Thursday, April 29, 2010
Pier Review
I think I've posted about the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre on here several times now. It's the one on Navy Pier, in between the Ferris wheel and the puffy painted sweatshirt stand. I guess there wasn't a suitable space at the Mall of America. But anyway, I've seen several excellent shows there now. Last night it was The Taming of the Shrew, or as I like to call it, old timey 10 Things I Hate About You.
There were definitely some things about it I didn't love--offputtingly large codpieces, excessively precise diction that produced occasional spit bombs, bizarre contemporary frame story with lesbians--but for the most part it was fantastic. The acting was so good it made Kate Winslet look like Raven Symone, and the staging was really dynamic and interesting such that I barely spaced out at all, even after a ten-hour work day. Oh, and there was a cute dog, which is always a plus.
I do think it's kind of funny how much time they spent apologizing for the misogyny in the program notes, as though people don't understand that the Elizabethan era wasn't exactly the most progressive out there. It's like lamenting the fact that people back then wore funny pants. I mean, next they'll be telling us that A Midsummer Night's Dream isn't a documentary. Lord, what fools these mortals be.
I think I've posted about the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre on here several times now. It's the one on Navy Pier, in between the Ferris wheel and the puffy painted sweatshirt stand. I guess there wasn't a suitable space at the Mall of America. But anyway, I've seen several excellent shows there now. Last night it was The Taming of the Shrew, or as I like to call it, old timey 10 Things I Hate About You.
There were definitely some things about it I didn't love--offputtingly large codpieces, excessively precise diction that produced occasional spit bombs, bizarre contemporary frame story with lesbians--but for the most part it was fantastic. The acting was so good it made Kate Winslet look like Raven Symone, and the staging was really dynamic and interesting such that I barely spaced out at all, even after a ten-hour work day. Oh, and there was a cute dog, which is always a plus.
I do think it's kind of funny how much time they spent apologizing for the misogyny in the program notes, as though people don't understand that the Elizabethan era wasn't exactly the most progressive out there. It's like lamenting the fact that people back then wore funny pants. I mean, next they'll be telling us that A Midsummer Night's Dream isn't a documentary. Lord, what fools these mortals be.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Charmed Life
For some reason I can't stop eating Lucky Charms lately. I've been through half a box since Saturday. I'm practically pooping purple horseshoes. This has never been an issue before, that I can recall. I did go through a significant Fruity Pebbles phase during the early zeroes (actually, I think I cried once when ants got into my box of special edition Fruity Pebbles with miniature marshmallows), but it was not this intense. I could nurse a box for months at a time.
It may have something to do with my workplace stress as of late. I maintain that is also the reason that I broke out in three tiny zits across the base of my nose. Also why I suffered acute dental discomfort. NOT because I am white trash, mind you.
I'm thinking I need a vacation, but I find it very difficult to disconnect. I now check my blackberry while I'm on the treadmill. This leads to some very peculiar typos, but it makes me feel a little better about life. Except for that time I had to run back up to my office to send out a document in my gym clothes. That made me feel vaguely like a hobo. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
For some reason I can't stop eating Lucky Charms lately. I've been through half a box since Saturday. I'm practically pooping purple horseshoes. This has never been an issue before, that I can recall. I did go through a significant Fruity Pebbles phase during the early zeroes (actually, I think I cried once when ants got into my box of special edition Fruity Pebbles with miniature marshmallows), but it was not this intense. I could nurse a box for months at a time.
It may have something to do with my workplace stress as of late. I maintain that is also the reason that I broke out in three tiny zits across the base of my nose. Also why I suffered acute dental discomfort. NOT because I am white trash, mind you.
I'm thinking I need a vacation, but I find it very difficult to disconnect. I now check my blackberry while I'm on the treadmill. This leads to some very peculiar typos, but it makes me feel a little better about life. Except for that time I had to run back up to my office to send out a document in my gym clothes. That made me feel vaguely like a hobo. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
TV Guide
There is something called "Beyonce Takeover" on Fuse right now. I assumed that meant Beyonce had engaged in piracy on a grand scale, but in fact it just involves a lot of Beyonce videos being played, interspersed with commentary from an expressionless African-American lady. It does remind me of a lot of Beyonce videos I'd forgotten about, though, such as the one for Soldier, in which Michelle Williams is terrifyingly thin and wearing a plaid bikini top for no reason. It also made me realize for the first time that there are two semi-famous Michelle Williamses, the other being the topheavy gal from Dawson's Creek. I'm thinking we didn't really need more than one. Anyway, they just showed Crazy in Love and now I'm doing some serious reflection on early '00s fashion. Did people really wear half length baseball warmup jackets with low rise khakis?
At the same time there is National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets. I've often blogged about my love of the Nicolas Cage Does Ridiculous Things subgenre, I feel. But this is one of the finest. It has Diane Kruger fighting hard and losing against her thick Germanic accent. And Dame Helen Mirren as some lady. That should have been her Oscar role.
We also had the possibility of a Diane Keaton double feature on Lifetime, featuring Because I Said So and Mad Money, perhaps better known as the movie that caused Katie Holmes to pass on The Dark Knight. I just didn't have the strength, though. Neither did Diane Keaton, frankly. She seemed mildly sedated through both. Pretty soon they're just going to have to film her coming in to pick up the paycheck.
Thank God I'm going out tonight. Even if I probably will be back home again before midnight.
There is something called "Beyonce Takeover" on Fuse right now. I assumed that meant Beyonce had engaged in piracy on a grand scale, but in fact it just involves a lot of Beyonce videos being played, interspersed with commentary from an expressionless African-American lady. It does remind me of a lot of Beyonce videos I'd forgotten about, though, such as the one for Soldier, in which Michelle Williams is terrifyingly thin and wearing a plaid bikini top for no reason. It also made me realize for the first time that there are two semi-famous Michelle Williamses, the other being the topheavy gal from Dawson's Creek. I'm thinking we didn't really need more than one. Anyway, they just showed Crazy in Love and now I'm doing some serious reflection on early '00s fashion. Did people really wear half length baseball warmup jackets with low rise khakis?
At the same time there is National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets. I've often blogged about my love of the Nicolas Cage Does Ridiculous Things subgenre, I feel. But this is one of the finest. It has Diane Kruger fighting hard and losing against her thick Germanic accent. And Dame Helen Mirren as some lady. That should have been her Oscar role.
We also had the possibility of a Diane Keaton double feature on Lifetime, featuring Because I Said So and Mad Money, perhaps better known as the movie that caused Katie Holmes to pass on The Dark Knight. I just didn't have the strength, though. Neither did Diane Keaton, frankly. She seemed mildly sedated through both. Pretty soon they're just going to have to film her coming in to pick up the paycheck.
Thank God I'm going out tonight. Even if I probably will be back home again before midnight.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
How Did We Celebrate 4/20?
-- Eating an entire bag of Baked Lays.
-- Noticing for the first time how large Courtney Cox's hands are.
-- Staring at something shiny.
-- Playing Super Mario Kart for twenty minutes before realizing the Wii wasn't on.
-- Suddenly understanding the appeal of reggae.
-- Explaining at length the shortcomings of our nation's drug laws.
-- Finding Law & Order reruns inexplicably hilarious.
-- Discussing the merits of various former cast members of The View.
-- Sleeping in various unortohodox locations throughout the house.
-- Making lists for no apparent reason.
-- Eating an entire bag of Baked Lays.
-- Noticing for the first time how large Courtney Cox's hands are.
-- Staring at something shiny.
-- Playing Super Mario Kart for twenty minutes before realizing the Wii wasn't on.
-- Suddenly understanding the appeal of reggae.
-- Explaining at length the shortcomings of our nation's drug laws.
-- Finding Law & Order reruns inexplicably hilarious.
-- Discussing the merits of various former cast members of The View.
-- Sleeping in various unortohodox locations throughout the house.
-- Making lists for no apparent reason.
Monday, April 19, 2010
New Nez
So this morning I stepped out of my condo and ran face first into a tiny little old lady who was jabbering excitedly in Polish. (I'm no linguist, but I know that it was Polish because she kept saying "Polish, no English" in between other phrases that I did not understand.) Now, this would ordinarily not surprise me on any first or third Monday of the month, because that's when our cleaning lady, who is Polish but whom we have affectionately termed Inez after the cleaning lady in Bottle Rocket, generally comes. But this was a different Inez than the usual, and she was gesticulating wildly at her key and trying to force her way past me into the house. In what upon further reflection seems to be a desperate plea to be robbed, I simply let her in.
Luckily for me, though, this Inez does not have sticky fingers. Instead, she apparently had sex on the brain. I got a call from my sister about an hour later informing me that Inez had tried to barge in on her while she was changing in her room. There was a lot of screaming of "no! no!" and "Polish, no English" that went on there. And then again there was key-based gesturing, as though Meg had engaged her in the world's most boring game of Guesstures.
In the end, though, I have to say that in a lot of ways she was an improvement. She didn't square off the chairs around my round dining table in that way that makes me crazy, and she actually knew how to make a bed in the way that a normal human person makes a bed. I mean, after all, what's a little peepshow among friends?
So this morning I stepped out of my condo and ran face first into a tiny little old lady who was jabbering excitedly in Polish. (I'm no linguist, but I know that it was Polish because she kept saying "Polish, no English" in between other phrases that I did not understand.) Now, this would ordinarily not surprise me on any first or third Monday of the month, because that's when our cleaning lady, who is Polish but whom we have affectionately termed Inez after the cleaning lady in Bottle Rocket, generally comes. But this was a different Inez than the usual, and she was gesticulating wildly at her key and trying to force her way past me into the house. In what upon further reflection seems to be a desperate plea to be robbed, I simply let her in.
Luckily for me, though, this Inez does not have sticky fingers. Instead, she apparently had sex on the brain. I got a call from my sister about an hour later informing me that Inez had tried to barge in on her while she was changing in her room. There was a lot of screaming of "no! no!" and "Polish, no English" that went on there. And then again there was key-based gesturing, as though Meg had engaged her in the world's most boring game of Guesstures.
In the end, though, I have to say that in a lot of ways she was an improvement. She didn't square off the chairs around my round dining table in that way that makes me crazy, and she actually knew how to make a bed in the way that a normal human person makes a bed. I mean, after all, what's a little peepshow among friends?
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Fast Times
Did you see that Hilary Duff is starring in a new ABC Family movie entitled "Beauty and the Briefcase?" This is possibly the best news I've heard since Lindsay Lohan starred in an ABC Family movie entitled "Labor Pains." From what I can tell, the story centers on a clinically insane woman who escapes from her group home and has a series of pratfalls involving blandly handsome men in suits. No word yet on if there's some sort of role for Haylie "the lesser" Duff. They may have finally just decided to lock her up in basement of the Duff family compound for her own protection.
It's kind of a lazy Saturday here, in case my reflections on all things Duff didn't already clue you in to that. I'm doing a little bit of work from home, going through the junk mail that's accumulated over the past couple of weeks (I could have seventeen different credit cards by now if I'd only given it some effort), and trying to clean up a bit. There's a Top Model marathon on -- the cycle the fat girl won -- so that's distracting a bit, although already having it memorized certainly helps with that. Oh, and the weather is decent, so I can hear the steady thump thump of the bags games going on up and down the block. It's all very Midwestern, I assure you.
Tonight we're considering a trip out to the Wrigleyville bars. Chicken wings and date rape, here we come!
Did you see that Hilary Duff is starring in a new ABC Family movie entitled "Beauty and the Briefcase?" This is possibly the best news I've heard since Lindsay Lohan starred in an ABC Family movie entitled "Labor Pains." From what I can tell, the story centers on a clinically insane woman who escapes from her group home and has a series of pratfalls involving blandly handsome men in suits. No word yet on if there's some sort of role for Haylie "the lesser" Duff. They may have finally just decided to lock her up in basement of the Duff family compound for her own protection.
It's kind of a lazy Saturday here, in case my reflections on all things Duff didn't already clue you in to that. I'm doing a little bit of work from home, going through the junk mail that's accumulated over the past couple of weeks (I could have seventeen different credit cards by now if I'd only given it some effort), and trying to clean up a bit. There's a Top Model marathon on -- the cycle the fat girl won -- so that's distracting a bit, although already having it memorized certainly helps with that. Oh, and the weather is decent, so I can hear the steady thump thump of the bags games going on up and down the block. It's all very Midwestern, I assure you.
Tonight we're considering a trip out to the Wrigleyville bars. Chicken wings and date rape, here we come!
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Trailer Park
One of my favorite cultural barometers has always been watching previews at the movies. By observing the reactions of those around me to, say, the Big Momma's House 2 trailer, I am able to gauge exactly how far it is that civilization has declined. Judging from the most recent round, we should be descending back into the primordial ooze any second now.
First there was the Sex & the City 2 trailer. When Carrie emerged from her penthouse, shook her luxurious mane, and neighed merrily, there was applause. When Samantha made her first genital-related pun, there was uproarious laughter. And when Aiden appeared, there were shocked gasps. And a little bit of gagging, from me.
Then we had a trailer for The A Team, which looks like it's going to be the best movie ever made based on a TV show I used to try to skip Cub Scouts for (since there's no ALF movie, yet). Mainly it was just ninety seconds of explosions, but the audience reacted as though it was Schindler's List 2: Listier.
There was also a trailer for some monstrosity with the sleepy-eyed girl from Mean Girls. It appeared to be about old people getting it on. Getting it on in Italy, I think. It definitely would have benefited from some Gretchen Weiners. But at the end, I hear the pre-teen next to me lean over to her friend and say "we're definitely seeing this one."
On second thought, maybe all of this is another good reason to stay home.
One of my favorite cultural barometers has always been watching previews at the movies. By observing the reactions of those around me to, say, the Big Momma's House 2 trailer, I am able to gauge exactly how far it is that civilization has declined. Judging from the most recent round, we should be descending back into the primordial ooze any second now.
First there was the Sex & the City 2 trailer. When Carrie emerged from her penthouse, shook her luxurious mane, and neighed merrily, there was applause. When Samantha made her first genital-related pun, there was uproarious laughter. And when Aiden appeared, there were shocked gasps. And a little bit of gagging, from me.
Then we had a trailer for The A Team, which looks like it's going to be the best movie ever made based on a TV show I used to try to skip Cub Scouts for (since there's no ALF movie, yet). Mainly it was just ninety seconds of explosions, but the audience reacted as though it was Schindler's List 2: Listier.
There was also a trailer for some monstrosity with the sleepy-eyed girl from Mean Girls. It appeared to be about old people getting it on. Getting it on in Italy, I think. It definitely would have benefited from some Gretchen Weiners. But at the end, I hear the pre-teen next to me lean over to her friend and say "we're definitely seeing this one."
On second thought, maybe all of this is another good reason to stay home.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
You've Got Mail
I'm starting to be afraid I have an exceedingly cultured yet deceitful mailman.
First, my New Yorkers started going astray. Never permanently, but for days or weeks at a time. Sometimes they would show up in the wrong order. And the Jeffrey Toobin articles were frequently dogeared. Once a Joyce Carol Oates story had been entirely removed. As this could only improve the magazine, I did not complain.
Then I started having problems with my Netflix. The Wire Season 2, Disc 2 just would not arrive at my house, no matter how many times I ordered it. The people in customer service were starting to think I was a very specific type of hoarder. Then three copies showed up at once.
Listen, I'm glad that he's broadening his entertainment horizons. I just really don't want to have to wait for episodes 5 and 6, that's all I'm saying.
I'm starting to be afraid I have an exceedingly cultured yet deceitful mailman.
First, my New Yorkers started going astray. Never permanently, but for days or weeks at a time. Sometimes they would show up in the wrong order. And the Jeffrey Toobin articles were frequently dogeared. Once a Joyce Carol Oates story had been entirely removed. As this could only improve the magazine, I did not complain.
Then I started having problems with my Netflix. The Wire Season 2, Disc 2 just would not arrive at my house, no matter how many times I ordered it. The people in customer service were starting to think I was a very specific type of hoarder. Then three copies showed up at once.
Listen, I'm glad that he's broadening his entertainment horizons. I just really don't want to have to wait for episodes 5 and 6, that's all I'm saying.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Morning Musings
This morning I woke up to a little film called Ghosts of Girlfriends Past on HBO. Now this is the type of movie that I think people near universally could tell from the trailer was going to be roughly the worst movie ever made, and I include in that group Nazi propaganda films and the After School Special on angel dust staring Helen Hunt. But man, did we overestimate it. I don't think there is a five minute segment anywhere in there that is even watchable. I know this because I kept changing the channel every five minutes and then trying to go back, in the name of science of course. Everyone in it looks like they're in pain, and it's hard to imagine how they could not be. And this is not just the dental malady talking here.
Speaking of which, it turns out I have some rare condition dealing with the roots of my teeth. So "events" like this -- that's what the oral surgeon called them, "events" -- are going to occur from time to time. To me, this is an "event" in the way the mining disaster was an "event." But hey, at least I might make it into a dental textbook somewhere.
I'm about to venture out and get my oil changed. This will lead to uniquely male feelings of insecurity, as though I should be hopping under there and doing it myself simply because of my chromosomal makeup. Maybe I should take something butch with me to make myself feel better, like The Rock or a gun.
This morning I woke up to a little film called Ghosts of Girlfriends Past on HBO. Now this is the type of movie that I think people near universally could tell from the trailer was going to be roughly the worst movie ever made, and I include in that group Nazi propaganda films and the After School Special on angel dust staring Helen Hunt. But man, did we overestimate it. I don't think there is a five minute segment anywhere in there that is even watchable. I know this because I kept changing the channel every five minutes and then trying to go back, in the name of science of course. Everyone in it looks like they're in pain, and it's hard to imagine how they could not be. And this is not just the dental malady talking here.
Speaking of which, it turns out I have some rare condition dealing with the roots of my teeth. So "events" like this -- that's what the oral surgeon called them, "events" -- are going to occur from time to time. To me, this is an "event" in the way the mining disaster was an "event." But hey, at least I might make it into a dental textbook somewhere.
I'm about to venture out and get my oil changed. This will lead to uniquely male feelings of insecurity, as though I should be hopping under there and doing it myself simply because of my chromosomal makeup. Maybe I should take something butch with me to make myself feel better, like The Rock or a gun.
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
The Tooth Hurts
It looks like I may be due for a second root canal. On the same tooth. Apparently they can fail, did you know that? Even three years later, apparently. Because here I've been, feeling great about my #14 upper ever since 2007, enjoying the hell out of my tooth-colored crown, and it turns out I've got an infection in my gum again. In my whole cheek, actually. It's starting to crowd out my left eye.
I definitely recommend going to work looking like Quasimodo, by the way. People take you so much more seriously. And sometimes they let you go home when you beg to be allowed access to your pain pills. I felt like Matthew Perry circa 2001 (the scary thin years, not the scary fat years).
It's good to know that I have a dentist who will get me in on a rush basis, though, I suppose. I think it was mainly because I phone stalked his receptionist all day with graphic tales of my pain and various discharges until she felt sorry for me. And now I have more pain pills. And penicillin. Next up? Probably another root canal. And then, the world.
It looks like I may be due for a second root canal. On the same tooth. Apparently they can fail, did you know that? Even three years later, apparently. Because here I've been, feeling great about my #14 upper ever since 2007, enjoying the hell out of my tooth-colored crown, and it turns out I've got an infection in my gum again. In my whole cheek, actually. It's starting to crowd out my left eye.
I definitely recommend going to work looking like Quasimodo, by the way. People take you so much more seriously. And sometimes they let you go home when you beg to be allowed access to your pain pills. I felt like Matthew Perry circa 2001 (the scary thin years, not the scary fat years).
It's good to know that I have a dentist who will get me in on a rush basis, though, I suppose. I think it was mainly because I phone stalked his receptionist all day with graphic tales of my pain and various discharges until she felt sorry for me. And now I have more pain pills. And penicillin. Next up? Probably another root canal. And then, the world.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
Easter Parade
We decided to try a new parish for church this morning, since we're sort of tired of hearing about abortion and how the molestation scandal is everyone else's fault and how we still need to give money to the church and they totally won't spend it on preventing people in Africa from using condoms. Let me just tell you, if you've ever thought about giving a new church a test drive on Easter, don't. We got there half an hour early, expecting a crowd, and ended up standing in a line that stretched around the block for twenty minutes. Then the brilliant ushering staff (one of whom had a clipboard, no kidding) directed us up to sit on the altar, where there were in fact no seats. So we diverted ourselves to the balcony, where we got essentially the last spots on Earth, two seats down from Whispering Old People Gulch and right in the heart of Crying Baby Alley. The priest then opened the mass with a long discourse on the history of the church, which began in the 1800s and for a moment seemed likely to extend into the distant future. Also there were a lot of jokes in the sermon, which would have been perfectly appropriate for a very special episode of Two and a Half Men, but seemed somewhat out of place on the holiest of holies. Then at communion the place was so crowded that they literally didn't even let us leave the balcony -- we had our own, second class communion up in the back. Oh, and the choir closed with a spiritual despite being super, super white. It was all around a grand time.
Breakfast afterwards was super delicious. Although I've been having stomach issues ever since. I fear it may be risen, indeed.
We decided to try a new parish for church this morning, since we're sort of tired of hearing about abortion and how the molestation scandal is everyone else's fault and how we still need to give money to the church and they totally won't spend it on preventing people in Africa from using condoms. Let me just tell you, if you've ever thought about giving a new church a test drive on Easter, don't. We got there half an hour early, expecting a crowd, and ended up standing in a line that stretched around the block for twenty minutes. Then the brilliant ushering staff (one of whom had a clipboard, no kidding) directed us up to sit on the altar, where there were in fact no seats. So we diverted ourselves to the balcony, where we got essentially the last spots on Earth, two seats down from Whispering Old People Gulch and right in the heart of Crying Baby Alley. The priest then opened the mass with a long discourse on the history of the church, which began in the 1800s and for a moment seemed likely to extend into the distant future. Also there were a lot of jokes in the sermon, which would have been perfectly appropriate for a very special episode of Two and a Half Men, but seemed somewhat out of place on the holiest of holies. Then at communion the place was so crowded that they literally didn't even let us leave the balcony -- we had our own, second class communion up in the back. Oh, and the choir closed with a spiritual despite being super, super white. It was all around a grand time.
Breakfast afterwards was super delicious. Although I've been having stomach issues ever since. I fear it may be risen, indeed.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Lady's Night
So the phenomenon of Lady Gaga interests me. I have to say I find it hard to believe that the same America that voted for George W. Bush and watches Two and a Half Men has made a pop singer who strongly resembles a European drag queen a star. I mean, this is a woman who doesn't really seem to mind that the most prevalent rumor about her is that she has a penis. She dresses in clothing made out of popular children's television characters. And yet people actually buy her music in an age when even Madonna seems to have given up on being anything other than a weird old lady who turns up on Jerry Seinfeld's horrible reality show. I mean weird, right?
The Telephone video has been particularly bizarre, and not just because she wears a hat made out of old rotary phones while dancing around and making a sandwich. When I first saw it I thought it was sort of hilarious but if anything a bit boring. And then I heard that MTV had banned it, as though MTV has even shown any kind of music video in the past five years, and then I heard that MTV had unbanned it, thus freeing it up to play over the credits to Jersey Shore, I guess. And then I saw some wild-eyed Christian lady on FOX News talking about how it depicts Lady Gaga having her penis cut off. And then I was sorry that I had apparently missed that part.
Don't get me wrong, it's not like I own her album or anything, but I'm totally studying this as a cultural phenomenon. I'm like the Jane Goodall of contemporary pop.
So the phenomenon of Lady Gaga interests me. I have to say I find it hard to believe that the same America that voted for George W. Bush and watches Two and a Half Men has made a pop singer who strongly resembles a European drag queen a star. I mean, this is a woman who doesn't really seem to mind that the most prevalent rumor about her is that she has a penis. She dresses in clothing made out of popular children's television characters. And yet people actually buy her music in an age when even Madonna seems to have given up on being anything other than a weird old lady who turns up on Jerry Seinfeld's horrible reality show. I mean weird, right?
The Telephone video has been particularly bizarre, and not just because she wears a hat made out of old rotary phones while dancing around and making a sandwich. When I first saw it I thought it was sort of hilarious but if anything a bit boring. And then I heard that MTV had banned it, as though MTV has even shown any kind of music video in the past five years, and then I heard that MTV had unbanned it, thus freeing it up to play over the credits to Jersey Shore, I guess. And then I saw some wild-eyed Christian lady on FOX News talking about how it depicts Lady Gaga having her penis cut off. And then I was sorry that I had apparently missed that part.
Don't get me wrong, it's not like I own her album or anything, but I'm totally studying this as a cultural phenomenon. I'm like the Jane Goodall of contemporary pop.
