Sunday, December 30, 2007
Another Year...
God, can you believe it's almost 2008? It seems like just yesterday I was ringing in the new year with an evening of board games and a whole week of America's Next Top Model on VH1, discovering for the first time the wonders of Melrose and the horrors of Jade. Now here we are in the land of year-end clip shows, trying our best to pretend that 2007 actually meant something. I'm not so convinced that it did, but here are some of my favorite moments:
-- One of my clients asks me if I'm a student intern at my firm. This is what job satisfaction is all about.
-- I finish my paint by number masterwork, Puppy Climbing Over Log. The terms of the Christie's auction remain under negotiation.
-- The AARP accidentally invites me to join their membership ranks. In preparation for this honor, I tell a long story about soup and buy season one of Murder, She Wrote.
-- I begin my Comcast on Demand-assisted studies of Exotic Dance, leaving four dead and six injured.
-- I get my record player. Next on my wish list? A daguerreotype machine and new spats.
-- High School Musical 2 gives kids everywhere the freedom to be really gay again.
-- The Looptopia celebration introduces Chicagoans to the pleasures of loitering downtown and being cold.
-- I go on a Ghost Tour of Chicago, which pretty much ends up just being three hours on a bus.
-- Roommate Liz moves out, but leaves several socks and a lot of junk mail to remember her by.
-- I blog about the same event twice, and in slightly different ways. And thus the thin tissue of lies begins to unravel.
-- The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants debuts on HBO. Okay, so maybe it's not actually one of my favorite moments of 2007, but it is my favorite moment for which I just saw a commercial. I'm watching Steel Magnolias on ABC Family, okay? God damn it, don't judge me.
God, can you believe it's almost 2008? It seems like just yesterday I was ringing in the new year with an evening of board games and a whole week of America's Next Top Model on VH1, discovering for the first time the wonders of Melrose and the horrors of Jade. Now here we are in the land of year-end clip shows, trying our best to pretend that 2007 actually meant something. I'm not so convinced that it did, but here are some of my favorite moments:
-- One of my clients asks me if I'm a student intern at my firm. This is what job satisfaction is all about.
-- I finish my paint by number masterwork, Puppy Climbing Over Log. The terms of the Christie's auction remain under negotiation.
-- The AARP accidentally invites me to join their membership ranks. In preparation for this honor, I tell a long story about soup and buy season one of Murder, She Wrote.
-- I begin my Comcast on Demand-assisted studies of Exotic Dance, leaving four dead and six injured.
-- I get my record player. Next on my wish list? A daguerreotype machine and new spats.
-- High School Musical 2 gives kids everywhere the freedom to be really gay again.
-- The Looptopia celebration introduces Chicagoans to the pleasures of loitering downtown and being cold.
-- I go on a Ghost Tour of Chicago, which pretty much ends up just being three hours on a bus.
-- Roommate Liz moves out, but leaves several socks and a lot of junk mail to remember her by.
-- I blog about the same event twice, and in slightly different ways. And thus the thin tissue of lies begins to unravel.
-- The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants debuts on HBO. Okay, so maybe it's not actually one of my favorite moments of 2007, but it is my favorite moment for which I just saw a commercial. I'm watching Steel Magnolias on ABC Family, okay? God damn it, don't judge me.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Liveblogging My Parents' Living Room
1:15 PM -- I return from lunch at my grandmother's. My mother asks me if I was forced to eat leftover ham. I respond that I was not, although some half-mauled fruitcake was pushed in my general direction.
1:22 PM -- My dad is watching Jeopardy. Alex Trebex is looking kinda rough.
1: 37 PM -- My mother begins forwarding me emails containing various urban legends she has had forwarded to her my her friends. I knew the high speed internet would have drawbacks.
1:54 PM -- Miscellaneous barking. (Not by me.) Turns out there's a squirrel on the deck.
2:33 PM -- Seventh Heaven is on. '90s hairstyles were the best.
2:46 PM -- My mother asks me if I want to go to Kohl's. I do not. Based on this intelligence, the planned trip falls apart.
3:03 PM -- I check my email. I have received spam from alleged people named Ashley T. Snodgrass and Heather R. Wilkington.
3:18 PM -- My dad posits that the death of Benazir Bhutto is sad. The motion carries.
3:34 PM -- The threat of playing board games is raised. I quickly develop an interest in going to see National Treasure 2 instead.
3:45 PM -- I turn to blogging to stave off boredom.
1:15 PM -- I return from lunch at my grandmother's. My mother asks me if I was forced to eat leftover ham. I respond that I was not, although some half-mauled fruitcake was pushed in my general direction.
1:22 PM -- My dad is watching Jeopardy. Alex Trebex is looking kinda rough.
1: 37 PM -- My mother begins forwarding me emails containing various urban legends she has had forwarded to her my her friends. I knew the high speed internet would have drawbacks.
1:54 PM -- Miscellaneous barking. (Not by me.) Turns out there's a squirrel on the deck.
2:33 PM -- Seventh Heaven is on. '90s hairstyles were the best.
2:46 PM -- My mother asks me if I want to go to Kohl's. I do not. Based on this intelligence, the planned trip falls apart.
3:03 PM -- I check my email. I have received spam from alleged people named Ashley T. Snodgrass and Heather R. Wilkington.
3:18 PM -- My dad posits that the death of Benazir Bhutto is sad. The motion carries.
3:34 PM -- The threat of playing board games is raised. I quickly develop an interest in going to see National Treasure 2 instead.
3:45 PM -- I turn to blogging to stave off boredom.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
The End of an Era
My parents got high-speed wireless internet today. This means that I can no longer make jokes about their internet requiring a working knowledge of cuneiform or relying on an international network of telegraph operators. No more can I thrill over waiting twenty minutes for my gmail to load. More than anything, though, I will miss repeatedly calling home -- say in the midst of a car accident or home invasion -- to receive only a busy signal. Now I'll only have to contend with the shocking prevalence of dog walking in order to reach my folks.
Of course, the installation of this wonderful new technological marvel was not without its issues. There were approximately three hours of screaming about wireless cards coupled with multiple trips to Best Buy. My mother trotted out some favorite old saws about no one appreciating her work or taking her seriously. My dad sighed heavily and rolled his eyes in his signature style. Finally it feels like the holidays!
The best thing about all of this, though, is that my mother will finally be able to enjoy the hardcore and disturbing pornography she so frequently favors without suffering any attendant delays. Viva la internet!
My parents got high-speed wireless internet today. This means that I can no longer make jokes about their internet requiring a working knowledge of cuneiform or relying on an international network of telegraph operators. No more can I thrill over waiting twenty minutes for my gmail to load. More than anything, though, I will miss repeatedly calling home -- say in the midst of a car accident or home invasion -- to receive only a busy signal. Now I'll only have to contend with the shocking prevalence of dog walking in order to reach my folks.
Of course, the installation of this wonderful new technological marvel was not without its issues. There were approximately three hours of screaming about wireless cards coupled with multiple trips to Best Buy. My mother trotted out some favorite old saws about no one appreciating her work or taking her seriously. My dad sighed heavily and rolled his eyes in his signature style. Finally it feels like the holidays!
The best thing about all of this, though, is that my mother will finally be able to enjoy the hardcore and disturbing pornography she so frequently favors without suffering any attendant delays. Viva la internet!
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Holiday Greetings
The holidays almost didn't happen for me this year. I know I say that pretty much every year -- just like Lindsay Lohan always says she's cleaning up her act and our president always tells us he's found some wonderful new Middle Eastern country to bomb -- but this year I really mean it. Between work, my junior-high-style social life, and the shocking preponderance of America's Next Top Model marathons on MTV, I almost couldn't find time to hit the road for a week of sensory deprivation with my parents in Quincy.
But then I thought of all the sad-eyed, frail-looking orphans with rickets who are probably somehow depending on me to make their holidays bright. I imagined them trudging fifteen miles through a blizzard to visit me, only to be force fed ice cream bites by my mother and conned into a surprisingly emotive game of Guesstures. I could practically hear the death rattles of their tubercular coughs. And then I got angry. Who the hell did these damn orphans think they were to judge me? And didn't they get the memo about our nation having the Best Health Care System in the World, so long as the world is defined to include only the United States and Estonia? The whole thing just made me sick, and not the good kind of sick like Shannon Doherty. So I dutifully threw on my Midwesterner costume and hopped in the car for a week of Blue Light Specials and TGIFridays.
And so here we are again, wondering how it is that yet another year has gone by without us marrying Urkel, and indulging in hazy memories of holidays past, when grandpa used to take us sledding out by the old mill (in reality it was a cockfight behind the Lane Bryant, but same difference) and mom cooked up a turkey with all the trimmings (Lean Cuisine mac and cheese with a side of crack pipe). It's a truly magical time of year, and not just because it allows the networks to rerun the same maudlin specials the spent $5.99 on twenty years ago and still charge a hundred grand for a ten second Massengil spot. The fact is, everything looks better under a fresh layer of snow, whether it's the mailbox those damn neighborhood kids keep tagging with anatomically incorrect graffiti or the friendship you haven't really worked at since the cool kinds were still asking their hairstylists for "the Rachel." Years ago we learned that it's much easier to accept someone's faults when you have a sneaking suspicion they might be buying you some Transformers, and that lesson still holds today. For whatever reason, the holidays make us all love each other a little bit more, and that's not a bad thing.
Of course, it wouldn't be the holidays if I weren't trying to cram all the events of my past year into a few centimeters' space, so I'd better give it a go. I'm still working at the same law firm, realizing more and more each day that no one is ever going to confess on the stand like on Matlock, and still living in Wrigleyville, home of bad reggae bars and date rape. I'm still writing and performing sketch comedy, and I even graduated from the Second City Conservatory, which is a bit like graduating from Hamburger University, only less useful. It's been yet another wonderful year, and I know I owe that to the wonderful people like you who fill up my days. Thanks for being who you are, and happy holidays!
The holidays almost didn't happen for me this year. I know I say that pretty much every year -- just like Lindsay Lohan always says she's cleaning up her act and our president always tells us he's found some wonderful new Middle Eastern country to bomb -- but this year I really mean it. Between work, my junior-high-style social life, and the shocking preponderance of America's Next Top Model marathons on MTV, I almost couldn't find time to hit the road for a week of sensory deprivation with my parents in Quincy.
But then I thought of all the sad-eyed, frail-looking orphans with rickets who are probably somehow depending on me to make their holidays bright. I imagined them trudging fifteen miles through a blizzard to visit me, only to be force fed ice cream bites by my mother and conned into a surprisingly emotive game of Guesstures. I could practically hear the death rattles of their tubercular coughs. And then I got angry. Who the hell did these damn orphans think they were to judge me? And didn't they get the memo about our nation having the Best Health Care System in the World, so long as the world is defined to include only the United States and Estonia? The whole thing just made me sick, and not the good kind of sick like Shannon Doherty. So I dutifully threw on my Midwesterner costume and hopped in the car for a week of Blue Light Specials and TGIFridays.
And so here we are again, wondering how it is that yet another year has gone by without us marrying Urkel, and indulging in hazy memories of holidays past, when grandpa used to take us sledding out by the old mill (in reality it was a cockfight behind the Lane Bryant, but same difference) and mom cooked up a turkey with all the trimmings (Lean Cuisine mac and cheese with a side of crack pipe). It's a truly magical time of year, and not just because it allows the networks to rerun the same maudlin specials the spent $5.99 on twenty years ago and still charge a hundred grand for a ten second Massengil spot. The fact is, everything looks better under a fresh layer of snow, whether it's the mailbox those damn neighborhood kids keep tagging with anatomically incorrect graffiti or the friendship you haven't really worked at since the cool kinds were still asking their hairstylists for "the Rachel." Years ago we learned that it's much easier to accept someone's faults when you have a sneaking suspicion they might be buying you some Transformers, and that lesson still holds today. For whatever reason, the holidays make us all love each other a little bit more, and that's not a bad thing.
Of course, it wouldn't be the holidays if I weren't trying to cram all the events of my past year into a few centimeters' space, so I'd better give it a go. I'm still working at the same law firm, realizing more and more each day that no one is ever going to confess on the stand like on Matlock, and still living in Wrigleyville, home of bad reggae bars and date rape. I'm still writing and performing sketch comedy, and I even graduated from the Second City Conservatory, which is a bit like graduating from Hamburger University, only less useful. It's been yet another wonderful year, and I know I owe that to the wonderful people like you who fill up my days. Thanks for being who you are, and happy holidays!
Sunday, December 23, 2007
The Children's Hour
As a general matter, I like children. We have a lot of interests in common, for one thing. It's difficult to find people of my own age with whom I can have an intelligent discussion of High School Musical or Fruit Roll-Ups. Plus children, unlike adults, are seldom assholes. I don't think that gene kicks in until adolscence.
At the same time, though, I have to admit that one of my favorite things about living in a city is that I can generally go to a movie or restaurant without being surrounded by three-year-olds who are screaming and grinding their crayons into the apholstery. Adults will seldom kick the back of your chair or throw popcorn, even when technically they probably should. I mean, it's really the natural reaction to attending a screening of Meet Joe Black.
The really interesting thing to me, though, is the way some parents of young children tend to let them run completely amok. For instance, I was comtemplating my selection of trail mix in Target the other day, when I espied a mother blithely talking on her cell phone while her son strolled along behind her methodically dumping everything from the shelves onto the floor. On another occasion I was browsing some department store where I observed a mother so engrossed in her conversation with the cosmetics counter employee that she failed to notice her two kids smacking the hell out of each other immediately behind her. In neither case was the parent in question in fact Britney Spears.
Not that I'm judging. If I had kids, they'd probably die of rickets. I can't even keep a damned plant alive.
As a general matter, I like children. We have a lot of interests in common, for one thing. It's difficult to find people of my own age with whom I can have an intelligent discussion of High School Musical or Fruit Roll-Ups. Plus children, unlike adults, are seldom assholes. I don't think that gene kicks in until adolscence.
At the same time, though, I have to admit that one of my favorite things about living in a city is that I can generally go to a movie or restaurant without being surrounded by three-year-olds who are screaming and grinding their crayons into the apholstery. Adults will seldom kick the back of your chair or throw popcorn, even when technically they probably should. I mean, it's really the natural reaction to attending a screening of Meet Joe Black.
The really interesting thing to me, though, is the way some parents of young children tend to let them run completely amok. For instance, I was comtemplating my selection of trail mix in Target the other day, when I espied a mother blithely talking on her cell phone while her son strolled along behind her methodically dumping everything from the shelves onto the floor. On another occasion I was browsing some department store where I observed a mother so engrossed in her conversation with the cosmetics counter employee that she failed to notice her two kids smacking the hell out of each other immediately behind her. In neither case was the parent in question in fact Britney Spears.
Not that I'm judging. If I had kids, they'd probably die of rickets. I can't even keep a damned plant alive.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Senility Now
Today I showed up for a doctor's appointment that won't happen for a month. I thought it was odd that I hadn't gotten a reminder call, but it was in my calendar, so I just headed over there. Luckily there was a sassy receptionist to set me straight. Essentially I ended up taking a half hour walk. Probably there are more attractive places I could have gone than Northwestern Medical Center, but the view of the Sbarro was breathtaking.
I've also had a number of moments lately where I forget what I'm doing right in the middle of doing it. I'll be standing in the middle of the room wielding a stapler or screwdriver and not be able to remember what I was about to staple or screw (har har). If I had children, I imagine I'd be calling them by the wrong names by now.
If I start to get the urge to subscribe to Reader's Digest and go to dinner at 3:30, I'm really going to get worried.
Today I showed up for a doctor's appointment that won't happen for a month. I thought it was odd that I hadn't gotten a reminder call, but it was in my calendar, so I just headed over there. Luckily there was a sassy receptionist to set me straight. Essentially I ended up taking a half hour walk. Probably there are more attractive places I could have gone than Northwestern Medical Center, but the view of the Sbarro was breathtaking.
I've also had a number of moments lately where I forget what I'm doing right in the middle of doing it. I'll be standing in the middle of the room wielding a stapler or screwdriver and not be able to remember what I was about to staple or screw (har har). If I had children, I imagine I'd be calling them by the wrong names by now.
If I start to get the urge to subscribe to Reader's Digest and go to dinner at 3:30, I'm really going to get worried.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Corrections
-- The Battle of Normandy was in 1944, not 1994. I was thinking of the Attack on Nancy Kerrigan.
-- If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, it does, in fact, make a sound. It screams like a little girl.
-- While Ben Franklin invented a number of things, the phrase "getting jiggy with it" was not among them.
-- All the cool kids are not, in fact, doing it. Most of them are at the mall with their parents right now.
-- Oprah is not half feline.
-- You will not ever use calculus in real life.
-- Slap bracelets are never coming back in style.
-- The pyramids of Egypt were not built by the New Kids on the Block. I still say they were pretty cool, though.
-- Slavery was not the cause of the Civil War. It turns out it was all just a big fight over a girl.
-- Julia Styles is not retarded.
-- Christmas is not a feeling in your heart. That is a heart attack. Start dialing 911 immediately.
-- The Battle of Normandy was in 1944, not 1994. I was thinking of the Attack on Nancy Kerrigan.
-- If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, it does, in fact, make a sound. It screams like a little girl.
-- While Ben Franklin invented a number of things, the phrase "getting jiggy with it" was not among them.
-- All the cool kids are not, in fact, doing it. Most of them are at the mall with their parents right now.
-- Oprah is not half feline.
-- You will not ever use calculus in real life.
-- Slap bracelets are never coming back in style.
-- The pyramids of Egypt were not built by the New Kids on the Block. I still say they were pretty cool, though.
-- Slavery was not the cause of the Civil War. It turns out it was all just a big fight over a girl.
-- Julia Styles is not retarded.
-- Christmas is not a feeling in your heart. That is a heart attack. Start dialing 911 immediately.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
A Terrible Confession
I have been so busy lately that I literally had no idea who won New York's heart last night on the season finale of her eponymous program. I had to find out from Google! Although I think Tailor Made is kind of a douche, he actually seems like he'll be a good fit for her, since he's completely willing to just roll over and let her do whatever she wants. Let's face it, it's not like she's really looking to be challenged in a relationship. If she were, she'd probably be dating Dr. Phil.
Nor have I adequately addressed Saleisha's recent crowning as America's Next Top Model, At Least Until America's Next America's Next Top Model Is Crowned in May. I was actually happy to see Saleisha get it, mainly because I thought she deserved to be rewarded for her triumph over the extreme adversity of that terrible, terrible haircut they saddled her with. Why is it always the pretty ones that they decide to make "edgy?" Is it because ugly is already pretty edgy just the way it is? The highlight of the entire season, though, was when Chantal knocked over that dude on stilts during the final fashion show. That's the kind of TV moment DVR was invented for.
I have been so busy lately that I literally had no idea who won New York's heart last night on the season finale of her eponymous program. I had to find out from Google! Although I think Tailor Made is kind of a douche, he actually seems like he'll be a good fit for her, since he's completely willing to just roll over and let her do whatever she wants. Let's face it, it's not like she's really looking to be challenged in a relationship. If she were, she'd probably be dating Dr. Phil.
Nor have I adequately addressed Saleisha's recent crowning as America's Next Top Model, At Least Until America's Next America's Next Top Model Is Crowned in May. I was actually happy to see Saleisha get it, mainly because I thought she deserved to be rewarded for her triumph over the extreme adversity of that terrible, terrible haircut they saddled her with. Why is it always the pretty ones that they decide to make "edgy?" Is it because ugly is already pretty edgy just the way it is? The highlight of the entire season, though, was when Chantal knocked over that dude on stilts during the final fashion show. That's the kind of TV moment DVR was invented for.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Customer Service, Chicago Style
This morning my sister and I went to a post office near our house. At least, it looked like a post office -- it had the sign out front, a listing in the phone book, a sassy lady in a uniform inside -- but when we took our package to get weighed, said lady looked at us like we were crazy.
"I don't have no scale here," she said.
"Oh," I responded. "Well, can I maybe just buy some stamps to put on it?"
"We ain't got no stamp machine," came the reply.
So apparently this was a post office in the same sense a mailbox is a post office -- they can take mail you've already stamped, but that's about it.
But this is how customer service always works in Chicago. Not only will people not help you, they act like you're a moron for even thinking they might. Whether it's a lady at Taco Bell telling you "We ain't got no nachos here. This a Taco Bell Express." or a customer service rep for Comcast informing you that your appointment was canceled before you even scheduled it, any question you might ask is something the service rep is pretty sure you already ought to know.
I think I've finally found the job I was born to have.
This morning my sister and I went to a post office near our house. At least, it looked like a post office -- it had the sign out front, a listing in the phone book, a sassy lady in a uniform inside -- but when we took our package to get weighed, said lady looked at us like we were crazy.
"I don't have no scale here," she said.
"Oh," I responded. "Well, can I maybe just buy some stamps to put on it?"
"We ain't got no stamp machine," came the reply.
So apparently this was a post office in the same sense a mailbox is a post office -- they can take mail you've already stamped, but that's about it.
But this is how customer service always works in Chicago. Not only will people not help you, they act like you're a moron for even thinking they might. Whether it's a lady at Taco Bell telling you "We ain't got no nachos here. This a Taco Bell Express." or a customer service rep for Comcast informing you that your appointment was canceled before you even scheduled it, any question you might ask is something the service rep is pretty sure you already ought to know.
I think I've finally found the job I was born to have.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
The Great Conversationalist
I like to think that I am generally somewhat smarter than toast. And that I am wittier than, say, Courtney Love. But both of these theories are frequently tested in the early hours of the day, when I run into people I know and am unable to complete full sentences. For instance:
Random Guy From My Improv Class on the Train: Hey, Jay, what's up?
Jay: Oh. Hey. It's you there. Hey.
RGFMICOTT: Haven't seen you in a while. How are you?
Jay: Right. Yes. That's... okay, yes.
RGFMICOTT: Are you all right?
Jay: I had Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast.
Or you might consider my first interaction of the day with my secretary:
Secretary: Good morning!
Jay: (stunned silence)
Secretary: How about that snow this morning? Crazy stuff, huh?
Jay: (stunned silence)
Secretary: I almost couldn't get my car out of the driveway!
Jay: Sometimes I have a Diet Coke first thing when I get up.
So essentially, I'm a moron. But I like to think I'm a LOVABLE moron. It's when I actually become somewhat articulate that the lovableness fades away.
I like to think that I am generally somewhat smarter than toast. And that I am wittier than, say, Courtney Love. But both of these theories are frequently tested in the early hours of the day, when I run into people I know and am unable to complete full sentences. For instance:
Random Guy From My Improv Class on the Train: Hey, Jay, what's up?
Jay: Oh. Hey. It's you there. Hey.
RGFMICOTT: Haven't seen you in a while. How are you?
Jay: Right. Yes. That's... okay, yes.
RGFMICOTT: Are you all right?
Jay: I had Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast.
Or you might consider my first interaction of the day with my secretary:
Secretary: Good morning!
Jay: (stunned silence)
Secretary: How about that snow this morning? Crazy stuff, huh?
Jay: (stunned silence)
Secretary: I almost couldn't get my car out of the driveway!
Jay: Sometimes I have a Diet Coke first thing when I get up.
So essentially, I'm a moron. But I like to think I'm a LOVABLE moron. It's when I actually become somewhat articulate that the lovableness fades away.
Monday, December 10, 2007
"The Hills" and Other Fun Disasters
Although I believe The Hills is perhaps the finest television program ever made, I simply can't stand The Hills Aftershow. It's just half an hour of people obsessing annoyingly, often in grainy webcam footage, and fawning over even the most minor of characters. But tonight there was promised a "big announcement" from Lauren, so I stayed tuned. Throughout the whole show. And just as, in the last five minutes, Lauren was saying "so the big announcement is," my tape ran out. My guess is the news was that she's been appointed ambassador to the U.N., but I could be wrong.
Meanwhile, I tried to put the trash out, but instead slipped on the thick, smooth sheet of ice my driveway has become. Of course, I was pulling a dumpster behind me, so I ended up pulling it right over on top of me. Nothing like lying in old coffee grounds and wadded up kleenexes at 10:30 on a Monday night to perk you up a bit.
Although I believe The Hills is perhaps the finest television program ever made, I simply can't stand The Hills Aftershow. It's just half an hour of people obsessing annoyingly, often in grainy webcam footage, and fawning over even the most minor of characters. But tonight there was promised a "big announcement" from Lauren, so I stayed tuned. Throughout the whole show. And just as, in the last five minutes, Lauren was saying "so the big announcement is," my tape ran out. My guess is the news was that she's been appointed ambassador to the U.N., but I could be wrong.
Meanwhile, I tried to put the trash out, but instead slipped on the thick, smooth sheet of ice my driveway has become. Of course, I was pulling a dumpster behind me, so I ended up pulling it right over on top of me. Nothing like lying in old coffee grounds and wadded up kleenexes at 10:30 on a Monday night to perk you up a bit.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Notes from the Decline of Western Civilization
Today as I was walking to the train from the gym I observed a saw a man dig a bottle of Johnnie Walker out of a trash can, attempt to suck out the scant remaining contents, and throw it back in the trash.
I was also stopped by three otherwise-normal looking individuals who were desperately, desperately searching for The Cheesecake Factory.
And to top it all off, I heard the Jessica Simpson cover of "O Holy Night."
None of this bodes especially well for America, I'm afraid.
Today as I was walking to the train from the gym I observed a saw a man dig a bottle of Johnnie Walker out of a trash can, attempt to suck out the scant remaining contents, and throw it back in the trash.
I was also stopped by three otherwise-normal looking individuals who were desperately, desperately searching for The Cheesecake Factory.
And to top it all off, I heard the Jessica Simpson cover of "O Holy Night."
None of this bodes especially well for America, I'm afraid.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
A Textual Analysis of Entertainment Weekly's "50 Smartest People in Hollywood"
You have to love Entertainment Weekly. Every so often they'll publish these random lists of entertainment figures they suddenly claim are "it" or "cool" or some other completely subjective thing that essentially just means anyone they happen to have an interview in the can for at that moment. Now they've gone ahead and turned their annual "power list" into a similar exercise in arbitrariness, declaring that power is about being smart now. Sure, that's why Stephen Hawking rules with an iron fist from his fortress of gold. Anyway, a few entries in particular deserve some attention:
#1, Judd Apatow. Right. Making moderately successful sex comedies is definitely the way to rule the world. Just don't let Osama find out.
#5, Will Smith. Doesn't the fact that the interview mentions Bad Boys II pretty much cancel out the inclusion on this list?
#11, Brian Grazer. I have no idea if this guy's smart or powerful or whatever; I just want to make fun of his hair.
#24, Emmanuel Lubezki. I'm sorry, no one with that name can possibly be smart. Not when changing your name just involves a little bit of paperwork.
#33, Angelina Jolie. Apparently buying a bunch of children gets a person on the short list. So where's Michael Jackson?
#50, Ben Affleck. Come on, now this is just too easy.
Seriously, do you ever feel like every magazine is secretly trying to become Us Weekly now? My life hasn't been the same since The Economist added that style section.
You have to love Entertainment Weekly. Every so often they'll publish these random lists of entertainment figures they suddenly claim are "it" or "cool" or some other completely subjective thing that essentially just means anyone they happen to have an interview in the can for at that moment. Now they've gone ahead and turned their annual "power list" into a similar exercise in arbitrariness, declaring that power is about being smart now. Sure, that's why Stephen Hawking rules with an iron fist from his fortress of gold. Anyway, a few entries in particular deserve some attention:
#1, Judd Apatow. Right. Making moderately successful sex comedies is definitely the way to rule the world. Just don't let Osama find out.
#5, Will Smith. Doesn't the fact that the interview mentions Bad Boys II pretty much cancel out the inclusion on this list?
#11, Brian Grazer. I have no idea if this guy's smart or powerful or whatever; I just want to make fun of his hair.
#24, Emmanuel Lubezki. I'm sorry, no one with that name can possibly be smart. Not when changing your name just involves a little bit of paperwork.
#33, Angelina Jolie. Apparently buying a bunch of children gets a person on the short list. So where's Michael Jackson?
#50, Ben Affleck. Come on, now this is just too easy.
Seriously, do you ever feel like every magazine is secretly trying to become Us Weekly now? My life hasn't been the same since The Economist added that style section.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Snow Job
We got a little bit of snow in Chicago yesterday. This meant several things. First, I didn't feel at all bad about allowing myself to stay home last night to watch Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency and work on my Christmas cards. Second, I had an excuse not to make my scheduled attempt at fixing the motion sensor lights on the side door to our building, an attempt that almost certainly could have resulted in my electrocution. But perhaps best of all, I decided to wear tennis shoes with my dress clothes for the commute this morning, which made me feel like America's Douchiest Soccer Mom. Nothing says "classy" like french cuffs and some Nikes.
Anyway, it was a fairly quiet day today due to the snow. Whenever there's any kind of weather action all the people from the suburbs act like they'd have to take a dogsled to get here. Essentially, it was just me and the secretaries who don't have any days off left this year. And yet still no one wanted to make copies for me.
I always get so cranky with the first real onset of Winter. I swear a lot and think about moving to Mexico. Thank God I had Top Model and Project Runway to get me through this difficult time.
We got a little bit of snow in Chicago yesterday. This meant several things. First, I didn't feel at all bad about allowing myself to stay home last night to watch Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency and work on my Christmas cards. Second, I had an excuse not to make my scheduled attempt at fixing the motion sensor lights on the side door to our building, an attempt that almost certainly could have resulted in my electrocution. But perhaps best of all, I decided to wear tennis shoes with my dress clothes for the commute this morning, which made me feel like America's Douchiest Soccer Mom. Nothing says "classy" like french cuffs and some Nikes.
Anyway, it was a fairly quiet day today due to the snow. Whenever there's any kind of weather action all the people from the suburbs act like they'd have to take a dogsled to get here. Essentially, it was just me and the secretaries who don't have any days off left this year. And yet still no one wanted to make copies for me.
I always get so cranky with the first real onset of Winter. I swear a lot and think about moving to Mexico. Thank God I had Top Model and Project Runway to get me through this difficult time.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Auto Universe
Yesterday morning I was convinced that my car had been stolen. I looked out my back window and it was nowhere in sight. I called to my sister, who really appreciated it at 9 on a Sunday, and she confirmed that she was indeed not out joyriding. Then I kind of freaked out. But upon closer inspection -- i.e., actually walking out onto my balcony to look -- it turned out that the Corolla had in fact just rolled down the driveway and was resting against the back of the house, outside of my normal sight line.
This led to a rigorous investigation of 1) whether I had in fact left the damn thing in gear when parking (I had not, though my sister still maintains that she has no hard "evidence" of this) and 2) whether there was any damage (there was not -- just some wall particles sort of ground up on the bumper). Science is fun!
They question remains how the car got from point A to point B, but the generally accepted theory seems to be that the icy conditions Saturday allowed for a gentle and ultimately harmless skid down the driveway. I refuse to rule out the possibility that someone stole my vehicle and drove it six feet just to embarrass me, however.
Yesterday morning I was convinced that my car had been stolen. I looked out my back window and it was nowhere in sight. I called to my sister, who really appreciated it at 9 on a Sunday, and she confirmed that she was indeed not out joyriding. Then I kind of freaked out. But upon closer inspection -- i.e., actually walking out onto my balcony to look -- it turned out that the Corolla had in fact just rolled down the driveway and was resting against the back of the house, outside of my normal sight line.
This led to a rigorous investigation of 1) whether I had in fact left the damn thing in gear when parking (I had not, though my sister still maintains that she has no hard "evidence" of this) and 2) whether there was any damage (there was not -- just some wall particles sort of ground up on the bumper). Science is fun!
They question remains how the car got from point A to point B, but the generally accepted theory seems to be that the icy conditions Saturday allowed for a gentle and ultimately harmless skid down the driveway. I refuse to rule out the possibility that someone stole my vehicle and drove it six feet just to embarrass me, however.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Current Events
My Myspace account got hacked into for about the sixth time this week. This meant that all of my friends got messages entitled "gushing girls" and comments featuring video of various well-known female body parts. I still have to wonder what the motivation behind this kind of hacking is -- do these organs really need the publicity? Of course, I also doubt that hacking has ever actually induced anyone to seek out that $100 Macy's gift card, but it could just be me.
The word on the street (I spend a lot of my time on the street, frankly) is that there is a big ice storm heading my way. In preparation I have stocked up on Hostess Snack Cakes and hoarded my Netflix. Of course, I doubt that Sophie's Choice and City of God are really going to brighten up being homebound, but we'll see. I also got some new Nintendo games from my sister (Paperboy 2, anyone?), which are sure to see some heavy rotation.
Right now we're going to take our recycling out before things get too grisly out there. I'm such an Earth Firster it almost makes me sick sometimes.
My Myspace account got hacked into for about the sixth time this week. This meant that all of my friends got messages entitled "gushing girls" and comments featuring video of various well-known female body parts. I still have to wonder what the motivation behind this kind of hacking is -- do these organs really need the publicity? Of course, I also doubt that hacking has ever actually induced anyone to seek out that $100 Macy's gift card, but it could just be me.
The word on the street (I spend a lot of my time on the street, frankly) is that there is a big ice storm heading my way. In preparation I have stocked up on Hostess Snack Cakes and hoarded my Netflix. Of course, I doubt that Sophie's Choice and City of God are really going to brighten up being homebound, but we'll see. I also got some new Nintendo games from my sister (Paperboy 2, anyone?), which are sure to see some heavy rotation.
Right now we're going to take our recycling out before things get too grisly out there. I'm such an Earth Firster it almost makes me sick sometimes.
