Sunday, February 29, 2004

Next up, Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

So I saw Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights today, in the exact same theater in which I had seen Win a Date With Tad Hamilton a couple of weeks ago. What I found most interesting about both of these movies (beyond the whole, "how could I continue to find such movies entertaining or plunk down $10.25 I don't have to see them?" thing), was the audience. At Tad, I was sitting next to three 14-year old girls who would squeal every time Tad Hamilton took his shirt off, said something, smiled, or appeared on screen, making the whole movie a kind of "meta" (a gag-worthy description if their ever was one) experience; actresses playing swooning teenagers on screen shriek in synch with real swooning teenagers over the same fake person.
When I sat down for Dirty Dancing I glanced around the theater, checking to see if I would have such delightful company this time around. Like before, everyone was pretty much female, with the odd whipped/ good sport boyfriend or gay man. This time though, everyone was old.
And then I realized, they weren't old, they were, holy shit, my age. And we were all way too old to be at a movie like this. Where were the teenagers we could laugh at? The teenagers we would use to make fun of ourselves for being here, while secretly feeling better than them? Where were the little ones to pin all our chatter and giggles and squeals on? They were no where to be found, because they don't even fucking know what Dirty Dancing is. It's, like, you know, that great old movie they rent for sleep over parties when Clueless and Can't Hardly Wait are out of the video store. And here we, all us 20-somethings, were, paying homage to the original (which, I swear, I have only seen once), clapping like tweens when Patrick Swayze appeared in a guest role. (He too has aged, and not gracefully. His ears are enormous and stick out of his head funny.)
But, before I could feel too bad about the whole thing, the movie turned up some of the worst line readings I have ever, ever, ever heard in my life and we all just got to laugh at it, proving we don't take anything too seriously. And then they danced and it was, seriously, so good that I clapped. I might as well behave like a teenager at a movie for them.

Thursday, February 26, 2004

A field day for playground bullies everywhere

I feel like a million things of importance (or at least interest) are going on right now, Nader, gay marriage, The Passion, but I can't bring myself to be articulate about any of them. All three just seem so overwhelming: the cause of arguments and discussions that can really never be resolved because at the heart, they're all about faith (be it of the Christian, Jewish, gay rights, or anti-Bush variety), the one thing we believe in no matter what contradicting evidence is discovered.
So in the face of an such serious stuff, I've been thinking about coneheads. I banged my head walking out of the walk-in fridge yesterday, making this incredible thwocking noise, and demonstrating just how flexible your head really is, for being something surrounded by bone. Which made me think about the Kwakiutl, a Native American tribe from the Pacific Northwest, who rested boards on their infants heads, so that the soft palate would grow into a cone shape. I feel like it's only a matter of time before some East Village couple tries that out.

Monday, February 23, 2004

Just in time for the Oscars

Apparently botox is being put to two new ingenious uses. Injecting armpits so that you can't sweat and injecting stomachs so you don't feel hunger. Beyond the just people, and people with too much money, are insane and know no limits angle, who are these doctors that are enabling starvation and overheating? At least it's kind of funny to imagine the explanations for a botox induced red carpet collapse (the arm pit injections are used mainly to avoid unsightly sweat stains on fancy cloths at big events). Or just to imagine a red carpet collapse at all.

Friday, February 20, 2004

Down with anarchy except when it's upsetting

Most offensive earwear Ever? Uhm, have to go with the hypodermic needle. Though it may be a staple of punk spreads in upscale fashion magazines there is just nothing quite like seeing a hypodermic needle masquerading as an earring up close. Because, let me tell you, up close it is Horrifying.
Like all new fashion items, I hate it cause I think it’s ugly. But, in truth I could probably get used to a four inch piece of bamboo sticking vertically out of someone’s ear, eventually come to think it was kind of cute and by the time Urban Outfittters was selling them secretly covet a pair. (Though at such a precarious angle it would always get tangled when putting on a shirt or jacket, and might even wack into door frames.)
But, aesthetics aside, the needle just gives me a particular freak out. Cause it’s not just ugly, it’s upsetting. I just really don’t want to be near someone who has a potentially disease spreading weapon stored in their ear. Like, I make a serious effort not to use dirty needles when shooting heroin so how dare you ignore my health for the sake of fashion? What if some crazy just ripped that needle out and started stabbing people? Where would we be then?
For the little proud punk who sports such ear gear, the kind of hysteria and fear caused by the flouting of a social norm is the whole point. (Saw a guy reading magazines in Barnes & Noble, a tre Punk activity, in a jacket with “Serious/ To tough to die” written in red gothic letters on the back. Immediately flashed to that refrain from “No Sex… in the Champagne Room.” Late twentyish punk guy with bangs, uh, hate to be the bearer of bad news and all, but it turns out it don’t matter how tough you are, “You’re Gonna Die.”) Yet the whole believe-in-anarchy-thing aside, why strike fear into the hearts of everyone around you, when in fact you, Horrendous Hypodermic Needle Earring Man, are probably a very nice guy, who’s earring consists only of the pushing mechanism and no needle at all?

Next time I'm filling out my own personal

So I've been very snarky lately, and I should stop, but not before I comment on 2 of the personals in this week's Time Out.
I think the blank is sexy: blank is sexier format is really difficult for people. It's such an annoying question you have almost no choice but to give an annoying answer. So if you want to rock the whole, eros is sexy: thanatos is sexier thing, I think you've proved to the world you are pretty much an unbelievable tool-box (and in this case, that you are also a loser, soon to be grad-student, who is turned on by Freud and bad poetry), but that's to be expected when answering this one. Sometimes though, people fill in the blanks in an incredibly awkward and inarticulate manner. Then you know that in addition to being a tool, they are completely inarticulate. See the following:
Arrogance is Sexy: Humbleness is Sexier.
So I'll admit to being a bigger loser than Exotik over here, by telling you that humbleness can be found in the dictionary. But that doesn't mean it should be. Next time, give humility a shot at that blank.
Confidence is sexy: Oblivity of being sexy is sexier
Didn't get a chance to look oblivity up, but even the spellchecker knows it's wrong. Not that obliviousness would make this one much better as the two blanks aren't even really related. The question sets up this very simple parallel structure, follow it. Especially when you’re making a huge mess only to offer up one of the more banal sentiments ever.

Monday, February 16, 2004

Should have sat on the couch staring at nothing

Here are just a few of the interesting faxes sent to the magazine in the past 2 weeks.

1) "Dear _,
I was recently reading your last issue and there was an article on wondering why Britney is wearing a wedding ring since her wedding was annulled and her ex has been out of the picture, well... I was sitting her and noticed that I have an issue of __ magazine-December 2003 and Britney is on the cover wearing a white halter dress AND the same exact ring! If I'm not mistaken this is before she every tied the knot!
Just wanted to give you a heads up!
Thanks for an awesome magazine to keep all of us posted on what the stars are doing!"

OMG! Not just the ring! But the white halter dress too! That is just too much great info! You have saved us so much hard, in-depth reporting and researching! A God send!
Good Lord. You really, really, really should have something better to do. Like watching All My Children, or sleeping for a couple of hours, or sitting on the couch and staring at absolutely nothing.

2) "An Open Letter to MTV
Dear Friends at MTV,
Every day the entertainment industry is a victim or senseless, brutal wardrobe malfunctions, accidents and outright Crimes.
MTV, we at Fuse are standing with you!
Even though we are competitors we think it's time to put aside our differences and take a stand. Let us not dwell on last Sunday's halftime show- the dated songs, the random crotch grabs and the senseless lip-synching. No. Let's put that all aside, and focus on the issue at hand: VELCRO JUST DOES NOT WORK.
We are also willing to donate generously to the I.F.D.A.D.A.N.T* (The Institute For the Development of Advanced Double Adhesive Nipple Tape)
Signed in solidarity,
Your Friends at Fuse
* Does not exist, but should"

This just is not funny. Not funny at all. Not one teensy weensy bit. It could have been. I mean, I see what they were thinking. But they failed, cause it's not funny. At all. And it's actually longer than this, but the parts I cut were just more shameless self-promotion.
And since it's not funny, it becomes clear that what we have here is a music video station created in MTV's image attacking MTV for a lewd half-time show. And the contradictions in this abound: Fuse is trying to come off as irreverent and funny, but is really taking MTV down for "crotch grabs," which are, in their ability to offend people, irreverent and cool, making Fuse the opposite. Add to that the sheer lameness that this letter was faxed to every tabloid and magazine Fuse could find the number for in hopes of getting press coverage for being irreverent and funny, proving they are pandering opportunists. Who aren't funny.

3) (Hand written in permanent marker without name, address, email etc). "I will boycott your products if you advertise durring the Grammy Show with Timberlake and Jackson."

Content aside, if you want to register a legitimate complaint you should make sure it's spelled correctly and doesn't look like the work of a kidnapper. As far as content goes, this magazine ran a cover of "Timberlake and Jackson," which probably should have been a hint that it could not give a shit about the ethics of breastcapade. That and the managing editor just received an "I did Justin 3 times" T-shirt from the staff. Which pretty much sums up where they stand on that. But, seeing as this magazine, like most, doesn't run commercials, during the Grammys or otherwise, I can only assume this principled, ethical individual is still a devoted subscriber.

4) Pet Potty Reveals The Newest Addition To Its Family of Products
Los Angeles, January 28, 2004. Pet Potty, a manufacturer of luxury pet products, unveiled the newest addition to their ever-growing collection of pet potties... The Mini Pet Potty design is identical to that of the original and petite models, but the size is significantly smaller. The mini, as with any Pet Potty, has a drainage system. When your pooch urinates on the Pet Potty, the urine goes through the grass into the concealed trap pan. When you water the grass you flush out the urine form the grass and into the concealed trap pan. By flushing the urine from the system you help to prolong the lifespan of the grass. Some people ask about odors, but if you empty the trap pan after every watering, and you pick up your pooches Number 2's, there should be no odor.
It looks as if Pet Potty has done it again. They have developed the most adorable, chic and sleek unit yet... The mini Pet Potty is here to help accommodate you and your pooch with his or her potty needs. After all, why should your pooch have to rely on you? They need their potties too!"

Almost no commentary necessary here. Except how could this not smell?! And if you want a self-sufficient companion you can pay no attention to, find yourself a human; dogs still need walking.

Tuesday, February 10, 2004

Too old to be listening to Z100

Things I know about Evanescence: I know that they are a band. I know that they have a female lead singer. I know that said female singer got in some kind of dispute with lead guitarist/ song writing fellow and he left the band. Don't ask me how I know that though. I know that they just beat 50 Cent out for the Best New Artist Grammy, after he had gone through all the trouble of wearing a suit and getting a snazzy haircut. I also know that their first single got big because it was on the Daredevil soundtrack. I know that they have a crazy amount of fans with gothish, pierced leanings. And I know they thing they are a rock band, in the same style as Linkin Park, and therefore suck a whole lot.
But what confuses me about Evanescence is how they could be a band with fans, a Grammy, and "rock cred", without anyone noticing that they are really a Sarah McLachlan tribute band. Because, after hearing their latest single, it is obvious that Sarah is, if not singing their lead vocals, certainly their guiding musical light. Their latest song might as well be on Fumbling Toward Ecstasy if it's not already: an emotionally distraught woman, moaning and intoning over dramatic instrumentals for an entire, melancholic, song.

Monday, February 09, 2004

Word

"Should this be the most evil thing your children see, then they'll be fine."
—Larry Flynt, on Janet Jackson's halftime escapade.

Friday, February 06, 2004

I don't like these shoes, but the popular kids will.

There's a really interesting article up on Slate right now about the concept of electability and the Democratic candidates. Kinsley basically argues that the obsession with a candidate's "electability" means Democrats are voting for the candidate they imagine appeals to the sometimes-Republican swing voters and not the candidates that they believe would make the best President.
Clearly the Democratic mantra of this election, "Get Bush Out at all Costs," forces electability to the fore-front, as it makes electability, as opposed to ideas, principles, charm, the ultimate quality voters, and the party, is looking for.
But it's a bogus quality. Just think about the recent primary season: John Kerry successfully convinces people that he is more "electable" than Howard Dean. He wins, "proving" that he is more electable. But had Iowans voted for the "unelectable" Dean instead, because they might actually prefer him, well who starts to look electable then, by virtue of being elected?
The emphasis on electability signifies an enormous insecurity among Democrats about the chances that Americans would ever elect someone running on a legit Democratic platform (and why Dean vs Bush was seen as more of a lost cause than Kerry vs Bush). But Republicans, of whom there are, allegedly, less registered voters, do it all the time. We'd rather court voters on the fence, (who want what? Fiscal conservatism, which at this point anyone running has a better claim to than Bush, or social conservatism, which Bush will always have a better claim to) then try to win an election with a candidate we believed in.
And who are these voters we're trying to cater our candidate to? If we're voting in the primary, and therefore already voting Democrats, does that mean our vote is already counted and therefore irrelevant? And, are we, by prioritizing electability, responsible for rendering our opinion irrelevant compared to the swing voter's?

In case you didn't think the kids making computer viruses were socially deranged sickos.

I just got an e-mail on my Chicago account sent by user "Joinhi5" with the subject heading "Give your friend a hi5." Hi5 being slang for that awesome gift that none of my friends, but all of the deeply troubled "bug-seekers," featured in the most disturbing Rolling Stone article not about crystal meth, have been wanting, H-I-(roman numeral 5) V.
Creepy.
I repeat. CREEPY.

Thursday, February 05, 2004

Misspelling is sexy; spelling is sexier

One of my favorite guilty pleasures is reading the personals in TimeOut NY. All the cutesy questions, like, "blank is sexy, blank is sexier," "Favorite on-screen sex scene," "The five items I can't live without," and the myriad annoying, and suprisingly not so annoying, ways you can answer them make for engaging reading. I don't read them to be a hater: I think writing a good personal, besides being pretty lame, is also pretty hard. That being said, sometimes, I can't help but be a hater.
Here's the one that set me off:
Woman seeking Man
Volvobebe (maybe a less annoying name than Mustangbebe, which is slightly more predictable, but who wants to be associated with Volvos, the essence of stationwagons and safety? And if she means it more literally, "Like I am the child of Volvo drivers" then, well, that's just weird)
Age: 24
Last great book I read: Virgin Suicides by Euphenides.
Omigod. That is not his name you fucking idiot. There may be those who think it's really no big deal if she got the author's name wrong by a consonant sound, but I'm not one of them. Firstly, it's supposed to be your favorite book (though, while on the subject, it also sucked), so learn the author's name. Secondly, this is a personal intended to attract people to you based on short answers to silly questions that convey a good sense of humor and like interests. Clearly, you spent some time thinking up the answers to said questions, enough to have come up with the tortured, A Pompadour is sexy; bed head is sexier. You probably also spent some time imagining the "amazing intelligent hottie" who is somehow single and checking TimeOut New York personals. You couldn't spend some time checking the author's name? Can't be that hard; it's probs on your bookshelf next to those books by Dostoyebsky and Nabokof.

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

I never took karate lessons

Michael Pitt has really weird nipples. He's starting in The Dreamers now (though I hope, like Hillary Swank and her 90210 turn before him, he will forever be followed around by his role on Dawson's Creek as Jen Lindley's underclassman, squishy faced, football playing boyfriend) and is on the cover of Time Out this week. Anyway, as I was saying, they're really 3-d, like tic-tacs or moles, that just need slicing off. Ouch.
So Joe Ezsterhas' new book, Hollywood Animal, has been getting all kinds of hysterical reviews because it's just the type of overblown, trashy, fun stuff that makes it hard to review boringly. For example, listing why he wasn't scared of Michael Ovitz, Ezsterhas' last reason is, "He took karate lessons from Steven Segal." Is this not the best silly, yet articulate insult you've ever heard? "Will you get me a cup of water?" "No, you took karate lessons from Steven Segal." "Will you stop talking and listen to me?" "Why? You took karate lessons from Steven Segal ." "Why don't you like him?" "He just seems like the kind of guy who takes karate lessons from Steven Segal."
And have you all been listening to Britney Spear's latest single, Toxic? Cause if you haven't, get on that shit, it's amazing. No, for real.

Tuesday, February 03, 2004

And I choose to take shit too seriously

So as part of my interning duties, I spent all of yesterday doing research about Janet Jackson's Breastcapade. I feel as though there's not that much more to say about the whole thing, and, even if there were, it doesn't deserve it. It was just a boob. On the TV. For a maximum 2 seconds. And obscured at that. Moo. Ving. On.
More interesting to me were the half-time show's opening lines, as uttered by the always profound Jessica Simpson, "Houstoooon!!! Choose to Party!" These words mimicked the just aired commercial featuring famous folk earnestly (Julia Roberts sans smile) urging us to "Choose to vote."
Now watch me get on my high horse. Ok, so the Superbowl is a special occasion for which Americans collectively choose to throw off the weighty issues of the day and gather in celebration of televisions, beer, and hot wings, while acting as though the most important thing going on anywhere in the universe on this particular Sunday afternoon is a Game, or for the non-sports inclined, the caliber of commercials.
Don't get me wrong, I like televisions and football, and I love me some hot wings, and I even enjoy the hoopla and celebration that surrounds the Superbowl in all its over-the-top absurdist, yet still community enforcing glory. But guess what? The half time show? Not on par with the upcoming presidential election. And guess what? Choosing to party? Not on par with choosing to vote. And, yes we all know those things aren't equal, and maybe telling us to party is harmless, and not going to impact our decision to vote, just like the commercial itself probably didn't make voters out of very many. And, yes, it's all in the spirit of the Superbowl, this vacation from reality, this celebration of an idealized, trouble free America.
But it's as if there was a brief interruption of the whole spectacle, when we were reminded that there are in fact other things of import going on, and then, instantly, MTV, the producers both of the commercial and the half-time show, were like "Psych! Who are we kidding? We all just want to party," which is quite frankly the sentiment most Americans already hold and why we have such a miserable voter turn out. If Jessica hadn't said those lines there would still have been a half-time show, and it still would have been as escapist and involved nudity. It just wouldn't have seemed as though it, the whole half-time show, was somehow directly belittling voting and denying its importance. And that actually would be a step in the right direction.
When it comes down to it, most Americans would rather choose to party than choose to vote (and, as if you needed proof, on Monday there was far more media coverage of Janet Jackson's breast than the fact that 7 states were about to choose a Democratic candidate for president) and, though I may sound like an over-earnest herb saying it, that's just no good.

The only casting call he was ever perfect for

Watching Win a Date With Tad Hamilton this weekend, and who should appear as one of the employees at the local Piggly Wiggly? None other than the posterboy for the second season of The Average Joe, the homely, bizarro Carrot Top, David. His Average Joe bio claims he's a "Mail Sorter," but the major dork from the last season, Dennis L., was also a professional actor. While I could fake outrage at NBC for lying to us about the nature of the contestants, thereby compromising the "reality" of the show, who could give a damn? Professional actor or otherwise, he is supremely uga and socially awkward, and that's all that really matters.