Drunkinarowboat’s Weblog

I’m still here…somewhere…

July 10, 2009 · 2 Comments

Greetings from NYC.

Four days into my acting program, and I’ve already lost the blogosphere touch. Blogging SO does not mix well with my acting program. I’ll go into that later. First though, some breaking news:

I saw the dude from Sum 41 today. Avril’s husband, right? SO EXCITING.

Not really, at all, but, hey, it’s something to report. Other than that, life is pretty boring. I bought some hangers today. Made soup for dinner. Yesterday, I cried and ate leftover chicken with my hands when Paris cried about her dad. Had a cold that was bad enough to make the lady sitting next to me at UP get up (ha!) and move two rows back. Granted, she was old and probably thought i had swine floozy, but, still, it hurt me feelings!

Speaking of feelings, I have soooo many of those now. All I’ve done the past four days is get in touch with my feelings. I’ve also been stretching and yelling a lot and slapping myself in the face and stuff. Truth be told, I’ve sort of had to shut off some of my normal bloggy Caroline brain, which is sad. But if I didn’t, I would spend all class noting how strange the things we do are, and how strange some of the people are, and I would never calm down enough in da head to take it seriously since the whole time I’d be thinking of blogging about it. I, of course, do have a serious side, and do want to learn how to be a better actress, so, sadly, I have to take my classes seriously. Serious serious serious. And who wants me to talk about chakras and sense memory work anyway? NO ONE. Plus, I have faith I can travel in both worlds, sort of like a Star Trek thing. 

But other than my class, my life is boring. So this post is boring. Gross. Sorry. BUT, my girlfriend Giavanna is coming to visit this weekend, and I haven’t seen her since last October. Also, as I type this I can hear my Dad snoring. Also, I tried on 15 things at H&M today and only bought one item, the one I came in for, $9.95 workout pants for my body movement class! Small victories, right?!?! Namaste!

Seriously though, I REALLY wanted these lace leggings. Granted, their HIDEOUS (and trashy to boot), but I still was drooling.  I mean, their totally see-through! But riddle me this: does anyone know how to wear them? With a long t-shirt and 4 inch heels like MK? That’s what I was thinking, but I don’t have money to go nightklubbing. And I don’t think I could really pull them off on the subway, just, you know, heading out to buy some hangers.

Or maybe…..I could.

This is why I love New York.

Brain is fried. Good night.

mary-kate-blooper

(You know she was SO going to buy hangers at Bed Bath & Beyond when this photo was snapped.)

→ 2 CommentsCategories: celebrities · fashion · friendship
Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Yeah, um…..

July 5, 2009 · Leave a Comment

So…I just finished my last post, which concluded with a mentioning of Hulu, and I had a thought. Does le Dad know about this site? So I hollered the approx. four feet over to where my Dad was sitting, which would be in his red chair, himself typing away on his laptop. (Oh, the state of the American family today!! Remember when we all used to play cards and love each other?!?!? OHHHHH SOCIETY.) I asked him if he’d ever heard of Hulu. He hadn’t. (SHOCKING.)

Approx. two minutes later, I heard the beginning of the trailer for Sorority Row. Um. so my father goes on Hulu for the first time EVER, and this is the trailer he picks to watch?? Sort of reminds me of this March, when I was watching the Oscar pre-show, and my Dad asked me THREE SEPARATE TIMES who Vanessa Hudgens was. MEN.

→ Leave a CommentCategories: family · humor · life · men · movies · t.v.
Tagged: , , , ,

GOD DAMN YOU ROGER FEDERER

July 5, 2009 · Leave a Comment

Happy July 5th!!!

I’m watching the match right now. By the time I post this, it will be over, and I HOPE Andy has won. (Okay, now the match is over and Andy lost, I know, I get it, UH HE WAS SO CLOSE. It’s sad to read that sentence in retrospect. I had so much hope!!!) It’s been a great match so far. Some observations: I’m pretty sure Andy sweats more than any human on earth. Hit ball, wipe face, hit ball, wipe face. The little ball boys and girls look like they’ve taken a lot of speed. I’ve also been thinking that Tracy Chapman should do a re-make of her song “Fast Car” but change the lyrics to “Fast Serve,” and have Andy star in the video. Would be a hit, for sure. Maybe I should go into advertising….

NBC keeps panning to Roddick’s hot piece of a super young wife. She seems to be mouthing “comeonbebe” a lot. Kind of weird, kind of cute. The camera is not being so attentive to Federer’s prego wife. I wonder why? Also, Gavin Rossdale annoys me, and I wish he didn’t, since I sort of like old Bush music. Pete Sampras is here, look uber-nerdy in some late ’90s shades. Shocker. His wife is still hot though. Brooklyn Roddick is like Sampras’s wife, Version 2.0. 

Yesterday I took the bus to NYC. Unpacked my stuff, went out to dinner with my Dad. Food was delicious. Acting school starts Monday, and I’ve come down with a bad cold. It’s been teasing me for a week now, but last night it felt like twenty pounds of concrete were in my nasal passages. It was so bad that at one point, I was putting almost-boiling water into a cooking pot, and then leaning over it with a towel around my head. This was at like 4a.m. Things got interesting. My experiment did not work, I didn’t want to wake up my Dad (have I mentioned we are living together in a one-bedroom loft? Maybe I should call a reality TV programmer…) and so I tossed and turned for awhile. Today, I spent twenty-five minutes being overwhelmed at the selection of cold/cough, day/night, this brand/that brand medicines offered at Duane Reade. My headache got worse, making all those decisions. I finally decided on the DR brand of a pill that mixed ibuprofen plus some runny nose stopping ingredient that required me to go behind the counter to get, because apparently nasal decongestant is now used to make meth or something. That was fun.

Probably going to go to the movies alone tonight. Deciding between “Up” and “Away We Go.” It should be better than last night, where I spent some quality time on Hulu, like any other cool person on a Saturday night.

Here’s what I discovered:

There is a movie coming out called Life is Hot in Cracktown? Um….Totally fandango-ing that one!!!!

UH, TOY STORY 3 is coming!!!!! The trailer is adorable. I saw the first Toy Story in theatres on my 10th birthday. Had the ticket stub for years. Hmm…I feel old. (Also, riddle me this: why is Tom Hanks still somewhat sexy as as a dorky animated cowboy???)

I REALLY can not wait to see these two films. Check out the trailers. 

Uh, P.G. is amazing!!! (Sideways is the best movie EVER.)

And this “In the Loop” nonsense looks pretty incredible too.

Amelia also looks grand (who doesn’t love a female driven bio-pic/Hilary Swankster!). But, um, I would rather die than see “Spread,” (yeah, gross, right?) which is a new movie with Ashton Kutcher, sporting some ridiculous earring and some ridiculous line deliveries in the trailer. In fact, I couldn’t even make it through the whole trailer. I want that two minutes of my life back. (WHAT IS HE THINKING???)

I closed the night out by starting to watch “The Last Days of Disco,” which is for some reason available for free on Hulu. Probably because it’s bad. I made it through five minutes. We’ll see what happens tonight.

→ Leave a CommentCategories: celebrities · family · movies · music · sports · t.v.
Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Coffee ice cream, yum.

July 4, 2009 · 3 Comments

I’m eating ice cream on a Friday night, in the living room, with my Mom.  Call me lame, but the cold coffee deliciousness is the only thing that will calm me down right now, as I struggle with this Sarah Palin resigning nonsense. If that biatch runs for President in 2012, I will kidnap Gisele’s baby so help me God. Otherwise, my head will explode. WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS, HUH??? Maybe she should stop twittering and yelling at Letterman and go back to college or something. GROSS.

I dunno, maybe I’m anxious because I move to NYC tomorrow. All my baaaaags are packed I’m reaaaady to gooooo, I’m standing here outside your door, I hate to wake you up……

ANYHOW, did anyone watch the match today?!?!?! Holy Andy Roddick Canoli!! I totally teared up at the end when he went all fetal postion-ey on the grass. I was so happy for him, plus his wife is so pretty I want to eat her for a snack!! (Um, I just did some research and….his wife is named Brooklyn, and she was born in 1987. I’m confused….) Regardless, I am really rooting for him this Sunday. My boyfriend, who loves Federer almost as much as he loves stuffing himself with cake, is not rooting for Andy. So clearly, he is a communist. He probably wants Palin to be our next President too. Yikes. The dude even went so far as to bet me that Federer will win. I decided against that, at least monetary wise. Maybe if Andy loses, I’ll buy him a Big Mac or some cake mix or something, but $20? I know the stats going into Sunday’s match, and that ain’t pretty. As the NYTIMES reports….

Roddick reached the Wimbledon final in 2004 and 2005, losing on both occasions to Federer. Now, at 26, he has a rematch and a chance to play in his first Grand Slam final since the 2006 United States Open final. He lost there to Federer, as well.

In truth, Roddick nearly always loses to Federer, the Swiss star who is 18-2 against him and 7-0 against him in Grand Slam tournaments.

WHATEVER, 2009 is the year of change right?!?!?!

Right!!!

→ 3 CommentsCategories: celebrities · dating · humor · love · men · politics · relationships · sports · t.v.
Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Skype is so exciting!

July 3, 2009 · 1 Comment

My college roommate just skyped me. She lives in New York. Normally, this wouldn’t be exciting. Skype is exciting when it’s The Socialist calling from Buenos Aires, or Charlie from the hills of Scotland. But I’ve never had the video-to-video interaction before, and it was thrilling! Plus, my roommate is always good for a few giggles. Some choice comments:

“My cousin said she knows someone that can get me electrolysis under the table for 400 dollars CASH.”

“My brother is so boring, it’s like talking to a brick wall that’s tired.”

“I had ice cream for dinner last night. WHAAAAT I DESERVED IT GIVEMEABREAK!!” (She often sounds like the Mom from “My son is gay?” on youtube.) 

Also, at one point we were each holding up pairs of high-heeled shoes in the camera, oohing and aaahing.

It’s going to be a great summmmmer!

→ 1 CommentCategories: college · fashion · friendship · humor · life
Tagged: , , , , , , , ,

Corn Pups and Wall-E.

July 2, 2009 · Leave a Comment

Airport travel. There is nothing like it, in terms of people watching, and awkward situations, and having endless time to sit and think and watch CNN in your own sweat. (I have a notebook filled with musing and “serial killer poetry” from all the time I spent on planes when I studied abroad my junior year.)  Most of the time I’m worried about becoming my mother, but when I catch myself wandering around an airport muttering “I hate people” under my breath after the 67th person has cut me off with their roll-ey suitcase, I am faintly certain I am becoming my father too.

I started this most recent AWESOME AND THRILLING airport trip at the Denver International Airport. My boyfriend dropped me off there, in what was our official good-bye as he finally makes his way to L.A. We probably won’t see each other for eight weeks. Though this sucks, we had already had an “emotional” good-bye when he left Boston. (At that point, I had yet to determine that I was going to swindle my Dad’s Delta miles from him and head out to Kansas for one last hurrah in Middle America.) So this time he kinda just dropped me off, and I was running a tad late, and, I mean, obviously I cried, (duh it’s one of my favorite hobbies), but it was for only like, a minute and I’m still quite upset over MJ so that was part of it too. Then I ran inside and began thinking about what tabloid to buy, otherwise known as “serenity now.”

(Some interesting observations about the Denver International Airport: they have fake bird chirping noises playing throughout the facilities, and their women’s bathrooms double as tornado safety zones. Yay! Oh, and yes of course I spent most of my trip out there saying “Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore” to myself, especially whenever we passed the state line going to and fro Kansas City. It was loads of fun. Kansas City on the other hand….not so much.)

On the flight to Atlanta I felt extremely ill. I was sitting next to two teenagers, who were either dating or brother and sister or perhaps both, and this feeling of swiney-ness was compounded by the fact that I was in the window seat, and the duo kept leaning over me to look out the window the entire flight. Pretty sure it was their first time in a plane. At one point, I felt so bloated that I undid my belt and the button of my jeans (whatever you do it sometimes too) and then like an hour later realized my Bruce t-shirt had ridden up and I was slumped over in my seat like an obese meth addict. So, that was fun, and I was sweating violently to boot.

I refused to believe that the feelings of imminent vomiting were brought on by my anxiety at my boyfriend moving 3,000 miles away from me, oh, yeah, and also that small fact that I’m about to start acting school and I majored in Political Science and like AH WHAT IS GOING ON. But still, feeling puke-ish because of “emotional reasons” is so lame and I am not lame. Plus, there are a few reasons to back up my belief that I was actually ill: 1) I felt sick throughout the entire time I was in Boulder, which I think had something to do with the altitude, and much of the time I was there I wanted to pass out and I kept only finishing 35% of my drinks and am convinced I’m turning into my mother 2) My flight came equipped with the TV thing-y in front of me, and no one can be in a bad mood when they can watch CNN’s coverage of MJ’s death and/or listen to Taylor Swift and lastly, 3) My boyfriend’s old apartment in Boulder (where we stayed with his best college buddie) was so filthy that I think I contracted small pox while in the shower.

(Having graduated a year ago, I had forgotten how men live while they are in college. Though I’m no clean freak myself, it’s truly a thing to behold. Debris and pieces of leaves and mold everywhere, rogue hairs in the sink and shower, curled up magazines, dishes that look decades old, resting your bare arms and head on couches that were found in the dump….it’s all so sexy, isn’t it?)

Back to Atlanta. So I land, feeling ill, and decide that maybe eating is a good idea. Could be disastrous, but you never know. I eat a Turkey sub at some place called “Wall Street Deli.” I finish The Steve Martin autobiography my boyfriend let me snag from his apartment. (It’s fabulous. I kept fantasizing that Steve was going to be in the ATL airport at the same time as me, flying coach to Boston, and we would lock eyes as I was laughing at one of his passages about doing stand-up in Florida in his twenties and become best friends. Shockingly, this did not occur.) At one point, a woman my age came over in horribly broken English, and asked me to help her call home to Honduras on one of those International pay phones. I helped her, and five minutes later felt very into touch with Jeanine, who toads would have made the call AND begin chatting up the lady in Spanish.

Then I realized that though my ticket was confirmed, I had no seat assigned. When I went to get my seat, the ticket man asked me if I was over fifteen. Hmmm.

Then we all got on the plane. I got to my seat, 40F, a window, and saw that it was being taken up by a lovely Asian woman. “Excuse me, miss,” I said to her from the aisle, holding out my ticket. “You’re actually in my seat.” (Also, do you know my brother?) The man next to her stood up and, in broken English (a theme!), said, “We are couple, do you mind sit in my seat?” He showed me his ticket, 39F. Of course, I said. 39, 40? Tomato, Tahmato! “Oh, you are the nicest persons,” he said, smiling. That made me feel good. I am the nicest of persons!

The feeling soon disappated. About two minutes later the captain came on the loudspeaker. “I have some bad news folks,” he drawled. “This plane will not be leaving the airport for at least another three-and-a-half hours. It’s gotten really bad up in Boston. You’re going to have to de-plane.” A collective groan went up in the plane. (At the very least, I felt part of a community! I love airplanes for that!)

So with the departure time changed until 10:15, I meandered back into the gate area. I plopped down (aka threw my laptop on the ground), gave a good hearty sigh, and turned my attention to CNN, where Sanjay Gupta was talking to MJ’s nurse about drugs or Peter Pan or something.

I was distracted, and mildly intrigued. A heavy woman walked by me on her cellphone, plugged it into an outlet in the wall to charge and continued squawking, “Yeah, so they DE-PLANED us, and you know we might not even get to Boston tonight and…I KNOW! You should see all the people here with their eyes on the news, rubber-necking this train wreck, it’s so sick…..I KNOW!….enough already! Get a life right?? I KNOW, it’s pathetic!”

Clearly, she stank. I gave her the Mendelson stink-eye, and continued to watch Wolf Blitzer’s take on MJ’s nose job.

The flight was delayed another hour, until 11:15. Though not hungry, I began to worry about being trapped in the airport all night and starving to death and having to eat the fat woman on the phone making fun of me for watching CNN. (A normal fear, correct?) Plus, I still felt queasy. Maybe, just maybe, that sub hadn’t been enough. A store-front called “Krystal Hamburger” beckoned to me with red lights.

I approached. A young, sassy check-out girl with long bright green nails smiled at me. Soon, I was ordering a strawberry slushie and a slider. Why? I’m still not sure. I was bored. And lonely. Gross fast food helps. My slider came in a box with a woman’s face on it, and her “story.” Her name was Anne, she was from Tennessee, and she was in the Krystal Hall of Fame, because, I quote, “I don’t let anything stop my cravings! So when I passed a Krystal on the way to the hospital to give birth, I knew my first-born son would have to wait. I had to get my corn pups!”

Corn pups over birth, Anne? Yikes.

I ate the food, started to watch a movie on my laptop, and felt vaguely like my life was going to end in the Atlanta International airport. It was all quite peaceful. But soon we were back on the plane. I got to 39F. Before, I had not met my seat mate. Now I did. She was about four foot eleven, and looked to be about 102. Lady spoke no English, and was carrying a box of El Poco Loco that was about the size of her upper body. Hmmm. A flight attendent with a Boston accent came on the loudspeaker, which for some reason thrilled me. She informed us that because we’d been so patient and good-spirited with the delay, Delta was going to get all craaaaazy and let us watch Seventeen Again, and give out free headsets. I KNOW, RIGHT??? I was pumped. I got my headseat; it didn’t work. I pouted at Zac’s head on the big screen for a few moments, thought about how I can become Leslie Mann, then shrugged, and got out my laptop. As I watched Wall-E, and inhaled the smell of fried chicken, my little El Salvadorian granny friend leaned over, smiling at me, and the cartoon, whispering “Buenos noches” over and over again.

Is it weird that this movie made me miss my boyfriend? He sort of looks like Wall-E….

(Soon after I got home, I talked to my friend Seth, who was stuck in LAX for 15 hours after his flight was cancelled. Like me, he’d boarded, but then had been told to “deplane as fast as possible” after the pilots smelled gasoline coming out the air-conditioning vents. I think his airport story may win….Oh, well.)

→ Leave a CommentCategories: celebrities · dating · family · humor · life · love · men · movies · post college · relationships
Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

HEY PRETTY BABY WITH THE HIGH HEELS ON

June 28, 2009 · 5 Comments

I’m driving through Kansas right now, listening to “Man in the Mirror” and typing on my laptop. (Well, my boyfriend is driving, and I’m typing on my laptop, otherwise that would be quite dangerous.) I’ve been dying to write about the death of Michael Jackson these past few days, and now, finally, is my first chance. I know I’m late to the party, and maybe people are reading-about-MJ’ed out, but I was visiting the boyfriend’s family, and apparently “can I be excused from the table early to go write on my blog and properly mourn Michael” doesn’t really fly out here, so I myself still need to vent. But gee whiz, isn’t everyone feeling so much right now? I know I am. Is that embarrassing? Maybe.  I mean, can a person, a singer and dancer, really mean this much? (I think that his death feels different for many reasons though, which this NYTIMES article does a good job of describing. He truly was the last great superstar in the vein of Elvis or the Beatles.)

On Thursday afternoon, I was heading out of the house with my boyfriend to watch his two little sisters play golf. (IN KANSAS.) Before we left the house, I checked my email and the NYTIMES website, because I’m a nerd and do that constantly. The main story on the Times website was that MJ had been rushed to the hospital, and that he was possibly in cardiac arrest. But it was a hazy story, and thus was on one of their newsbreaking blogs, not even an official article. Call me stupid, but when I read that I didn’t react in a normal way. MJ has been so crazy these past years (decades? More on that later….) that I just figured he was having some health problems (um, yes, cardiac arrest is usually quite the health problem) and that he would be fine. How could he not be fine? (I follow celebrity news to a pretty unhealthy degree, so I knew MJ had all those concerts coming up in London.) He’d be fine. Still, when I got in the Jeep with le boyfriend, I mentioned what I’d read. Weird, I’d said. And then I forgot about it.

Two hours later, I was standing in sweltering 98 Kansas heat (IN KANSAS MIGHT I ADD), drinking some lemonade out of a Styrofoam cup and watching a gaggle of kids compete in a putting contest, when I heard the man behind me say to some other parents, “Did you hear Michael Jackson died about an hour ago?” I almost screamed. I think that if I hadn’t at least known that he was ill that day, I probably WOULD have screamed. I was standing alone at that point, and became confused as to whether or not it was proper etiquette if I turned around and demanded to see that man’s blackberry at once. Everyone was soon talking about it, in this very parental calm Kansian way. I felt strange. I was in disbelief, and incredibly sad. I wanted to leave the family event and be alone.

I’ve always been a huge Michael Jackson fan. Who isn’t? (Well, probably my college roommate, who I talked to last night. She said, “Care, I mean, I know everyone’s freaking out about it, but he was a huge freak, right? Is it wrong that it makes me uncomfortable to see him on TV?”)

It’s like, where do you begin? The mind explodes. I think my first memories of MJ are of my babysitters listening to him, A LOT. I was probably four or five, and I remember thinking that some music was “bad” music, and thus cool. It was the stuff my parents didn’t listen to. It was the stuff that the babysitter’s always put on really loud in the car or at home, and would sing along to, and laugh with their friends if they were around, and they all seemed just really cool and old and grown-up and awesome to me, and like, uh, I want to be like that. “Dirty Diana” would be the quintessential bad-ass babysitter song. Some sort of acid wash jean and “Dirty Diana” situation. UH.

I have clear memories of digging the song MJ did for Free Willy (laugh all you want, the video is BAD ASS) and I remember when HIStory was released. My bf Mari had a copy, or her brother or parents did, and we listened to it a lot. Especially that gem “You Are Not Alone.” It’s horribly cheesy, but that song used to comfort me, or do whatever cheesy pop songs do to nine-year-old kids. Then there was Scream. I just saw that video in VH1 last night, and I still think it’s bad-ass. I never got sick of those little noises he made, the MJ screams and shrieks which, yes, were strange, but in the most awesome-est of ways, and seeing him dance with his sister was very cool to me. And yes, it was confusing that she was black and he was white, but neither of them seemed to care. I also recall digging the Weird Al video “Eat It” and watching in my grandmother’s den in Chicopee, circa 1992. (Still a great song to work-out to. “Beat It” that is. Not “Eat It.”)

In high school, I started listening to a lot of Jackson 5. I freely admit that this was brought on by my obsession with the movie Now and Then. (Still one of the best movies ever made for young teenage girls EVER. Uh, Devon Sawa you slay me…) I was a freshman at boarding school, and this girl across the hall, Brittany, had the Now and Then soundtrack, and she let me borrow it all the time. “I Want You Back” was my all-time fav. I would listen to it before we were forced to do our homework at night.
              The next year Brittany and I were roommates. Though I think we occasionally did homework, we spent most of the time playing with our hair, planning our outfits for the next day, and listening to one of these three songs: “The World’s Greatest” by R. Kelly (yeah ….) and some horrid piece of crap by Fat Joe. But our clear favorite was “You Rock My World” by Michael Jackson. That song was off of Invincible, which was supposed to be MJ’s comeback, and clearly wasn’t. I don’t know of one other track of that album. But he certainly kept and made two new fans with at least that song. Brit and I could not get enough of that beat in the beginning. (Yes, I know I sound lame, but it’s the truth: the beat could not have been gotten any more than the get we got from it.) ”You rock my world” came on in bar last summer when we were together, and the event was probably the highlight of the past two years of my life. I can’t remember now if we requested it because it’s our jam, or if it just came on magically (not too many other people enjoy this tune as much as we do. You don’t really hear it a lot while out.) Pictures of us doing our best MJ dance moves whilst slightly intoxicated prove this. When he died, Brit texted me about the song.

But college is when I really began to listen to the older stuff of his that so many people already knew and loved. Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough is one of my favorite songs of all time, period. In college, I legitimately listened to it  every night before I went out, usually when applying my eye-liner with my roommate, or whenever I need a pick-me-up. It’s an instantaneous energy booster. It has a place on every “happy” or “upbeat” mix I’ve ever made. And everytime I hear it, I believe that I am sporting feathered hair, a wide-leg silk pantsuit, and dancing in some club in Los Angeles with Steve McQueen in the non-creepiest Boogie Nights way possible. (I just informed my boyfriend about this, and he said that there is no way one can say that want to be part of Boogie Nights without sounding like a huge creep. Whatever, I saw that movie like a million years ago. IT HAD GREAT FASHION. He stinks.) Anyhow, there was this one frat in college that never played new rap music or, like, Fergie, at their parties, but they had DSTYGE play at probably every shindig they threw. Sometimes dancing by myself, or with my roommate, in a gross basement to MJ was the highlight of the weekend. Sad but true. And I loved it.

But I guess my favorite MJ song, and probably a lot of other people’s too, is “Man in the Mirror.” I finkling love that tune. Maybe five years ago now (yikes) I drove with my friend Emma from Maryland to South Carolina to visit previously-mentioned Brittany. This was before the ubiquity of iPods, and for music in el coche we didn’t have much: mostly scratched mixes, with, like, bad Eve rap songs on it. But we did have a new CD. I had just bought “Michael Jackson’s Number Ones.” I think we listened to the CD four or five times on that one drive, and we probably listened to “Man in The Mirror” twenty times. I mean, the opening snaps….and when you sing along, it’s like, um, YOUR song and YOU’RE GONNA MAKE A CHANGE. Michael really brings you into that chorus in the most excellent of ways. CAUSE THEY GOT NOWHERE TO GO THAT’S WHY I WANTJUTOKNOW It’s pretty damn spectacular. I made my boyfriend’s little sisters listen to it with me these past two days and they’re now hooked as well, complete with finger snap alongs. I’VE BEEN A VICTIM OF A SELFISH KIND OF LOVE….Shit’s mad empowering, and timeless.

Then there’s his fashion, of course. As someone always obsessed with sequins, and currently into tight black pants and shoulder pads, MJ is a true icon: I love his look. The red coat in the “Beat It” video??

Balenciaga only wishes he could design something like that. (Okay, that made no sense, I know, because Balenciaga is dead, but you know what I mean. More like, some ano Eastern European model on the pages of VOGUE only WISHES she could wear some of that 80’s shit that’s in right now, the way Michael can. Uh, could….)

Just look at him here:

28799218

I plan on rocking a sequined military coat this summer, and possibly some sparkly socks. Def. getting an MJ t-shirt on the street.

But back to the music. I love Pop music, always have, always will. And there is no music like his. He combined so many genres, but really I think it’s the energy and originality he had as a performer. So many of his songs mean so much to me. It’s….it’s strange to type that, and feel that, and know that SO MANY other people feel exactly the same way. I suppose there are those few artists that truly bring people together in that sense. 

I am an internal optimist. (Well, I also worry a lot, and am sort of dark too, but optimism usually wins out.) It’s not like I wasn’t, nor am not now, aware of how f-ed up Michael Jackson became as he aged. I read this article when it came out in Vanity Fair in 2005, and recall being totally horrified. But I believe in the comeback. And I believe that this was a man who loved to make music, and was born to make music, and in the end just wanted to share that with others. I think it’s hard to comprehend how or why people fall apart the way the do. Obviously childhood has a lot to do with how he turned out, as it does with all people. But to live in the public eye that long, to have that much money so young, to have that much adoration, to have whatever it was inside him that was clearly so tortured and needy? And I do question the line between how sick he really was, and how sick he became from not only the incredible amount of pressure, but the incredible, incredible amount of scrutiny and judgement. Yes, it’s disturbing what he did to himself physically. But as an article I was reading yesterday pointed out, was he not just a man with an already extreme life, who thus took something already prevalent in our culture (a sick obsession with youth and perfection) to the extreme? Can anyone not say that we aren’t a country obsessed with eternal youth, and the escape of reality? Obviously this man did not feel like he could age and retain his identity, or his connection with fans. And his skin pigment is another story. I don’t get it, and always wished he would have explained it better. Was it a medical condition? A preference? What happened? Should it matter so much?

And I wonder about genius. My boyfriend was just saying to me that last night, while I was on the phone with a friend, he was watching a special on MJ on ABC with his family, and Diane Sawyer was interviewing Michael seven or eight years ago. He was being asked about his famous performance at Motown’s 25th anniversary event. Michael spoke how he still found many flaws in his work that night, and about how he was never satisfied with what he did: he always found something that could need improvement, and always wanted to reach something more. There was always something lacking. (And I do think it’s important to realize that though MJ was clearly inherently gifted, he also beyond hard-working and driven. What he achieved and gave to so many didn’t happen on accident.) But clearly his perfectionism took it’s toll. It seems that often people like him are never happy, because they can not find peace in what they have accomplished, nor can they accept that as an artist their quest for something more will never stop. That’s sad for them, but for the rest of us, it does produce incredible results. So I wonder why there has to be so much questioning about people who are able to produce the kind of art that MJ could. He’s a freak. He’s a weirdo etc etc. Maybe he is. But what normal people can dance like that? Or sing like that? Or make people want to dance and sing like that? I mean, really, where did that come from? It’s other-wordly. To have that, and to share it, should be enough, shouldn’t it? But as a culture, we want more and more, and we want to judge, and we like to see people fail in this sick way, and we’re never satisfied. Ever, it seems. What is the price? The outpouring people are showing now, the genuine emotion, and forgiveness and love…it does seem to come a little too late. I know it’s much more complicated then this, and that the man was really sick in the head in many ways. (I mean, his kid’s name is Blanket….and he dangled it over a balcony. Plus, his parents? I mean, YIKES. You’ve been warned KATE AND JON.) But, inherently, I just believe MJ was a good person, and a musical genius, who got lost along the way. Regardless, I am just happy to have had so many experiences with his music. It will be with us forever. I feel grateful for what he gave to the world.

And that’s the end of my delayed MJ rambling….

UH.

→ 5 CommentsCategories: Uncategorized
Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Power Rangers, Hot dogs, and Ed.

June 23, 2009 · 1 Comment

In the five or so years after my parents split up, before my father married again, he lived in a number of places. The first (and still most cherished of these places), was a house he (or we?) christened “Gibbons Shack”, Gibbons being my father’s landlord, and a man I now recall as wearing a yellow rain slicker at all times and looking fairly like the creepy-turned-lovely old man from Home Alone, though I’m suddenly aware of the fact that I may be making all this up in my head. It’s possible I never met him. Anyhow, Le Shack was a stone’s throw from Mattapoisett Beach, often had no warm running water, and was filled with a lot more junk food than was found at my mother’s home, meaning it was wicked rad. And it was during the glory days of being obsessed with MY MEAN UNRESPONSIVE OLDER CHINESE BROTHER, and when we were at Dad’s we still got to share a room, our “room” being two mattresses pushed together on the floor, behind the futon my father slept on. Again, totally rad.

After leaving Gibbons Shack, my Dad upgraded (or downgraded?) to some new digs in the same town. This time, he moved into a very large, very cool, old white home right near Tedeschi’s and the laundry mat. The laundry mat was then possibly the coolest place to spend a Saturday afternoon, so I was pretty pleased. Plus, in this house, my Dad had his own room, and Alex and I had our own room, complete with beds that raised off the floor, and some assorted bookshelves and boxes full of dress-up. (UH DRESS-UP HOW I MISS YOU SO!)

The house was owned by a woman with crazy-red hair, named Suzanne. She lived in the house with us, along with another boarder, some dude who’s name I no longer remember. The dude had a bedroom right off the main staircase, on the first floor, which I crept by numerous times a day on tiptoe. I believe he had facial hair, and was younger than my father and he slept a lot. I think he appeared in the film Empire Records. Then again, maybe I am just remembering my father, who used to have facial hair and used to be younger than he is now. Hmmm. Well, anyhow, there was definitely some young, hip, dude living in the house, as well as a couple who had their own little section, and therefore their own entrance, and did not fraternize with the rest of us. Their loss.

My memories of that time are pretty much as follows:

1) playing in some sort of basement situation with my brother and this blonde chick who lived around the bend and being like “uh why are they so much older and talking about stuff I don’t GET all the time UH”
2) one time Alex swearing at me in front of the chick to totally impress her and I told my Dad and Alex got in trouble and I was totally fake crying about it and I still feel guilty. (Sorry, Al.)
3) choking on a piece of bread with butter on it in my bed and then being scared to eat for weeks. (Who, me, dramatic??? PLEAESE.) My dad used to bring us untoasted bread with unmelted butter on it before we went to bed each night, often AFTER we had brushed our teeth. MEN.
4) Eating copious amounts of Mac n’ cheese
5) Watching TV. A lot. I went through a very-hardcore Clarissa Explains It All phase in that house, as well as a pretty intense Power Rangers obsession, which my brother shared as well. (I was the pink one, DUH. I believe you were yellow, Alex? Having seen that show in recent years, it’s clear that it was created to be watched while on serious drugs, and I’m not sure what was going on in my head at the time.) Regardless, NOTHING, AND I MEAN NOTHING, could touch my love of Star Search, which brings me to the long-winded point of this post: Ed McMahon died this morning, and that makes me really sad. 

That show was a huge part of my childhood, and I used to get as excited to watch it as I assume those little kiddies do today, with their American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance? nonsense. I hate to admit (except that I really don’t….), it’s probably one of the reasons I am now heading to NYC, imagining that I will one day be yukking it up in a sketch with Goddess Wiig, because I used to prance around the living room of that house eating hot dogs and ice-cream sandwiches and carrying my Beauty and the Beast version of the Ken doll, imagining that one day Ed would be giving me stars. It was like the Oscars, only MULTIPLE times a week! He was just the chillest host ever. Whenever any kid lost, Ed was always super kind and sympathetic to them, and whenever anyone won he totally got excited, as if he actually cared. And coming in with fouuuuuuuuuuuur staaaaaaaaaars winners from last week… (Ah, that voice!) Even our girl Brit got her start there!

And even though one-time, in, like, fifth grade, I got one of his sweepstakes things in the mail, and totally thought my Mom had won a million dollars and was like shaking with happiness because I thought it was real…well, I don’t hold it against the man. He was a great part of American culture, and I know he meant a lot to older generations from all his years on The Tonight Show. He was a part of our generation too, and I will miss him.

→ 1 CommentCategories: celebrities · divorce · family · life · men · t.v. · thoughts
Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Beyonce, Paul, Bruce, Eddie.

June 22, 2009 · 1 Comment

If I was banished to a island, and had only three songs I could listen to for the rest of my life, they would probably be “Hearts and Bones” by Paul Simon, “Me, Myself and I” by Beyonce, and “Thunder Road” by le Boss. I don’t really pretend to be cool. It’s not hard to please me in the music department. A mix CD of bad pop music with a few James Taylor tracks thrown in the mix is my idea of a good time. But I have been listening to a lot of Pearl Jam lately. This is due to the fact that my bf loves the band more than life itself, but I also was very into the Into the Wild soundtrack last year (probably a little too much so, if you ask my roommate….), so I already had an appreciation for the fact that Vedder’s voice sounds like sex on x, and it can make you want to cry and/or go for a really long run in the rain. There is no one else who sings with his kind of emotion. I have a few new favorites,  this track below being one of them. Good stuff, though the video is sort of lacking….

→ 1 CommentCategories: celebrities · music · post college · relationships
Tagged: , , , , , ,

EARTH TO CHINA

June 21, 2009 · 2 Comments

Um…..

So my brother is missing. He high-tailed it to China like nine months ago and since then has been super MIA. You might recall me writing about him a few posts ago. You probably assume, like me, that he’d read my witty words, felt guilty, and promptly responded with a long and thoughtful email. YEAH NO. I still got nothing. I feel very Titanic right now, towards the end. You know, “Is there anyone alive you there???? Can you heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeear me?????”

I mean JEEEEZ Alex. If you ever want me to come to Shanghai and rock my new fierce heels and prance around with you being extra tall and drinking leeychee martinis, then you better respond. (That’s all you do in China, right?) In your defense, Mom did just pop in the room to tell me that you called this morning and we were both sleeping and being lazy, but really that’s not going to cut it. I mean, WHEN IF EVER are you coming home? Christmas? How was your birthday overseas? Was it as fun as the one below? I DOUBT IT.

IMG_1856

Can you actually speak Chinese now, or are you just fooling us and going on youtube a lot, per usual? Are any of your friends filmmakers and want to put me in their movie sort of a like a Scar Jo “Lost in Translation” type of thing??? Have you quit smoking? How is the smog? HOLY CRAP I CANT BELIEVE YOU LIVE IN CHINA. Occasionally, I remember this WITHIN remembering it (it’s a pretty out of body experience, I’ll tell ya) and it blows my mind! It’s pretty cool, really. Oh, also at Michael’s graduation party yesterday, one of Tata’s friends asked me if it’s really hard for me having you living all the way in China. She was nice, so I tried not to laugh in her face. I sort of explained that the last time we lived in the same house together you had a mural of Britney Spears pictures on your wall, and I was eleven. But whatever, let’s just prove her RIGHT, and start talking ALL THE TIME, so that I DO MISS you. That way, I can cajole one of the rents to put me on a plane and we’ll celebrate xmas or thanksgiving together sans them (so much drama with those two ANYWAY) and we can eat sushi or whatever and be like totally generation Y about it! (Are we generation y? See this is why I need you around. To point me in the right direction….)

IMG_1877

Awwww. Also, have you seen The Hangover? It’s overrated in my opinion, and I feel confused that people keep saying it’s the funniest movie they’ve ever seen. I mean, yes, IT IS funny, but I also think the movie Sideways is pretty funny, you know? And what is the movie situation over there? You probably own like a billion pirated DVD’s right now. You are such a pirate, Alex!

Anyhow, I’ve remodeled the whole fridge in your honor. See.

IMG_1862

(Evidence towards the middle of how much you love me. You’re KISSING me on the head. I mean, what a premonition of constant email dialogue riiiiight??? Also, you’re looking pretty fierce in that wool sweater, holding Aaron. It doesn’t exactly scream “I will grow up and move to China” but it’s close enough.)

I plan to show the whole blogosphere some of your photos soon, which I will steal from your website. (My bro is a photographer. We are very artsy-crafty people, as you can see.) Do I have permission to do this? Or will it make you feel exposed, like your standing in your underwear over a sprinkler is a yard that appears to be…..where? I have no idea where this photo was taken? Our crazy parents and their life before they split up! You probably know more about this than me. I assume when this was taken I was pooping my pants somewhere inside imaginary house. Awesome.

IMG_1851

Speaking of embarrassing and being artsy-crafty, how emo is this photo I took OF A PHOTO?!?!? Even though it’s from a distance and super emo, I still think I captured the essence of our childhood: we’re wearing matching t-shirts and Tevas, and you’re grabbing your crotch a la Michael Jackson. I look like Madonna, and of course, my teal headband is fab-u-lous. And lastly, people probably thought Mom was crazy for making her children pose like this in public, which she is.

IMG_1865

So, there you have it. We toads need to correspond more, set a time for me to come visit/become a Chinese movie star, and get ourselves to a bar to drink sake and yuk it up. (Um….that’s Japanese though….damn! I can never get it right!!) Regardless, it will be a barrell of laughs, as it always is when we hang out and go to Maroon 5 concerts together. The proof is in the pudding.

IMG_1874

ohmygod HAR HAR HAR we’re on a lifeguard stand HAR HAR HAR!!!

→ 2 CommentsCategories: divorce · family · humor · life · movies · post college · relationships · thoughts
Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,