Wednesday, December 31, 2008

A Sign of the Apocalypse

That means tonight at our New Year's party, Miley Cyrus will disappear from my TV screen at exactly 12:00:01 a.m. NOOOOOO!!!


JOSH'S UPDATE: Never mind they reached a deal! Ha ha now we can go back to bashing The City without feeling bad.

Daft Kanye Hands

Can't figure out how to embed it, but this is so fucking cool.

Email From My Mom

"This is what's going on on our street today."

LOL, Philly, you are still such a shithole <3


No Surprise There

The same friend of mine who gave us some gossip on Chase and Ed awhile ago, texted me a little something about Ms. Olivia Palermo, as requested:

I just read your post. I've met Olivia a few times and she is just as fake in person as she seems on the show.



(Josh's note: We all probably knew this already, but it's nice to get some confirmation. I'll bet you could say this about everyone on the show. Our culture is great!)

New Year, Same Old Ish

I know my updates have been less frequent as of late; I'm still getting used to friends being back and saying goodbye to others and trying to find a new job and all sorts of stuff like that. I was going to make a big long post reflecting on the past year and explaining my ways, but I am frankly not in the mood for such a task and will instead present to you a short list of my New Year's resolutions. You know, to hold me accountable or something. Read mine, then post yours!

1. Stop being so judgmental--I know, it's like asking the sun not to shine, but I have a tendency to either embrace or dismiss people right away, and that's both socially unhealthy as well as a means by which I may pass over potentitally great friends. 2009 will be the year of second chances and forgiveness!

2. Start working out again--Yes, I (chain) smoke, and I don't know about cutting back on cigarettes, but I do know that I need to get back to the gym. Freshman year I was something of a workout-a-holic, but I kind of gave that up sophomore year in favor of drinking alone and walking everywhere. Except I don't walk everywhere and drink maybe once or twice a week, so I have no excuse. Maybe I'll cut back on the tobacco too, but let's start by getting my ass back to Coles! Or a private gym, if my amazing super-cool awesome parents would be willing to pay for it. Spoiled and sporty! Happy 2009!

3. Do more with my writing--So...I want to be a writer. (Well, among other things.) Yet the only place I regularly write is on this blog. I want to maybe write things for other Web sites, or at least the NYU literary magazine. No, not just for the byline, but because I've recently realized that I haven't stretched my writing muscles in too long. My creative writing workshop will help, but since I spend so much time online anyway, why not write shit? So if you want to pay me to write reviews of Madonna songs or something, that'd be lovely. Thanks.

4. I will not write "get a boyfriend." I will not write "get a boyfriend." I will not write "get a boyfriend." I will not write "get a boyfriend." I will not write "get a boyfriend." I will not write "get a boyfriend."

5. Be the very best person I can be! ^__^

Just kidding this one is totally about being better with money.


Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Home Sweet Home

So I am back in New York and it is wholly bizarre. There's this strange juxtaposition between feeling entirely at home in the familiarity of it all, and also feeling like I need to learn everything all over again. The city has most certainly changed. Huge "For Sale" and "Out of Business" signs deck the halls in lieu of bows of holly. I accidentally walked down to Forsyth when trying to get from Broome Street to First Street. I've forgotten how to navigate a grid and I'm not sure it's the fact that there's some Parisian in me now or that I just smoke too much pot. The first night I got here, Sunday, I wandered up 2nd Avenue amazed at the fact that everything was open, that there were people out on the streets, that it was a balmy 60 degrees in New York in the winter and things seemed virginal, honestly untouched, just the same as I had left them. But thing are not the same! At least not in the way I experience them. There are wisps of French everywhere in this city that I never noticed before: the church near here is playing French films; the girls in the dressing room next to me at H&M yesterday were chattering away en Francais. What is so cool about having lived in Paris for four months is not that I can spend the rest of my life missing it (which I'm sure I will), but instead that everything I learned there applies to life here. In New York. A New York perhaps Whitney Port wants to ruin.

But the French Dream is over. Back to real life, to internet 24/7, to being constantly available via e-mail or cell phone, to soy milk (!) and delivery. The economic crisis is no longer this large, haunting thing, shrouded in mist, looming grand across some giant ocean. Now it is right in my lap and I hear snippets of conversations about losing homes and jobs and cutting costs and it is terrifying because for the first time in my life I am going to be impacted by something monetarily driven more serious than my weekly allowance. Now I will have trouble finding a job to pay for school and my parents will have trouble paying tuition and goddamn John Sexton will raise tuition so as to continue the glorious trope of obliterating the middle class that has been uplifted these past eight years.

But there is also Hope. And Progress. And Change. And all those buzzwords plastered across a posterized version of our valiant President Elect. I have confidence in Obama, more than I ever have in a political leader. My formative years coincided with the Bush administration -- and I will save the bulk of this for another post -- but that has certainly impacted my outlook on government, on society, on life in general.

One good thing about being away from New York for so long is that when you return, everything seems new. The coffee at Little Veselka tastes better. The tourists still growl at me when I viciously elbow them out of the way on Broadway! The sun feels warmer and more welcoming. The shouts coming from trannies and hobos from outside Josh's apartment on 1st and 1st lull me gently to sleep. I can never sleep with silence, and now I have the ambulances back to provide obnoxious background noise that makes me feel right at home. Because I am home! New York is my home! And I am very, very glad to be back.


The City (According to Art Dealers' Kids, Cokeheads and Whitney Port)

The City was despicable and I cannot wait to watch all the delicious drama unfold; or, at the very least, drool over Whitney's ensembles. At least they acknowledged it was fake by having glamour shots woven into the opening credits.

I have a few things to say about this newest and most wonderful series of "reality TV:"

1. Are we seriously supposed to believe Olivia Palermo has a job? As an intern-type person who leads Rosario Dawson into DVF fashion shows? Who has a cubicle? LOL.
2. Thank god for the West Side Story plotline of Uptown vs. Downtown. I'm glad we could use dazed, glossy twenty-somethings to illustrate a Billy Joel song.
3. Jay = Justin-Bobby and Whitney has fallen from my good graces to goddamn Audrina status. Apparently all The Hills and The City are trying to prove is that even if you're a dumb Playboy wannabe (Audrina) or a gorgeous USC grad (Whitney) you become a useless glob of Misogynist-Encouraging Jello in the hands of a mop-headed guy with dimples.
4. Alixe is my new goddess. Her cheekbones can cut hunks of Cheddar into perfectly shredded dairy delights.
5. Kelly Cutrone is still my hero and thank you for pointing out that Olivia Palermo DOES NOT AND WOULD NEVER HAVE A FUCKING JOB.
6. Speaking of Olivia Palermo, I can't tell if I'm supposed to like her or hate her. I mean, I obviously detest everything about her, but does she know she's playing the villain and is exacerbating the bitch inside or-- good god-- is she really like that? Has anyone ever met her? DO TELL.
7. I really hope both Lauren and Brody make guest appearances on the show since The City frequently referenced The Hills. It's so clearly a show solely for Hills fans and I'm not sure it's going to be good enough to maintain that entire audience. At least it's better than Bromance. Don't get me started on that piece of anti-woman shit (but Brody's smile..!)

The show did sort of touch upon something I find to be true: it does feel like, to some extent, everyone knows each other-- or at least knows of each other-- in New York. Manhattan is (sometimes unbearably) tiny compared to most other major American cities and it means you see the same people constantly. (Especially if you read about them online) Manhattan is kind of like a tiny high school where everyone knows each other; I think it was Jonathan Franzen that wrote something about how you can be anonymous and yet surrounded by people you know in NY.

As for the rest of the "issues" the show brought up, I truly hope those watching from outside New York really do think that people get out of cabs with their necks craned at awkward angles to ogle at the tops of shiny buildings, and that you will work with a socialite at a low-level PR job, and that all the guys look like Jay. Keep on dreamin, friends.


Monday, December 29, 2008

Same Old New Year's

So I'm totally excited for our upcoming New Year's party! Except part of me isn't, at all, because I hate holiday parties, because they never--never--live up to expectations.

Be it Halloween or Valentine's Day, parties that fall on holidays are supposed to be more fun because "It's a holiday OMG!" only that really doesn't change anything and the same people with the same PBR are there and you're still single and maybe the host put up a few decorations from Party City but the excitement surrounding the holiday itself is false and will therefore bring down the party mood. When everyone expects something amazing, it rarely works out that way.

All of which is to say: come! Please! Or have fun doing whatever else you've got planned! But remember that it won't be a New Year's party so much as a convenient excuse to get together and drink (a lot.) Keep your expectations low and your inhibitions lower! After all, isn't that the true spirit of the holidays?


Our Hero

Please view the full gallery of this man's achievement to grow every beard type. It is glorious.


P.S. We're realllly officially on break mode here at the blog. In case you couldn't tell.

For Some Reason...

...I find this hysterical right now.


Classic eBooks

Just stumbled on the best thing ever: for all those books you know you should read but you can never end up parting with the $15 at Borders. They even have The Great Gatsby! Of course, you might go blind from staring at the computer screen before you can finish a virtual version of Ulysses.


Saturday, December 27, 2008

Sparknotes Summary: What's the Deal with Caroline Kennedy?

Hey guys. So Jess and I are usually (at least somewhat) on top of our current events, but in the fog of being reunited and enjoying the holidays, we really haven't been following this whole Caroline Kennedy thing. Sure, we could weed through dozens of blog posts and links to piece together her deal, but perhaps one of our intelligent and generous readers would care to fill us in instead. And maybe some of you guys aren't quite sure what's going on with her anyway! Edify our ignorance and show us the way. We want a Sparknotes summary of: Caroline Kennedy.


"We Back!"

The Maine Thing to Remember

Hey remember that time I went to Maine and said I'd post pictures but never did? Well Eliza finally uploaded our photos, and I'd like to show you a couple of them! Because they are pretty and I have nothing better to do until Jess arrives.

The beach was picturesque but also freezing; I was having a great time, obviously, but the smile was perhaps a little forced.

The whole town looked like a Norman Rockwell painting.

Ogunquit is weird because it's both really patriotic and really gay, two qualities that shouldn't be mutually exclusive but unfortunately often are. I think we should all try to be a little more like the fine people of Ogunquit. You can even gay up the National Anthem--try it!

The garbage cans had virtues printed on them...yeah, I don't know.

My new favorite sweatshirt. It says "Lobstercrombie & Pinch." It is huge and cozy and hilarious. It cost like twenty bucks.

Okay, well, there are a bunch more pictures of Eliza and I posing in front of small-town America, but I'll spare you the rest. Happy awkward-time-between-Christmas-and-New-Year's!


"How are we supposed to write a great rock song if we don't even know what pussy smells like?"

I really want to send this to someone right now but I don't know anyone who likes the Jonas Brothers besides me and my 16 year old sister and she's downstairs on the couch falling asleep to Beverly Hills: 90210 DVDs. So... um, I'm blogging about it. Or at least posting it.



Josh and I are being reunited after 4 months officially... TODAY. I will get to his house sometime around 2pm and we will make the best of dirty Jersey livin' by getting high and going to the mall. And hopefully making a video or two for you guys. Didn't you miss our musical stylings???


Welcome to Mr. G's Room

Thanks to Mazi for getting me addicted to HBO's mockumentary series, Summer Heights High. The same actor plays three different characters: a flamboyant drama teacher, a troubled 8th grade boy and a bitchy 11th grade girl. Hilarity ensues. See the clip below for an introduction to Mr. G, the drama teacher.


Friday, December 26, 2008

Fashion Fight

If I don't win this Diane Von Furstenberg dress on Ebay I'm going to cut a bitch. I'm not even going to link to it because I'm that competitive and serious about it!!!

A Good Excuse to Get Out of the House While Your Grandmother Watches Guiding Light

Hello, it's me, and I'm being disproportionately impacted by an artistic incarnation again, only SURPRISE, this time it's not a book. It's a movie: Danny Boyle's Slumdog Millionaire.

This movie is like peeling a really ripe, beautiful orange with syrupy hands and getting the pulp stuck underneath your fingernails and taking a bite of the sweet/sour fruit and having the juice drip down your chin and sting dry spots on your lips. It is a wholly visceral experience. The cinematography is like if by some miracle Darren Aronofsky and Baz Lurhmann (ugh, minus Australia) had a baby and then that kid became obsessed with both Spike Lee and Bollywood and decided to make a film. There were incredible jump cuts and heavily-spliced montage scenes (I know what those things are now that I took a cinema class!). The acting was inspired. This is definitely Dev Patel's breakout role; he previously starred in Skins, my all-time favorite British teen soap. But this film brings Patel to a whole different level.

The plot revolves around a young man from the slums of Bombay who becomes a contestant on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. Each question he is asked on the game show is used as a catalyst to explore the painful and beautiful memories of his life.

Go pay $12.50 for the best goddamn orange of your life.


Thursday, December 25, 2008

Christmas is for Complaining

My Sister and I Trying To Look Like We Don't Want to Kill Ourselves

So it's Christmas and that means I was woken up at 8am by my horse-obsessed 11 year old cousin and told my outfit was ugly/inappropriate by my Grandmother 3,000 times and then drank my face off so that I was stumbling around in 4 inch heels by 1pm. Every single Christmas I have one of those epiphanies where I realize that everything I've unwrapped can't make up for the fact that the tension between my family members is unbearably palpable and my Grandmother just cannot keep herself from making negative comments about EVERYTHING and no matter how many gifts my mother buys us she will always get a disappointed look on her face when she hears what my step-grandparents have purchased. I live two lives. Last night at my mother's I was smoking cigarettes and drinking vodka and playing Wii and then I went home to my Dad's house and everyone was looking at old documents that my Grandmother brought and talking about our family tree while listening to shitty Christmas carols and I got dirty looks for smelling like smoke. This is how it was in high school. I could say "bitch" in front of my Mom when I was 15 and if I let it slip in front of my father his eyebrows got all scrunchy and his lips got thin like pencil lines. I'm still not really allowed to watch R rated movies at my Dad's house unless no one's around to hear or watch them.

It's not that he's religious, it's just that he's uptight, obscenely so. He wants everything to go perfectly, which is a quality he and I share, but it manifests itself in all its ugly glory when my Grandmother visits. My Grandmother is condescending and judgmental but she is subtle about it so that it takes a well-practiced ear to notice the verbal jabs she takes. It is never "You look ugly!" but instead "You would look a lot prettier if you'd get your hair out of your face. Why do you have to wear it like that?" It is so bad that my Aunt basically detests my Grandmother and treats her like shit to her face -- which has made this Christmas all the more merry! -- my Dad ignores or makes fun of her and my Uncle stays in Minnesota doing god knows what.

The funny and yet horrendously sad part is that my father tries very hard to not be like my Grandmother: to avoid the negative side comments, the judgments, the uptight demeanor. But he is just like her, albeit, a little more jovial and open, but really basically the same. It's frustrating for both of us; I detest him for treating me that way, and he detests himself for being unable to cease treating me that way. My Grandmother has no idea any of this occurs because she has no idea that she is awful! She believes she is the Saint of the family and everyone else is on the fast track to Hell, be it for our lack of commitment to Catholicism or short hemlines (GRAMMY SOMETIMES I WEAR SHIRTS AS DRESSES GET OVER IT) or foul mouths. Everything is offensive or dirty or shameful: my body, my overly active mind, my behaviors, my habits. My Dad knows that my Grandmother is essentially this horrible monster who eats away at your self-confidence (what little I have) until you are basically an empty, sullen shell, and yet he does not stand up for me. She made me cry this morning with one of her many comments about my appearance and all he did was try to comfort me and get me to stop crying. It's so difficult to explain this. I am hypersensitive, true, and still adjusting to being home, but it has taken years for me to get to this breaking point. There were times in high school I honestly thought I would kill my Grandmother because she was so frustrating and cruel without even realizing it. It comes in waves. Some days I can brush it off and laugh, but others I just cannot stand it. It is going to come to a point some time soon where I will just refuse to see her, because it is not worth it to me.

The shittiest part about it is that all I ever want to do is impress her and my Dad. Every single one of my accomplishments has been to prove than I am so much more than the fuck up I felt I was in high school, the girl who cried all the time and wouldn't get out of bed for four days and got caught drinking at 14. Blahblahblah, it's cliched I know but goddammit I just wish I could make them PROUD of me. My Dad is to some extent but I feel like I'm still always disappointing him in some way. If I could just quit smoking. If I could just go to school for Political Science and brush my hair and not be stoned all the time. But honestly I don't think even doing those things would make any difference to my Grandmother. I am a perfectionist but to her I will never ever be perfect; I will never come close.

So heh I guess this is my way of saying Merry Christmas and I love you all and I know your families are probably all just as fucked up as mine if not more so. Aren't the holidays wonderful!?!? :)


Bart, Lisa, and Fa--Nah, That's Too Easy

Have I ever mentioned how much I love The Simpsons? I'll let John Waters help me out. He guest stars on this episode (a dozen years old!) about the family's new, um, "festive" friend.

"Well Homer, I won your respect, and all I had to do was save your life. Now if every gay man could just do the same, you'd be set." Yeah, tell that to the Mormons.


Katy Perry Is Not Homophobic

I've recently fallen in love with Katy Perry. It took me a while to "get" her music, but the other night I finally gave "Hot N Cold" a fair listen, It's great. It's a fantastic pop song about a relatable romantic quandary--the fickle lover. It's catchy, danceable, and the best angry-female driving song since Kelly Clarkson so moved on.

Okay, so maybe the other reason it took me a while to warm up to Katy Perry is because of the whole homophobia argument. Yup, lots of bloggers (I'll link to one in a moment, but a quick Google search yields of hundreds of results) think Katy hates the gays, and therefore we should not enjoy her music. But I think the gay community is overreacting to the sting of Prop 8 and American society's prevalence for painfully slow tolerance of those who aren't "normal." For my part, I just don't see how the singer is homophobic, and let me explain why.

The video for "Hot N Cold" has received criticism for being homophobic, specifically in its depiction of a gay bridesmaid. But...what exactly about him is gay? So he's a dude in a wedding dress; it's not like we haven't seen that before. Is anyone calling Dennis Rodman gay? (Crazy, yes, but not gay.) Furthermore, the guy in Perry's video is holding a tiny dog, which is apparently a sign that he's a "gay joke." Um, what? Since when is clutching cute little pets stereotypically gay? Or is it just a feminine habit that, on a man, presumably becomes a gay joke, because feminine = gay? I'm not buying it. In fact, I think the assumption that the guy's dog is a sign of a gay joke reveals more about the stereotypical beliefs of the critic than Katy Perry's level of tolerance. It's only a gay joke if you're already offended and are looking for more evidence. Why is there a male bridesmaid, then? I don't know...because it's funny? Cute? Maybe the guy is a friend of Perry's and she simply wanted to include him in the shoot. The point is that we don't really know his story, but immediately jumping to the conclusion that it must be a gay joke because he's a guy in girl's clothing seems jump-the-gun-ish to me.

Okay, fine, maybe dude's just a cross-dresser. But Katy Perry hates gay people! She even has a song called "Ur So Gay" that's filled with all sorts of stereotypes. Gay-hater, right?

Well, have you ever said that one of your friends should come out of the closet? Have you ever gossiped with other people that so-and-so is totally gay and isn't fooling anyone? Odds are that you have. But unless the guy in question actually stuck his hand down your pants, you relied on stereotypes to reach the conclusion that he's gay. Because guess what? We all rely on stereotypes sometimes, be they about race, gender, or sexual orientation. In the song "Ur So Gay," Perry's upset that her boyfriend is more concerned with himself (and his Myspace) than with her, a legimitate reason to get angry. And call me a terrible person, but a super-skinny, pale, makeup-wearing, H&M-scarf-donning guy would seem to me. And he'd probablyseem gay to you too. Nowhere in the song does Perry criticize him for supposedly liking men (she admits that he probably doesn't); she's just frustrated that her man doesn't pay much attention to her, believing it would make more sense for him to be secretly homosexual than just a shitty boyfriend. "Ur So Gay" isn't a euphemism for "Ur So Stupid," nor is it an abbreviation for "Ur So Gay And That's A Legitimiate Reason For Me To Hate You." She's just using stereotypes--like we all do--as an outlet for her romantic frustration. Sue her.

And then there's that whole kising-a-girl business. A lot of gays got angry at these lines: "It's not what good girls do / Not how they should behave." But for the daughter of two pastors, kissing a girl isn't a "good" thing to do. It's an unfortunate truth in this country that many still view homosexuality as a sin and a sign of rebellion as opposed to a legitimate sexual orientation. I mean, we need Wanda fucking Sykes to tell us how to appropriately use the word "gay." Do you think we're a very tolerant nation? Katy Perry knows that we aren't, and she's reacting to that. She isn't doing it for attention, though she hopes her boyfriend doesn't get jealous (nowhere in the song does she mention a watching audience). And, in fact, she even says that homosexual desire is "just human nature." True, hearing a million close-minded suburban high schoolers giggle about how lesbianism is naughty isn't the most heartening sound to the LGBT community; hearing them sing that gay desire is human nature, however, sounds a lot better. Because it's true. And as ubiquitous as it has become, Perry wrote "I Kissed A Girl" from a personal place, and kudos to her for not changing her message--or her fantasy--to appease the Top-40 masses. Towards the end of the song she says the kiss is "no big deal," but it's funny how Perry's critics seem to overlook this lyric.

Katy Perry isn't homophobic. Some of her listeners probably are, yes, and view her music as a great outlet to make fun of gays. But it's not Perry's fault that certain intolerant listeneres have corrupted her vision; plus, I think most people understand that she isn't bashing homosexuals when she sings about kissing girls or dresses up her guy friends in wedding dresses. There are plenty of things to change about America's attitude towards gays, but Katy Perry's music isn't one of them, and condemning her work is just barking up the wrong tree.


Merry Christmas!

My Grandmother got inordinately angry at me for taking this picture so now I have to show it to the entire internet to get her back for calling all my dresses too short.

There will be more bitching about her later on, I'm sure. She's already made me cry and it's only noon. YAY CATHOLICZ. Merry Christmas!


Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Greetings from My Dad

My dad just forwarded me this video. It was sent to him by someone named "Marlene."

I know.

Happy holidays, everybody.


I Think I Found My New Years Eve Dress

In case anyone cares! Heh.

I've been really wanting something backless with long sleeves like Blair from Gossip Girl wore in the Thanksgiving episode. (Yes I am officially obsessed with Leighton Meester; it's pathetic but not as pathetic as my previous obsession with Rachel Bilson when she was on The O.C.) Here's her dress:

I'm sure that shit costs like $8904382 and is made by Philip Lim or something so I am going for a cheap alternative courtesy of hipster hem haven Urban Outfitters:

I am not sold on this yet as it is not long sleeve so if you see anything that fits the description please leave a comment or e-mail me! It's always important to me to have a special and gorgeous New Years Eve dress, which is silly because I have never once had a good New Year's Eve except for once junior year of high school but after drinking a shit ton of tequila that night I scarfed down cold pasta and then threw it up at like 6am. Ooooh, the good old days.

Merry Christmas Eve :)


P.S. I love this one. Too bad I don't have three hundred motherfucking dollars to drop on a DRESS.

Happy Holidays Bitchez

For some reason I became orange by the end. Also kind of look toothless in the preview. I should not "Vlog."


From the Facebook of a kid I went to high school with who is currently in Iraq:

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Happy Hanukkah!

Happy Hanukkah, everybody! I know I'm a couple days late. I've been too busy playing around with my new Nikon D40 and drunkenly watching Nick at Nite. Keeping it classy, I know! Feel free to tell us which Hanukkah/Christmas/Solstice gifts you've received in the comments section. Let's revel in materialism and forget about the recession (for like ten minutes.)


My Stepdad is Adorable

My Favorite Songs of 2008

Sam recently made a list of his favorite albums of the past year. I'm not a huge album person; call me Millennial, but one of the joys of my iPod is that I can shuffle between songs whenever I want, and don't have to skip the three boring middle tracks to get to the record's next single (ah, the Walkman era.) That said, here are the songs that made me go "Squeeeee!" this past year. (Note: a couple of these songs may have been leaked or released as singles in 2007, but the albums on which they appeared were not available until this year. Hooray for technicalities!)

10. "Playing with Fire," Lil' Wayne
I like Lil' Wayne, but I don't love him. Then again, I'm not a huge hip-hop fan, so I don't appreciate Weezy's music the way his diehard fans do. That said, this is pure poetry. On an album filled with radio-friendly bravado in songs like "A Milli" and "Got Money," Wayne's vulerability is what sells this song. His voice cracks as he recalls the abuse his mother received during his childhood:

Mama named Cita, I love you Cita,
Remember when your pussy second husband tried to beat ya?
Remember when I went into the kitchen got the cleaver?
He ain't give a fuck, I ain't give a fuckk neither.
He could see the devil, see the devil in my features,
You could smell the ether,
You can see Cita,
You can see the Cita, see the Cita in my features.

It's heartbreaking and strong and when I listen to this song, I get it. I get why people love Lil' Wayne. He can surprise you, which is a commendable achievement in today's cynical music world.

9. "No Redemption Song," Jason Collett
Taking a break from Broken Social Scene, Collett here opts for quieter alt-country, nowhere more effective than on this sweet slice of highway rock. Any song that begins, "Staying stoned on Highway 401" is bound to be a personal favorite, and that trickling guitar that travels up the C scale seals the deal. When I take my own cross-country trip across America, this will be the first song on my playlist.

8. "White Winter Hymnal," Fleet Foxes
Renaissance roundelays may have gone out of style, but Fleet Foxes are bringing them back. This is the perfect track for right now, when my backyard is covered in snow but I'm in my living room curled up in an afghan. If "New Slang" got high, this would be the result. With lyrics as mysterious as they are evocative, harmonies that would make Brian Wilson proud, and glorious chord sequences, Fleet Foxes make me hope it stays wintry forever.

7. "Where He At," Raz Ohara & The Odd Orchestra
Under the radar is indie music; beneath that is Raz Ohara. Settling in like a morning fog, capturing the moment when you're smoking a cigarette and staring out your window while debating whether to call that guy back, the song seems to stagger through its 4-minute-and-change length, dire strings adding to the pathos of a guy who "only takes." Thankfully, Raz and company decided to give something back.

6. "Feminine Effects," Of Montreal
I've already talked about this song, but my praise is worth repeating. It still gives me goosebumps, and the sparse instrumentals contrast nicely with the rest of the band's work, perfectly complementing that tiny fear that you're just "something to be laughed at." But it's impossible to laugh at Kevin Barnes's self-exposure; you just hope that, sometime after this song is over, he sees how wonderful he truly is. (Note: I consider this part of "Skeletal Lamping," even though it's not.)

5. "Love Lockdown," Kanye West
I don't much like Mr. West's latest album; there's too much AutoTune and not enough Kanye. By which I mean, that seemingly contradictory mix of arrogance and vulnerability found in his best stuff. (Then again, I'm not really a fan of AutoTune at all.) But here's an example of Kanye West not rapping but retaining his essence. Ominous beats and lightning-quick piano chords fill the listener with the same dread Kanye feels at having to tell his woman that "I'm not loving you." Plus, you know, it's catchy as hell.

4. "Ready for the Floor," Hot Chip
How many kids do you see at a party simply "carving up the wall," clutching a beer and waiting to get their picture taken? (I'm vain too, but I never ask for it.) Well, Hot Chip wants you to come out on the dance floor and let down your guard. Hot Chip wants to get to know you better. Hot Chip thinks "you're my number one guy." And Hot Chip has crafted the best song from Britain of the year. You don't here the key of B enough in pop music, anyway.

3. "She's Not Me," Madonna
I mean, duhhhh. If you have known me at all this year, you know how much I love this song. It's so campy and fun and totally fuck-you and there are whistles and hand-claps and it probably just quadruples my estrogen levels but I'll be damned if I can listen to this song without dancing. That includes when I walk down a crowded street. Hard Candy should have been more like this, because you can tell Madonna actually enjoyed recorded this song, and I can't necessarily say that for all of the album's tracks. It brings back the seventies without sacrificing Pharrell's studio guidance, but the real magic of this song is that it somehow managed to turn "She's not me" into the refrain of the year, quickly followed by "and she never will be." Fabulous.

2. "Time to Pretend," MGMT
Yeah, whatever, there's a reason these guys got huge. Thirty years from now, when classic-rock podcasts are replaying hits from the aughts, this is going to be on heavy rotation. Does its timeless quality lie in its drug-induced daydreamy lyrics, its harshly shimmering synth lines, or in the sheer fact that given the current economy, lots of people probably want to "make some money, find some models for wives." MGMT totally called the economic metldown, way back in January. Depression never sounded so sweet.

1. "Tú No Eres Para Mi," Fanny Lú
This is Colombia's number one song of the year! And if we welcome its cocaine, maybe we should welcome its musical choices as well. I'm a sucker for pure, feel-good pop, and despite the fact that I have no idea what Fanny's saying (besides the title, which means "You are not for me," a sentiment to which I relate all too well), Fanny sings its so well, to that extent that I think this song could melt the snow off my driveway if I played it loud enough. It's totally catchy, totally cheesy, totally Larry Rudolph, and I really hope this song becomes successful in the US so I can calypso-dance to it with all my friends. If you haven't heard it already, listen to it now. Listen and baile.
(I'm aware that it may be considered disingenuous to select a song released in December of this year as the best of 2008. But that's just how high my hopes are for Fanny; I'm willing to throw her un hueso.)


I Look Like a Tool

Tell you something you don't know, right? Well, people still seem to think I hate the New School and also don't know how to be a journalist. Even though I write for a blog and not a newspaper, and even though we're not just trying to be an online version of the Washington Square News, and even though everything I said in that article is true except the last line (which is only arguably true), and even though I don't pretend to be a reporter because I don't want to be a reporter.

Anyway, here's what the latest insightful commenter has to say about me:

This site has a tendency to hate on issues they are not familiar with, rather than trying to engage people and ask “Why is this happening?”Why can’t journalists, college or professional level reporters, do this? If Josh Becker did that, more New School “students and web surfers would appreciate it and post items, instead, he looks like a tool.

Gosh, I don't know what to say! That was a double-insult, of both me and the entire Web site! Why is this happening???

Well, Jay, the drama at the New School is happening because the New School hates its president, which was the headline of my article that you hated. Also, New School students can't post items on NYULocal, because it's only written by NYU students. (That's why "NYU" is in the site name!) But I guess it doesn't matter, since I'm "part of the reason why media is going down the toilet in this country." Put that in your resumé and smoke it!


Now I Remember

why not having the internet at home is better for me. In Paris I went to sleep at a reasonable hour instead of Stumbling pointlessly until dawn and I didn't get eyeball headaches from staring at the screen.

Maybe my Grandma was right about the internet?


Things I Want For Christmas

This economic depression-twinged holiday season, what I really want is a break on tuition and someone to have sex with whenever to help me forget about how poor I am, but these five frivolous objects will probably just have to do.

Seasons 1 and 2 of Skins on DVD

Instead I will get stories about the Vietnam War and a hangover.


Monday, December 22, 2008

Nothing Typical

I'm rarely optimistic. Carved from a lifetime of superficial gratification but emotional disquiet--never really finding the right group of friends throughout adolescence, coming out at a time when others were declaring love for their prom dates with charm bracelets and away messages, leaving sexual encounters sadder than I entered them--I long ago decided to take the classically pessimist view of life, that if you expect the worse then you can only be pleasantly surprised.

Of course, my mind runs away from me sometimes, and I build things up; from the simplest party to a first date, my imagination paints landscapes I'll never know, scenes and scenarios in which I'm everything I want to be. There's almost always a significant other who never pushes me to fuck him when I'm not in the mood and, absent or with me, tempts my future with sickeningly sweet kisses and platitudes, whispering in my ear from a satin bed sheet in some modern city. And the other things I imagine go perfectly, like sitcom montages, my friends' laughter timed to whatever quirky indie track is stuck in my mind at the moment.

But this is all anticipation and fantasy; when I really begin to think about my future, I never grasp fulfillment. I see myself struggling and going through the motions. I'll sit in a room with my closest friends and depress myself: 'I will know these people for the rest of my life.' And I couldn't have picked better people to know, but this inevitably, this single social thread, my English major that will surely prove absolutely useless in whatever occupational endeavor I attempt, this blog, my inability to lower my standards for the multitude of perfectly acceptable men out there--all these things keep me up at night, as I stare at the ceiling and pretend I'm comfortable. What I mean is: I rarely get excited by my future. I am never eager to dip into the next phase of my life, and excuses come to me more easily than any sort of plan. I'm not suicidal in the slightest, but I've always wondered, when I die, if I would miss anything especially--not people, I'd miss so many people, but other, intangible things, the sort of things that make one wake up in the morning and go to bed early for. So many people my age have already found these x-factors. I'm not passionless, am I?

No. Because, try as I might to suppress the feeling, I cannot help but feel good about this upcoming semester. I worry that I've jinxed myself right there, but it cannot be ignored. I'm eager to start my classes, two of my best friends in the world are back from studying abroad (though many other good friends are leaving, and I tepidly comfort myself with a "less is more" philosophy), I'm going to be in a workshop with a renowned writer who might be able to teach me how to- ha!- break into the business, I'm going to have to get a new job and will not settle for something unappealing, I got a new camera for Hanukkah that is so incredible awesome and I'm going to piss off all my friends by taking pictures of them every three seconds, I will turn 21 in February, I am probably going to start therapy...

...Slow down. There's so much to do. But for once, I'm ready to take on these challenges, to not try to do everything at once but also not just hide in my bed until my life somehow falls into place on its own. Consider this my self-motivation. By the end of this semester, I will be happier than I've ever been before.

This will not stop me from being cynical or unnecessarily snarky and I will still get high and laugh at dumb things, don't worry. But huzzah! Onto the new year, and a new hope. To all my gentile readers, Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah to us Jews! I will not be unrealistic and expect a TOTAL LIFE SHIFT in the course of a few months, but I know I have it in me to improve myself at a little bit, ensuring all the while that this next semester is anything but typical.


Aux Etats-Unis

The weirdest part about being back is that it's not weird at all. The trip was hell, 17 hours of pure travel, so many bags and heavy bottles of wine and cartons of Gauloises and Xanax and sleep-deprivation and shitty plane food. But as soon as I walked out of the gates at JFK and saw my Dad I cried like a baby and kind of didn't stop until I fell asleep last night at 10pm. I cried when I saw NY taxis and signs in English and a Dunkin Donuts and when my Dad spoke to the parking attendant in English. I cried while going over the Verrazano Bridge and crossing into Pennsylvania and I really cried when I saw my dog. And then all of the sudden I was eating Chinese food at the dining room table and my sister was talking about field hockey and I was thinking about how I was tired/wanted to get stoned and then everything was back to normal and Paris never happened and I never before had thought in French or shopped at Monoprix or slept with a British doctor or watched the Eiffel Tower loom while taking the 6 train to school. Suddenly I was home and it was freezing outside and the Christmas tree was in the family room and my Stepmom had bought some more ceramic Santa Clauses in an effort to be "less tacky" (cue: irony) and I was sitting in bed on Facebook and wondering when I could sneak out the back door for a cigarette. And Paris was so far away, 3700 miles to be exact, and I felt like I should have savored my last moments more, even though for the past week and a half I've walked around murmuring "this is my last time on this street," "this is my last time seeing my crepe guy," "this is my last metro ride."

Apparently NYU sent my family a letter home about how to handle students coming back from a trip abroad. When I made an obnoxious comment about how US money makes less sense(/cents! pun!) than the Euro since it's all one color/size, my Dad laughed and said, "NYU told us that you would be a little negative about your home country!" I'm so happy to be back, it's just that I'm not used to it yet, not at all. I didn't know where I was when I woke up this morning and it doesn't help that I have slept in my bedroom at my Dad's house about 15 nights in the past year. It takes time to carve out homes and when you're in college you leave them as soon as you put down the knife. So au revoir, Paris. I will hopefully be back to admire your beautiful men and practice my already-dying French and enjoy a cigarette without getting evil American stares.


Sunday, December 21, 2008

Penn Teller

UPenn was so much fun! Okay at times it was really weird because there was a little drama in that one of our friends (quote-unquote?) separated from the rest of the group to hook up with someone from his high school and didn't see what was shitty about his behavior. And it was really cold, especially when we walked at least a dozen blocks in the freezing cold and I wasn't wearing socks since they were wet and I hadn't had coffee beforehand and everyone else was gratingly chipper and I was just trying to not kill myself.

But forget the bad and remember the good times! We smoked and hung around our host's frat house and ate Chinese food and went to her friend's Christmas party which just turned into all of us dancing to TLC and I hooked up with an Alaskan ("Is Sarah Palin considered normal up there??" I asked him, after more than a couple beers) who ended up missing his flight back home to spend the night with me and when we eventually got to the breakfast place after walking a dozen blocks in the freezing cold I had eggs and bacon and a warm biscuit with butter and it was delicious and I am definitely visiting again next semester, but not until March at the earliest because Philadelphia is a really cold city and I was unprepared for the wintry onslaught. Antwan took pictures at the party; I'll link to them when they're posted.

Now I'm waiting for my mom to pick me up (aww) so I can spend a week at home. I know what I'm getting for Hanukkah but will hold off on telling you all until I actually receive the gift. I don't have weed, which really annoyed me last night--six days at home without weed?--but this morning I woke up and realized that if I was so upset about not smoking weed for less than a week then maybe it's time for me to cut back. With that in mind, I'm not going to attempt to score some green at home because that process inevitably involves driving all around East Brunswick with people I'd rather not deal with. Fortunately, Jess is spending the night at my house later this week, so I'll just make her bring some. Welcome back to America, J-Roy*! I guess I'll just drink heavily. Or (ha) try to enrich myself through literature and culture.


*"J-Roy" was our freshman-year nickname for her, but for some reason it fell out of vogue. Since I'm late to both adopt and dispose of cultural trends, I haven't quite given it up yet. Also there's this really great song called "Paper Planes" you all should check out.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Au Revoir Bitches

My roommate and I just got into one of those ridiculous, stress-induced fights where she inevitably gives me a casual order while cleaning up for our apartment walk-through and I blow up at her because I have been harboring resentment about her negativity the past few days and then we both slam doors and storm about and I stay on the balcony smoking cigarettes and she stays in the bathroom applying makeup and we both don’t speak.

Case and point: moving to another country is hard.

We’ve been here for four months and it feels like years, albeit wonderfully robust years full of wine and some dark beauty. The first month was hell. We couldn’t get our heads on straight, yeah there was no fucking soy milk to be found, and we moved again from the 13th arrondissement to the 6th. Finally, once settled in this tiny loft, we adjusted to not having the internet and to thinking in French and to having a 45 minute metro ride to school every morning and to infrequently talking to our friends back home. We carved out a niche in our neighborhood: I buy my cigarettes at the Rue de Fleurus cafe and do homework at Starbucks on Montparnasse and eat crepes on Boulevard Raspails. For three months this was our home and we made the walks in the rain to the Notre Dame Des Champs metro stop every morning and we found soy milk at Naturalia and we bought clothes at the H&M on Rue de Rennes and we read in the Luxembourg Gardens. As excited as we are to get back to America -- and to the internet, and cell phones that aren’t shitty Nokia ones the US stopped making 3 years ago, and TOFU -- I think we’re also having a little bit of pre-separation anxiety from this gorgeous city we have called home since September. We will have reverse culture shock going back to the US: we will probably stay in front of our computers in bed for at least 48 hours, allowing our parents to dote over us. According to the NYU offices, we will stand frozen in the grocery store cereal aisle attempting to re-adapt to the fact that the only cereals in the world aren’t Special K and Cheerios. We will be those annoying assholes who speak FrEnglish and I will certainly smoke more cigarettes than I did when I left.

But luckily it is Christmas, so all of this can be put off until the New Year, at which point I will be in New York and probably too stoned to care.

I fly to New York TOMORROW, and then I’m spending a few days with my family in Philadelphia for the holidays. See you soon!

- Jess

Friday, December 19, 2008

Penning Down My Thoughts

I'm sitting in my friend's bedroom at a UPenn frat house. (A...coed frat house.) And I'm on the Internet! I'm so cool.

I love going to traditional college campuses, and not in a haughty "Oh these non-New Yorkers are trying their best!" kind of way, either. The concept of the college town, a cluster of businesses and services specifically catering to students, a centralized port of call for the thousands of students at your given American university, fascinates me. I sometimes wish I had something like that, a place that felt like a home for me as a student instead of a premature careerist.

My friend said I just "jumped the hipster shark," so in an effort to salvage whatever's left of my dignity, I'm gonna go talk about...whatever it is the rest of the people here are talking about. I have trouble connect to people IRL! I'm going to a frat-ish party later; we'll see how that goes.


18 is Just Too Fucking Many

I think this should be illegal. I mean, how SELFISH can these people be? We live on an overpopulated planet tipping forever more quickly towards extinction. The US, and now the world, is facing the biggest economic crisis it has ever seen, but these ASSHOLES who refuse to use BIRTH CONTROL have to keep popping out babies (18 in 20 years!). What are they trying to do, build some kind of self-sustaining Utopian farm where their kids can reproduce with each other and create something akin to the world after Jesus' second coming? I mean, I would say this is none of my business, but the fact that they're splashed all over newspapers and giving interviews every time the mother gives birth from her tragically elastic one-size-fits-all vag MAKES it my business. I think they should be prosecuted for reckless endangerment and child labor, because they made these poor kids build the house they live in with their own tiny, delicate hands.

I mean, I don't think we should cap the number of babies at 3, but good God, isn't 10 more than enough???


Thursday, December 18, 2008

"Most Of Us Are Happy I Think"

My friend goes to The New School, where a massive student protest is happening. She was studying inside a campus building.

AIM IM with friend.
11:35 PM
friend: 5th ave is apparently is shut down in front of school
Joshua Becker: omgg
friend: like 100 cuny kids shows up outside
friend: and started to chant
Joshua Becker: LOL (Yes, I'm immature.)
friend: and kids inside 65 5th were debating whether to set off the fire alarms to let people in though a back door
Joshua Becker: kumbayaaaaaaa
Joshua Becker: are u even doing work
friend: not now
friend: i am too distracted
friend: i might head over around midnight
friend: or when i am closer to being done
friend: because i wont be able to come back in
Joshua Becker: wait how long is this supposed to last
11:40 PM
friend: however long it takes
Joshua Becker: to accomplish what
Joshua Becker: making kerrey resign?
friend: maybe
friend: there is a list of things they want
friend: ughh i wish i was done with this shit
Joshua Becker: what else
Joshua Becker: and do you want them?
friend: like choose provost
friend: i forgot the whole list (It's here.)
friend: yeah i do
Joshua Becker: what do you think about all this
Joshua Becker: like...why now
friend: well like finally we are getting our voices heard
Joshua Becker: actually can i put this convo on the blog
friend: like we established a student senate to have a better communication with the university
friend: and basically the university ignores everything
Joshua Becker: are classes suffering for that ignoring?
friend: in a way yeah
friend: becuase they are larger
friend: and we dont have the proper facilities
friend: i mean theyve raised tuiton like $3200 in the past 2 years
friend: but we arent reaping in any of the benefits
friend: all of our tuiton is basically going to build some new fancy 14 story building at 65 5th avenue
Joshua Becker: but aren't large class sizes and rising tuition a problem everywhere in nyc schools? it's a problem here at nyu too
friend: the school literally does not have the space
friend: yeah
friend: and kerreys paycheck is larger than most school presidents
friend: like we are talking john sexton status paycheck
friend: and the whole university is what, like the size of the freshman class at nyu
Joshua Becker: good point.
friend: i think it was the no confidence vote that was the straw that broke the camels back
Joshua Becker: does the administration (or the students for that matter) show any sign of caving?
friend: yeah
friend: people are complaining that they cant leave to go get coffee or wahtever
friend: and some think its stupid
friend: but i actually am really impressed that the students are taking the steps to create change
Joshua Becker: yeah
Joshua Becker: how exactly
friend: these are problems that i have even had with the university as a freshman
Joshua Becker: did the students take over the buildin
friend: i dont know exactly
11:50 PM
friend: they just all came toegther at like 8 pm last night i think
friend: and it kept growing and growing
Joshua Becker: and broke into the graduate studies building?
Joshua Becker: or is this a school-wide thing now
friend: no they didnt break in
friend: like it is called the graduate building
friend: but all schools have classes there
Joshua Becker: so they just didn't leave
Joshua Becker: once inside?
friend: there is a reading room, a lecture hall, cafeteria, admissions office, registrars plus 2 floors of classrooms
friend: i think that is how it worked, like i said, i am not entirely sure of how everything happened
Joshua Becker: are students joyful or unhappy right now?
friend: most of us are happy i think
Joshua Becker: like are their physical efforts catching up with them?
friend: what do you mean their physical efforts?
Joshua Becker: like
Joshua Becker: i imagine this is a taxing, tiring process
Joshua Becker: i guess you just have to have the spirit to keep up the effort
friend: yeah
friend: i heard that once student had full control over the building
friend: they started to blast music
friend: everyone is working together
friend: it is a really uniting thing
friend: i mean, there is kind of like a divide between the schools within the new school
friend: and this whole thing is bringing all of the schools together
friend: so that is a nice outcome
Joshua Becker: that's awesome, i can't imagine something like that happening at nyu
Joshua Becker: well
friend: that could be because nyu is soo large (I was more talking about unity between the vastly disparate schools at all, but my friend makes a good point.)
Joshua Becker: this'll conclude the interview, unless you have any last words for our readers.
friend: haha no i do not ill let you know if i hear things though
Joshua Becker: okay stay strong!


P.S. I don't hate the New School. I think this protest proves my point, at least partially; there was a huge lack of communication between the administration and the students, and things need to change. I understand how important this is, but a little humor never hurt anyone. With that said, if you have any other information, please leave a comment!

UPDATE: A student sent a picture of the "occupied" building, taken from across the street (click for bigger):

Sparks-Breaker, You Got the Best of Me

Well there goes my nighttime energy source. A bunch of lawyers from across the country got MillerCoors to stop selling Sparks and other caffeinated alcoholic beverages. Which sucks, because they were convenient and effective and not nearly as disgusting as Gawker makes them out to seem.

And I'm pissed. If Sparks were actually proven to be dangerous, and lots of people were dying or being sent to the hospital from drinking them, it would make sense to pull them from the shelves. But the concern here is that by infusing these malt beverages with caffeine, MillerCoors is encouraging underage people to drink. But here's a secret, US Law: Teenagers will always find a way to get alcohol. Putting caffeine in these drinks didn't make them more appealing to kids; putting alcohol in them did.

And on whose behalf was this lawsuit filed, anyway? Who actually sued Sparks? And why not just fund better, more responsible alcohol education for minors? Lawyers made tobacco companies stop running TV ads--they didn't tell them to stop selling cigarettes. Maybe the tobacco people just have better lobbyists or something, but cigarettes are way more dangerous than caffeine drinks that are six- or seven-percent alcohol.

A consumer advocacy group leading the fight against Sparks claims that they "encourage binge drinking, injury and sexual assault amongst young people. Because, you know, regular alcohol doesn't lead to any of these things.

Have any more people died from overdosing on Sparks than from noncaffeinated alcoholic beverages? Until someone answers this question, I don't see how this lawsuit makes much sense.


UPDATE: Well, that didn't take long. And I have a hunch this'll be the first Facebook group of its kind to reach its goal. (Click for bigger.)

Love Shaq

I kind of really love Shaquille O'Neal's Twitter, even though we all know Twittering sucks. But there's only so much I can take of that site; what else can Shaq to do keep the LOLz rolling?

What do you know? 'Shaqtus.'


Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Prenatal Twittering, or, Why the Internet Sucks

I hate everything about our culture because of shit like this. Some NYU grad student--a male grad student, because no woman would ever be this stupid or masochistic--came up with a device that transmits "small but detectable voltages" whenever the fetus in his wife's uterus kicks. Because what all pregnant women really want is an electronic device strapped around her stomachs! Why not stop there? Why not let the baby blog from inside the fucking womb?

He says he chose Twitter because not only is it easy to initiate an SMS message to any mobile phone, but it also acts as a data log.



Tick Tock

Hey guys guess what I'm exhausted and feeling pretty crazy HA HA HA HA HEEEEEE.

Why? Because I don't sleep anymore!

Yup, my body apparently decided that it doesn't have to, ya know, go unconscious or anything when I'm lying in bed with my eyes closed. No, NyQuil does not help (any longer.) Nor does weed, because I inevitably stay awake the entire time I'm high (stupid funny things never stop amusing me, in case you couldn't tell), and then I get some sort of second wind and can't fall asleep. Over the past three nights I've probably gotten as many hours of shut-eye. And I'm traveling this weekend (to Pennsylvania, but still) so I need some energy! Does anyone have any suggestions? Chamomile tea doesn't work either, because it just makes me have to get up and pee every hour, because I have the bladder of a 70-year-old.

If you don't have suggestions, can you at least offer me some sympathy? Because that is truly the greatest gift of all. Besides cash. I'm broke. And rambling. HEH HEH HEEEE.



Noooooo! :(


Yes, Yes You Are

Ah, young, gay, in-the-closet love. "Hot In My Parts" should totally be Nelly's comeback single.

Sorry I've been AWOL lately. Finals are making me care about school again--crazy, I know!


Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Je pense que c'est vrai

The #1 reason I will be sad to leave France is here.


Thanks to Sam for the link.


Monday, December 15, 2008

People I Want to Get Married


Something to Make You Laugh This Soul-Crushing Exam Season

Peter Griffin winking at a jailed and cracked out Jesus.

That is all.

Journalism is not dead!

In fact, it just got a whole lot more fucking awesome.

Sadly, due to lack of internet/the fact that I live in fucking Lalaland aka France, I was told of the fact that President Bush got attacked by an Iraqi journalist hurling his own two shoes by the security guard at my school building.

Best. Fucking. Thing. Ever.

Video below.


Ready, Set, PANIC

I wrote this last night and then I did not go to sleep for the entire night. Not even one of those prototypical Sunday sleeplessness experiences where you feel like you did not sleep even though you did, but whereupon I actually did not ever fall asleep and spent six hours staring at the wall and listening to white noise:

I’m having one of those incredibly ironic panic attacks where I need my Xanax really badly but my panicking was actually spurred on by the fact that I somehow lost my Xanax. I think I accidentally left it in the pocket of the chair in front of me on the plane home from Prague. I was so sure I had stowed it away safely in my purse just before getting off the plane but I cannot find it on my desk or in my piles of clothes or in my suitcase. It is definitely lost and the fact that I can’t freak out because I do not have a medical safety net is causing me to motherfucking freak out.

I couldn’t fall asleep earlier tonight because I was thinking about my flight home on Sunday and how scared I am to spend 8 hours suspended mid-air above the Atlantic Ocean. Then my brain wouldn’t turn off so I went searching for my Xanax and thus realized I could not find it. I could not be more serious when saying this: I need my fucking meds to fly. I am fundamentally immune to Tylenol PM and Nyquil because I’ve basically been taking them at least once a week since I was 12. There is nothing in the store strong enough to quell my anxiety the second that plane starts down the runway. I usually take two Xanax and drink a glass of wine and I’m still crying and perpetually on the verge of a full-blown hyperventilation and limited circulation panic attack. Oh! Kind of like now!

I will have to call the French doctor and see if he can somehow prescribe me a controlled substance just because I asked for it. In American-accented French. On the phone. Or I will have to find some way to get my parents to send me a controlled substance through the incredibly slow and unreliable international mail and have it magically on my doorstep by Sunday morning. Or I will be prostituting myself so I can raise money to book a ticket on a transatlantic ship, in which case haha jk about that New York New Years party see you guys in February.


The Worst Facebook Status in the World

Keep in mind that it's 3am. And that he uploaded this from his phone.

This is why New York sucks.


Sunday, December 14, 2008

Once Last Look at the Election

Change! Well, at least they wore different ties.


P.S. I know this is a relatively old video but I just came across it, and I think it's very indicative of our media culture. Maybe this is why print (and, to a lesser extent, televised) journalism is in trouble! Because people are realizing that all the different news outlets essentially say the same thing.