There are so many intelligent and articulate people covering the hard-hitting
issues in our country these days, that I felt it was my duty to cover the
rather inconsequential bullshit that tends to make up the vast majority of
our lives. Actually, I'll just be griping a lot which, if you weren't aware,
doubles as a synonym for complaining, and as a descriptor for
a sharp pain in the bowels.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Chillin' Like a Villian aka It's Cold in this MF

I routinely get songs I am crushin' on hardcore that totally dominate my brain. Well iTunes did me a great service (or perhaps disservice) when it served up this Anya Marina cover of T.I.'s Whatever You Like just now while I was writing. I'm not trying to make breaking news on this one, just making note that I love the shit out of it for the time being (not going to bother going into my other audio obsessions of the moment, but maybe in a subsequent post). Yeah, I'm sitting here blasting that shit into my headphones while wearing this winter hat because it's kind of chilly on the third floor of my favorite joint here. I'd be rockin' those kicks but I don't do open-toed, not in the winter.

Today I had my first experience trying to promote something through Yelp. Yeah, that didn't exactly work. Not only that, the reviews for what I'm trying to promote keep disappearing as I suppose Yelp thinks they are all spammers. We should get a sticker that says either "People Hate Us on Yelp" or, at the least, "People Have Absolutely No Idea Who We Are on Yelp." Whelp, probably not worth yelping about. Woman who yelped wolf when it was a mere whelp. As you can see, for me, there may be no line between poetry and nonsense.

Speaking of promote, I am promoting whatever Ethiopian coffee I am drinking right now to very high on my list. I don't know shit about coffee, but I know I like this. Nice and balanced, not sweet, bitter, or sour, and probably contains all sorts of subtle flavors my Taco Bell, etc. abused palate cannot pick up on.

Shout out to my Chase account for routinely piecing together subtle details in my life. Holla atcha boy if you've got exciting plans for Groundhog Day, we've only got a week, after all. I suggest a celebratory drink if Punxsutawney Phil (PP for short) doesn't see his shadow and a depressing evening of drunken debauchery if he does because six more weeks of Winter would be weak. Actually, whatever.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Luke Skywalker

In my last post, I have to admit, I was being a bit of an Angry Amy, a Bellicose Betty (a Belligerent Bertha if you will), a Cantankerous Carlie (some might say a Choleric Clara), a Dark Diana, an Exacerbated Edna (or perhaps an Enraged Ellen), Fuming Francine, Grumbling Greta, Harsh Harriet, Incensed Ingrid (better than an Irate Iris?), a Jerkish Jennie, though certainly not a Kindly Karen or a Loving Loretta, though perhaps a Misanthropic Moira, a Not-nice Nancy, an Ornery Ophelia, Pissed Penelope, at least something of a Queer Qadira, augmented with a touch of Raging Rhonda, Seething Samantha, Tempestuous Tess, Unsound Ursula, Violent Violet, Whip-Wielding Wanda, Xylenous Xena, and Yammering Yolanda, but in all I'm just more of a Zany Zabrina.

I had to take a liberty or two there, like turning xylene into an adjective, and hyphenating whip-wielding for triple Scattergories points, but such is life.

1:51 AM is brought to you by Bacardi...

At this point my soul's grown old and rusty, burnt beneath the rising sun, it's locked up like a trophy, forgetting all the things it's done, and though it's been a long time I'm right back where I started from. I see it in my eyes, tonight I'm giving up the gun.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Showdown: Reality TV v. Real Life

Oh shit, remember how originally I said this blog was going to be about griping, well fuckshit here it comes. I don't even watch much reality TV, or TV for that matter and still it is really pissing me off lately. Should I have capitalized "reality?" Probably. Or maybe italics, since it's an affectation of real life. Scripted. What's real anyway right?

Hey, I used to dig Top Chef, I've seen my share of Real [Scripted] World, even watched That 70s House. I'm not spouting off about something entirely without frame of reference. But really, does there have to be a reality show about everything? When did reality TV replace real life as the place for experience? I mean, I like movies, I like books, I like some TV shows, because they allow for exploration of worlds I don't know, worlds that may or may not exist. No gratuitous links to follow because these things are all such known quantities I need not link them to enlighten you.

So what really set it off? Well tonight, at a club called Lumen (a club I know nothing about, because I don't go to clubs generally. No hate, just not my thing, to each his own, etc) the Jersey Shore cast will be in attendance. Or at least "The Situation" and DJ Pauly D. Yes, I've never seen this show and know who these characters are because all most people are talking about these days is Jersey Shore. Pardon me for largely not giving a shit. I did see Sitch and Snooki on Conan, you know, back when Conan still had a show. I hesitate to go there vis Conan since according to some "the ratings don't lie." Oh really? Not going to bother analyzing the nature of comedy, popularity, opinions because, frankly, I am not smart enough, and even my meager analysis would take up a lot of [cyber]space. I am not a regular late night viewer, but I have always liked Conan and his humor. I am not alone in this, and yet I may not be in the majority. That is okay, and perhaps how it should be. The semi-point though, was that I saw these Jersey Shore folks on the show, and I liked Sitch, Snooki just seemed chock full of dopey affectation. Can we not look away? Are you not entertained?

Here I am complaining about the reality TV trend, and I'm doing it on a blog, another American obsession. Like maybe I want people to give a shit about what I'm saying. Well fuck my somewhat hypocritical philosophical conundrum self. I mean, by discussing it am I not perpetuating the very thing I am seeking to see disappear? Too much booze and caffeine, too little sleep.

And again, on humor, I don't laugh at a lot of things that other people do. I get this sense at times that my sense of humor is broken, or something to that effect. But, for real, and I'm sorry if I offend anyone here (am I really?), that old guy on American Idol the other day, was not funny. Yeah, I watched it, because it was all over Facebook. Oh shit, let's not go there right? That guy, was not funny. That is not an opinion this time. Seriously, the other day in improv class we did a singing exercise, and every single moment was funnier than that shit. How many times do we need to hear Randy say, "yo dawg," and have Simon show disgust before enough is enough? I know, if I don't like it, don't watch it. I don't, although I just did. To Simon's credit, he is a marketing genius. He understands people, knows how to promote shit. It is American Idol after all, not "Person who can sing really well," (although as someone who can't, some of them really can). Singer and artist need not be the same thing. Nevermind that Simon is not from the US. Perhaps it is easier to pick us apart from a lens outside.

I've probably posted it before, but to me, this B4-4 vid is gold. And hell, I might have posted this too, but it really got me chuckling again a couple of weeks back when someone mentioned Kanye West's book to me. I like some Kanye tracks, not sure how I feel about Kanye, but this assessment of him is well, amusing. To who? To me.

Please don't think I am riding a high horse. I have never been inclined to the equestrian. I am not judging those that enjoy these things, just acknowledging my own disconnect. Maybe I am the problem. Has the whole world gone crazy, or I am just the crazy one?

As for me, well, I'll just listen to Young Folks for the eighty millionth time atop my throne of mediocrity and live vicariously through my buddy David Duchovny as Hank Moody. This is why I whistle while I walk.

Monday, January 11, 2010

If You Don't Have Anything Nice to Say...

Then just start a blog and/or become a controversial radio/TV analyst/anchor/broadcaster/personality. Man, one sentence in and there's more slashes than a Friday the 13th movie. Couple that with the joke from that sentence and things aren't exactly off to a swimming start here in 2010 at this place. Have I become even more self-aware over here? Certainly possible.

In the spirit of keeping up with current events as I alluded to in my resolutions, I at least have been following sports news. This morning that included a development in the Jayson Williams manslaughter case. I probably could have put several slashes after "manslaughter" as it certainly isn't the only tag associated with the bizarre circumstances of the 2002 incident. Toying with a loaded gun in the backseat of your limo, maybe that isn't that bizarre. And if you read about Williams' periodic (alleged) suicidal tendencies and a recent drunk-driving charge it is one more set of stories about why I am glad I am not famous. How often do we perform a cost-benefit analysis on fame?

And I must admit, I kind of liked Jayson Williams after reading his autobiography of sorts entitled Loose Balls. I understand that someone helped him write it and he had a whole marketing team on his side, but it was a fun quick read with, I thought, some good insights and, of course, I love the punny title. One of the more amazing aspects of this whole thing to me, though, is that this all took place in 2002, and they have only just begun sentencing now in 2010. Had I shot someone eight years ago I am pretty sure I'd already be doing my time but perhaps not. I won't pretend to have intimate knowledge of the judicial system, nor can I comment on what must be a strange eight years of legal limbo.

I think I was going to make this like funnier in 2010. So I'll work on that but, in the meantime, I am loving the shit out of this video. It's thirteen minutes, done entirely in CG and, yeah, it just kicks ass.

Official Happy New Year's to you, world, though I have a feeling you started counting at a less arbitrary point than we did.
Thanks for stopping by…you stay classy Planet Earth.