Tuesday, December 27, 2005

hold the whale sperm

today's first shuffle song: "I'm The One" - Descendents, from Everything Sucks

southern california pop-punk, but from actual old-school punks. this song could very well be the template for emo - the lyrics mirror the holy trinity in emo: girl problems, indignation, and self-entitlement. emo is lame but this song is rad.

my first descendents song was "weinerschnitzel" - featured prominently in pump up the volume, which i loved, even though i knew it was retarded, and christian slater's eyebrows are a mere distraction from how utterly assfaced he is.

lyrics in their entirety for "weinerschnitzel" - which is like, what, thirteen seconds long?

"welcome to der weinerschnitzel, may i take your order please?/
yeah, i want: two large cokes, two large fries, chili-cheese dog, large doctor pepper, super deluxe with cheese and tomato/
you want bill sperm with that?/

bill is their drummer's name, so i hope that the back story isn't that he worked at a fast food place and added his own special sauce. i always thought that the lyrics were "do you want whale sperm with that?" i prefer my mis-hearing.

milo, the lead singer, got his doctorate in biosciences, working away while his band took hiatuses. he's the one in glasses. sexy scientist! there used to be a really hot pharmacist at the walgreens in my hometown - he was there when i was in college. when i was home db and i kept looking around at the guys we saw at the mall, at the gas station, at the grocery store, and we were just like, "if we had never left, who the hell would we date here?" zubaz and green leather green bay packers jackets don't really turn me on.

Monday, December 26, 2005

dead pool 2006

i now proudly present my dead pool list for 2006.

i don't wish ill will on anyone. well, on most people. this is merely a prediction. this is not a hit list by any means, and i claim no responsibility for anyone's demise but my own. i don't consider this to be evil, since we all die, after all. i had no real strategy when choosing, but i knew that i had to get some young people in there to garner some points. some choices are obvious and some are wildcards. in no particular order:

robert blake, natasha lyonne, gerald ford, robert evans, courtney love, pete dougherty, liza minelli, liz taylor, suge knight, 50 cent, dmx, phil spector, nicole richie, jerry mathers, richard simmons, little richard, jerry lee lewis, chuck berry, fidel castro, saddam hussein, queen elizabeth, muhammad ali, mel brooks, woody allen, lady bird johnson, edward furlong, martin landau, kirk douglas, jerry lewis, john glenn, dick clark, whitney houston, pinochet, george lopez, boy george, scott weiland, kenneth mcgriff, don ho, andy griffith, kate moss, dick cheney, estelle getty, fats domino, corey haim, corey feldman, anton newcombe, refrigerator perry, wilford brimley, michael j fox, brooke astor

a formal apology to anyone listed above.

xmas and robots

just took a scary-ass cab ride from the train station back to my quiet apartment - roommate still gone, the streets empty. i hate the fact that i have to work this week. my cab ride sucked because the driver was going from zero to forty in half-block increments and then slamming back on the breaks. he was like "sorry i have to go fast - i am supposed to be driving someone else. i got a call to go in the opposite direction." i guess i was just tired because i was like "whatever. don't crash." he said okay, and we didn't.

so xmas is over. the true wonderment and magic of the season just didn't bother with me this year. i didn't send out any cards, and i usually send handwritten letters and mix cds to friends i don't get to see very often. i didn't really want anything this year, probably because now that i am a proper adult i can just buy stuff that i need and anything that i really want (car, condo, doggy, a date that doesn't suck, the end of the charade called the "war on terror") don't really belong on a list for my parents to go fetch. i am thankful for the nice things i received: 400-count sheets, some cash, the fact that they took me to ireland this summer. tb gave me a glass ring that has white-stripes-esque peppermint-candy circles embedded into it, some coffee, and a rad white zippered pouch with clint eastwood in cowboy gear stenciled onto it. db gave me some lipgloss and some black eyeshadow. we had a nice xmas eve and day - went to the basillica in milwaukee, ate too much food, saw my mom's family, played with the doggies. our grandma didn't get us anything this year. she is just as indifferent towards christmas as i am, i guess.

i'm boring myself with this post. i will say that i am proud to announce that i sent in my dead pool list to te and paid my $5 for january. i'll post that momentarily.

db and our dad went to the mall today. the valley of the kings store is, amazingly, still open. db and i happened upon it last year at christmas and busted out the camera to take photos of the craptastic bullshit that the store sells: samurai swords, king tut endtables, black velvet paintings of white tigers, lamps that make waterfall noises and feature panels that rotate so that it appears that the bad painted-on dolphins are swimming. if it is gold-plated, vaguely magical/mystical/lame and looks like something that a life-long stoner would want in his living room to stare at while spacing out, it is in valley of the kings. we talked to the guy that owns it and he was more than happy to pose for photos with db, swords crossed. he got kind of creepy when he excitedly showed us the leatherette wallets emblazoned with "pussy wagon" (willy wonka font - shout out to kill bill), and he was kinda leering in general. we appreciated the photo opportunities, though, and the other patrons (guys in thick glasses with airbrushed wolf sweatshirts) just sort of stared at us as we ooohed and ahhhed over the warlock statues, unicorn coatracks and the like.

so anyway, we went to the mall and i almost bought a pair of fake-gold hoops with the word "jesus" in the middle at the dollar store, but i just felt like that would be kind of mean, and my dad wouldn't have thought that was half as hilarious as i did for the ten seconds that i found them totally amazing, so i didn't buy them. i DID look for "carrie" earrings, though, to complete your sex in the city halloween costume, sp, but no good.

okay, this is super boring, so i will leave you with one of my favorite snl moments ever. i remembered it this morning while our dad was watching a law and order rerun and i said to db, "hey, remember the sam waterson robot insurance commercial?" and we happily googled it so we could watch. god bless the cyberweb and god bless sam waterson. db and i used to watch serial mom on a bi-weekly basis. click here to learn how you can protect yourself for when the metal ones decide to come for you - and they will.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

how DOES it feel?

happy wedding day, elton!

today's first shuffle song on the ipod: "Grey Seal" - Elton John, from Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

first of all, it's no secret that elton did enough coke to be able to write a song directed, seemingly, at a goddamned seal. so, okay, bernie taupin wrote the words, but you know what i'm saying.

"And tell me grey seal/How does it feel/To be so wise/To see through eyes/That only see what's real/Tell me grey seal."

yeah. put down your ball and quit clapping your fins and tell me the secrets of the universe.

i went through an elton john phase in 2003 that was kinda severe. like, listening to his greatest hits double disc every day. all day. mob got me really into him, and i found myself buying up a bunch of his pre-80s stuff. after that he totally lost it - i say that the lion king shit was really the worst, but mob, being 10 years older, remembers that elton was so out of it and broke that he was in a sassoon jeans commercial, singing "sassoon says so much" to the tune of "sad songs say so much" in the early 80s. i think it's tacky when i hear brendan benson's "cold hands, warm heart" or m.i.a.'s "galang" in car commercials, but at least it hasn't come to that.

i lived in an awesome huge row house in dc with some all-time-favorite friends that year and dated a boy that everyone called danimal because, other than being named dan, was 6'5" and crazy (a good crazy . . . for the most part). danimal and i listened to elton john all the time, and i would walk from my house to cd's and listen to elton on my discman. my roommate hk asked me one night, as i cooked a tuna casserole (you can take the girl out of the midwest but . . .) and was listening, yes, to his greatest hits cd, if i was okay, and if she needed to take the cd away from me. she had had enough. i did eventually, too, and there are quite a few of his songs that i cannot tolerate, but i still love that arrogant old queen.

i never did like the song "daniel," though. before, during, and after danimal.

the weather outside is frightful, but blogging is so gd delightful

eb and sf had me over for dinner tonight and eb kindly offered to drive me home, since channel 7 news said that it is 9 degrees out. when we went outside i commented that it felt warmer than 9. i started laughing, "it's a warm 9." "yes, balmy," she agreed. "in fact," i said, "it feels 12."

ab and i went outside to smoke at work this afternoon and she told me that craig's list has a best-of category, which will now be my new favorite website. i typically don't find that i have as much time as everyone else seems to have for reading through cl every day, but i always greatly appreciate the crazyass forwards that people send. my only cl experience was when i was about to leave dc and i had an old pc to get rid of. i couldn't find a reasonable way to recycle it and no non-profits i approached were interested (it was like windows 95, old yellowing plastic, huge monitor), so i threw up a post that if anyone wanted to take it, all they had to do was show up to my apartment at 6:00 pm the next day and haul it away. i got five responses immediately. the guy that ended up taking it was s.a.d. slight frame, greasy long hair, and the filthiest car i have ever seen (outside of ag and my friend kk, who, ironically, had a vaccum cleaner in the backseat of her car for over a year, piled amongst old bottles, papers, and rotting egg mcmuffins). this guy must have been collecting marlboro miles because he had at least 347 empty cigarette packs sitting on top of utter garbage. we had to throw the computer into his equally jam-packed-with-crap trunk, and i bet the computer is still sitting there. anyway, check out the best-of-craig's-list webpage. thanks to ab for that and for giving me a piece of hotdog gum. sadly, while shaped like a hotdog, it was cinnamon flavored.

ag's FY05 boyfriend roger ebert has posted his best movies of 2005 list. sadly, i have only seen 2 of his top 10, and only a handful of the rest of the other notables. GOD. i suck. click here to read. i hope he comes out with a worst-of-the-year list, because that man is a master of the diss. click here for his current (as of august 2005) shittiest-movies-of-all-time list.

vice magazine's website has a hilarious post about how to stalk a guy that you just hooked up with. and not "google him and maybe walk by his office building at lunch" but "i-would-boil-his-daughter's-pet-rabbit-if-it-was-an-option" stalking. now THIS is investigative journalism at its finest. thanks for the link, jk.

the folks at jib jab animated an end-of-the-year bush singalong. click here. db and i were flipping channels last night and came across some gwb impersonator saying, "i'm a uniter, not a divider. really. i don't know how to divide." maybe you had to be there, but it was magical.

so pat robertson is suing my guvner - he is soooooo fucking funny! the chicagoist has the details. i don't understand why you would become a pharmacist if you were so dead-set against science, or failed to understand the difference between "i could end up pregnant" and "i am now pregnant." even i know the difference, and i have the working knowledge of what is probably equivalent to a 7th-grade science education. they need to come up with a better name for the "morning after pill" - it sounds like you do the walk of shame to your medicine cabinet to swallow it down with whatever's left in the vodka bottle, hoping that by the time you're done, the random guy you brought home has located the front door and has stealthily snuck out so you don't have an awkward "uh, see you around" moment.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

posting kitty photos on your blog is so RIGHT NOW

beck is a scientologist, and chances are most of his fans think that’s really weird. article here.

the toronto star heard about this website called pitchfork and seems to not understand that its earnestness is not precious honesty but is actually snotty. canadians are soooo five years ago. i know people that literally only buy albums that have rated a 6.5 or higher on pitchfork. that’s just as lame as the black eyed peas winning a grammy for “let’s get it started.” the more songs they release the more i detest them. that song “my lumps” makes me want to stab myself in the face. anyway, i know i complain, but i will pore through pitchfork's end-of-the-year lists.

three people sent me the link to this. awesome. mr pibb + red vines = crazy delicious. that new snl kid looks like ashton kucher but is not annoying. someone get him a rap deal stat.

check out what diana ross wore to richard pryor’s funeral. i guess she’s in mourning, and she really means it. i know her sister (professionally, we’re not bffs or anything). she is a bit more down-to-earth than diana. but i don’t know, if michael jackson wanted to BECOME me, i might have some issues, too. Click here.

I like the blog d-listed. mean commentary and good photos, and now they spread the good word that meth zombifies you. no meth mouth photos, but the scabs are enough to terrify. check it out here.

i heard that it is below 0 here today. but factoring in windchill is for liars and losers.

my sister is in town from denver, so i have had hardly any time to post the excellent little clips i have been collecting from all across cyberland. no time and little sobriety.

the first time i noticed the new yorker’s use of the diaeresis – it was in the word cooperation, i believe – coöperation – i was like what’s with the umlaut? this article is great because it sort of rounds up the year in magazines and some of the less stellar articles that they ran but it also gives a shout out (via an esquire article that suggested some "highbrow" drinking games) to the new yorker’s pretentious little copy-editing habit. ps don’t ever get drunk with kim jong il, no matter how ronery he is.

the new york times argues that movie attendance is down because everything hollywood has been serving up is bland. english-cuisine khaki-pants new-nickleback-album zzzzz boring. safe. so while the good movies, are, well, still good, there haven’t been any retardedly bad movies. not the kind that tried soooo hard to be amazing and fell so flat that you end up renting it just to see how bad it is precisely (see: gigli, glitter, alexander, showgirls). and we all suffer when there isn’t anything brazenly sucking. as the article states,

Disasters and masterpieces, after all, often arise from the same impulses: extravagant ambition, irrational risk, pure chutzpah, a synergistic blend of vanity, vision and self-delusion. The tiniest miscalculation on the part of the artist - or of the audience - can mean the difference between adulation and derision. So in the realm of creative achievement, the worst is not just the opposite of the best, but also its neighbor. This year has produced plenty of candidates for a Bottom 10 (or 30 or 100) list, but I fear that none of the bad movies are truly worthy of being called the worst. And this may be why so few are worthy of being considered for the best.

nice theory. like, i really liked a lot of the movies i saw this year, but none that i decided have made my place in the world an easier place to be. except for the aristocrats, of course, but that’s more of a pathology than an opinion.

the washington post has an excellent feature on the ringer, the new farrelly brothers movie in which johnny knoxville pretends to be retarded so he can fix the special olympics. i had seen the preview what feels like months and months ago and forgot about it, but the kennedys, mentally retarded people and their families, and hollywood have been perfecting it: sending a realistic and positive message about retarded people while also ensuring that it’s a funny farrelly brothers movie. i’m actually a lot more interested in seeing it now that i know that it’s not just a bunch of cheap jokes about the mentally challenged. speaking of which, jk and i were reminiscing about the dead milkmen recently and he promised to find his copy of “takin retards to the zoo” for me (“head on collision, retards beware!”). if anyone has a live copy of “bitchin camaro/the best thanksgiving ever” please let me know. it is required for the completion of my itunes recreation of a mix tape i made in 1992.

upsetting and fucked up: how kids with webcams (and parents who clearly are not involved with their children's lives) pimp themselves out for all the pedophile freaks that hang out online. the new york times did a huge investigative piece and helped one of the kids approach law enforcement so they could collapse part of the kiddie porn ring. i love when journalism is useful and good. i wanted to be a journalist. other things happened. i prefer having a little blog, to tell you the truth. i don't ever have to PROVE anything, and all of my sources are anonymous, just like judes miller.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

drugs fuck up your body and give you man-hands.

ag kept telling me to try to catch the pam anderson roast on comedy central, but i never did. also, i have become so internet-and-netflix-dependent that i don't think i will ever have to watch tv again and will still be able to see everything worth watching (sooner or later).

so she tracked down some online clips for me. behold:

bea arthur reads from pam's debut novel. you like that, jk, don't you? that kid jokes about bea arthur so often i don't think he's kidding anymore. click here - second box on page. awesome site, btw, you fucking weirdo.

sarah silverman offers world-class digs for both pam and cwhoretny love. i love her discussion on pam's peta work, especially how she is so good at nursing the one-eyed trouser snake back to life. watch here.

train wreck. courtney is, like, bffs with pam, and also claims that she fucked tommy lee. which he - of course - denies. he fucked tara reid, but there's no way he'll cop to having sex with courtney. even courtney admits that no one tells their friends after bagging her. she's . . . well, i would say sad, if she wasn't so ridiculously self-obsessed and delusional. brace yourself and click here.

radars, unicorns and hookers: it's like a star trek convention in here.

it's my floor's holiday party at work. it is embarrassing how much food is in the conference room. i brought a box of dunkin donuts coffee in this morning, and it was gone within 20 minutes. we had a white elephant gift exchange - i won a hideous yellow glass bowl/ platter/ pointless decoration item that my boss genuinely liked, so now it's hers. my department director gave me five scratch-off lotto tickets and i won $2. the only work i have to do today is to write thank-you notes for all of people that hosted us in november. hence, blog, while i try to digest for the rest of my lunch hour.

radar magazine folded. their website not only makes no mention, but is still damn good and totally updated. i subscribed and got two issues in the mail - do i get a refund? gawker, though it enjoyed poking at its glossy rival, is not happy to see its sparring partner die so quickly. i am sad. i hope that they at least keep their website up - it was quick to update, had excellent reporting and great commentary, and really seemed like the best paper news/feature option to be published in a long time. (do YOU read magazines anymore? i subscribe to like seven and i find that by the time i read about something in a paper magazine, someone already discovered, uncovered and dismissed online).

the washington post reports on the new war on prostitution, which finds fundies and feminists working together: rather than arrest the women, the law will go after the pimps and the johns. i bet THAT will work. grossest quote: they interviewed a guy leaving a dc massage parlor (brothel) and he defended himself, saying, "It's like going to a doctor. A love doctor." ewwwww.

rm knows me too well: she sent me this ny times article with the subject line UNICORNS OF THE SEA! i can't tell if narwals are adorable or hideously frightening. i have similar issues when judging men. i find myself strangely attracted: "The whale has eyes, though small ones. It also has a thick layer of blubber and no dorsal fin so it can swim easily under the ice. Like any whale, it must surface periodically to breathe air. And as in dolphins, its mouth is set in a permanent smile."

another great blog's best-of-the-year list, with mp3s. click here.

watch this short film that is a study in feeling embarrassed for other people. this is quite endearing - and excruciating to watch. i love the crowd reactions and when he gets really into the songs.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

brushes with greatness

i went to an italian place in roscoe village with my friend js tonight - it's penny wine night at la mora, meaning that with an entree you get glasses of wine for a cent each (limit two per person, which is too bad). i had salmon with sweet potato fries. when i walked in i saw that js was at the table next to hot doug, who was with an older ladyfriend. it's hard to tell how old hot doug is - he is probably 40, and you can tell that he is an ex-punk with his kool horn-rimmed glasses and friendly talk-to-anyone demeanor, and the decor of hot doug's encased meats emporium is too rad to not belong to a hipster man. i took off my coat and hugged js hello and i said to him, "are you hot doug?" immediately after saying it i realized how ridiculous it would sound if he was not the owner of hot doug's, or, worse, a random guy named doug. he smiled and said yeah and i said "i love your hot dogs!" and sat down at my table, and he was like "i love it when strange girls say that to me," and we all laughed. i believe that he meant strange as in i am a stranger, not as in bizzaro.

go to his website and listen to his theme song (mp3s of rock, techno, and hybrid mixes). click here.

so js and i were catching up and she asked me if i had seen any bands lately. i told her that i really liked the chicago band moxie motive, that tb's friend te is the drummer and that they play the subterranean. the waitress was like "i don't mean to inturrupt, but what band are you talking about?" turns out that she is the lead singer's girlfriend and that she does a lot of their artwork and is working on their website. go to the website and listen to their mp3s. i like this one a lot. it's slower, though - they do rock, and they will be recording soon and putting together a proper release.

it's the smallest little world sometimes.

the cameras DO lie.

my friend bc and his partner recently moved to amsterdam. they have had enough.

he sent me the following series of photos with the subject line Never Underestimate the Power of Makeup.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

the first taste of the apple led to mankind's banishment to the earth (so they say)

today's first shuffle song on the ipod: "The First Taste" - Fiona Apple, from Tidal

this is probably my least favorite fiona apple song. she was 19, it was her debut album, she was allowed to write a crapper. the weak calypso background music - and the odd sing-it-sister-esque breakdown halfway through - are ill-advised at best. "slow like honey" and "pale september" from tidal are pretty boring, too - much too adult-contemporary for my taste. still infinitely better than anything that any other under-20 "musicians" are putting out. i saw you attempt to sing "edge of seventeen" on some awards show, lindsay lohan, and it was so rivetingly bad that i stopped flipping channels and stared. i hate feeling embarrassed for other people.

kims, jims, and some lists

various media outlets - and bloggers - are posting their Best Songs Of 2005 lists. i might do this but feel as if i will be subject to ridicule if i do (read here). not that i care necessarily. i would probably care more if absolutely no one read or commented on my list. i also have opinions on movies, concerts and more!!!! i really do!!!! wait, come back!!!!

this best-of list is fantastic because most of the songs have accompanying mp3s, and for songs that you'll actually want. the onion av club's best of 2005 found here.

metacritic tracks all of the year's reviews and compiles into sort of a cliff's notes or bell curve. it's so random that a kraftwerk album (live, no less) would be in the top ten. somewhere, finally, my college boyfriend is feeling vindicated. click here.

also, the onion av club has a new feature that, if it keeps up at the same level, is awesome. it's called "inventory" and makes the obsessive-list-maker in me giddy with possibility. this week: "five great songs about kims and jims." i need a copy of "kim the waitress" for my long-in-the-compiling re-creation-in-itunes of the mix tape i made in 1994. i am intimately familiar with all five songs and i agree - they are all great. if they had expanded the list to 10, they could have added "kim you bore me to death" by grandaddy, "kim gordon & the arthur doyle hand cream" by sonic youth, eminem's "kim" (in which he fantasizes about murdering her, so maybe its inclusion as "great" is debatable), tool's "jimmy," the clash's "jimmy jazz," tori amos' "toodles mr jim," the white stripes' "saint james infirmary blues," (not really about a man named james) and james blunt's "so long, jimmy." tb and js went to new york last weekend to see the snl dress rehearsal (dane cook host, james blunt musical guest) and they said that the show was inexplicably funny in person and that james blunt is tiny and has a creepy little aura about him.

Monday, December 12, 2005

classy joint

this is my favorite photo from my vegas trip last week. it's from the salon at circus circus.

Sunday, December 11, 2005

christine = not me.

it's been a long time since i have posted my day's first ipod shuffle song. will try harder. not that anyone other than myself cares.

so today's was "Face To Face" - Siouxsie and the Banshees, from The Best Of

let's just say that i used to wear a lot of black. and black liquid eyeliner and brown lipstick and manic panic red wine hair dye. ps i am a pale white girl, what the clinique counter women would call a winter. i can't say that i always made the right fashion choices for myself. and maybe not the right music choices. my college boyfriend was all about bauhaus and skinny puppy and probably thought that it was really romantic to play joy division songs for me. i wasn't really a goth girl, but i had an appreciation for it.

i first got into this song in high school - i taped it off of the madison alternative radio station, 91.7 - it's on a mix tape i made in 1992. that's what kids in sucksville, usa, had to do, pre-internet and only 14 - keep a blank tape in the stereo and run over to press record when you heard the first few notes of songs that you liked. i don't even listen to the radio anymore.

my only real siouxsie association is that my friend ds dated a girl named ec in college. she was a transfer and we knew as soon as we saw her that we would seek her out to be a part of our insular goth-lite philosophy-reading black-nailpolish crowd. big mistake. ec was very smart and beautiful in a rail-thin, six-feet-tall, shorn-black-hair, cleopatra-eyeliner pierced-and-covered-in-tattoos way. she was also a crazy meth freak who came very close to smashing a plate over ds's head in the cafeteria after they broke up. she used to call me "christine, the strawberry girl," after the sioxsie song. not really my name but close enough. the wake also had a single called "christine," and my boyfriend bought it for me, and again, that's not my name. close. the goths just love that spelling apparently. also, i once made out with a very cute boy at a bar in wicker park while the kiss song "christine sixteen" was playing. this was this summer and thus i was not jailbait, so again, close, but not quite.

i'm selfish.

not to be insensitive, but richard pryor was near the top of my list for my in-progress dead pool for 2006, and i was pretty excited about remembering that he was still around and seemed like a good candidate. i told tb about it yesterday and he was like "hey, good one! i ought to put him on mine, too," and he was telling his friend te about it when we were at the bar but te broke the news that he had died that morning. three weeks? he couldn't have waited three weeks?

sorry. rip, richard.

Friday, December 09, 2005

toil toil toil til i get sick/i try reverse but i'm not that quick

i really like this blog - lots of good mp3s. he compiled an excellent holiday cd with all of the songs available to download. i made a decent holiday mix two years ago for my friends and mailed them out with cards and ecf sent me an email that was like "this cd is fucking awful." i love gracious people. be sure to at least check out the ravonettes song, and one of my favorite xmas songs, regardless of who is covering it, is "christmas (baby please come home)" - death cab does a good job. also, "the new year" is my favorite death cab song, even though i am about 92 percent over them. bookmark this site and happy downloading: http://thetestpilot.blogspot.com/

alec baldwin is going to host SNL for a 12th time, making him neck-and-neck with current record-holder steve martin, and bypassing john goodman. (huh - bypass. john goodman. good one). i don't know what makes alec so appealing, especially for all of the reasons to dismiss him as a silly assclown (his family, his weird ongoing fights with his ex-wife, his empty threats to move to canada), but i think he's great. maybe it's the voice. his schwety balls are delicious, so i hear.

this posting, The Field Guide to North American Hipsters, Vol. I, identifies such species as the punk, the emo kid, the pop nerd, the indie fan, and the local scene idiot. should you encounter any of them in the forest, immediately hit shuffle on your ipod and pray to christ that it doesn't queue up kenny roger's "lady." nothing disappoints a hipster more than unironic love for crap music. they will be too weak to attack, but they will talk/lecture you to death.

sam, the ugliest dog in the world, passed away. here is a website dedicated to him. may you find the peace in death that you clearly would have been incapable of finding on earth, due to how insanely fucking hideous you were. he looks like someone lit him on fire and then ran over him with the lawn mower. i love animals, but he was just frightening.

the picture of health: radar interviews a 100-pound burger-king obsessed competitive eating champ.

the ny times lists their 100 notable books of 2005. the best book i read this year was extremely loud and incredibly close. i'm pissed that jonathan safran foer's book didn't even make the top 100 list but curtis sittenfeld's prep was in the top 10. i expected a lot more from ms sittenfeld. she was publishing articles and short fiction when she was in high school, and as a debut novel, i have no idea why everyone thought it was so great. eggers even offered a quote for the book jacket, calling it hilarious. um, no, it was not. it sucked.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

my people love kung fu

my grandma's dad came to america from sarajevo. he was a croat. my grandma has taught me how to make two croatian dishes: stuffed peppers and green bean soup. the key to these dishes - both of which are amazing - is the sauce, which primarily consits of flour, a shitload of paprika, and spoonfulls of bacon fat. we are a hearty people. it's cold there.

i don't understand a lot of the croatian people's history of problems, and i don't really completely follow sarajevo's history, but i do know that i should probably like franz ferdinand more than i do. i saw them at the aragon ballroom last winter and they were just okay. and then they got killed in my homeland, and the great war started, and . . . sorry, that got really dumb.

but here is a heartwarming article that proves that we really just want to find common ground with our neighbors, from popbitch:

Is Bruce Lee answer to the Balkan Question?
The world's first statue of Bruce Lee has been erected in Mostar, Bosnia. Two young politicians this week unveiled the bronze Bruce, in a defensive martial arts pose, in an attempt to unite the factional town. The statue of Bruce faces north, so that Muslims in the eastern part of Mostar and Croats in its western half do not see him as poised for a fight with either of them. Bruce Lee was a folk hero in the Balkans throughout the 1970s and 1980s, and many children in the area are named after him. As the men behind the statue said, "This does not mean that Bruce will unite us... we will always be Muslim, Serbs or Croats... but one thing we all have in common is Bruce Lee."

Wednesday, December 07, 2005


have no fear. i have returned. why is it so cold here? i know that i grew up two hours northwest of my current home, and went to college an hour and a half due north, also on lake michigan, yet i am always surprised when december hits and i want nothing more than eternal bed with my purple thermal blanket and some tea with milk, sugar and hit biscuits. cd visited me last december and he made it clear that he would never again return before spring. since i am back from california, nevada and arizona, i broke out the sheep-wool-lined boots that are actually warmer if you don't wear socks, and my green sparkly leg warmers make walking outside tolerable. the fact that they are awesome doesn't hurt.

thanks to tb, sf and jc for all of the excellent forwards while i was gone. here are some early chrismakah presents for you:

spike jonze directed the best gap commercial ever. which wasn't an acheivement entirely difficult to accomplish, but it's just as great as you'd expect from him. it's too bad that he and karen o split up, because they would have had the weirdest little babies ever. click here to watch.

sometimes you get what you deserve. i hope that this is from a telemundo soap opera. otherwise, i can not imagine where else in the history of television this would have been permissable. click here.

sf has dreams. real, cheese-smothered dreams. one day he would like to open a nacho emporium. we often sit at bars eating inferior nachos and discussing possible combinations: bbq chicken nachos with monterey jack! blue corn tortillas with warm chipotle mustard and tomatoes! sf wants to name his establishment "notcho nachos" - as in, these nachos do not belong to you. that might just be the booze talking, but he found that he is not the only male chicagoan with a serious nacho fetish: http://nachoexpert.blogspot.com/. i can not even venture to guess how he found it.

payback is a bitch. click here.

i read the rolling stone with madge on the cover and i am seriously sick of listening to her self-righteous self-promoting self-obsessed bullshit. i do love the new video, though - miss prissy from rize is in it. watch "hung up" here. but this is awesomely snarky and hilarious: a blogger with a fine eye for detail unveils who esther is copying these days. i guess bea arthur is next, because she's run out of new identities. the shapeless flowing fabrics, the dry wisecracks, the short-yet-fluffy silver hair . . . goddamn that's hot.

since i have an older brother, i was fed a steady diet of violent movies and good music growing up. i balanced my babysitters club and judy blume books with stallone, schwarzenegger, chuck norris, and buddy-cop movies. did you ever see the dead pool? i've seen it at least ten times (but not for at least ten years). it was the last dirty harry movie, and a pre-fame jim carrey plays a rock n roll heroin addict that lip synchs badly to "welcome to the jungle" and guns n roses show up in his funeral scene. that's not the point, though: the point is that you should get in on this dead pool for 2006. ag and i played "hope or pope?" for years - YEARS - because bob and john paul held on forever. all you have to do is come up with 100 names and five bucks a month.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

don't miss me too much.

i'm going away again. for about 10 days. jobby. oakland, pomona, las vegas, phoenix. my mom is meeting up with me in vegas next weekend. she went once in the 70s with my dad - she told me that she was waiting for him near a men's room, wearing her awesome terrycloth halter-top pantsuit, and some hayseed said to his family, "see, i toldja that vegas is fulla hookers. look, there's one right there" and pointed at her. i doubt that this will happen on her second trip, but if it does i will be sure to let you know.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Monday, November 21, 2005

bunch of random crap

the regional kids and the "coasties" (lame term) at uw-madison want to rumble. it's just the classic midwesterners-are-corn-field-hicks and east-coast-or-west-coast-kids-are-spoiled-ass-brats argument, and neither of them are necessarily true. the coastal pains in the ass that they describe are exact replicas of who i see on a daily basis here in lincoln park, and i knew plenty of uncool and unwealthy social retards out east. stop the hate - just drink some cheap booze and hook up, kids - that's what college is for.

this is why i love academia: studying why bad saturday morning tv shows featuring cardboard sets and k-mart clothes is a dangerous medium for proliferating stereotypes and poisoning our culture - an essay entitled "Hey, hey, hey, hey! What is going on here? How Saved By The Bell turned a generation racist, sexist, and classist." thanks for the forward, cd.

i actually really admire kanye for talking about homophobia, especially in the hip-hop world. while he doesn't really step up and tell people to stop being hateful retards, he does admit that he struggles with his own homophobia and is trying to come to terms with it. i can't say that it's really all that admirable that he is finally okay with travelling with his gay interior decorator. that's not really a remarkable stance; plus, why would you take your decorator on the road with you, j-lo? (second item on page).

i'm a big fan of needlepoint and cross-stitch. correction: of COOL needlepoint and cross-stitch. i have been working on this for a year (i only craft in the winter - i'll be bringing it out again soon). it's for my bathroom. click here for some pretty rad celebrity mugshots rendered in thread.

it's old, but it's good: click here for one of the worst videos ever produced. dude is hideous, the song is awful, and i didn't know that in order to be patriotic you had to have horrible fashion sense and cavort with angels. are they angels or winged fairies? why he doesn't ride off into the rainbow on a pegasus is beyond me - probably not in the budget. instead he disappears into explosions of light. which makes me wonder: is he god?

if you thought that was bad, click here for video clips. here is an FAQ about the show, which features a crazy elderly piano teacher's students singing on peoria's public access channel. just watch the first if you can only tolerate one - you'll get the idea.

remember this? dude. interesting that the guy that started it felt a need to sign off and offer a final thought (just like springer).

also: a page of mp3s of remixes of depeche mode's violator. pretty good.

free downloads

the details are sketchy in my head, but causes, the child abuse treatment center that eb is interning at, was chosen by a booking company as its beneficiary for the year, and designated certain shows as fundraisers for the organization. so the ted leo + pharmacists show at the metro two weeks ago was such a fundraiser, and eb handed out info on her org and got to stay for the show. other friends who do not know eb were in attendance, and i asked if they knew that it was a benefit, but they had no idea - they just wanted to go to the show. regardless, causes made a lot of money and eb held onto a card that advertises this deal for me (i couldn't go).

go to www.emusic.com/flower15 to get 50 free songs. it is a subscription service, so you have to enter your credit card, but as soon as you choose your 50, you can cancel. they have a really decent selection, featuring indie bands and things that you might have a harder time finding on itunes or other pay sites. i got pj harvey's dry, the pixies' trompe le monde (both albums that i used to own and, between six moves since college, disappeared), and a whole mess of random songs. i was really happy to find chris connelley's "july," as i am now one song closer to completing my playlist recreation of the mixtape "oh, the utter tomfoolery of the summer of 1998" - yes, i am an obsessive).

also happy about scoring the spoon ep "love ways," which i knew nothing about, the coldplay ep "brothers and sisters," which was basically what they used to get signed, and my morning jacket doing "suspicious minds" (best elvis song ever) at the 9:30 club in dc.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

solitary man

saw Walk The Line on friday. it was excellent. i'm sure you've read reviews that rave about joaquin and reese, and they are right. i loved jamie foxx in Ray, but that movie felt like a made-for-VH1 docudrama. this feels like a real film, and the appearances of elvis, jerry lee lewis, and waylon jennings don't feel like bad imitations (shooter jennings, waylon's hygenically-challenged son, actually plays him in WTL). jamie foxx did a great ray charles, but joaquin was downright eerie as johnny cash - the voice, the stance, the dry humor. and, since i am not a real critic, i can say that it doesn't hurt at all that he is motherfuckin HOTT.

what's also interesting about the movie is that it makes you realize that the myth of johnny cash is a lot more hardscrabble and badass than he actually was, but that doesn't make him any less authentic. he never did serve time at folsom prison, and never shot a man in reno just to watch him die. his life and demeanor were really like the lyrics to "man in black," my favorite johnny cash song - he is pained by how hard life can be, and it is always a struggle to be a good man.

I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down/Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town/I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime/But is there because he's a victim of the times.

also, his love for june was just excruciating, and is the driving force behind the movie. everyone knows that he died of a broken heart in 03, four months after she had. they're both in the video for "hurt," which is probably the best thing that has ever aired on mtv, and it's amazing how matter-of-fact his mortality is portrayed. he's just saying, i'm old, i'm dying, and you will, too, someday.

his dad is played by the T-1000 in Terminator 2, the guy with the ears whose brother is in filter, and he is just as mean in WTL as he is in T2. his mom is played by shelby lynne, one of my favorite Tragic Ladies of Country.

johnny and i have the same birthday. um, different year, though.

watch the trailer here.

watch the "hurt" video here.

Friday, November 18, 2005

jar jar

i found this on a star wars fansite. don't ask why i was there; it's not what you think.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

isn't it weird?*

i am not going to explain myself, or apologize, for liking the band hanson. you know that, somewhere, deep down, buried in the cockles of your tar-black heart, you like shitty music sometimes, too. is hanson a shitty band? yes, but it is sublimely good shitty music.

tc is a good friend. she gets it. she's funny as shit and she likes lame things, too, and isn't ashamed to admit it. i don't know anyone - really, no one - that would agree to go see hanson with me but her. granted, we laughed at the idea, and our tongues were so far in our cheeks that we poked holes, but we bought tickets. we even had a game plan - go eat hot dogs at portillo's after work, go to the house of blues, sit on stools at the ledge on the periphery of the club, get drunk, laugh and enjoy the awesomely bad music. we saw institute together not too long ago at the house of blues and expected the same number of people in attendance, if not fewer. hanson is not what i think to be a popular band. no one my age likes them, or ever has (i have been mocked for years for my hanson album collection). they released their second album in 1999 and i read that it sold 300,000 copies, which is a total and utter failure. i could sell 300,000 copies of a record, and i'm not signed to island/def jam. i was one of those people and i listened to it a lot as i drove through backwoods new hampshire the year i lived there. they were dropped by their label and self-released their new album (which i bought on amazon). they even released a documentary, Strong Enough to Break, about the pain of being dropped and doing it on their own terms and all that - I Am Trying To Break Your Heart it is not. i know someone that works for the chicago film fest and he told me that it had been submitted this summer for possible inclusion. he promptly threw it away. i was under the impression that the kidz don't like hanson; they all want to listen to fall out boy or whatever. i thought that no one liked them but me and tc. we imagined that we would show up to the venue, loll about, go claim some stools, have a sedate and drunken time watching the band chug through their old hits (written when they were like 11), call it a night. i wanted to take special care to observe who was in the audience with us, assuming it would be all girls perhaps our age, and wonder WHY they were there.

not so much. as we approached the house of blues, we saw the line. the innapropriately long, excited line, complete with scalpers and security trying to direct the swarm. it snaked around the corner and was full of high school-aged kids, boys and girls, and some adults (which seemed even weirder to me). there was an ambulance near the door, the way there is when you go see a big-name band. tc noted that it was in case a girl got her period for the first time that night. the club itself was packed. we were SO confused. this was not what we had imagined at all. we found ourselves in the mommy section (aka the bar in the back of the room) and watched as hordes as 14-to-17-year-olds freaked out, texted one another, ran around all giddy, put their new hanson hoodies on over their clothes. i thought i would feel super lame for going, but in a way that was like, "yeah, this IS sad, and i couldn't help but show up for it," not like, "i could be your mother. or your step-mom, at least."

the two opening bands sucked - what four (TERRIBLE NAME) and the pat mcgee band (the poor man's goo goo dolls - and i mean "iris"-era goo goo dolls). pat mcgee told a very telling story, about how last night he arrived to midway super late, as in when he needed to be getting ready to go on stage, and had to run through the airport, but complimented us on our el system and how fast it is - DUDE, you had to take the el to your own show? no one was there to pick you up? you can't afford a cab? tragic. so tc and i slammed some vodka cranberries and watched in horror as an obviously drunk (for the first time) girl in a camisole and heels fell over and rolled around laughing. if you ever think about having children, go spend an evening in the company of 2,000 high schoolers, and then go get your tubes tied.

so the curtain separated . . . and, umm . . . hanson . . . was playing . . . "optimistic" . . . by radiohead . . . from Kid A . . . holy christ, the crowd confused me enough, and now this? what the FUCK? it was so goddamned surreal. it was a more, err, harmonized and upbeat version of "optimistic," but . . . errrrr . . .

so i wont bother posting a set list, because you wont care anyway. they did do covers of bill wither's "ain't no sunshine," one of the best songs of all time, and they did an okay blue-eyed soul version, as well as a doobie brother's song (which i had heard before but i don't know what it's called, since i don't like shitty music - wink), and closed (with the pat mcgee band - ick) with "sweet home chicago." they did an acoustic "mmmbop" and sang a lot of songs off of all three of their albums. it was a good show. i was annoyed by the hunchbacked 25-year-old who looked 40 and went alone but came to make friends in the mommy section, as she kept yelling shit about how hot hanson is and how she wants to fuck them and how great their asses are and all sorts of other creepy seemingly-pedophiliac things. but i'm glad i went. i have liked them since they first came out, a sweet little christian family band of three pre-pubescent girl-lookin kids, and i keep telling people that SOMEDAY they will surprise everyone with how good they actually are. at this point i am surprised - not that they are any good, but that other people know this, too. and they're all 10 years younger than me.

* title would be taken from a song on their first album. featuring the most introspective lyrics ever penned by an 11-year-old: "Isn't it strange how we all feel a little bit weird sometimes?"

if you don't want to be my friend anymore, i understand.

stuff to read

john cusack wrote a thoughtful and articulate post on arianna huffington's blog on the state of our administration and gave shout-outs to jon stewart, hunter s thompson and martin luther king, jr. just one more reason to love him.

also, pete townsend has a blogspot blog. he's a grouchy old jerk, but in a loveable way. he appears to be writing a shitty novel and posting it chapter-by-chapter.

this website scares me - don't click around too much. i can smell their paranoia through my laptop. they are REAL americans - the kind that have bunkers and stockpiled weapons and join militias because they know that the government is monitoring them and that THE DAY is coming. anyway, they break down how the illuminati is controlling us when we watch the wizard of oz.

katie holmes actually traded up?

wow. she sure knows how to pick em. chris klein is a TOTAL DOUCHE.

i didn't know that starring in Rollerball gave you a life-long pass to act like a woman-hating delusional assclown.

read here. thanks to rb for the forward.

ps he ugly.

like i needed another way to procrastinate

the suicide girls website has interviews, not just punk and indie girls' boobs. i'm actually really excited by the loooooong list of rad people that they've spoken with, and the interviews are short and free of smarm. egg-cellent.

click here for the sarah silverman interview. i really like her, and i liked Jesus Is Magic, but i wish i hadn't read so many articles and interviews with her before i saw it, because i read every great joke before i heard them in the movie. this new yorker article is great, and investigates the fall-out (including a possible lawsuit) from the aristocrats. see JIM and then read.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

a smoker's rant

okay, so i am a smoker. i have been an every-day smoker for . . . oh god, it is so appalling to say it, but ten years. going on eleven. ouch. literally and figuratively. i quit for a summer - the summer of 2002, actually, when i popped zyban, which worked - i didn't want to smoke because i didn't want to do anything, which included working, eating, talking, or caring. don't give an anti-depressant to someone who isn't depressed. it takes all of your moods - good and bad - and irons them out flat. i missed smoking, i missed drinking (couldn't on the meds) and i frankly missed myself. so i bought a pack on september 10, 2002, knowing full well that the next day would be spent sucking down camel lights in quiet introspection, and that is where i have stayed. i am a lot more poor than i would be if i had never started, and i would most likely be healthier (though i feel too young to really notice yet) and i bet i would smell better (not that i smell, unless i've been out to the bar, thanks). i never would have fractured my ribs in college (from coughing, due to smoking while having bronchitis. yes, it is possible). i wouldn't be slowly but surely breaking my mom's heart if i hadn't started smoking. but i did, and i haven't stopped yet.

i am torn about this. yes, I KNOW it's bad for me and it'll probably kill me (i like to point out that no one will say "she shouldn't have smoked" when i get hit by a chicago city bus or, more likely, catch avian flu). yes, I HATE the tobacco industry. no, I DON'T want to bum you a cigarette (but i always do). what can i say? shabby excuses, i'm still a smoker.

but this website pisses me off. "my rights as a smoker," sponsored by rj reynolds. nice evil corporate last-ditch effort to retain smokers: appeal to the NRA nut in all of us (my tinfoil hat is picking up the signal that you want to control my life). sure, you have rights: the right to smoke if you want to. but not the right to smoke wherever you want to. is it a drag to have to step outside for your smoke because of bans in bars and restaurants? when it's cold, sure. but shut up. rooms smell better when there isn't smoke in them. non-smokers hate cigarette smoke (and i hate pipe and cigar smoke). complain that it has never been proven that second-hand smoke causes cancer, but you can't rule it out, and, let's face it, it's a pretty logical conclusion. they have linked second-hand smoke to lots of bad things, especially in children (SIDS and asthma for starters. which reminds me, i have a really horrific joke for you that sf heard on the radio - Q: what's a foot long and makes women scream? A: crib death. that's just terrible). you don't complain that you can't light up at your desk, in the grocery store, or at the movies, do you? you can still smoke in your car, in your house, or, like me, on your back porch. if you have kids, you should probably stick to the back porch. i'm not thrilled with cities that try to ban smoking on sidewalks and such, but sometimes it makes sense - like in front of a school or near a building's entrance. they're not trying to PUNISH smokers, they're just trying to protect non-smokers, and that's fine.

as a drinker, you have rights, and with those rights come responsibilities (to not drive under the influence, to not be drunk at work, to not be a loud jackass in the alley outside my apartment when i'm trying to sleep). being a smoker has responsibilities, too - different ones (like not forcing your smoke on someone else) - but it's more about being a rational and nice person than screaming about how you have rights.

they have a point about the taxes, though. i can get a pack in some states for around three bucks; i pay about $5.75 in chicago. mad tears for the first pack i ever bought: $1.19 marlboro lights when i was 14.

from the website:

Illinois's excise tax per pack of cigarettes: $0.980
Illinois's excise tax collection for the fiscal year ending June 2004: $744,402,000
Sales tax on tobacco products: 6.25%
Tobacco products sales tax collection for the fiscal year ending June 2004: $189,078,000
Local tax on tobacco products: $94,252,187
Federal excise tax per pack of cigarettes: $0.39
Total federal excise tax collections in fiscal year 2004: $7,778,569,117
Number of six-packs of beer that must be sold in Illinois to produce the same state excise tax revenue generated by one carton of cigarettes: 94.2
Number of bottles of wine that must be sold in Illinois to produce the same state excise tax revenue generated by one carton of cigarettes: 67.8

but no one has the right to be preachy and self-righteous (especially ex-smokers). i am still pissed about the man that walked up to me, three kids in tow, as i smoked outside of the sucksville mall during my break from the record store when i was in college: he marched up and said/yelled, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself! smoking will kill you!" i'm sure that he was trying to make a point for his kids, but learning by asshole example is no way to raise children. i just looked at him and said, "really? i've never heard that before." he gave me a dirty look and went inside.

ps i took these photos in ireland this summer. i would say that our surgeon general is a pussy in comparison for his lame warnings on american cigarette packs, but i heard him speak last april and he is actually a total badass - former street kid high-school drop-out purple-heart vietnam vet. you should read about him - i seriously loved him.

i don't say no to "free"

this is going to sound really strange, but trust me.

remember that song "flagpole sitta" by harvey danger? late 90s? one-hit wonders? no? that's okay.

go to their website and download their new album. they say that if you want to help them out you can buy a copy or you can make a small donation on their website. that's it. no questions asked. i had read in various music magazines and websites that they had a new album (and i just thought "uh, okay.") but reviews have said that it's good (pitchfork even gave it a 6.9 - i was surprised to see it on there, mostly because my only memory of this band is the number of their albums we sold to middle schoolers when i was working at a lame mall record chain during college, so "harvey danger" sort of equals "eve 6" in my head).

so i downloaded it today and i was pleasantly surprised. i like it. it has horns and piano and guitars and it's sort of derivative of every 90s band that you've ever liked, but sometimes that's enough. actually, listening to this album made me miss possum dixon.

say hello to my little poster

this is what i'm getting tb for xmas. (he told me to get it for him, i'm not ruining the surprise by posting it here). if you look closely (go to the website), the image is comprised of the entirety of the scarface script, handwritten and totally legible. rad.

the other art offered on the website - not so much.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

i have a cold.

today's first shuffle song: "No Surprises" - Radiohead, from OK Computer

i don't know how you can't love this album. i just don't.

this photo has nothing to do with anything other than i like it.

cornucopia of randomness

here: the history and socio-psychological unveilings of mounting a stuffed animal to the grille of your truck.

here: if you buy my house, i will marry you. surprisingly, she is attractive, and her house is nice. unsurprisingly, she is also apparently bat-shit crazy.

here: david lynch webcasts a message every morning from his home in la. he tells you what the weather is like.

worst joke i have probably ever heard, for a variety of reasons, not the least being because i dread my impending avian flu and subsequent death:

Doctor says to patient: "I have some bad news about the bird flu you have caught."
Patient: "Oh, no. What is it doc?"
Doc says: "It's unTweetable."

here: do you think pat robertson is insane enough to maybe stage a huge disaster in dover, pa, just to be able to say "i told you so"? all fingers point to him if there are ever any mishaps. i think the real question, pat, isn't if dover voted god out of their town, but if they have disturbed the mighty force of the flying spaghetti monster. i fear his noodly appendage smiting us all.

here: that slutbag jessica cutler is up to it again. she gives new meaning to the term "media whore." keep your boob in your shirt, for the last time. we already saw you in playboy. errr, wait, we saw you on playboy's website - you didn't even make the paper edition. everyone needs to quit giving her writing jobs, and someone needs to punch her in the face for being such a whiny coked-up brat.

i'll probably read one of these. haven't decided which yet, though.

similarities: both under-thirty biracial women who have acclaim in their respective fields and have published novels recently, and the new york times and washington post and other highly-respected media are covering and reviewing their works.

one happens to be british, is both a best-selling author and the darling of literary circles, and salman rushdie provided a quote for her debut’s book jacket. the other is a hollywood child-of-the-famous sad little rich girl ex-addict “reality”-tv star. when i said that they were both acclaimed, i meant that one of them is the radcliffe fellow at harvard and the other one . . . well, i think us weekly and in touch are always gushing about how great she looks as a 70-pounder.

the times explains nicole’s foray into, ahem, writing, and offers a cute diss:

In this thinly veiled roman à clef, which Ms. Richie said she wrote herself, more than a few characters bear a startling resemblance to people in her real life. Parker, she admitted, is based on her before her stint in rehab for a heroin addiction, and DJ Ray on her fiancé, Adam Goldberg (known professionally as DJ AM), right down to the gastric bypass surgery. There is even a character called Nicole Richie. (Step aside, Jonathan Safran Foer.)

the post manages to talk to zadie without asking about where she got her shoes. weird.

i saw zadie read at olsson’s books in dc (the same store mentioned in the article) when she was on her white teeth book tour in 2000. she was sweet, talking to everyone that bought her book and stood in line. she wrote top-five lists in everyone’s books (omg, we could soooo be friends). the girl in front of me had her dedicate the book “to sushi,” so she got giddy and said “oooh, a new one!!!” and wrote her list in my book:

Top 5 Sushi Choices according 2 me
1. Tuna
2. Salmon
3. Octopus
4. Clam
5. Eel

so now you know what to order next time you get together for dinner.

Monday, November 14, 2005

when the marginally famous have internet connections, time to spare

tom green has a blog. he posted his home phone number on it and wants you to call him. why did drew leave him?

i must say that freddy got fingered was either completely repulsively idiotic and left me partially mentally retarded for two weeks after watching it, though i did enjoy it, or else it was so amazingly ahead of its time that one day my children will speak in hushed reverence about his masterpiece of surrealism. i haven't decided yet.

it's remarkable how deftly that movie murdered his career. now he sets up a webcam and prays that pauly shore will return his calls.

ag's FY05 boyfriend - aka king of the diss, and the screenwriter of the best movie ever - wrote a sublimely mean review of fgf.

one of my favorite people is my friend freddie. he's the demented little brother i never had. i have never fingered him.

oh, and peter gallagher has a myspace page featuring a stream of his album.

thanks for the disturbing forwards, tb.

purely subjective, you realize.

i've been seeing a lot of "worst record album covers ever" websites lately. JOYCE is always on there - that's not a new one, even my retard ex has it posted as one of his friendster photos. or at least he did, back in the day. pitchfork has a pretty extensive feature (forwarded to me by jk - thanks jk!) and focuses on more obscure indie releases, while this website, which i was directed to off of the rock snob website (which mob sent me - thanks mob!), has a lot of old-school records that look TRULY indie (like, maybe the band played their church basement twice) if not self-released.

if you really loved me you would track the Satan Is Real album down for me so i can hang it next to my framed copy of the Music For Pussycats . . . And You Know Who You Are LP.

i happen to really like these two examples. german shepherd/reindeer wearing a lei and unicorns. did you know that unicorns vomit rainbows when they're getting fucked? unless that's a zebra with a horn. i couldn't really say.

Sunday, November 13, 2005


cd sent me this with the subject "these kids have the coolest parents ever."

Thursday, November 10, 2005

ok go buy their new album

so where have i been? west virginia, virginia, dc and ohio, of course.

saw ok go tonight at schuba's. i have subscribed to jane magazine since it began in like 96 (i was a complete sassy devotee in high school and, after it folded, jane pratt began her exercise in narcissism shortly after), and my interest in it has completely waned, but tonight totally made up for the $10 i pay a year. i received an invite in the mail a few weeks ago for me to come to a jane- and lacoste-sponsored show, and i have been listening to the new ok go album a lot lately, and they mentioned something about free drinks, and i happily called in my rsvp plus three.

the opening band was tiny steps, from detroit. they were sunshiny indie pop and i liked them enough to give the guitarist $5 after they played for one of their cds. he was very gracious and sweet, introducing himself and thanking me. i'll have to see if their album is any good.

ok go's aesthetic is pretty great - the background for the stage is a bunch of slides showing awesomely bad 70s fabrics and prints, and they are dapper dressers - tight pants, ugly shirts, mismatched ties, narrow shoes, sparkly broaches. style over substance maybe, but their songs are rockin power pop that is actually really fun to watch. the lead singer is one charismatic motherfucker and something of an attention whore - totally pretty, good singer, likes to talk to the audience. tc was annoyed with his bedroom eyes and hott sneer - it's sexy when that just so happens to be how someone sings, but he looks like he practices it in the mirror. despite that, he IS pretty (and he would agree). they covered the violent femme's "prove my love" - which featured him running out into the audience to just shout the chorus. all the girls in the audience (and since this was a jane-sponsored event, that would be 90 percent) could not stop screaming. i heard a lot of retard "his ass is so hot" comments, and yeah, it was, but i honestly think that they're a fun band, and would happily go see them even if they all looked like the bass player. tb and his ladyfriend js came with us, and he smiled and said "the girls sure like em" which translates into "they're a GIRL band," but he liked them anyway.

they played most of the new album, a few songs from their first (i still love "get over it") and they claimed that they hate encores (of course, the singer can't just say it, he has to talk for about three minutes about how his sister saw depeche mode when she was in high school, and they had played like 12 encores, probably because, she thought, they were the best audience ever, but they did that every night of their tour, and he thinks that it's degrading to have to scream and clap for the band to come back, so they don't do encores, but . . .) and then they did their rad-as-shit choreographed dance to "a million ways," which left everyone screaming and laughing. it was awesome. mad props.

best free show ever. well, no, second-best (first would be coldplay at the beacon). i hate corporate sponsorship of art, but if it means i get to see a band for free (plus free booze), i'll take it.

Monday, October 31, 2005


okay, i'm going away for work for a while. be back in like 10 days.

cover bands are, by and large, sad.

today's first shuffle song: "Go Your Own Way" - Seaweed, from the Clerks soundtrack

yeah, i don't know who seaweed is, either. clerks actually doesn't hold up very well - i used to think it was like the very definition of rollicking hilarity, but sf and i watched it not too long ago and i found it to be annoying, and the acting is awful. this is a cover of the fleetwood mac song that everyone knows. the soundtrack, which i have owned since high school, also has the song "chewbacca," by some band called super nova, which i love - "chewbacca! chewy! what a wookie!"

fleetwood mac - the last time i heard a cover of their songs, other than today, was not too long ago, when i was in orlando for work. my company rented out a hotel bar and hired a band and there was a dj that spun some disco and dance music when the band was setting up and in between sets. when the dj was spinning people were on the floor, but when the band played, people hung back and drank and grazed at the buffet. i think it has a lot to do with the fact that no one really knows how to dance to "edge of seventeen" (just like a white-winged dove, sings a song, sounds like she's singing whoo whoo whoo) except for stevie nicks, and everyone knows that she breathed coke for two decades straight. seriously, they knew exactly what to play to clear the floor. no one dances to "are you gonna go my way?" - they just don't.

so at one point when the band was on a break, i was outside smoking with some co-workers and the bassist was outside, too, and the singer, who was wearing a corset, came out and said to him, "i can't wait until 11 when they open the doors because these people are BORING." bitch, i can hear you, i'm standing right here. perhaps you should re-evaluate your band - playing covers at an orlando hotel bar on saturday nights - and understand that you just made a shitload more money playing a business function than you would have had it just been the same depressing orlando townies that, again, go to hotel bars on saturday nights. because when they opened the doors at 11, i saw them. and promptly left.