouldn't follow that fact by stating you suffer from the Irish Curse.

Reply to: pers-183088705@craigslist.org
Date: 2006-07-17, 4:54PM EDT
i want my fantasy to be reality — m4ww — 26
im looking to have a threesome with a couple of girls never had one always wanted to

That's nice, sweetheart. So you watched Entourage last night and were reminded that you've never had your very own threesome. I can handle your lack of proper capitalization and punctuation in casual online communication, but you really should be letting any of your potential reality-makers know what is in it for them. What can you offer them? Oh. And what do you look like? You really need to work on the specifics if you want to make your dream come true.

Reply to: pers-183070498@craigslist.org
Date: 2006-07-17, 4:14PM EDT
Daytime pussy licking delight!! — m4w
I come you your door with a clipboard pretending to canvas for the Sierra Club. You are wearing a revealing top and short skirt and invite me in. We go to the living room and you sit on the couch, cross your legs, and I sit opposite in a chair. I start to give my pitch and, as I am doing so, you uncross your legs and slowly spread them and I get flustered as I see that you are not wearing any panties. I stare at your beautiful pussy winking at me as you lean back. I look into your eyes and you smile and beckon me with your finger. You tell me to eat you and I lick your sweet pussy through as many orgasms as you want. Nothing else expected. Make you hot to think of a safe, fun, sane stranger licking your pussy until you scream? Just as hot as it makes me to think about it. It could come true, during the day when I am free.

Does it have to be the Sierra Club? For instance, what if I wanted you to pretend you were a Lyndon LaRouche follower? Or how about a Jehovah's Witness?

But I will give you props on creativity.

Choose my exotic dancer name

2006-07-17T14:18:00.000-04:00

No. I am NOT jumping on the pole dancing bandwagon. This is something I've wanted to do for while, but now I have a some free time.

I start on Wednesday. Any suggestions as to what my "stage name" should be would be truly appreciated. Something sexy, something ironic...Any ideas?

www.gypsyrosedancing.com

Chillin with Il

2006-07-14T16:27:00.000-04:00

There are so many things I adore about this inspirational painting taken from a Korean children's book. Particularly the ethereal halo casting its soft glow above Kimmy Il's head.

(I just thought it would be sort of fun to call him Kimmy Il. Not really sure why.)

And I think Sammy Davis Jr. is standing behind the man shaking Kimmy Il's hand.

I probably think this song is about me...

2006-07-13T14:01:00.000-04:00

I received this link from a friend yesterday and 2 hours of uploading personal photos / insanity quickly ensued.

Perhaps I’m one of the last people to find this site, but it’s some of the most web-based fun I’ve had in quite some time. Upload a photo. Make sure all the faces are looking straight at the camera (otherwise, it just won’t work). Then click to compare your facial structure with 3200 celebrities / notable figures in their database.

The site utilizes facial recognition software that’s been used by law enforcement agencies. They will be using this software to help people find relatives and ancestry information (if you have an 80% or above similarity, there is a chance you may be related).

A few years ago, some scientists discovered that human beauty is formulaic. Examining photos of the “beautiful people”, it was determined that these individuals have similar facial proportions and measurements.

Using that information, and judging from the results obtained after uploading around 10-15 photos (It’s best to upload several photos to see how frequently you’re matched to people), this website solidifies the fact that I am completely hot.

The first picture I uploaded put me at a 75% match to Aishwarya Rai. Rai, Bollywood’s biggest actress, makes every Most Beautiful Woman / Person in the World list. This picture also matched with Grace Kelly, Cindy Crawford, Ashley Olsen, Queen Raina…and Eddie Murphy (among others).

After uploading several pictures, I began seeing a definite. Rai, Ashley Olsen (Obviously, some Mary Kate popped up, too. Am I a lost sister or something?), Angelina Joile, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Gwen Stefani popped up most frequently. Of course, I also yielded comparisons to Jason Biggs on several occasions.

I now worry I am going to upload photos on a regular basis to satisfy this (relatively) newfound vanity I discovered lurked deep inside.

See for yourself and be vain like me! Or at least curious…maybe it’s more curiosity than vanity?
(And let me know your results)

http://www.myheritage.com/FP/Company/face_recognition.php

Cheva Longoria

2006-07-11T10:22:00.000-04:00

I can't really explain what irks me so much about Eva Longoria. I think it stems from the fact she portrays a "former NYC model" on Desperate Housewives. I distinctly remember an episode in which she flashes back to her days on the runway.

I know TV is fake but she's 5'2". The only runway models that short do Petite Sophisticate shows at suburban shopping malls. Maybe she could have done a calendar showcasing drill bits, but runway model in NYC?

And I read something about her expanding her career to include writing erotic fiction. Um...yeah.

I got a kick out of these pictures because she obviously thinks she's some sort of revolutionary. Oh. And because they were supposedly taken while she was hanging out with Mario Lopez. I really hope the two of them were selling t-shirts to help out Screech.

I Love Creed Bratton

2006-07-11T07:59:00.000-04:00

I don't have much time this morning but I felt the need to share the website of one of my newest favorite people. I've been catching up on all The Office reruns I missed and I've decided Creed Bratton is one of the coolest honkies around.

Just read this interview. He's beautifully whacked. This man rules.
http://old.bcbeat.com/?q=node/1390

Creed usually only as a few lines per episode, but they're priceless. His character's bio isn't included on the show's website, therefore adding to his enigmatic aura and allure.

Check out his priceless (deleted) scene from the Booze Cruise episode:

http://www.nbc.com/The_Office/video/office_deleted_rock_recut.shtml#video

What Not To Wear — Political Pundit Edition

2006-07-08T15:18:00.000-04:00

You're hiding the flog behind your back, aren't you?

Ann Coulter is one of those conservative zealots who never seem to disappear for long enough off the public radar. You know it's gotten bad when even the purveyors of celebrity trash like US Weekly start mentioning this quasi-Nazi stick figure.

Sure, Coulter's long-winded and pointless tirades against liberals irk me because she never presents actual evidence to back up her opinion. But my main problem lies with her wardrobe choices.

If you're the ultra-conservative mouthpiece of American women, you ought to start dressing the part. Women who openly remark that the U.S. should bomb the Middle East and convert the remaining inhabitants to Christianity should dress a little more matronly.

Open up a charge at Talbot's and stop buying evening wear at Trash & Vaudeville. Parading around like a dominatrix and barely-there skirts doesn't really promote that anti-abortion / Jesus Rules stance in my eyes.

I'm all about believing whatever you wish to believe and dressing however you choose, but if you're going to be as publicly virulent as Ms. Coulter, you don't dress in such a manner that may represent what you consider to be a bit inherent to this country's "moral decline".

Just browse through the "photo tour" on Ms. Coulter's website. It's fabulous (The gun photo is a personal favorite). It's much like looking at someone's random vacation photos rather than a photo album of one of this country's most-hated pundits. Much of it makes no sense if you've ever heard or read any of this woman's endless argument.

There's conservative...and then there's ULTRA-CONSERVATIVE. I expect those in the latter group to abstain from alcohol use and drug-culture musical preferences. If you're going to be oh-so vocal, well, it's best you back up that argument. That blouse better be entirely buttoned and the only music on your iPod better be in the running for that Myrrh Record.

And honestly, Coulter, is that a smile I see on your face as you pose with Reverend Al?

Ditch the latex and start browsing the Harve Benard section, Coulter. Didn't you learn a thing from J. Edgar Hoover?

Bring Out the Carnies

2006-07-08T13:46:00.000-04:00

Carnivals are always a good time. Last night, a couple of friends and I went to the Brockton Fair. It was one-stop shopping for airbrushed "redneck" t-shirts, bling, pissing Calvin stickers, and your choice of string bracelet representing any Latin & South American nation. One could watch boxing, eat fried dough, and see two sideshow "freaks" (Alas...no Arturo the Aqua Boy). Okay. So I paid $1 to see a little person. And no, you could not fit her in the palm of your hand as the sign suggested. I thought it was a joke, but I walk by this poor little woman sitting in a little chair. I wanted to bring her a magazine or something.

But I came for the rides. And then I found myself dropping another $5 to ride a mechanical bull. When I was a child, my brother was a big Travolta fan. He embodied his every dance move and boy-in-the-bubble stare. I guess there was a resemblance — if Travolta was a red-haired Irish lad completely covered in freckles. I remember having to watch Urban Cowboy on several occasions because of his obsession. I don't know...I never cared for the movie but I always thought it would be interesting to ride a mechanical bull.

I went into some German brewhaus-inspired "fun house" which was completely lame. A true waste of three tickets, but Maria is one of those people who considers the Tea Cups at Disney World to be an adrenaline rush. I wanted to get pictures on that random cylinder than rotates — the grand finale of one's carnival "fun house" experience. Somehow, I almost ended up doing a handstand. That sort of feat, however, requires coordination — something of which I have very little.

(Pardon my friends' poor usage of my digital camera. They kept hitting random buttons.)

My Favorite Beverage Duo

2006-07-07T13:04:00.000-04:00

Okay. I am so not into posting celebrity couplings or any of that bullshit. But I saw this photo today and was reminded of my favorite couple.

Ice-T & CoCo

I love the fact CoCo is the name this aryan-looking floatation device goes by. Ice-T is almost 50, so I assume he isn't shooting blanks yet. I so want them to have twins so they can name them Chai and Latte.

http://dlisted.blogspot.com/2006/07/hsl-of-day_07.html

Don't they just make you sooooo thirsty?

Cocktails and Very Bad Dreams

2006-07-07T11:32:00.000-04:00

When you do not feel like going out, you sometimes find yourself watching terrible movies for no explicable reason. For instance, the other night I found myself viewing Cocktail. I do not understand why such a script was even given the greenlight in 1988, nor do I grasp the subsequent popularity of such a film. It’s about a bartender who tosses bottles and longs to open a chain of watering holes. It could be a docudrama on the person who started Rock Bottom or Elephant & Castle for all I know. I’ll credit the film with expanding Jamaica’s tourist industry and being one of the few films I’ve ever seen in which the female lead paraded around in a simple one-piece swimsuit and concealed her thicker-than-average-starlet thighs with a random sarong or pleated Bermuda shorts. But that's it.

(What’s funny is that one of my nieces was named after Elizabeth Shue’s character. When my sister saw Cocktail, she decided she liked the name Jordan so much that it would be what she would name her daughter. And thus my fifteen-year-old niece was given her name because my sister really liked Cocktail. Of course, Jordan is a good name. It’s not like she wanted to call her Kokomo.)

This movie is ridiculous on so many levels. If I’m at a bar, do I want to see the bartender flipping bottles? No. I want them to get me my drink. The whole “barman poet” thing is laughable, too. Mainly because the only line I have always fully remembered is “to schnapps made with beach…to sex on the beach.” I get it. It rhymes. But the last time I ordered a Sex on the Beach was April 1995 at a bar on South Padre Island. I was 17. When I was a bartender, I was never asked to make a Sex on the Beach. Nor did I feel my customers wanted me to stand atop the bar and recite bad poetry. They just wanted to drink. A good bartender is judged not by theatrics. They are judged by how fast they can get you a drink AND if they hook you up with some free beverages every so often.

However, my biggest problems with this movie are neither the bar antics nor the terrible acting displayed by Tom Cruise and Elizabeth Shue (the deer-in-headlights look does not display range, sweetheart), its how it solidified the idea of killing off the buddy / foil opposite Cruise in order to proclaim Cruise as the height-challenged grinning god of the Western world. Bryan Brown made the movie, yet he offs himself in the end. Sorry, but even with the whole money-isn’t-everything message, Brown’s Doug Coughlin was a true survivor. He would just go bang a bevy of harlots after he realized his trophy wife was unfaithful. Or he would give the trophy wife crabs, just as he did all those waitresses. Coughlin would persevere, but in a Tom Cruise movie, only Cruise can be proclaimed as the strong-willed hero(ine).

I have always thought killing off the opposite male character is part of Cruise’s contract, much like how he takes a portion of the film’s gross. I think this is partly why he became so popular, because it’s just keeps driving the message home that Cruise will always prevail, even if you destroy his e-Meter or call him gay (which, I may add, is completely obvious in the limited dance moves performed in Cocktail. I felt like I was watching the some halfway-in-the-closet dude try to pick up on some twink during a Friday night circuit party).

I have no idea why I decided to watch Cocktail. I’m sure there was other, more appropriate programming airing in that timeslot. Maybe I had a subconscious urge to relive the era of over-styled men’s hair? I’m not quite sure. I’ve decided Cocktail is just one of those movies you watch for no reason whatsoever. When it was over, I felt sort of dirty and bloated. It simulated the feeling of eating an entire bag of Cheetos, combined with the time in college when I ran from the random sauna at this fraternity house where some idiot took me because he thought he had a chance at groping me.

I'm back...

2006-07-07T11:15:00.000-04:00

I'm back. The Daily Slag is the new greenmelinda.com.

Greenmelinda.com is now the upcoming home to my online portfolio.

I hope you like. Make comments or something.