Sunday, January 28, 2018
Golden Grams
The Grammys are tonight. I'm not really planning to watch them, but I might, depending on what Hallmark Movies & Mysteries is serving up. I can't really be bothered to check. But I can be bothered to make some ironclad predictions based on my knowledge of roughly 1/3 of the nominees in any given category.
Record of the Year: Bing, the search engine that my computer keeps making my default over my intense objection, predicts this one will go to Despacito, and who am I to argue with that? I'm assuming this is an award for being a song that you can never, ever get out of your head, short of by, say, stabbing yourself with an icepick.
Album of the Year: I always forget how this one is different from Record of the Year, but I'm going with Lorde's Melodrama, because I thought her first album was hella boring, but that one song off this one was kind of my jam. And if you think my reasoning is any less sound than your average Grammy voter's, you're kidding yourself.
Song of the Year: Okay, wait. How is this different from the first two? Anyway, my pal Bing is going with something I've never heard of that's a 1-800 number, but I'm going to give it to Bruno Mars, because even thought I hate him for no real reason, I feel like he's going through something right now, based on the cover art.
Best New Artist: Can I just say Jessica Simpson? I know she's not nominated, but she could definitely use the career boost.
Best Pop Vocal Album: I legitimately want Kesha for this one, because even though she seems like that friend you realize you have nothing to talk to about when you're not drunk, I'm never mad when she shows up on my iTunes. I do want her to bring the dollar sign back, though.
Best Pop Performance: Anyone but Ed Sheeran. He's like if Troll dolls became sentient and oddly self satisfied.
Pop Duo/Group Performance: Good lord there are a lot of categories here. I'm going with Feel it Still by Portugal. The Man solely based on cover art.
Best R&B Song: Bing is giving it to Bruno Mars, and given how much Grammy voters seem to love non-threatening black people, I can't disagree.
Best R&B Performance: Bruno Mars again. Which is probably what people will be saying all night. Along with "wait, seriously, there are still more categories?"
Best R&B Album: Ok, really, Grammys, you need to get over yourself here. It's like you're trying to make sure everyone gets an award, except for like Snoop, since you've made your feelings about him clear. Enough with the categories already.
Tune in to the Grammys tonight on CBS! Or don't! I actually don't care at all either way!
The Grammys are tonight. I'm not really planning to watch them, but I might, depending on what Hallmark Movies & Mysteries is serving up. I can't really be bothered to check. But I can be bothered to make some ironclad predictions based on my knowledge of roughly 1/3 of the nominees in any given category.
Record of the Year: Bing, the search engine that my computer keeps making my default over my intense objection, predicts this one will go to Despacito, and who am I to argue with that? I'm assuming this is an award for being a song that you can never, ever get out of your head, short of by, say, stabbing yourself with an icepick.
Album of the Year: I always forget how this one is different from Record of the Year, but I'm going with Lorde's Melodrama, because I thought her first album was hella boring, but that one song off this one was kind of my jam. And if you think my reasoning is any less sound than your average Grammy voter's, you're kidding yourself.
Song of the Year: Okay, wait. How is this different from the first two? Anyway, my pal Bing is going with something I've never heard of that's a 1-800 number, but I'm going to give it to Bruno Mars, because even thought I hate him for no real reason, I feel like he's going through something right now, based on the cover art.
Best New Artist: Can I just say Jessica Simpson? I know she's not nominated, but she could definitely use the career boost.
Best Pop Vocal Album: I legitimately want Kesha for this one, because even though she seems like that friend you realize you have nothing to talk to about when you're not drunk, I'm never mad when she shows up on my iTunes. I do want her to bring the dollar sign back, though.
Best Pop Performance: Anyone but Ed Sheeran. He's like if Troll dolls became sentient and oddly self satisfied.
Pop Duo/Group Performance: Good lord there are a lot of categories here. I'm going with Feel it Still by Portugal. The Man solely based on cover art.
Best R&B Song: Bing is giving it to Bruno Mars, and given how much Grammy voters seem to love non-threatening black people, I can't disagree.
Best R&B Performance: Bruno Mars again. Which is probably what people will be saying all night. Along with "wait, seriously, there are still more categories?"
Best R&B Album: Ok, really, Grammys, you need to get over yourself here. It's like you're trying to make sure everyone gets an award, except for like Snoop, since you've made your feelings about him clear. Enough with the categories already.
Tune in to the Grammys tonight on CBS! Or don't! I actually don't care at all either way!
Saturday, January 20, 2018
Old Town Funk
It's that time of year when I get into a little bit of a funk. The holidays are over, winter seems like it will never end, and I don't really want to do anything except lie on the couch and watch Frasier reruns in my sweatpants. Even putting on my coat to take the dog down to the corner so she can do her dirty sinful business seems like way too much effort. (Of course, driving to the Chili's in the suburbs so I can house an entire skillet queso by myself remains no problem.) Sometimes I feel like it would be better to just hibernate until April or so, but then I realize I'd miss out on a lot of meals. And daddy needs his chicken pot pies.
Some years, I've kind of managed to trick myself into not having the funk by, for instance, starting a new job or scheduling a fun trip during this period. It's hard to feel unmotivated when you are under the threat of professional death or, in the case of my Mexico trip, literally death by low-budget Mexican airline. But this is not one of those years. I'm starting to create a couch groove, and it's not even in a size I like.
So I choose to force myself to get up, get out, and do something. I'm not quite at the marching on Washington level, but I am at least getting myself to the gym. And the office. And the occasional bar. Because life may be cold and miserable, but at least it is life, which I have to assume beats the alternative. At least as it was depicted in that Robin Williams movie. Who knew the afterlife would be so overproduced and underdirected?
Saturday, January 13, 2018
Happenings
It's 2018! Our New Year's was a super classy affair, complete with a sleeping baby and a surprise delivery of Taco Bell. And we stayed out until nearly 1 AM, at which point we were greeted by Aubrey machine gun barking at us and pretty much waking up the entire neighborhood. So the tone was pretty much perfectly set for the year.
Since then, we've kept it pretty casual. Obviously, there has been a lot of Netflix involved. We finished Season 2 of Stranger Things, which had no real reason for being, and knocked out a few more episodes of Black Mirror, just in case the current political environment had left us some sort of hope about the future. We've also been hitting the Hallmark movies pretty hard, as they transition from Countdown to Christmas to Winterfest. Lots of career women learning the value of a simple life as they fall for small town hunks.
Oh, and we saw Hamilton, finally. This is going to be a controversial opinion, but it was good. I actually thought the guy who played Hamilton might even be better than Lin-Manuel Miranda, who sometimes comes off a little bit punchable to me. Some of the tempos seemed a little brisk to me, but on the other hand they did bring it in under three hours, which I can't be opposed to. Also, somehow we were seated directly behind a group of ladies who appeared to think they were trying out to be Real Housewives, sippy cups of wine and all. So I very much appreciated that the theater was very strict on getting those house lights down right on time.
Anyway, we made it into 2018, and that's something. No promises as to 2019.
