bridgetalunderground

Let Us Rejoice and Be Glad in It

2009-02-13T01:30:00.000-08:00

I'm going to start doing matching hair-dos with Frankie.

I see people are getting their pubescent diaries published all over the place these days. Unfortunately, I’ve always lacked the discipline to keep a quotidian journal (or even post a blog more than once a month). However, I did just come across the diary I kept in 3rd and 4th grades. Here are three of my favorite excerpts.

February 14th, 1985

Dear Diary,
Today was ok. I sent Valentine’s cards to the kids in my class. Actually, just the girls. They were homemade and they stunk.

So, here’s an early instance of my self-sabotaging behavior. We were encouraged by the teacher to send each other cards for Valentine’s Day (Jesus, why?). Rather than delivering Valentines to the boys in my class, my brilliant plan to evade humiliation was sending them only to the girls. Apparently, I also insisted on doing them DIY-style, which still holds true for my millions of unfinished “projects” today.

Recap: All the girls in my 4th grade class received overwrought, handmade Valentines from me... and I wondered why no one spoke to me again for the next 20 years.

February 27th, 1985

Dear Diary,
Today was really fine. I looked at Nicky in Math Olympiads. I didn’t complete my homework today. I won a Math Bee.

Here’s evidence that a) I used to be good at math. b) I was a little boy crazy. c) I was quite an underachiever, much to the consternation of one Sr. Helen.

Once we were allowed to use them in high school, I became deferential to calculators. Now, I’m useless with basic math. I gave up on boys from high school through my mid-20s, when a handful of lucky men got to enjoy awkward dates with me. There's no way I can say I’m still an underachiever – I make the best pies in the entire world!

And now for the pure gold:

March 30th, 1984

Dear Diary,
My teacher’s been quite an asshole. I feel like fucking her ass.

Right. Living in the boonies of Queens at the time, (with many precocious acquaintances on my block) I overheard the full panoply of crude words and phrases. In fact, the most spectacularly vulgar thing I’d heard by 9 years old was this one girl’s mom yell to a pack of rapacious youths that she would “fuck [them] in the ass with a broken bottle” if they didn’t leave her daughter alone. Obviously, that turn of phrase stuck with me, but I had no real sense of what it could mean. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind not to use this language on my 4th grade “Valentines.”

Despereaux Sucks

2009-01-13T09:42:00.000-08:00

Vermin courtesy of www.videodetective.com

I wanted to see Milk, but my friends, 3 & 7, insisted on Despereaux. About halfway through, the 3 year-old turned to me and said, “This is a nice movie, right?”

“Yes, it is.” I lied.

What would I have gained if I told her the truth? (“Nope. This is the worst piece of shit kids' movie I've ever seen.”) There was nothing to do but smile, pat her head and continue to countervail the abomination that is Despereaux with transcendental meditation.

This is what I was subjected to in between trips to the astral plane:

The queen dies after noticing there's a rat in her soup (huh?). Then, a mouse falls in love with the wan, emaciated blonde princess in distress. (Bestiality? That's an awkward corner you've painted yourself into, children's movie.) For reasons I can't be bothered to explain, this involves an anachronistic French chef (in the Middle Ages?) brimming with ethnocentric stereotypes – not the least of which is his exaggerated shnoz.

That brings me to this movie's blatantly eugenic nasal characterizations. The creators seem to believe large noses indicate poverty and weak character while small noses signify wealth and nobility. How very Third Reich of them.

While Despereaux stands apart in its atrociousness, it also “borrows” heavily from the far superior and subversive Shrek series. The vestiges of Shrek and other (much better) films only call attention to this one's shortcomings.

I can't understand how such a parade of talent could lend itself to this garbage. Will Matthew Broderick ever embrace his charisma again? Will he ever respond to my Ferris Bueller's Day Off 2 script? There's even a part for SJP!

Anyway, as a punishment for the assault on my sensibilities, I finished the children's Kit Kat bars and forced them to eat organic fruit leather as a “treat.” Suckers.

Can a Recipe Be "Inappropriate"?

2009-01-12T12:14:00.000-08:00

Sounds like a challenge, Epicurious.

I Should Have Twittered the Fuck out of This...

2008-12-19T08:46:00.001-08:00

...A Blustery December Evening on the Gold Coast

Sipping a succulent zucchini soup from a mug (!) whilst warming up against a priceless antique marble fireplace is sublime. I want all my soup like this from now on.

Smoked caviar and crème fraîche on purple potatoes!

“So boring!” Thank you, bartender, for your unsolicited evaluation of my lifestyle based on my drink order. He must say that to everyone who asks for Pellegrino so we’ll make out with him in an effort to seem “exciting.” (You bet I did.)

On our postprandial tour of the manse, I met a genuine billionairess. She wouldn’t let go of my hand, but was otherwise very nice.

An affable best-selling author was introduced as a Mensa member. Ooooh...

The crowd murmurs when he mentions Gold Coast because people love imaginary murders in their neighborhoods.

Spent time with my lovely infant niece.

Stella 12/9 at Nokia Theater in NYC

2008-12-11T13:54:00.000-08:00

Now that Dot’s already seen it, I can share my favorite morsels:

“I fuckin’ did her.” – David Wain’s flippant admission of having sex with the Statue of Liberty. (Over Michael & Michael’s protests: “Don't say it, David!” & “She’s Lady Liberty, David!”)

“Itty bitty titty committee!” – Michael Ian Black unwittingly giving new “material” to guys who have no clue that he’s making fun of them. (I’m positive there’s at least one asshole who will shout this to some hapless, slender women at a holiday party.)

Michael Showalter demonstrating his sexual technique to “Kiss from a Rose” by Seal. What made it so funny was the context along with his gift for physical comedy. In short, you had to be there. Sorry, bitches…

BONUS:

The opening act, Eugene Mirman, explaining how he ended up in special ed classes. I hear he did different sets each night, but I hope he sticks with this story because it killed us (not literally, that’s comedy speak for “made us laugh really hard”). The Russia Today polls get honorary mention.

Knitting Sucks!

2008-12-09T13:43:00.001-08:00

Allegedly “relaxing” and “thrifty,” knitting was supposed to be my new nighttime palliative – a soothing break from a day of sending out résumés. So, I started knitting this scarf a few weeks ago (feels like years ago) and it’s barely even 18”! Plus, it’s ugly:

The yarn was promising at first. As the jaunty striped pattern emerged, I imagined people lining up on my stoop for a “Missoni”-style scarf at $70 a piece. (That’s €55 – fancy shit!)

One of my sisters went to FIT and she told me about this machine that can knit a ball of yarn in seconds. So, why do people knit, exactly? Who has the time? I can’t believe anyone does this shit for fun!

The Wire Season 6 is here!

2008-08-21T10:39:00.001-07:00

Images courtesy of the C-Dub network.

SPOILER ALERT: The Wire is taking some new directions.

It looks like robbing drug dealers has really paid off for Michael. This season finds him navigating the mean streets of Beverly Hills, CA while raising his little brother, Bug. Things are falling into place for the boys until a Google search reveals the true identity of Duquan's father: an eccentric European diplomat!

After a madcap adventure across the Continent in a rickety red minivan (above), Dukie is reunited with his family. He gets clean and enrolls in MIT. He's also rumored to have an on again, off again romance with actress Hayden Panettiere.

With the help of Duquan's family, Randy takes out a small business loan and opens a chain of high-end candy boutiques. He parlays the chain into a lucrative franchise that he sells to Yum! Brands for $50 million.

I can't believe I don't work for David Simon.

No, no, no, no, no...

2008-08-07T13:06:00.000-07:00

This offensive footwear courtesy of justjared.buzznet.com

...these are UGLY!!! Why has everyone started wearing them when they're obviously a cruel joke at your expense? Is "constricting, sweaty and unflattering" supposed to be the look of the moment? Are these just a natural progression from Uggs-->Crocs-->open-toed boots-->bondage sandals?

(Honestly, I'm hardly qualified to be an arbiter of fashion. Approximately 86% of my clothes have food stains.)

My Subway Portrait

2008-07-10T10:27:00.001-07:00

Kim courtesy of chrisforliberty.blogspot.com

When I got on the N train at Herald Square, I noticed a smartly dressed young man sitting across the aisle. He was furiously scribbling out a portrait of a woman a few seats down from me. She didn't seem to mind and, when the picture was finished, she was pleased. She gave the artist $5 and he was very gracious.

He started sketching the next person down the line: a sleeping man. Swiftly, he stroked the sketch pad with his Prismacolors, one muted shade after the other. He gripped the unused markers between all his fingers -- like a digital palette -- and never got a spot on his natty sweater and slacks, despite his speed.

I couldn't believe it when the sleeping guy liked his portrait and paid for it! (I was positive he'd wake up and tell the kid to fuck off.) As the drowsy subject disembarked, the artist looked in my direction. I looked away, but I could hear the Prismas going to work.

This was too embarrassing. I was wearing a pink graphic T-shirt I got at the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art convention. That, combined with my black-framed glasses, made me look like the poster girl for millennial Brooklyn. An unbearable self-consciousness oozed from my person as the train pulled out of ground onto the Manhattan Bridge. I decided to concentrate on looking out the window towards the landmarks dotting the East River.

I couldn't just forget the fact that someone was drawing my portrait. Maybe it would be a good likeness, I thought. What do I tell my hubs? That a handsome young stranger was sketching me on the subway? Hmm... I might lie and tell The Mister he was ugly. He's going to laugh so hard when I ask where we should hang it. Do I have the $5 to pay this guy?

As we rolled back underground, I clandestinely checked my wallet and saw that I indeed had a crisp five dollar bill to spare. A woman sitting next to me tapped my shoulder and asked if I had change for a twenty.

"This guy is drawing my portrait," she tittered, "and I don't have any small bills for him."

I looked across the aisle and saw my young artist beaming back at us. His sketchpad showed a subject with blonde hair. He was never drawing me. I couldn't believe I wasted the entire subway ride trying to hold still! He then asked her:

"Are you Russian? You've got such great cheekbones."

What!? I have great cheekbones! ME! Ask anyone! How insulting...

She laughed appreciatively and told him no. I then informed her that I didn't have change for a twenty. (I wasn't being a bitch; I really didn't have it.)

He presented the portrait to her and she was floored. So was I. He made her look exactly like Kim Novak! If he could do that for her second rate cheekbones, he probably could have made me look like Natalie Wood! His loss.

I didn't have room to carry a portrait, anyway. I had to pick up toilet paper on my way home.

E.B. White Needs to STEP OFF!

2008-06-23T09:48:00.000-07:00

Hater courtesy of britannica.com

I saw E.B. White’s The Three New Yorks featured on the SubTalk subway campaign and, quite frankly, I’m pissed off.

Apparently, White feels native New Yorkers are oblivious and commuters are “locusts.” On the other hand, “settlers” (guys with backwards white college lacrosse hats who work in finance and make racist jokes) are passionate artists “in quest of something.”

A quest for what? Brother Jimmy’s?

I have another question: What genius at the MTA thought it was a good idea to post a quote on the subway comparing commuters to a nuisance insect plague? Is this all because they wouldn't let you push through yet another fare hike, MTA?

Okay, maybe my anger is misdirected. I shouldn’t have criticized ol’ E.B. Just because I paid $2 for the pleasure of being insulted this morning doesn’t mean I need to throw a snit.

Let me turn to you, Mr. White, with a question. As a devoted Elements of Style disciple, I find it difficult avoiding prepositions at the ends of my sentences without coming off as tweedy. Do you have any suggestions?

Excuse me? Oh! That’s right, you can’t answer me! You’re dead.

UPDATE: Michael Ian Black’s latest blog post actually cites Elements of Style as well! He’s still mock feuding with David Sedaris (a.k.a. “Spedaris”) and here I am calling out E.B. White. Maybe I’m reading too much into it but “White” and “Black” and “imaginary literary feud?” Get it? I've become psychically connected to MIB... Um, I guess that’s okay. I really respect him and his work, but whom I really always wanted to channel is Lynda Carter.

Lock Your Doors!

2008-06-20T08:40:00.001-07:00

Degenerates courtesy of nobelpeaceprize.org

The Metropolitan Opera is expecting a record crowd in Prospect Park tonight thanks to a free concert starring Angela Gheorghiu and Roberto Alagna.

I don't know what the Met thinks it's trying to pull here. As soon as the concert lets out, Park Slope is going to be overrun with 150,000 carousing opera fans in their Angela Gheorghiu t-shirts, looking for trouble.

I suggest everyone keep the kids indoors, lock your cars and bolt down anything "they" can steal.

Tripping, Bugging, Penguins...

2008-06-20T07:42:00.000-07:00

Cursed tiki idol courtesy of raf.vox.com

Neal Pollack had an interesting column this week on Salon.com titled “Confessions of a Salvia Eater.” Salvia divinorum's recent surge in popularity is due to its being legal in most states and the awful YouTube fad where people film their friends tripping.

In his article, Pollack points us to some salvia-inspired art. Most of the paintings look like they were lifted from Michael Ian Black’s custom van.

While describing his trips in vivid detail, Neal veers off into Todd Bentley territory (with irony, of course):

“A beautiful woman in a white robe took my hand and guided me through. This, I later learned, was the ‘salvia spirit,’ who appears in most salvia-inspired visions, or at least the ones that get chronicled on Erowid.”

That sounds amazing! Then, he also has a bit of a bad trip:

“Approximately two hours later, I snapped awake, aware that the room had shaken with a tremendous thud, as though something very heavy had landed. A massive stone warrior, looking vaguely like a lost piece of Mesoamerican art, stood in the middle of the room. ‘Don't mess with what you don't understand,’ he said to me.”

AHH!! They should pay Neal Pollack to give anti-drug lectures at grammar schools; I’m already getting paranoid.

Down the hatch!

The stone warrior is appearing to me as the bad luck tiki idol that hexed the Brady Bunch in Hawaii... Instead of a beautiful salvia spirit, I see Sr. Dorothy from 7th grade. She's drilling me on mathematical formulas I don’t know... Now, she’s yelling at me for being so sloppy. All the other kids are pointing and laughing... HELP ME!!!

ULTIMATE!

2008-06-18T13:39:00.000-07:00

Cool guys playing Frisbee courtesy of whitmanpioneer.com

I commuted to St. John’s for college. Back then, it was still mostly a commuter school, so I wasn’t exposed to traditional campus life until I went to visit a friend at her “away” school.

Her college was in the Middle-of-Nowhere, Ohio. The campus was gorgeous and leafy and everyone was running, biking, hiking, playing games outdoors... This was the first time I saw “Ultimate Frisbee.” I didn’t really understand how it worked, but it was all the rage.

One day, there was a big game going on outside the library where I was waiting for my friend. When a Frisbee landed at my feet, I thought I’d be cool and sporty and toss it back to the athletic crowd. However, when I picked it up, they all started waving their hands and shouting, “No!” as if I were holding a stick of dynamite. It was too late -- I threw it. Their game was ruined.

Soon after, I returned to NY and the commuter college experience: listening to the Morning Show with Ed, Lisa & Dre on Hot-97 while stuck on the Grand Central Parkway for 45 minutes everyday.

I Am What I Watch

2008-06-18T09:44:00.000-07:00

Awful Poo Lady Photo courtesy of shinymedia.blogs.com

Dr. Ben Goldacre writes an enlightening weekly column for the The Guardian called Bad Science. His purpose is to refute the pervasive junk science polluting our culture thanks to quacks, creationists and pernicious Madison Avenue campaigns.

Celebrity nutritionist Gillian McKeith of You Are What You Eat fame is one of his perennial targets, and rightly so. Christening her "The Awful Poo Lady," Dr. Goldacre has busted her in Bad Science for everything from her dubious "doctor" title to peddling illegal herbal "sex pills." So, why can't I stop watching her inane show on BBC America?

The formula goes like this: We're introduced to a (usually working class) overweight family or individual. Next, we see evil little gnome Gillian angrily marching up their street wearing an over sized scarf that looks as if it's swallowing her head. She proceeds to shame the overweight offender by showing her or him what a week's worth of their unhealthy diet looks like. She then bawls them out until the subject starts to cry. After the tears, she requests a fecal sample (I fast forward through this gag-inducing segment) and does an "exam" that involves studying her victims' tongues, pressing on their livers and checking the color in their lower eyelids. She unfailingly informs the "patient" that he or she is deficient in B vitamins and zinc. Then, McKeith prescribes a 2-month starvation diet plus a cardio workout two times a day.

While the subjects are slimming down, Awful Poo Lady makes a visit to Dr. Sanj Patel for blood sample evaluations. Mmm-MMM! Now we’re talking -- Dr. Patel is a cute young doctor with a shy voice. (He’s one of those people who can probably recite the periodic table, but to whom you must explain why Anchorman is funny. Aaah! He’s my BBC boyfriend!) His job is to look handsome and confirm all the Poo Lady’s suspicions concerning vitamin deficiencies. It’s all so ridiculous, they can barely keep straight faces during these scenes.

Finally, we see the results of 2 months' worth of diet and exercise. Surprise, surprise, the subjects always drop at least "two stone" (about 28 lbs.). This part of show is actually quite nice. Although they've obviously had television makeovers, the people do seem much happier, healthier and confident. However, it's sad their newly minted self-esteem is centered on their weight. And who knows how long they keep up the grueling rabbit food regimen once the cameras stop rolling?

As much as I respect Goldacre and despise McKeith, I just can't get into Top Gear or Robin Hood. I went through a How Clean Is Your House phase, but I can not stomach another scene of Kim Woodburn scratching dried urine off a toilet seat with her press-on nails. ::shudders::

Ross Perot Is Still Alive!

2008-06-16T13:30:00.001-07:00

And he's still making charts such as this one:

Ah, what a geezer... I have to love him.

If you have trouble sleeping tonight, try following the comments sections under each of the charts on his site. Unless you're an LSE student (a-wink!), you'll be snoring in about 5 minutes.

Why can't I be a billionaire? I wouldn't waste my money on a government spending chart website. Okay, I probably wouldn't do anything at all. Except maybe write to Cary Tennis with my navel-gazing non-problems.

(Uh-oh, someone's being a big, fat bitch today. HINT: It's me.)

So familiar...

2008-06-13T09:40:00.001-07:00

A sampling of music sites & blogs today proves my theory that all current indie rock artists must resemble my uncles in the late '70s/early '80s*.

That doesn't make them bad! In fact, it makes these guys seem pretty cool. I'm sure if any of them were babysitting me, they'd let me taste beer and watch Blazing Saddles, too.

*Except for Cambria Goodwin from Port O'Brien who is a pretty lady and bears no resemblance to any of my uncles.

Bernadine = FIERCE!

2008-06-10T10:32:00.001-07:00

“You know who you look like,” my mom used to say, “Bernadine Dohrn!” For years, I had no idea who this woman was or what she looked like. Now, her mug shots are everywhere thanks to a resurgence of interest in her husband, Bill Ayers, and The Weathermen.

While it appears Bernadine and I share identical grooming habits, I think my mom is giving me a lot more radical cred than I deserve. I'm quite civic-minded, but I'd never blow up a statue in a public place to make a statement. Mom’s obviously misinterpreted my ~~fireworks fascination~~ feverish patriotic reverie on the 4th of July for some kind of political message.

I used to be especially fond of pulling bottle rocket motors off their bamboo splints to make “mini chasers.” We called them that because the ignited motors would zip randomly and dangerously around bystanders as if “chasing” them. Ha!

You ever do that when we you were a kid? Because fireworks aren’t really dangerous enough straight from the box...

Am I Def Leppard?

2008-06-10T09:22:00.000-07:00

Yes; this was the coolest Def Leppard picture I could find.

When I logged into MySpace today, there were 3 different ads asking

Are You Def Leppard?
It's Scary Accurate To See What Celebrity You Are
Find Out Now!
celebrityorjoe.com/MySpace

Maybe... why not? I never thought of myself as a "celebrity" per se, let alone an entire band full of celebrities such as Joe Elliot and Rick Savage.

This is all because I included a few lines of a Dead Milkmen song in my profile.

Now, MySpace is trying to tell me that one of my friends has a secret crush on me! Psshh -- I already know who it is.

UPDATE: Apparently, C-Town does NOT honor the Def Leppard discount. Even after I sang "Photograph" for the checkout girl. They think they're such hot shit with their fancy laser price scanners.

EO Wilson & The Encyclopedia of Life

2008-06-05T13:34:00.001-07:00

EO Smith's brainchild and his gift to humanity, the Encyclopedia of Life, will prove to be invaluable to biologists and all scientists concerned with biodiversity. Sorry, I'm geeking out, but everyone should go and click around to get an idea of the sheer magnitude of species inhabiting our planet. The studies and comparisons researchers can do from their desktops -- thanks to this project -- are mind-boggling.

Okay, you can go back The Superficial and look at titties again now.

Peak Oil Crisis Results in NO FISHING This Summer

2008-06-05T13:01:00.001-07:00

I hinted to my pops that we should get out on the water soon. He scoffed, "It would take $100 of fuel to get out to Buoy 4 — for what? A fluke?"

My mom overheard and chimed in, "At that price, you might as well buy caviar."

Well, for fuck's sake... Who's got a boat? I know a good sea bass spot, but you'll have to let me drive while you're blindfolded. I will not mug you or pirate your vessel. That's a promise. I don't even have money for a lawyer.

Michael Ian Black's Blog

2008-06-05T09:43:00.000-07:00

This is my beacon of the Internet at the moment. Of course, I adore Wainy Days and Showalter Showalter, but where else do you get to read well-written humor essays from a comedic genius almost daily? This is a greatly needed respite from my Crime Library addiction... which means I'm getting less night terrors as well! Thank you, MIB! Thank you, 2008!

Mikey B’s a droll self-critic who perennially pokes fun at himself and his “basic cable celebrity” status -- sometimes through absurd self-deprecating essays, sometimes with painfully funny stories from his formative years. He can laugh off life on the road: dingy hotel rooms, overly-familiar fans and mysterious blood stains. However, he’s also got some bones to pick and he doesn’t hold back. Michael Ian Black regularly articulates his frustration with the entertainment industry and studio system, in particular. His posts regarding his recent experiences with Run Fatboy Run & Wedding Daze ran the gamut from scathing (naming at least one big name) to doleful (causing an outpouring of concern from regular commenters).

That sounds heavy coming from a comedian and, if you read between the lines, he can be. But, he never stops being funny.

Peak Oil Crisis Results in Obnoxious Fashionista Subway Invasion

2008-06-05T09:31:00.000-07:00

Some chick sat down next to me on the subway and actually put her big ass fancy bag on my lap while futzing with her 10 other bags.

I yelled, "Yo, bitch! Get your Coco Canal off my baby oven!"

Naw, I just shot her a "You kidding me?" look and she grimaced and took it away. Just then, an ill-gotten mp3 came on my iPod at about 180 decibels and everyone stared at me. I should be nicer.

One of My Favorite Things from the Internet

2008-05-27T13:06:00.000-07:00

I stumbled upon this page once where a guy named Todd Bentley claims to see angels. It gets better every time I read it. He begins:

"I once had an angelic visitation, I believe, in a Mac's convenience store."

Mac's. Interesting setting. Tell us more, Todd...

"I had told these guys in the store about Jesus once before - they were laughing, mocking, scoffing, drug addicts. One guy was an atheist. One of them, an atheist [sic]... "

He was a what, now?

"They were all drunk, stoned or smoking cigarettes, wearing AC/DC or Motley Crew [sic] T-shirts"

NO! Not in Mac's convenience store. What did you do, Todd? (Here's where it gets awesome.)

"Suddenly, I fell under the power in the convenience store and, on all fours, roared like a lion."

Oh, word? Some other shit happens where an angel visits (no, it didn't) and saves Todd from ..."atheist" Jay & Silent Bob, I guess? He then goes on to tell us:

"So, angels do come looking like men at times. Sometimes they look like heavenly beings, while at other times they're 6" 4', blue-eyed blondes, with 24-inch biceps."

Just like John Phillip Law in Barbarella! RIP, JPL.

Is the Café Regular guy gonna be the new Big?

2008-04-30T11:45:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy of more4kids.info

I'm confused about which “bad Brooklyn stereotypes” they’re referring to here. Switchblade rumbles (1950s)? Never-ending heat waves that result in pizza parlor violence (1980s)? Bored Trinidadian women wheeling over-privileged toddlers named Max & Iris down 7th Avenue in $800 strollers (this morning)?

Ugh.

Why not chronicle the fashion forward gals of John Jay High School instead? They have faint Amy Winehouse bouffants perfectly teased at 8am when I barely take the time to brush my hair. If it’s raining, they deftly avoid puddles to keep their precious Apple Bottoms from getting wet. In addition to their fastidious attention to style, I’m sure the girls banter wittily all through their lunches at La Bagel Delight. Isn’t that way more glamorous than a show about chicks in Crocs going to prenatal belly dancing classes?

Okay, okay... I’m being bitter here because I’m poor and have no use for the newly ubiquitous tanning parlors and pricey bric-a-brac boutiques in rapidly shriveling Park Slope. This Darren Star shit is just the final nail in the coffin.

"I rushed down to the lab, saw the wasp sperm on the flowers glowing blue under UV light and was absolutely delighted."

2008-04-29T13:54:00.001-07:00

Image courtesy of orchidexperts.com

Sometimes, I read quotes on LiveScience that make me wonder if I'm in the wrong profession.

Cloverfield Sucked

2008-02-04T12:19:00.000-08:00

Photo courtesy of slusho.org

I know I'm late to the party on this, but what a profound disappointment.

To recap: The most improbable "monster" in cinema history chases some Maroon 5 fans around Manhattan. It has a Godzilla body, Freddy Krueger face and the temperament of my Jack Russell after we apply his flea & tick medicine. (He HATES it!)

Although Cloverfield sucked, I'm sure it will be parodied to death in Meet the Spartans 2. Ideally, production on MTS2 will be indefinitely postponed due to Peak Oil turf wars and whatnot.

Josh Brolin: Damn Right.

2007-12-10T13:01:00.000-08:00

We saw Old Country for No Men. Or No Country for Old Men or whatever yesterday. It was aight, but the important thing The Mister and I came away with is this:

Josh Brolin RULES!

He is no longer that guy who played Brand in Goonies and slapped around Diane Lane. He kicks ass in everything: Grindhouse, American Gangster and NCFOM. Josh Brolin is THE next great action star. Bring it on, Josh! (You can do more Flirting with Disaster-type stuff, too. We liked it.)

The Mister got to spend some quality time with Kelly MacDonald, so that was good. For them. (Bitch.)

The Oscar-season trailers were, um, I guess I want to say “obnoxious.” And maybe “cynical” and “trite.” They were also overblown.

I admit I stopped tittering at Keira Knightley’s massive, quivering jaw when the Atonement trailer actually started to pick up. It looks entertaining. I’ll probably skip it.

During the There Will Be Blood trailer, I noted that Daniel Day-Lewis should play my Uncle Bob if they ever made a movie about him. The Mister agreed. Then, Danny D. Lewis punched this Children of the Corn kid in the face and I laughed. It probably wasn’t supposed to be that funny.

Finally, Charlie Wilson’s War. ::Sighs:: It’s about Tom Hanks and Big Bird. I think they’re in love, but that doesn’t make any sense. Philip Seymour Hoffman is there and he looks like he’s from the ‘70s. Maybe it’s a sequel to Boogie Nights? I dunno... I was too busy checking my email.

Note to old people: When a movie is rated “R” for “graphic violence,” don’t get all huffy when some shit happens onscreen. What exactly were you expecting?

Speaking of graphic violence: even though he bought the farm last season, Bodie from The Wire is my new boyfriend. Say hi, Bodie!

The War on Pigeons

2007-11-16T11:44:00.000-08:00

Photo courtesy of jamesgrayking

This current panic is nonsense. There's an easy solution everyone is overlooking: grant each NYC resident a temporary hunting license. For each carcass you deliver to a Duane Reade location, you get a coupon for Solgar vitamins and a voucher to see Jersey Boys. (Once the strike is over.)

Why does everything seem to suck? Was New York as interesting as they claim it was in the ‘70s? (In between despair and murders.) I'm too young to remember it all that well. At least I got to swim in Rockaway Beach before the Mayor’s Office quietly amputated the Far Rockaway Peninsula and hid it in a bodega freezer.

"Rudolph's been shot!”

2007-11-16T11:02:00.000-08:00

Photo Courtesy of Yahoo!

I usually elude whatever bug is making the rounds in the city, but not this year. My weakened state made me an easy target to get sucked into a Law & Order: Criminal Intent marathon on USA. Vincent D’Onofrio is no Jerry Orbach and I have no idea what that woman who stands next to him in every episode is doing, but the marathon was a perfect sick day diversion. Here are some investigative skills I gleaned:

Heavy women are easily manipulated.
Prominent public figures have substance abuse problems.
Unhappy childhoods mass-produce serial killers. (Keep an eye on Frank McCourt!)
Serial killers are obsessed with women’s calves.

These themes were fairly consistent in all 4 episodes I watched in my cough suppressant haze. As far as the calves: Doogie Howser was actually eating them and hiding the leftovers in bodega freezers... Eeeeeew!

My favorite guest star by far was Francie Swift. She’s been a featured player on Law & Order a few times. (Okay, maybe I've watched too much L&O.) Not only did she share actual screen time with Jerry Orbach, but she also played Mrs. Claus in the infamous “Searching for Santa” skit from Stella Shorts. She plays an utterly believable psychopath and/or schizo waitress.