I thought I was free. I thought the show went down the crapper, and I wouldn't be spending another season calling my best friend at every commercial to bitch about how much we hated so-and-so or worshipping Todd Glass. I quit the livejournal community, I threw out my personal stand-up notepad, I stopped freaking out every time Gary Gulman or Rich Vos passed through Providence. How did I not know they shared a producer with Project Runway? The addiction tastes the same.
Roooooar! I am the cookie monster!
Ahem. I'm geeking out about this show being back on the air. I know the person who isn't supposed to win always wins, but it's the journey I love. I'm big on comedians. The boy and I had our first magic moment when we realized we could both quote Mitch Hedburg verbatim.
Check out the judges this season!
How stoked am I? More stoked than when I bumped into Cory Kahaney in New York City. She was buying a case of cigarettes. True story!
If I end up making this a weekly occurence, it will be less picture-heavy than Project Runway and more analytical. But not in a creepy Dat Phan chart-making kind of way.
Glee!
Saturday, May 27, 2006
I LIKE ATTENTION: THAT'S WHY I WROTE THE ATTENTION SONG.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Oh yeah, and I don't like American Idol, either.
I don't have any exciting news. I'm just writing so I'm not tempted to watch the season finale of LOST. The boy is obsessed. Not in the totally extreme, taping-every-episode and watching-with-a-notepad kind of way, but in the watches-every-episode, goes-over-theories-in-commercial-breaks kind of way. I've watched for the past two weeks with him. This week, I didn't invite him over on Wednesday. Because the damn show stresses me out. As tempting as the twists and turns may be, I can't stand two hours of build-up that never gets resolved.
Seriously! Why do I want to watch the adorable fat guy's struggling girlfriend get shot up with heroin, mutter her murderer's name and die? I understand, the intrigue, the mystery, ooooo. However, I was sincerely depressed about it the next day. Of course within the story it was sad that Libby died, but more personally, I was bummed that I couldn't get away with ogling Michelle Rodriguez instead of following the plot.
At least Ana Lucia was already dead on the inside.
What crap is it that Michael just-so-happened to shoot the two characters whose actresses recently had their drunken mugshots on the internet?
And Michael! I'm already sick of his melodramatic storyline.
Of course, they're all melodramatic bu-
...wait a minute. Get out of the way, Michael, who is that behind you?
Hello there Alex, also known as Tania Raymonde, also known as my new reason to watch the show. Can you believe it's that nerdy little girl from Malcolm in the Middle, all growed up? Maybe I'll go catch the second hour to see if she makes an appearance. Don't worry, the boy knows I'm an avid lady ogler.
If you're sick of me ogling girls and complaining about tv shows, you can go read about how awesome my state is.
Great news, but it doesn't affect me much- I got comprehensive sex ed at church camp. I actually heard about this a little while ago, but Feministing made a note of it today, and I felt the urge to brag. Rhode Island is, in fact, cooler than you.
Monday, May 22, 2006
In Which My Friends Are AMAZING
I love being surronded by such inspiring humans.
Some girls that I love are doing good deeds in a fabulous way: raising money for kids in Africa by hosting a big show for local artists and bands this weekend.
You can check out their beautiful website. If you're not of Rhode Island (as many people are not), don't fret, I'll be taking plenty of pictures.
Later, babies.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
In Which I Question The White Hollywood Machine
Ok. I wasn't sure if I ought to post this in "Congrats" or here. It's not really anyone being an asshole- it's more so a face-into-palm, you-can't-be-thinking-clearly situation.
Looking for creative ways to waste my time, I played this game a few days ago. I'm not promoting the game- it's a Nickelodeon game, who apparently think kids are too stupid to do more than play one level, so they made essentially the same level with ten different themes. The thing is, it's based on their new show, "Genie on the House", which I couldn't find much internet information about. Why was I looking up a kid's show no one (my age, at least) has yet heard of? Because I care.
If you clink that link, you'll be greeted with this image:
Now, you may be wondering why "Adil" looks like someone photoshopped his face to match his shirt. If you look at his hand, it's not hard to tell that his skin has been tampered with. This was not the image that appeared when I first played the game. You can see what the kid is supposed to look like in this tiny picture, the only one that comes up when you search for "Genie in the House":
It seems someone has painted the young white actor playing the genie a light brown. I guess this only struck them as insensitive a few days after they released an online game about it. I was hoping, in vain, that it was his natural skin tone, and only looked like brownface due to lighting or something. The touch-up just added to my worries. They can filter out their bad idea on the internet, but what are they going to do with the show? Digitally edit every scene? Claim it's a natural tan?
Look, if you're going to do a kid's show about genies- and first of all, why are you doing a kid's show about genies? As if genies haven't been done a million times, there's already a popular show on Nickelodeon about kids getting wishes.
Now let's pretend having a show with a genie is still an original idea. Why oh why would one put a teen actor into that puffy, creepy, old-timey, stereotypical genie outfit? Thankfully they omitted the typical pointy ears and bizarre ponytail, why not just totally westernize him and throw him in jeans and a t-shirt? You could give him wild green hair or something to identify him as "supernatural".
Of course, most importantly, if you're really committed to that classic Western image of the ornately dressed Arabian genie, why not get an actor of Middle Eastern descent? They do exist, and would probably be delighted to get a role on a widely viewed television station. If you've been watching TV lately (or, well, ever) you might noticed the dearth of Middle Eastern (and Indian, and Asian, and Native American, and etcetera) performers in major roles. Unless, of course, they did try that, and every single kid walked out in horror when introduced to the creepy outdated genie costume he would have to wear. So they hired a white teen actor, and by paint or by lamps, changed his skin. I guess the minds at Nickelodeon thought kids are also too stupid to tell the difference.
edit: Genius as I am, I neglected to click the "Nick" logo above the game and figure out that this is currently only airing in the UK. I'm no less worried- aren't they supposed to be smarter than us?
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Lisa Loeb wants no scrubs.
A friend with mutual swooning tendencies when it comes to the lovely Ms. Loeb pointed me in the direction of this late night talk show performance. Oh, wistful sigh, Lisa Loeb was my first celebrity girl-crush, and I love when the special place in my heart devoted to her (quite near the special place for Oscar Wilde, and alongside others for Alan Cumming and Sarah Silverman- the "long-standing nerdy crush" section of my heart) is warmed by little reminders- "Stay" comes on the radio at work, I catch an ad for her reality show, a friend sends me a video of her covering TLC (who, coincidentally, did their own part in causing young, queer swooniness)...
If you're not as enraptured by Lisa Loeb as my friend and I, you'll have to wait out the first song to get to the cover. But, come on! How can you not enjoy it? She's adorable.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Geek Gone Wilde
Can I give quick props to Rich of FourFour for referring to Oscar Wilde during his ANTM piece this week? As if Rich needs props from li'l old me, but it really made my day. I know I only mentioned it in passing, but I have a special place in my heart for Oscar Wilde. Sure, I "like" Virginia Woolf and Samuel Beckett, in that I own a few works of theirs, but that's half for intellectual street cred. I haven't even gotten through a third of Orlando- too damn long! Oscar Wilde, however, graces my bulging shelves only once- with a hardcover collection of his complete works. I don't read Oscar Wilde to sound like a good little English major. I read Oscar Wilde with extreme affection. Excuse me while I geek out:
Could this mention in FourFour mark a new trend among blogs? Bitching about Tom Cruise out, quoting Oscar Wilde in! Just kidding, bitching about Tom Cruise will never be out. What would D. Wils do if her arch nemesis fell from the public eye? Besides perhaps hold a party. Actually, I hope this switch comes to pass, I could go for some cake. Keep an eye out for further Oscar Wildeisms in the blogosphere, my friends.
...did I just use the word "blogosphere"?
Friday, May 12, 2006
So, what have I been up to this week?
Oh, the average bohemian this-is-a-new-stage-of-my-life rituals before the summer job grabs me by the throat and drains my will to live. Or at least, my will to wake up at three a.m. every morning and escort kids to the bathroom. I think the weekly updates over the summer will be a good means of venting about the childrens, and of course the summer camp drama. It's way more involved, frustrating, and ridiculous than high school drama, of which I largely chose not to partake. Unfortunately, camp counselor drama is above all impossible to avoid.
Speaking of camp, I put in my two weeks on the waitressing job. Being a camp counselor is stressful, but it makes one more responsible, compassionate and inclined to hugs/soulful group cries. I'm not exaggerating to say that waitressing has made me a worse person. On the job I get irritable, spiteful and judgemental. They had a thirty dollar check and left an eighty cent tip? Fuckin' cheap hicks! Drink less beer next time! I hate everyone, and the bitches on the night shift didn't thaw the strawberries!
So, sticking it to the man is step one of the bohemian transition from small-town existence to independence. Step two requires a public act or physical transformation. Some people I know get tattoos every time their life changes, some people chop off their hair, Kevin Smith makes another Clerks, and I got this:
This nose piercing represents the pain of my adjustment into adulthood!
Just kidding! It represents looking awesome.
Step three? Why, a futureless passion!
A zest for painting! I found out they sold canvas at the dollar store, and I was hooked. I'm submitting this and three others to a friend's art show. I've submitted to her shows before, but usually, you know, in a medium in which I was either talented or educated. I suck at painting, it just feels good. Listen: I know the breasts are messed up. I'm just going to tell everyone I intentionally left them imperfect as an additional statement on body image, and soak up the pretentious hippie street cred.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
No Time To Blog!
Seriously. I'm blogging during dinner right now. I'm working late tommorow night and even skipping out early to attend a rally at Jen's college, but then I've got to rush home to get my preliminary shit together for an event this weekend and deliver it to someone who can actually make it to that event. The boy comes home on Friday night, though I probably won't get to see him, which is alright because we'll need sleep that night, as I have to work in the camp kitchen for the third weekend in a row at seven thirty, and we won't be sleeping all weekend due to volunteering for an event in support of the already aforementioned event. If that doesn't make a lick of sense, don't worry about it: the point is, I'm frigging busy. On Sunday I'm probably either going to church with the family for the one-year anniversary of the death of my grandfather or I am, drumroll, getting my nose pierced with a friend for her birthday. I'm debating if God would smite me for that one, or at least if my Poppy would wag his finger at me from the heavens. But then, I don't imagine he'll be watching the service if they get baseball in heaven. He's probably still too busy cursing at Johnny Damon to be upset with me. Fucking Johnny Damon.
So, I'm leaving a minimal-effort something to hold you over until next weekend. Why do I even bother? Because, Congratulations, You're an Asshole is back up, and apparently better than ever. It's been linked to from The Church of Annette, which is linked to from FourFour, which is linked to from Queerty- there is a chain from Queerty to this blog! Long and obscure as it may be, there is a chain. CYAA has been getting steady comments, and what if I'm next? I can't deal with more than a half-dozen people checking on my shitty corner of the internet! At least not until Season Three of Project Runway starts and I actually have something to write about regularly. Oh, woe, angst and agony, I might have an audience.
I've got to run, but as I've not made my love for the Man in Heels explicit enough, I'll leave you with pearls of wisdom to keep you chuckling in my absence. If you want the full expirience, run to your local quality DVD provider and buy everything he's ever made, now, please.
from Dress to Kill:
"The National Rifle Association says that, 'Guns don't kill people, people do'. But I think the gun helps, you know? I think it helps. I just think just standing there going, 'Bang!' That's not going to kill too many people, is it? You'd have to be really dodgy on the heart to have that... 'Bang! Rat-tat-tat! Boom!' I think they should just try that, you know. But yeah, shooting clay pigeons, I think, go for that! Shooting clay pigeons, they’re fuckers! Come round your house, whiz through- they do nothing, they don't even eat flies! You know? Spiders eat flies, so they're all right, keep them, you know? Flies don't eat fuckall, so kill 'em! And clay pigeons - everyone shoots them in the air. Wait 'til they land! Then go up to the clay pigeon... pow! Much easier."
from Unrepeatable:
"Nowadays, we’re more sophisticated as consumers. We go into supermarkets and we read the labels. ...This jam is made by Nazis with dead trees, bits of mud and spit. Well, I don’t think I’ll have that one. This jam was made by groovy people! And fruit who agreed to be in the jam in the first place."
from Sexie:
"Guide dogs, they are bright, they get chosen especially chosen: You! You have the look in your eye, the look of intelligence, you’ll become a special dog.
And the dog goes, Food?
You know what I’m saying, don’t you? Come, and I will make you a leader amongst dogs!
Food, now? With marrow? The yummy bit of humans?"
Thanks to auntiemomo for the transcripts and picture. Except this one:
Did I ever mention that he flirted with my mother?
