Progress Through Disaster

Usually, I just order takeout faggot

2008-08-02T20:31:00.005-05:00

HAD DINNER ON MONDAY with some college friends at The Spotted Pig here in New York, and when I saw this on the specials menu, I had to order it.

It was pork cheek wrapped in pork liver with fried slivers of pig ear on top. Still not entirely sure how that translates into the name, but perhaps the pig was really into Miley Cyrus?

"Your body may be fat...

2008-04-07T22:44:00.003-05:00

... but your confidence is thin."

There are no words.

Cleveland's Next Top Model - Episode 2

"My gentleman friend Larry says that I have the ***** of a 12-year-old."

Spring is springing

2008-04-07T19:23:00.006-05:00

THE WEATHER IS JUST beginning to warm up here in New York. Spring is arriving in fits and starts; although it was colder than a witch's titty for a few hours this afternoon, we had a gorgeous Saturday, which I spent lying around and napping with Oscar, windows open and fan gently blowing. Check out the sweet kitty porn from our love session.

See how I seduce you?

The true indication that spring is on its way, however, is that songs built for floating out of cars windows are starting to show. True to form, Usher has hit springtime hard with a skittery banger called "Love in This Club." It's already topped the Billboard charts, but the video just dropped and it's got everything you'd want: pretty colors, flashing lights, great choreography, sexy hip-hop ladies and total nonsense for a plot.

Ole!

Usher - "Love in This Club (Director's Cut)"

We all know what kind of club Usher means. Bring a towel!

In which I defile my classmates

2008-04-02T14:37:00.004-05:00

DESPITE INSISTING MY FRIENDS avoid 4 Girls at all costs, apparently the reaction video would not suffice for a few. Behold as the shame spiral captures a five new victims.

Cluster H Watches 4 Girls

The pride of our alma mater.

Reacting much cuter than I ever could

2008-04-02T13:50:00.003-05:00

IN KEEPING WITH the ever devolving nature of this blog, here's another reaction video, this time to babies tasting lemons.

Lemons! And Babies! It's the cutest chemical reaction of all time.

In about three posts, we'll be Cute Overload.

Babies Eating Lemons

See more funny videos at CollegeHumor

My heart swells and I could die.

In which I make my internet debut

2008-03-31T23:54:00.005-05:00

THIS IS AN INAUSPICIOUS WAY of introducing myself to the internet, but I'm going to jump on the 4 Girls Finger Paint reaction video bandwagon here.

For anyone who hasn't seen the wretched clip of which I speak, let my reaction suffice. Do not, under any circumstances, see this video for yourself. It was vile. But do you see how I suffer for my art?

4 Girls Finger Paint Reaction

I know it when I see it. And now I wish I hadn't.

In which I am grateful for my father

2008-03-23T20:45:00.007-05:00

A GROUP FROM MY CHURCH back home put a proposal in favor of same-sex marriage before the church's vestry, which is like the church's board of directors.

My mom has been involved in the effort from the beginning, which is wonderful, if not entirely surprising: her middle initial, L, effectively stands for liberal. The woman has never met a minority group she didn't adore, which she made abundantly clear by attending a gay pride parade just weeks after I came out, and years before I could have stepped foot near a leather daddy wearing chaps and nipple clamps.

On the day of the presentation to the vestry, however, my mom, who is a member of the city's school board, had a last minute meeting to save public education, and was forced to pull out of the presentation.

Then something even better happened: my dad agreed to attend. He even agreed to speak in her place.

I can't tell you how proud this made me. My father never makes public statements on political issues, and his private statements on, say, foreign policy have been known to include the statement "Bomb the bastards back to the Stone Age." Moreover, like any good Yankee, the man has a strict "Don't ask, don't tell" policy when it comes to sexuality - homo or otherwise.

What's amazing to me is that my parents, while motivated by my stake in the issue, both made it clear that they aren't doing this on my behalf. For them, this is about doing what's right, what's just, and what's good.

I want to share what my father said said because it's beautiful.

(Warning: there are a few sentences where he goes on as fathers will about their children. I am not trying to be immodest in posting those sentiments; I'd prefer to share this whole cloth).

I am not here this evening to speak as a member of the St. Francis parish, although I have been for a quarter century.

Nor am I here to speak as the father of a son who is gay, who I love beyond any words. That said, when I think of him, I think of Ernest Hemingway’s profound observation that “Courage is grace under pressure.” The courage and grace he has shown in dealing with his sexuality - first to his family, then to his friends, and then to the great unknown that is society - leaves me in awe. I don’t know if I could have ever summoned his strength and his belief in the essential goodness of people.

No, tonight I’d like to speak with you about a matter that goes beyond St. Francis and the Episcopal Church, but strikes to the most American of values. We are a people who believe deeply in fairness and equality. They are qualities that more than two centuries ago sparked a flame that allowed the rest of the world to dream of - and embrace - democracy and which make us a universal symbol of hope to this day.

No one wakes up in the morning and decides they want to be gay. Why would they want to be loathed by people who don’t know anything about their dreams and hopes and fears? Why would they want to be the subject of cultural ridicule? And why, finally, would they be willing to face discrimination from the institutions they value most, including their church where, in my son's case, he was Baptized, received First Holy Communion, and served as an Acolyte before he outgrew the robes.

I am not well-versed in the intricacies of Episcopal dogma or politics, either at the international, national or, most importantly, local level - and honestly, they don’t particularly interest me. What I am concerned about is this fundamental issue of humanity.

In 1966, Bobby Kennedy traveled to South Africa, a country then suffocating under the boot of their loathsome and, ultimately, self-destructive, policy of Apartheid. Kennedy spoke at the University of Capetown and said this:

“It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”

Today, the question before us is more subtle but it calls to us the same essential questions Bob Kennedy asked:

If not now, when? And if not here, where?

He used to look good to me, but now...

2008-03-19T23:05:00.005-05:00

IF THERE'S ONE THING I like, it's a winner. Thus, as Obama comes ever closer to clinching the nomination, I find him ever more attractive. I mean, why root for a loser? Instead, just say, "Oh, I don't know, I like them both; I'll be happy either way."

Perhaps my ambivalence is rooted in my deep seeded guilt at being the white male oppressor. If I come out too strong for Hilary, I'm a racist; too strong for Barack and I'm just reinforcing the glass ceiling. After all, isn't it her turn? Doesn't she deserve it? Too bad there isn't a gay candidate, this would be so much easier.

Ultimately, I blame New York. If I still lived in DC, my friends would never let me get away with being on the fence. Here in The City, however, people break out in hives when you try to talk politics with them.

It's unsettling, however, that I somehow have developed stronger opinions about who I think should be the next American Idol than I have about who should be the next president, despite listening to NPR every day and reading the New York Times online religiously. What's the point in learning so much about the candidates if someone hasn't told me what to think by now?

Well, consider my dilemma solved.

Barack Obama-sistible

Welcome to their home.

2008-03-19T16:39:00.006-05:00

FOUR FRIENDS STARTED A BLOG recently and it's pretty great. Three of the four contributors live together, which makes for some fun posts about the things you only learn about people when in very close quarters. Given that there are multiple contributors, the blog has a scattershot quality to it, but it's fun because you can get to know each of them.

A few weeks back, one of the guys wrote about a one night stand that turned into a two day affair; it's wonderful, particularly his discussion of the morning after that became the whole next day and night. It has a kind of honesty that gets you, like at the end when he writes:

He gets up and walks across the room and hugs me. This is a not the weak, pacify-your-sadness hug that I've felt before. Nor is it the lame generic sympathy hug. He wraps all of himself around me, and we fold into each other on the modern green angular sofa. This is the hug that seems to say, "I have room for you". It's more connection than intimacy, but feels amazing in a way that I hadn't realized I missed until now.

Check out the post at Fuzzy Mimosa.

And here's the absolutely brilliant Brenda Dickson parody that gave the blog its name. If you haven't seen this, sit down and watch. It's bizarre and perfect.

Brenda Dickson - Welcome to My Home

"As long as I don't bleed or cry I'll do it."

Novel uses for shovels: Episode 1

2008-03-19T16:30:00.004-05:00

KANYE'S VIDEO FOR "FLASHING LIGHTS" has some amazing cinematography, gorgeous colors, and the girl has a serious swerve. Something about it reminds me of the Arcade Fire video mash-up I posted a while back, something about the pacing and the cold, silent violence, but this one is definitely more hip-hop.

The song is typical Kanye - stunning beat, great sample, tiresome, self-congratulatory lyrics - but I like the video enough to post it anyway.

Kanye West - "Flashing Lights"

Fur is murder.

You gotta be bad/bold

2008-03-17T21:55:00.001-05:00

THE GENTLEMEN WHO GRACE my stoop (who apparently never need to sleep) decided to celebrate the coming dawn this morning by blasting some reggaeton track from their hoopdie at 5:30 AM.

These fairly regular impromptu parties usually come and go without incident (with the notable exception of a few weeks ago when someone leaned out the window and screamed "It's two-fucking-thirty in the morning" to no avail). This morning, however, was different. Apparently tired of having the party forced on them, a neighbor across the street decided to fight back. This brave soul mustered all of their courage and decided to return fire with their most effective weapon: "Strong Enough" by Cher.

Really? Cher? That is the most feeble shit, and yet totally brilliant. There's nothing that would make those guys want to go party someplace else. And you know what? It worked.

I think the next time it happens, I'm putting my speakers in the window and blasting Des'ree.

Let's take back the night.

Fear this.

You should have heard me do "Sometimes"

2008-03-17T21:20:00.005-05:00

I'VE ONLY SEEN ONE episode of MTV's "Rob and Big," the one where Rob decides he's going to buy a miniature pony and lets it live in the house. The show is fun in a way that catches you off guard. As Heather put it, it's like watching a 14-year-old boy with unlimited funds live his dream life, and that's strangely amusing.

On some recent episode, Rob and Big go to a car wash; the new Enrique song comes on, and Rob just goes crazy dancing to it. Behold.

This reminds me so much of high school, it's not even funny. The only difference is that rather than an overweight black man, I was with my best friend Lex, and rather than Enrique, it was Britney, and rather than dancing, I was singing the harmony part in the last chorus of "Oops! I Did it Again." But the general idea is the same.

Four score and seven queers ago

2008-03-16T16:44:00.005-05:00

MAYBE THE RUMORS ONLY exist in the sequin and lube corner of the world, but there are rumors nevertheless that President Abraham Lincoln was gay. Of course, this was before Freud had defined homosexuality in the way we mean it today, but there's something glorious about the idea. Hell, if Obama can claim him, so can I, right?

The US Treasury is doing their part to keep my hopes alive. I present you the new $5 Bill. Tell me the big purple five isn't the queerest thing you've ever seen! It's like it's popping out to say, "Hey girl!"

For whom the bell may be tolling.

2008-02-24T03:30:00.004-05:00

THE TIMES HAS BEEN running a series of articles recently that suggest the Clinton campaign has been subtly closing up shop. They're sad articles, because they portray Hillary as a passionate candidate who, while ever realistic about her chances, remains deeply committed to the difference she could make in the lives of Americans.

The articles are especially heartbreaking because they remind me of women who strove mightily to achieve greatness, and ought to have won those achievements, but for whatever reason never quite did. Of course, they call into question Hillary's ability to be an effective, inspirational leader if she can't even convince her own campaign staff to tough it out and remain optimistic until the final act. And yet there's something about the whole situation that makes me want to donate to her campaign, to demonstrate my appreciation, if not necessarily my support.

Hillary's slow deflation doesn't make me any more excited about Obama. If anything, I've grown more disillusioned by his one note campaign over the past few weeks. As we've watched Hillary's slow fade, he's failed to step into the vacuum she's leaving, failed to inspire confidence in his ability to do anything more than simply provide some vague inspiration. I want as much as anyone for this country to be united, for us to move past the old divisions that hardened during the Clinton era, but the truth is that those differences don't simply disappear, and I'm not sure he has goals beyond redrawing the lines that divide us.

Hindsight is always 20/20, but it seems that one of Clinton's campaign's greatest failings was the sense of inevitability they injected into the race during those early months. You never really felt like you needed to get involved because the assumption was that she was going to win with our without you. To this day, I think Hillary supporters still believe Hillary will pull it out in the remaining states, that ultimately, they don't need to get involved because Obama's magic is sure to run out if she can just hold on long enough.

Lint Licker!

2008-02-20T23:58:00.003-05:00

A GOOD FRIEND GREW UP in Utah, where cursing ranks right up there with caffeine and liquor on the reasons why Utah is not a place I could ever live.

When he came to college, it took him a while to get used to using real swear words rather than shorter abbreviations that leave no room for doubt as to what you're really saying (and therefore, IMHO, negating the whole point of not swearing in the first place). It's like girls who, to protect their virginity, have anal with the entire football team - a practice that is very much alive and well at BYU, according to sources.

Regardless, to this day, we all get a kick out of responding to an insult with an indignant "fuh that."

This commercial reminded me of that friend. Voila.

"Pickle you, cumquat!"

Still thrilled.

2008-02-15T22:50:00.005-05:00

I GOT MY SUMMER offer a week and four hours ago and I'm still absurdly happy about it. When I was pounding the pavement looking for an internship, a sense of dread would wash over me a couple times a day. Now, I'll be walking between classes and my mind will switch into recruiting mode, thinking about what I need to do, or who I need to call. And then it will hit me that I don't need to think about that anymore. My heart will swell a little and I'll smile. If it hits me while I'm standing waiting for the subway listening to music, I'll realize that I'm shaking my ass just a little to the beat.

It's weird to be this happy about something that you know is going to be really tough, something that's going to gobble up your personal life and be a source of stress in the future. But for now I'm trying not to think about that, and focusing on feeling like this:

Dooce - Leta Learns to Splash

splashing in the tub from dooce on Vimeo.
Next up, insanely cute puppies.

[Via Dooce]

No country for old men/risen Lords

2008-02-12T10:17:00.001-05:00

IT'S GANG INITIATION TIME, so there's been a spike in violence in the hood as the Crips and whatever Dominican gang happens to currently rule my street fight it out for territory and members. A guy from my building was killed last week and there's been a shrine to him outside the stoop ever since. The drug deals are still going down around the clock, though, so no one seems to be deterred. No cause for alarm!

By and large the violence ignores non-gang members, and if it does touch the uninitiated it's mostly muggings. Unfortunately, the muggings often specifically target white people, so I've been taking off my iPod before walking back from the subway station at night. This has severely constrained my happiness, of course, as I no longer get that last spin of whatever shamefully titillating pop song I currently have on repeat.

Just when I think I've had enough and that I really do need to move, along comes a reminder that crime, truly heinous crime, can strike anywhere. Even in the heart of Kent County. Surely it's some perversion of our national character that there hasn't been Runaway Bride-style, 24/7 news coverage of this tragedy.

I'll be starting a Facebook issue group about it, and I hope you'll all support the cause when I shoot off the invites.

Jesus Held Hostage in Kent County

"Clean up all the wiener poopie if you want to see Jesus unharmed."

[via The New Gay]

Give it to me.

2008-02-10T23:01:00.001-05:00

GUESS WHO'S GONNA BE gainfully employed this summer?

After suffering the slings of excessive self-doubt, after countless recruiting cocktails and conversations with a dozen firms, after a slew of interviews where I whipped out my MECE at every conceivable instant, your boy's got an offer from a great firm.

Needless to say, I'm stoked. It's a firm I'd jocked all semester - smart, fun, genuine people, interesting, meaningful work, great brand name.

Early on in the process, a second-year at school told me that the whole recruiting process was like dating. You're out trying to make it happen with someone, putting out your best. That's recruiting events.

You find someone you're clicking with, but you're more into them than they are into you. You're just trying to keep them from getting tired of you, so you flash a little leg and telling all your really good stories. That's interviewing.

Then, at some point in the relationship, the power switches hands and you realize the person you're seeing is really into you. Supposedly, that's what it's like after the offer comes.

And then you realize that you're both into each other, and you make a ten thousand babies.

Let's just say I'm really looking forward to this stage in the relationship.

Amerie - "Gotta Work"

"Show me someone without a goal, show me someone with no control."

Remember the power of the American idea

2008-02-04T20:33:00.000-05:00

I STILL HAVEN'T DECIDED who I'm supporting in the Democratic primary race, but fuck, man, have you seen this?

Even if Obama can't seize victory from the Clinton machine (a machine I personally believe is built around a capable, impressive, and good-hearted candidate), the message here is exceptionally powerful.

Yes We Can

"There has never been anything false about hope."

Discovering my little corner of the internet

2008-01-15T21:36:00.000-05:00

AND NOW IT'S TIME for a little segment I like to call "Who are you and please get out of my house."

Top 6 Favorite Search Phrases That Inexplicably Led People Here

1. people that look like gooses
2. people with height dont look as fat
3. how to get a job at goldman
4. proctologist test
5. that's right jesus is lord
6. brian boitano

Amazing.

Match.com is the new porn

2008-01-15T18:23:00.000-05:00

CAN WE TALK ABOUT the sudden ubiquity of couples who met online? I don't know when it happened, but it's like I woke up a couple of weeks ago and realized that almost all the couples I know met on Match.com. Except, of course, that couple who met on a Craigslist booty call. (Need I mention it was in the m4m section? I thought not.)

All this has made me wonder, What am I missing? (Cue Sarah Jessica Parker saying, "Meanwhile uptown, Samantha was missing something too... her panties").

I have nothing against meeting people online. I don't think it's creepy or just for losers without other options, but it is a little lame, a little deflated. Where's the romance? A friend's parent's met on a train as it chugged through the European countryside; my own parents met randomly on a bench in Central Park, and my dad says he knew from the moment he saw her that she was the one.

As Match would have us believe in their brilliant new ad campaign, it can all begin with a look, but where's the magic when your dad tells you that he thought your mom's professional headshots were cute, and that when he read how she "loves exploring new restaurants, but is just as happy staying home and watching a movie (and cuddling... ;))," he knew he had to write and say, "OMG I love going out and staying in too!!!!"

PART OF THE PROBLEM is that when you meet online, you've already cut out a big chunk of the dating game. There's no sexy eyes, no wondering whether they think you're cute. Ostensibly, you're both there because you want to meet someone, that special someone, so most first dates are probably as romantic as a trip to the Gap to try on jeans. "I don't know Kathy... he's a relaxed fit, and I'm more of an apple bottom girl."

I think that's why no one really talks about it. How many times has a friend gone on and on about the guy they're seeing, only to dry up when you ask how they met.

"Oh, we met online." That's it, because that's all there is to say. "I know, I know, I'm totally not the type to meet people online, but he's so great!"

Don't lie to me, and don't lie to yourself. You may feel a little shame mixed in with that excitement you feel when you log in, but face it: You are the type to meet someone online. We all are. We're all tired of fucking around with love, all tired of waiting, even if the waiting is a byproduct of the romance.

I have to give some serious credit to people who are out there making it happen for themselves. Because you know what doesn't help you find the one? Sitting in your underpants reading the New Yorker on a Friday night. Trust me, as satisfying as Hendrik Hertzberg may be, his witty political banter isn't interested in being your big spoon.

Up on the roof, arising a clatter.

2007-12-25T18:09:00.000-05:00

IT WAS ANOTHER SUCCESSFUL CHRISTMAS at the Wizzle home. We woke up early, my brother and sister upstairs in their bedrooms, me on the foldout downstairs now that my bedroom is my father's office. (I am not at all bitter about this). By the time all us kids were ready to go, my father had already been awake hours - I know because he, as usual, turned on the TV and started unloading the dishwasher hours before sunrise. (Again, not at all bitter).

We have a sacred Christmas morning tradition at the Wizzle home, one that must be upheld regardless of where one sleeps. Only half awake, I stumbled upstairs, careful not to look at the tree. The three of us queued up at the top of the stairs and closed our eyes, then my mom led us all down the stairs until we were all facing the tree.

"Open your eyes."

We all "Ooh" and "Aah" over the presents and the tree, and tell my parents what a beautiful job they've done again this year. My parents stand there beaming, and look at each other, my father clasping his hands together, shoulders a little hunched, my mother stepping in closer to him. They are proud and satisfied and happy. It's the best part of Christmas.

THAT IS, UNTIL WE start opening presents. You should see this hoody jacket my brother gave me! This shit is so fly. I put it on, and instantly felt beautiful.

The other gift of the day was from my sister and her boyfriend to my parents. It was this gorgeous decanter they'd all seen at a silent auction a few weeks back. My parents had bid twice on it, but were ultimately outbid. Thinking hope was lost, Jeff says to my sister, "Why don't we win it and give it for Christmas?" (The guy's racking up point's left and right, starting with when he stepped out of his jeep to meet my parents for the fist time. I was on the phone with my mom at the time, and when she sees him she goes, "Oh! He's cute... oh... okay... oh my... okay, I need to go.")

From there, we get all dressed up in our new clothes, stand around the tree, take a picture, and call it a day.

Merry Christmas.

Nick Pitera - "Silent Night"

If you shut your eyes, it's remarkable.

A little less Yenta, a little more chalupa.

2007-12-22T19:14:00.000-05:00

I TURNED THE CORNER onto Broadway, headed towards the closest grocers to grab a few things for dinner, and ran into my neighbor's son standing with his little cousin. He's about eleven-years-old and pudgy, and she was bundled up and had her nails polished. A couple months ago, Oscar escaped from my apartment by knocking aside a screen, and wound up walking through the kid's window from outside. Oscar eventually came back, but the kid didn't mind giving me a lecture when he saw me.

"You need to keep a better eye on that cat."

"I know," I said.

"He came right into my room," he said sternly, but then he brightened. "He's so nice though and he let me pet him. I gave him milk."

"It's a wonder he came back," I said.

SINCE THEN, THE KID brings up my cat whenever we see each other, and tonight was no different. Tonight, though, he ventured into new waters.

"Your cat? Is he a girl?" he asked, apparently hedging the issue.

"No," I said. "He's a boy."

"Shoot," he said.

"Why? Did you have a bet?"

"Not yet," he said and looked over at his cousin. They both looked up at me intently.

"Do you play guitar?" he asked.

"No, but I really want to learn," I said.

"You play piano?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Drums?" As I shook my head they grew increasingly incredulous. "Do you sing? Dance?"

"Only in my apartment when I'm alone," I said smiling, but they just looked up at me blankly.

"Shoot!" he said. "What do you do?"

Now it was my turn to look at them blankly. I couldn't very well tell two preteens that I spent what little free time I have drinking beer, talking on the phone, reading the New Yorker, and wandering aimlessly around Facebook.com. "I ... um... go to school." This seemed both an honest and a responsible answer. They seemed confused, but willing to take my word for it.

"You got a girlfriend?" his cousin asked shyly.

"Yeah, you got a girlfriend?" he asked. "A guy like you needs to have a girlfriend. How old are you?"

"25," I said.

"Yeah, you need a girlfriend. A guy your age needs to have a baby." He'd apparently forgotten that I can't even keep an animal to his exacting standards. You know, the standards by which you somehow manage not to lose your pet out a sixth story window.

They were in clear agreement on this baby point, however. His cousin had perked up, and looked at me like she finally understood the mystery standing before her. "My sister is 20 and she is almost done with school. She already has a baby, too!"

The kid's eyes lit up and he stepped forward, grabbing my arm and motioning for me to lean in close. I bent down. "I can hook you up with a girl," he said, and then let go of my arm. He nodded meaningfully with a very serious look on his face.

Advertising just to reinforce the brand image.

2007-12-22T16:25:00.000-05:00

BEHOLD THE DOPE MITTENS I purchased for $0.79 at one of the many dollar stores in the hood, Viva La Vida. I'm fairly certain that the people who made these had no idea what these words meant, but thought they were pretty in the way that Japenese teenagers will write English words on their textbooks (or, for that matter, the way Americans get vaguely Asian "characters" tattooed on their lower backs and shoulders that read "Cuddle Cookie").

I don't need a man, I have a pussy.

2007-12-22T15:45:00.000-05:00

THE VIDEO BELOW IS SO GENIUS, I'm jealous I didn't think of it first. Can you imagine Oscar in this delightful ensemble? I can't decide if he would submit to the torture the way he does to letting me stick my fingers between his paws and in his mouth (to prove that daddy is the boss), or if he would meow to the high heavens, crying for mercy, before finding some way to extricate himself from the getup.

I once heard that you can tell how smart an animal is by putting a paper bag over its head and seeing how long it takes for the animal to get it off. By this measure, Oscar is brilliant. Cat is out of the bag before I've even let go. My dog growing up, however, less so. You'd put the bag on his head and he'd just sit there motionless, no doubt thinking that this was some test of endurance and that there was surely a treat on the other side. Please God, let there be a treat.

Regardless, I figured that no blog is complete without the blogger introducing their loved ones. Given that I've yet to find my $200K husband at school, I'll introduce the other Mr. Wade. World (which is to say, one one billionth of it), meet Oscar.

"Now I am vaguely famous."

FourFour - "Merry Christmas from Winston and Rudy"

It's not animal abuse if you do it out of love.

Done. (Settle down!)

2007-12-18T16:00:00.000-05:00

IT'S OVER! I took my last final this morning. It was beautiful. The only thing that would have made it better would have been if it had been proctored by the woman who proctored our Economics exam.

(To give you a preview of where this is going, there's a reason why proctor and proctologist begin the same way: they're both pains in the ass.)

This woman - who, I might add, had the most spectacularly hideous gold spectacles I've ever seen in my life - got into an argument with one of my classmates over whether she'd given him enough blue books for the test. We needed three, and right before telling us we could begin, she asked whether everyone had enough.

My classmate raised his hand. "You only gave me one."

"Impossible," she said curtly.

The room stopped, curiosity piqued. Impossible? Really?

"Well, I only have one," he said, slightly befuddled.

"That's impossible."

A few of us laughed.

"Settle down!" she said, as if we were middle schoolers. "Everyone settle down!"

Emboldened, my classmate asked, "Can I have my blue books now?"

Her eyes narrowed behind her remarkable glasses. After a moment, apparently having failed to think of a single valid reason why someone would steal two blue books, she walked up the aisle and slapped them onto his desk.

"Alright people, settle down. I said settle down!" At this point, my mouth was literally hanging open. "You may begin."

AS I PUSHED THE SUBMIT button to finish my exam today, I said a silent goodbye to that woman, who basically summed up my entire first semester: absurdly hideous, emotionally trying, and yet somehow, in retrospect, worth the pain.

Still, glad it's over.

Teen Girl Squad #4

"I love you too, Brett."

This is for my people. My business school people.

2007-12-14T17:00:00.001-05:00

TAKEN (ALMOST) DIRECTLY FROM a textbook I'm studying today:

A physicist, a geologist, and an economist are stuck at the bottom of a 40-foot pit. They've been stuck for days, and are on the brink of dehydration. They've tried everything they can think of to get out of the pit, tried dozens of hair-brained schemes based on their knowledge of physics and chemistry, and nothing has worked.

Finally, the scientists turn to the economist.

"We're out of ideas. Isn't there anything from your training that could get us out of here?"

The economist thinks for a moment.

"Sure. Assume a ladder."

Oh man, it's funny 'cause it's true. Is reading Corporate Finance fun or what?

Vanilla Sky - "Umbrella"

Assume a US fanbase.

Your wake-up call killed my buzz

2007-12-13T22:46:00.000-05:00

I'VE HAD ENOUGH of being odd man out because I happen to sleep with men on the odd night out.

Tonight, hanging out with classmates from school, I endured four separate incidents of people using the word "gay" in a derogatory way. Each time, the person realized what they'd said and apologized profusely. In that moment, this formerly "innocuous" word, this synonym for "lame" or "weird" or "uncool," came crashing into a the reality of a person they know and, on some level, think of as a friend. My hope is that it's a powerful moment for them, and that they never use the word in that way again.

For me, though, the whole experience is a total drag. Yes, on some level I'm glad that I can facilitate greater awareness of the issue, but I'm not hanging out drinking beers with you because I want to raise social consciousness. I'm out because I'm one of the guys - note! not because I want to be one of the guys, but because I actually am one of the guys - and suddenly, I'm forced into being something other than one of the guys. I'm a gay guy. I'm a stand-in for the issue. My sex life is the topic of conversation (in the most boring way) because you've put your foot in your mouth.

What's more, I spend the next few minutes reassuring you that it's cool, that I know you're not a homophobe, that I know I'm the first gay guy you've actually known, really known, that you'd never really thought about the word that way before. The truth is, although I'm the one who should be offended, we're back to talking about you. We're back to soothing your ego.

And you know what? Fuck that. I am not gay for the purpose of straight people.

Once and for all, let me enumerate the things I am not:

I am not your wake up call.

I am not your kicky, zany best friend.

I am not your interior decorator.

I am not your shopping partner.

I am not your next-best option on a Friday night.

I am not your musclebound (unfortunately) sex-crazed club kid.

I am not your trendy accessory.

I am not your Real World token cast member.

I am not your hair stylist, and I am not giving you a makeover of any kind.

And to prove it all, I give you Margaret Cho. (Ha!)

Margaret Cho - "ITOTIW, Part 1/10"

"You go girl! You go! No, I mean you go! Bye!"

This goose is cooked.

2007-12-12T22:00:00.000-05:00

WE'RE SMACK DAB in the middle of finals right now. Two down, three to go. I've been attacking Economics problem sets like a wounded creature in a last ditch effort for survival, but thanks to two friends in the library, I've powered through a lot longer than I thought I would.

The library is a mixed blessing. On one hand, you look around and see other people studying, which motivates you to keep going. On the other, even with headphones on and a nose to your practice exam, you're fair game for any random conversation your study partners desire.

Tonight's topic of choice: Top Hotties, proving that the nation's future business leaders think with their wangs and snizzes as much as they do with their dope Excel models and cheat sheets. Emails have been exchanged, lists made, conferences held.

The problem with making these definitive judgments during exam period is that people tend to develop Library Hot. That guy you wouldn't look twice at during the semester? You're suddenly thinking he might be doable in the dim, florescent lights of the library stairwells. That girl who hasn't changed her sweatpants in five days, and who you suspect may be sleeping in a pile of crumpled Accounting notes? You're suddenly certain she needs to get a life.

Avoiding the trap of Library Hot is the main reason we all need to take a study break every now and then. Step out of the library and onto the street and remember what normal people look like. People who shower. People who manage to pull a brush through their hair. People who don't look like they've been awakened in the night by a rushing mind thinking, "Assets equals liabilities plus owners equity."

Or maybe to see people who have more important things to worry about than whether they get that job at Goldman they don't really want, but God dammit, they've worked for it and they're going to get what they deserve.

Gui Boratto - "Beautiful Life"

It's okay, Nana. We all drop fruit sometimes.

"Yeah, you blend."

2007-12-01T20:43:00.000-05:00

I WAS WALKING DOWN my street, wheeling my blue grandma cart behind me. I had laundry with me, and was on my way to Up All Night Laundry.

Up ahead I saw this little firecracker guy who I’ve sometimes seen around the building. A month or so ago we’d ridden in the elevator together, and he’d struck up a conversation. At the time I thought he might have been on some upper, but since then, I’ve realized that’s just how he is. He was standing with two other guys I didn’t recognize.

“Hey, what’s up dude?” he asked as I walked past.

“What’s up,” I said, stopping and grabbing his hand with my left hand, still holding my cart with my right.

“What you up to?”

I gestured to my cart. “Going to do laundry.”

“Again? You went last week.”

“Yeah, but I do it every week,” I smiled and started to walk up the street.

“So how long you live in the hood, dude?” he asked, putting his hands in the pockets of his enormous jacket and walking with me.

“Since August.”

“Alright, alright.”

“How about you?”

“I always been here. I used to lived in the Polo Grounds over there,” he said, pointing off towards Bronx, which didn’t seem like the neighborhood, but I let it go. “It used to be the home of the great New York Giants, but they turned it into projects.”

I nodded, not sure of what to say about that. We stepped off the curb to cross the street. “How long have you lived in the building?”

“Eighteen or nineteen years. I got friends there.” He paused and looked up at me from under his black hat. “You’re cool with me, dude.”

“Thanks.”

“You know how we do around here. You know how it is. You gotta do what you gotta do to make it.”

I realized he was talking about selling, and again, wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. Things they don’t teach you around the pool in Connecticut. I let out a short little laugh, and just said, “Yeah.”

“What’s your name, dude?”

“Ben. What’s yours?”

“TK. I’ll call you TB for Tall Ben. Big tall Ben. I like that.”

I smiled. Usually I make some sarcastic comment when someone references my height, but TK was, you know, a drug dealer, so I let it slide. “BTB, right?”

We’d reached the laundromat. It was crowded. People were sitting around watching the flatscreens mounted high on the walls. It looked like there was a home improvement show on, which I thought was weird given we were in the middle of a city and I doubted any of my neighbors had a country house.

TK looked in, then at me, extending his hand. “I’ll see you around, TB. Be cool.”

Jay-Z - "Roc Boys (And The Winner Is)

The hood is distinctly less glamorous.

1 perfect thank you note won't get you a job. 100 perfect thank you notes just might.

2007-11-26T23:13:00.000-05:00

LIKE A MAJORITY OF FIRST-YEAR business school students, I'm in the middle of the summer internship search. I'm gunning for a job in consulting, and applications are due in a few weeks for the big firms. Like any other Type-A overachiever, I'm doing as much as I can to make sure that when I pull the lever on the big employment slot machine, I pull cherries or sevens and not... uh... you know, something that leaves me without job.

The hardest part about this whole job search thing is the fact that, ultimately, it's out of my hands.

This is hard for me to accept.

I don't do hard drugs. I don't gamble. I don't fall in love easily, as any number of ex-boyfriends can attest. Not because they're stupid things to do (which they are), but because they require you to surrender yourself to something else: a chemical, chance, or someone else's uncertain affection.

My father may be surprised to read about this need for control. I frequently leave on trips without a map, directions, or even a precise destination address. Yet I know that I can always call him and he'll tell me where I've managed to wind up, and how to get where I'm going, thereby providing the illusion of control. (All that said, I pray he's not actually reading this blog, as it occasionally acknowledges the existence of sex and that I have a semi-functional sex drive. Dad, if you're reading this, those things are lies. Also, Hillary made me do it).

I know that I'll eventually need to give up on this need, that being successful eventually becomes less about doing the right thing all the time, and more about leveraging a rare moment of possibility and otherwise rolling with the punches. It's hard to make that shift, though, when doing what I can to determine the outcome of uncertain periods has been relatively successful.

Here's hoping the illusion lasts a little longer.

Ida Maria - "Oh My God"

"You think I'm in control? Oh my God."

Secret lovers, that's what we are

2007-11-26T22:41:00.000-05:00

MY FORMER CUBEMATE AND I were obsessed with that T-Mobile MyFives commercial, the one where one guy says to the other guy, "Dude, what's my girlfriend doing in your five?" And then the other guy tries to play if off like it's nothing, but then the girlfriend calls and the ringer is that song "Secret Lovers."

HaHa! Hilarious! Oh man, and then we'd just laugh and laugh...

Alright, so it's not that funny to recount, but when you're at work the bar is lower.

Anyway, M, this is for you.

Tato Salad - "Cell Phone Five"

"The older the prune, the sweeter the poon."

Like uncool girls talking about popular girls

2007-11-20T19:32:00.000-05:00

LAST NIGHT, I HAD a long discussion about the difference between Canada and America. Actually, I wasn't involved because, as an American, I know absolutely nothing about Canada, but I had the opportunity to listen while two Canadians discussed the relative merits of their homeland.

I'll spare you, my enormous reading public, the details, and instead let Cute with Chris sum it up for me.

Cute with Chris - "Canada vs. America"

"That's right, Jesus is lord."

The wisdom of children, my ass

2007-11-20T18:44:00.000-05:00

THE FIRST SONG I EVER memorized was "You're So Vain" by Carly Simon. I was young, certainly far too young to grasp the song's interpersonal complexities, too young even to memorize the words correctly. By way of illustration, when Carly sang "Some underworld spy, or the wife of a close friend," I would sing "Some underwear spy and the wife of a clothespin." My mother never attempted to correct me. She probably thought it was cute. Like a lisp.

Like a lisp, if it's not corrected quickly, your son winds up a fag, and gets tormented in elementary school because not only is he singing Carly Simon in the playground, he's singing it wrong with a fucking lisp.

REGARDLESS, THIS LYRIC MADE perfect sense to my child brain. While singing, I would picture a clothespin puppet, dressed up in a pretty felt dress, yarn hair pulled back, standing next to a man wearing a cape and a pair of underwear over his eyes to conceal his identity. I may have confused spies with Zorro.

When you're a kid, your ability to discern the reasonable from the absurd is severely limited, as my friend, whose imaginary friend "Broccoli" (a human-sized head of broccoli), can testify. I think that's one of the reasons kids attach to such horrible songs. The neighborhood kids used to spend hours dancing around with Elton John's "Crocodile Rock" on repeat, and our parent's never tried to kill us! Not once!

Even if we put aside children's music (hey, remember Raffi?), there's enough kid-friendly, soul-grating music by otherwise credible musicians to fill thousands of trips to and from Gymboree, the day's playdate, and any number of mind-numbing soccer games. One key entry into this pantheon of shame is surely "You Can Call Me Al" by Paul Simon. Why can I call you Al, Paul? And it's not Betty, okay? I'm having enough trouble with the kids in the playground and I don't need this from you.

The song makes no sense, but an entire generation of kids grew up singing the song from the wayback at the top of their lungs. It turns out it was an international phenomenon, as Jens Lekman explains, before launching into a worthy rendition of the song. Lekman gets at the heart of what makes the song so annoying - the chorus, and Chevy Chase's smile in the original video - and then does us all a favor and gets rid of both. The guitar riff in the hook is pretty amazing, right?

Jens Lekman - "You Can Call Me Al"

You need two mics to rock this hard.

If you have to ask, you probably are

2007-11-01T21:03:00.000-05:00

EVERYONE, AND I MEAN EVERYONE, spends most of college making poor choices and being a risk to themselves. Fortunately for those of us who graduated before 2005, most of those poor choices get put in a box and left in the past, to be opened like your middle school time capsule once every five years at reunion.

Unfortunately for later classes, however, that time capsule is called YouTube.

I'm Not the Fraternity Bicycle

What's the fish hook all about? Besides being genius.

Doctor, Lawyer, Accountant, Lover

2007-11-01T20:14:00.000-05:00

I STEPPED INTO THE ELEVATOR behind a young woman in her late 20s. I was listening to my iPod, which generally means "Do not talk to me, this is my Britney time," but because she'd held the door for me while I checked my mailbox, I nodded and said, "Thanks."

"You a lawyer? You look like a lawyer," she said, looking at the tie I was wearing.

I laughed. "Nope, sorry. I'm a student."

"Yeah? For what?"

"Business."

"That's nice," she said, approvingly. "You can be my accountant when I'm a millionaire. I'ma make a record. I know you won't cheat me 'cause you from the hood."

I smiled and promised I never would. The doors opened on her floor and she stepped into the hallway.

She turned around. "You got a girlfriend?"

I laughed. "No."

"You need one? It's Chermelli. I'm a model too," she said, running her hand down her hair and bouncing her ass out a bit.

"Nice to meet you," I said, sticking my hand out.

"Nice to meet you too, baby!" she said, taking it.

Chris Recites Britney Spears

I Can Drink Myself Straight

2007-10-26T17:52:00.000-05:00

I WAS E-STALKING A GENTLEMAN (who will inevitably read this blog, making the whole endeavor all the more shameful), and one of his photos was of a girl wearing a homemade t-shirt that read "I Can Drink Myself Gay."

Genius.

I would drink myself straight for Carrie Underwood, as long as she sang this song to me whilst cuddling.

Carrie Underwood - Alone

And by straight I mean I'll talk about boys with her.

How To: Dissuade Potential Suitors

2007-10-23T22:25:00.000-05:00

TONIGHT THE SCHOOL HOSTED a bunch of prospective gay students who wanted to learn more about the school and gayness thereat.

I was tempted to stand up and say, "Our schoolwork is indiscriminate in its brutality, and everyone, gay and straight alike, is generally miserable. The only difference is that us gays aren't making up for it by finding hot future hedge fund managers at happy hour. Questions?" But I bit my tongue, and put on my best salesman face.

I spent most of the evening talking to a guy who was more interested in discussing his recent break-up than he was in learning about the school. Fine. If you want me to play psychologist, its an open bar and I'm not going anywhere.

"How do you think I can get him back? Should I make him feel really guilty?"

"Um... that may not be the best course of action," I said, feigning thoughtfulness. "I'd say play it cool. Act like you don't want him back and you're okay without him."

"But I do want him back," he said, his well-groomed brows furrowing.

"Right, but you need to even the power out a bit."

"So you don't think I should try to make him miserable?"

"No," I said firmly.

"But I want him back," he reiterated, seeming to suggest I hadn't understood earlier.

"Well, that's sort of his decision, right? Not yours. Maybe you should try dating someone else? Get out there a bit."

"I just joined a whole bunch of websites. Facebook, Connexion, Myspace, and then a bunch of sex ones."

"Well, that's... ah... a start."

"Are you on any?" he asked, looking at me over the top of his drink.

"Personally, I'm more of a Facebook and Friendster kind of guy."

"I like the sex ones."

"Well... heh... I mean, I'm like one cat and a hitch trailer away from being a lesbian," I said, using standby lesbian humor to make myself less uncomfortable. "I mean, that's just me. For you, uh... I'm sure it's really nice?"

"I like that there's no pretense about why you're there."

"That's... uh... true."

"So I'd like to take you out on a date sometime."

It's a wonder anyone dates. Ever.

A little less dirty dancing, a little more emo

2007-10-10T22:55:00.000-05:00

IF BRITNEY SPEARS AND Tori Amos had a baby, and that baby turned out to be a queerbait with a flair for the melodramatic and a YouTube account, that queer baby would record a version of "Gimme More" a lot like this one.

As Toby said, be thankful I don't play the piano, otherwise my blog would be full of crap like this.

Nick Connell - "Gimme More"

Me and a gun.

A Very Hairy Jake Gyllenhaal

2007-10-01T22:17:00.000-05:00

LAST WEEK, MAHMOUD AMADINEJAD visited Columbia. Amadinejad said that there were no gays in Iran. My response: "Not anymore!"

Coming out of the speech, the big controversy, of course, was whether it was appropriate for Columbia President Lee Bollinger to rip a world leader a ragged new asshole, effectively performing the most spectacular magic trick of all time by making the man almost seem like a sympathetic figure.

The second biggest controversy, however, was the age old question: "Hot or Not?"

I'm going to pull a Hillary Clinton and straddle the fence so as to avoid offending anyone (thereby annoying everyone). Although he's not an unattractive man, I've personally never been into the whole "bad boy (read: crazed despot)" thing. I mean, ride a motorcycle (even better, a Vespa and a helmet), but murdering your own citizens is a bridge too far. That said, Osama should buy stock in Just For Men. Yum!

I will say that, rather than being a total douche whose balls must have fallen out his pants leg on the walk to the podium, Bollinger should have (used a time machine and) played this video from the SNL premier this past weekend.

SNL Digital Short - "IRAN"

Andy, if I go tanning will you love my butter pecan thighs?

Shout Out Louds - "Impossible"

2007-10-01T20:48:00.000-05:00

WHEN I WAS A KID, the end of summer was always marked by the Saint Leo's Fair. Kids from all over town would come for one last hurrah before school started. The fact that doom was looming so close was highlighted by the fact that Saint Leo's was, through some cruel twist of fate, located on the same block as an elementary and a high school.

All us kids would go crazy trying to ride all the rides, desperate to hold on to the final days of freedom. The fair would last five days and nights, and we would go as many nights as possible; during the first days at school, we would one-up each other about how much time we'd spent at the fair, or how many times we'd ridden the rides that everyone agreed were the most likely to make you barf and were therefore the best.

Even when we got "too old" to ride the rides, going to Saint Leo's was still an end of summer ritual. It was a chance to see (or in my case, actively avoid) people you hadn't seen all summer, to try to sneak a beer from a priest, and to show off your tan to the pretty girls in your class (or something).

There was something manic about Saint Leo's, but it was tempered by the universal acceptance that summer was over. The video for the Shout Out Louds' latest single, "Impossible," off their album Our Ill Wills, uses the Saint Leo's effect wonderfully. The song is about that last night you spend in a relationship you know is ending, a night with someone you still love but can't be with anymore. You get that same frantic feeling, like you need to make it last, but because you can't, or won't, you don't do anything but lie there and hold them in silence.

Shout Out Louds - "Impossible"

"Let's not fall back to sleep like we used to, do you remember?
I don't want to wake up knowing I don't have a future."

Rilo Kiley - "Silver Lining"

2007-09-08T20:08:00.000-05:00

A FEW MONTHS BACK, a guy I was sort of dating said he'd met someone else, that they'd slept together, and that we needed to stop seeing each other. I was taken aback by his confession, not because I thought my shit was too hot to give up, but because he didn't owe me that level of explanation. We weren't in a relationship, we'd just been on a few dates, yet now we were going through a whole breakup rigmarole. He could have just said he wasn't feeling it, that it wasn't there for him, and that would have been that.

Instead, I felt like he'd cheated. It was like paying the taxes on a big lotto win without the getting the payout. If I never liked this guy that much to begin with, why did I feel so shitty?

Jenny Lewis, in the latest single off Rilo Kiley's wonderful new album, Under the Blacklight, sings about cheats, and how the cheated can take back some of their lost dignity by calling things off. The song, "Silver Lining," is about a woman who leaves her lover after he sleeps around town, saying, "I was your silver lining, but now I'm gold."

The video is just okay (not as good as the long form docu-video for "The Moneymaker"), but the way Lewis' vocals float up into falsetto during the chorus and the shimmying electric guitar are glorious.

Rilo Kiley - "Silver Lining"

I didn't like you anyway, I was just looking for fun.

Representing the Sizzler

2007-09-05T21:34:00.001-05:00

IN THE LAST TWO years, new styles of hip-hop dance have popped up all over the country and have spread through YouTube. Last year in New York it was the Chicken Noodle Soup, and this year it's the Aunt Jackie.

Check it out.

Jason Fox - Aunt Jackie

"New rap music with the old school flow."

And because it's so obvious they're having such a good time, here's a couple of guys doing the Aunt Jackie around the house.

Startlingly similar to a trip to the Wizzle home.

Getta getta a dissaway?

2007-08-14T15:48:00.000-05:00

AMONG THE MANY WORDS of widsom that my father has spoken over the years, "You know you know but you don't know" is surely one of my favorites. It's either entirely nonsensical, or it's a brilliant reduction of Faith. Given, however, that it was generally muttered when one of us kids did something moronic, I'm going to lean towards the second.

Another winner, "Boys are like streetcars: when one passes you by, there's another coming around the bend," has held me in good stead as well, perhaps because it leads to the obvious corrollary that boys are easy to flag down and ride.

Perhaps my favorite, however, is the old Wizzle family addage, "Better to keep your mouth shut and let people think you're an idiot than open it and prove them right." Poor Britney Spears needed this advice, and she needed it bad. My girl released a demo track full of actual gibberish.

The beat is kind of hot, but what is happening here? Is the track waiting on a songwriter? Maybe it's some sort of commentary on the vacuous nature of most pop music. Like, let's just give up on lyrics entirely, put on some ripped fishnet stockings, bare our navels, hump around a stripper pole, and sell ten million copies on iTunes.

Leave it to some poor drag queen to choreograph a "routine" to this mess. Ladies and gentleman, I give you Miss Britney Houston.

Britney Houston - "DFA Demo (by Britney Spears)"

"He hit my heart/And he hit me hard."

This drag queen also goes by Lil Britney, and she did an amazing video remix of Lil Mama's "Lip Gloss."

Lil Britney - "Lip Gloss (by Lil Mama)"

But where's the bubblemaker this time?

New habit, same as the old habit

2007-07-24T17:22:00.000-05:00

THERE'S NOT MUCH I can say about La Lohan's recent run in with The Laws, aka Sweet Sweet Justice, so I'm not even going to try. I'll let the picture below say it all.

But before I do, how has my blog become a source for celebrity arrest jokes and mildly raunchy (slash, totally sweet) makeout stories? What has become of my life? Let's all hop in the wayback machine to a time ("Professor, send us to 1999!") when I worked hard and envisioned making something of my life. Now I can't even manage finding someplace to store my shit (not to mention myself) in the NYSizzle, despite the fact that I'm moving in about two weeks.

Let's hop forward a few years to college. Remember when I was a religion major? A poet? That's interesting right? "Oh! What an unusual combination, religion and creative writing," you'd say, secretly worried I'd end up on the street (which I still might yet if NYC has anything to say about it).

"Not that unusual," I would say, "Just think of the Bible as a long, surprisingly popular piece of creative writing, heavy on the voodoo and the smiting." And then me and the religious fundamentalists would laugh and laugh...

And now business school? That's where unusual uniqueness goes to die. It's a slippery slope to a Bloomberg and coke habit to call my own.

So bring on the Lohan. Say what you will about her, but she's always there, making me feel better about my minor concerns in life. Thank you, Lindsay. Thank you.

[via lolhan]

If that's true, then why do my ears hurt

2007-07-24T15:23:00.000-05:00

K: OMG
K: I can't even watch two seconds
B: It's too brilliant. It's too brilliant.
B: It's like staring into the sun.

Tay Zonday - "Never Gonna Give You Up"
"Your voice is like thunder."

Senior skip day of shame

2007-07-20T16:18:00.000-05:00

[C’s bedroom, 8:15 AM. Sunlight filters through venetian blinds, casting horizontal stripes of light across the floor. C is asleep in his bed. K stumbles into the room.]

K: Okay, two things.

C: [startled awake] Ugh... Good morning. [props himself up on his elbows]

K: First, I don't think I can go into work today - I made out with a coworker.

C: [bursts out laughing] I was wondering where you were last night! What did you do? Were you drunk?

K: I'm still drunk. I woke up this morning in my bed, nude, and found my clothes scattered all over the living room.

C: Wow, that's a hot make out.

K: Yeah. I don't know how I can face him today.

C: I bet. [He nods. They are silent, contemplating her situation.] So what's the second thing?

K: What?

C: You said there were two things.

K: Oh. Number two, your dildo is in the shower again.

My friends, ladies and gentleman! Initials have been changed to protect the guilty.

Shop Boyz - Party Like a Rock Star
"On a money makin mission/but I party like a rockstar"

How to catch a man... and VD!

2007-07-18T19:56:00.000-05:00

LAST NIGHT T AND I went over to J and M's place for fajitas, and J regaled us with stories of her day in the PACU. She'd treated her very first tranny, a female-to-male, and T was curious what they did with the bits and pieces after the whole transformation is complete.

"I don't know!" said J, a little scandalized. "We didn't study that in nursing school."

"No, but, like, what do they do with the ovaries?"

"I don't know, T," said J, pouring Crystal hot sauce on her second fajita.

"But how about the fallopian tubes?" T asked.

There was a pause as J looked up at him.

"What do you think is in the fajitas?"

LATER, AFTER WE'D ALL had a few fajitas and a few glasses of wine, M told us that our friend D, unbeknownst to her, had posted a fake ad on Craigslist's Casual Encounters and had linked it to her email address. She dug up the ad and, because it was sufficiently raunchy, she said she'd received a shocking number of responses over the course of the next week, which is how long the postings stay up.

We obviously decided we had to post another one right away, just to see what we'd get back. Latching onto the most absurd persona we could think of in the moment, we wrote as Splinter, the rat that has taken up residence on J and M's patio. Behold.

Subject: Alley girl seeking kibbles and nibbles

I've been a very dirty girl. Two new roommates just moved in, need to get away. Looking for a nice, warm place to spend a few hours. I'm sick of scavenging the streets, I need to be fed something hot. Got any suggestions? Don't bring any pussy around, I'm a little afraid. You must host. Have cheese plate ready (it's a fetish). Tell me your wildest fantasy, and make me squeal.

After posting the ad, we still felt like we had a little juice (read: wine) left in us, and wrote a second ad, curious to see which one would receive more responses. Our creative mojo was running a little lower this time around though, so M, T and I decided to post the second one as J, who was in the kitchen doing dishes. This meant, of course, that M was being represented in the Great Casual Encounter Competition of 2007 as a slutty, cheese-hungry alley rat, but she took in stride. Here's the second posting.

Subject: Naughty nurse seeks dirty doctor

I've had a long day a long day with ungrateful patients and I'm looking for a man who will appreciate my services. Hours of spongebaths and changing bedsheets has made me feverish. Looking for someone to take my temp, orally or anally, and who can be my prescription for a night of ecstasy. I want a thorough, penetrating examination to get my vital signs rising. Tell me where you got your medical degree and where you'll put it.

In no time, the responses started rolling in. I won't post them all here (nor will I post the genitalia pictures or the really graphic descriptions), but here's a smattering of my favorites.

To Splinter:

24 year old male that is looking for a women to hang out with, I will have all the cheese that you can think of

Did you hear that people? All the cheese you can think of! I thought I was in love until this arrived for Naughty Nurse:

Subject: I am a clean doctor actually...

but willing to get dirty if that is what it takes. My diploma says Harvard on it. And where will I put it? Well....I'm planning on keeping it on the wall where it is. As for where I might put some other things.....hmmmm...how about a tongue where the sun don't shine. Does that interest you?

I mean, he's a doctor. From Harvard. Swoon, right?

I thought so too, until Pierre showed up in the blue shorts, looking for some ratty lovin':

Friends, let's pull up here for a moment. In one night, after posting fake ads as a rat and a cartoon of a nurse, we were propositioned by a hot beach god and a Harvard-educated doctor. What kind of world is this? Why do people even go out at night? When you're out, your chances of meeting someone of that caliber are slim at best. Most nights, its a matter of looking at the guy, looking at the empty glass in your hand, and saying to yourself, "Well, if I have one more drink, maybe I'd lose my better judgment."

And if you're already saying that, you already have.

Catherine Tate - Not Drunk Enough

"I'm just not drunk. Enough."

Don't worry, it's actually getting less vibrant

2007-07-15T08:57:00.000-05:00

I'VE BEEN SPENDING THE weekend looking for places to live in New York, and most of the places I've been looking have been in Upper Manhattan, in the Harlem/Morningside Heights area. The neighborhoods up here are fantastic, a bit quieter, and the rents are cheap(er), which is a plus. I'm really glad I decided to go to school uptown instead of downtown.

Upper Manhattan has a bad reputation among some people for being unsafe, which - as far as I can tell, and from friends who live in the area - is no longer warranted. Still, when I went online to look up descriptions of neighborhoods, everything I read talked about how Harlem is a neighborhood in transition, an up and coming address, and all about how "vibrant" it is.

Let's add vibrant to the list of words we don't use. Here is the deal: vibrant = black. It's a code word that white people use to tell other white people where the black people live, while still trying to sound like they value "diversity." It's like the word "articulate," which white people use to describe black people like Barak Obama, who they are inexplicably surprised to hear can throw a few nice sentences together - a skill they apparently believed was reserved for them. Vibrant is to black as cozy is to cramped windowless hovel.

Furthermore, how absurd is it for people to say that a neighborhood like Harlem is "getting better," and that you can "actually live there now"? Hello! There are people who live here already who may like it just fine, vibrancy and all!

What the neighborhood description was really saying is, "Harlem is still distressingly 'ethnic,' but fear not: in eight years, college interns, Jersey trash, and East Village hipsters will be stumbling all over Frederick Douglas Boulevard, and you'll be able to get a low-foam latte whenever you like. Move in while rents are still cheap! Manifest Destiny, honkies!"

Catherine Tate - Tempura

"Chinese, basically."

West Side walk it out

2007-07-12T10:38:00.000-05:00

THIS WEEKEND I'M HEADED up to New York City to look for an apartment. I'm sure it's going to be a treat and am fully planning to traipse all over the West Side of Manhattan. If that woman from my school's off-campus housing office is correct, my goal of finding a place to live is sad, absurd and laughable, so you all need to cross your fingers for me.

What is it about an impending move to New York that makes everyone feel like they need to tell you horror stories about apartments and moves? Over the past few weeks I've heard more stories about moving back in with your parents, the untold pleasures of living in converted closets, and weeks of couch surfing. I've gotten advice on how to deal with corrupt brokers and the best places to store your belongings in the inevitable occurrence that you wind up homeless for a few weeks. All of the conversations inevitable end with a chipper, "I'm sure you'll find a place, though!"

If I do wind up finding an apartment, I'll flat out dance for joy. I'll bust a joyful Gwen Verdon.

[Thanks O for suggesting this brilliant YouTube video mashup.]

Gwen Verdon - Walk It Out

Fosse also invented crypt walking.

In which the internet achieves its raison d'etre

2007-07-10T08:48:00.000-05:00

[via lolhan]

Cancer? That's hilarious!

2007-07-09T19:58:00.001-05:00

THERE ARE A LOT of things you can call me that I'll grin and bear, but the one adjective I will not abide is "nice." It's not that it's bad to be good hearted or kind. Its just that nice no longer means those things. Nice is what you say about people when you don't know what else to say. Nice is utterly unremarkable, totally inoffensive. Nice is Gap pants. Nice is a light blue Honda Civic from 2004. Nice is teriyaki chicken, cooked a little too long just to be on the safe side, over white instant rice.

You don't dislike nice people, you just don't think of them. That girl from your Junior year English class was nice. You know the one I'm talking about, third row, second from the wall? She got decent grades, went on to State after graduating? She had mouse brown hair and clear, but sort of sallow skin? You probably don't remember her name because because no one ever thought to bring her up before.

Take the following video. Everyone in it is obsessed with being nice, but in the process of joking about some of the most offensive things possible, they stop being nice and start being real. And by that I mean real awful.

Creation Nation - I'm Nice

"We put Abu Ghraib hoods on the Cohens..."

Like learning your private pain has a nickname

2007-07-02T16:30:00.001-05:00

AFTER POSTING THAT I had body dysmorphic disorder, I thought it would probably be a good idea to make sure that I don't, in fact, have body dysmorphic disorder. I learned two things.

1) I don't, in fact, have body dysmorphic disorder.

2) The disorder where you think you are skinnier than you actually are is called Muscle Dysmorphic Disorder, or alternatively, Bigarexia.

It's like in ads where they combined two words to make a new word, which "automatically" makes you want the product more. Like "Scrumptoulicious."

Bigarexia! Get one for your friends, and while you're at it, get one for yourself. You deserve it.

Gay body less good than actual body

2007-07-02T16:24:00.000-05:00

A FEW WEEKENDS AGO I spend the night with a very cute guy (pride!) who, upon removing some not-to-be-disclosed number of my garments, told me that I had a "nice body."

"Thanks!" I said, surprised as usual to be complimented, as my body dymorphia generally leads me to believe that, if knocked over by a mild breeze, I would shatter into a thousand pick-up sticks.

"Yeah," he said. "You have, like, a nice gay body."

"Well, I made it myself. Lets make out more!" Note the self-deprecation and the change of subject. I wasn't sure how to feel about having a "Gay Body," but I decided to go with "Pleased." After all, it wasn’t like he said, "You have a nice 'starved greyhound' body."

I hung out with him a week later, this time at a beach.

"The guys here are in pretty good shape," I said at a pause in our conversation.

He looked down the beach. "Yeah, but they all have gay body."

My ears pricked up. "Gay body?"

"You know, like, they look strong, but their muscles are all for show."

I could have humped him right there.

SNL – Body Fusion

"Or Penthilths!"

There's a thousand yous, there's only one of me

2007-06-27T08:52:00.000-05:00

A COUPLE DAYS AGO I posted a handmade video for the Daft Punk song "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger." Today I heard Kanye West's new track, "Stronger," and guess what it samples? The same Daft Punk song. Oh shit, Kanye! You and I are totally fingers between eyes.

The song is the first single off Kanye's upcoming album, Graduation, that I'm legitimately excited about. I love the dark synth feel. And the video is beyond dope. As Pitchfork put it: "Expensive!"

Things that are awesome about the video:

1) Kanye's unreasonable venetian blind shades.

2) The mammoth, red Japanese subtitles.

3) Space Trooper robot costumes.

4) Colors.

Me likey. Here it is.

Kanye West - "Stronger"

"You can be my black Kate Moss tonight."

I love it when you get handsy with me

2007-06-25T10:38:00.001-05:00

TYPICAL BEDROOM TALK FALLS into one of three categories.

1) The Moan, The Groan: Your standard fall back options. Includes your "ooo"s and "oooh"s with an occasional "oh yeah" for good measure.

2) The Declarative Demand: A bit more advanced than The Moan, The Groan, these are suggestions to your partner to keep doing whatever they're doing, but in a slightly modified manner. Includes your "faster"s and "harder"s.

3) The Informative Outburst: More advanced still, these are ways of informing your partner either of what you are doing, or what you'd like to be doing. At its most basic, includes your "I'm going to [blank] your [blank] right now" and your "Oh man, I'm [blank]ing your [blank]."

With each step up the ladder, you are taking a bigger risk, with the potential for greater rewards. The flip side, however, is that your greater risk means a greater chance of utter failure. Take, for instance, this story my friend R told me recently.

"So, my friend and this guy are going at it. I mean, really going at it. They're getting sweaty and all hot," she says.

"Nice," I say.

"Yeah, nice," she says. "The thing is, he's talks in bed, which she's not that into."

I shake my head. "It's a shame."

"It's just that he has a tendency to say the wrong thing. Like, they're both getting pretty close when he looks her in the eye and says, straight faced, 'I'm gonna buy you a red dress! I'm gonna buy you a nice steak!'"

"What'd she say? 'Ooo baby, I like it raw?"

Daft Hands - "Faster, Harder, Better, Stronger"

Work it harder make it better.

If I said it stinks, would it be a putdown?

2007-06-23T06:34:00.001-05:00

MY HOMETOWN IN CONNECTICUT is one of those cities where local artists are commissioned by local businesses and the local government to create sculptures for the street (local streets), which then are auctioned off for charity after some number of months. This is a great idea. Everyone benefits: the artist, the charities, the politician, the business, the people. Sure, sometimes the art winds up being kind of terrible, like the year that the downtown was overrun by smaller-than-life, garish giraffes, but still, great concept.

The current exhibition is called Tossed and Found and is a bunch of sculptures made from trash and found objects. One piece, a huge rhino made from wood panels, is, I hear, already going for $20K. The whole exhibition is a big step up from the painted ceramic animal thing. Go CT!

I couldn't find any pictures of the Tossed and Found stuff (I didn't look that hard - hey, I'm on vacation), but check this stuff out instead! Artists created piles of trash that, once you project light onto them, become something else entirely.

Shigeo Fukuda, Lunch with a Helmet On, 1987

Tim Noble and Sue Webster, Dirty White Trash [With Gulls], 1998

Tim Noble and Sue Webster, HE/SHE, 2003

Tim Noble and Sue Webster, Real Life is Rubbish, 2002

[via The New Shelton Wet/Dry]

Come on cartoon Lily, light my fire

2007-06-22T18:42:00.000-05:00

MARK RONSON, THE PRODUCER behind Amy Winehouse and the 40s revival currently taking place in pop music, recently released an album of his own in Britain. It's coming to the States in early July, and it should make a splash, even if it's not an enormous commercial hit (which it may wind up being). For the album, he's teamed up with some of the artists he's worked with recently, including Winehouse and Lily Allen.

This video is for the track he cut with Lily Allen called "Oh My God." It's representative of the general feel of the songs I've heard so far: they roll forward with a strong rhythm section, and the man's never met a horn he didn't like. The video is fun, a play on the Jessica Rabbit performance in Who Framed Roger Rabbit - a great fit for his modernized 40s sound - with an animated Allen in the Jessica Rabbit role.

Mark Ronson with Lily Allen - "Oh My God"

But do you think we could add a French horn someplace?

More Ronson! The first single off the album is a cover of "Stop Me," a Smith's song, and the vocal here is by Daniel Merriweather. It's a great choice for a first single. It reels you in, makes you want to listen again, and makes you wonder what the rest of the album is going to sound like.

Mark Ronson with Daniel Merriweather - "Stop Me"

I was a part of the fabulous girl group The Supremes.

And for good measure, here's the Jessica Rabbit clip. I remember being, like, thirteen or so, and being really turned on by Jessica Rabbit. And then I turned out gay. Go figure. I'm not sure what it means, but a psychologist would probably have a field day with it.

Jessica Rabbit - "Why Don't You Do Right"

I like boys and misproportioned, over-sexed animated women.

Your girlfriend loves my lipgloss

2007-06-21T14:15:00.000-05:00

LIL' MAMA'S FULL COURT PRESS continues with a remix of Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend." The original's bratty, shiny snark comes through, and Avril re-delivers the chorus and the bridge, but this is more hostile takeover than remix - Lil' Mama makes the track her own. At first you think she'll just be gracing the intro, but as she herself says as the first chorus winds down, "Please, 8 bars and stop?" She rides this forwards and backwards, and then throws it to the floor and winds around all over it.

Watch out for Lil' Mama, kids.

Avril Lavigne and Lil' Mama - "Girlfriend (Remix)"

"I'm tellin' you like Jennifer Hudson"

But are you calling my mom a pikey?

2007-06-20T16:17:00.000-05:00

I'M STARTING BUSINESS SCHOOL in New York next year. I was thrilled with the school early on in the application process (hence my decision to apply early), and was, for obvious reasons, quite happy with the school when they decided to accept me.

Since then, it's been downhill. A meager financial aid package. A confusing website. Different ID names and passwords for everything. Systems and departments that don't speak to each other. Surprise charges. Through all of this, though, the saving grace has been all of the unhelpful and unpleasant people, people who treat me as if my confusion, my very existence, was a chafe on their soul.

Today was the latest in a growing list of indignities. I called the Off Campus Housing Office (because I have no chance of getting university housing), and asked a simple question: What paperwork should I bring with me on my apartment search?

From the beginning, the woman was a terror. She all but made fun of me for thinking I could find an apartment in New York with an August 1 move in date in early July. When I asked her the best time to start looking, she suggested three or four weeks from now. When I pointed out that four weeks from now was, in fact, August 1st, she told me tersely that the rental market was tight (really? in New York?), and suggested that I give myself two or three weeks to find a place. Ignoring the fact that two or three weeks from three or four weeks from now would be the middle of August, I told her that I had a full time job in another city, and that I would need to find something with a tad more alacrity.

I could almost hear her disinterested shrug.

"You may not find a place then."

I was flabbergasted. This woman's job was to help students find off campus housing, and here she was telling me that I would begin classes without a place to live. In effect, she was saying that she couldn't give two shits about the underlying purpose of her job, her sole reason for coming to work every day, the very reason her position, her entire department, existed. She was suggesting that I begin at her school (the honor for which I am paying upwards of $140K) living on the streets.

She must have taken my silence as some sort of grudging acquiesce to her flawless job performance.

"I need to go," she said. "The office closes at five o'clock."

It was 5:02.

It was then that I began to imagine having a Lauren Cooper conversation.

"I ain't bovvered," I would say.

"Excuse me?"

"Do I look bovvered?"

"Sir, the office is closed."

"But I ain't even bovvered though."

"What do you..."

"Are you calling me fat?"

Instead I said, in my fake happiest voice, "Well, gosh, thanks so much! You've been such a big help. I'll be in touch from my lean-to shantytown!"

Catherine Tate - Lauren Cooper Gets Murried

"I ain't even bovvered tho."

I'm not an asshole, I just play one on TV

2007-06-18T15:05:00.000-05:00

DESPITE THE FACT THAT it happened months ago, my friend M has recently developed a fascination with the Rosie O'Donell-Donald Trump multiple-round verbal smackdown. M's always found acid tongued humor funny, so it comes as no surprise that he would die laughing to hear two adults say truly hateful things about one another on national television.

If you ask me, Trump and O'Donell deserve each other. Back when Rosie was the "Queen of Nice" on Morning TV, I took my younger sister to see her show being taped live. My father and Rosie have the same agent (or did, anyway), and he had scored us really good seats, saying that Rosie would come over and say hello, or at the very least fling a Koosh Ball or two our way.

Not only did Rosie not come over and say hello, it was startling to see the transformation that took place once the cameras shut off. When the red light was on, she was smiling and warm, but when they flickered out, it was like her soul flickered out as well. The light in her eyes literally went out. She tromped around the stage with a sneer, like she couldn't be bothered to be there. I think she flung those Koosh Balls at the audience not as a way of engaging us, but out of revolted distain for the people that had come to see her.

As for Trump, he is, of course, a Grade A schmuck.

Regardless, today I got the following gchat from M, who has apparently been inspired to a new level of bitter scorn:

"You're a fat disgusting sasquatch, and a loser. I am so glad you are leaving DC, because you'll probably fail in business school and I love to see ugly people fail. You're a loser. I'll probably sue you because it will be fun to take money from your fat ass."

He's good at this game. Too bad I love the sasquatch.

Very Tasteful - Forest Ninja (I Love the Sasquatch)

"Never seen the movie Tron."

In which I love down Maya Rudolph

2007-06-13T10:31:00.000-05:00

I HAVE A GROWING OBSESSION with SNL's Maya Rudolph. She did this sketch as Donatella Versace selling a new, high-class version of Hot Pockets called Versace Pockets. It's fall out of your chair funny. Matt Damon is also in the sketch as Axl Rose, and now every time I go to microwave something, I wail, "You know what you are! You're going into the microwave, baby!" which, let me tell you, makes for a fun workplace environment.

Unfortunately, I can't find it on the Tube anyplace. Check it out here.

Maya also does a great Whitney Houston. In the season finale of SNL, they had fun with those new Geico commercials where the celebrity tells the real person's story, and she did her Whitney. Later in the show, "Whitney" popped into the Weekend Update to share some special "summretime" brownies with Amy and Seth. And now I'm sharing them with you. Pay it forward.

SNL - Whitney Houston stops by Weekend Update

"It's gonna be a messALRIGHT!"

Hook me up with some high quality footwear, hokie!

2007-06-12T16:26:00.000-05:00

MY LITTLE BROTHER, who's graduating from high school next week, wears these moccasins all the time, including out and about in public. It's one of the things that makes him cool, because if you think about it, it takes some serious balls to wear slippers out in public, much less to an urban public high school.

This winter, he had the following exchange.

"Yo! Where'd you get those kicks?"

"Um... L.L. Bean?"

White people!

Just 2 Guys

"Spinach dip, real hot chicks."

While I'm talking about my brother, he and a couple of his friends formed a fake rap group called The Wang Gang. Spectacular. Unfortunately, they can't post any of the videos to the Tube because one of the members is a potential future Olympian (for real) with potential future real endorsement deals. Wah wah.

But this should give you some idea of what they're all about.

Bing Bong Brothers

"You guys..."

Arcade Fire - Neon Bible

2007-06-11T16:47:00.001-05:00

THE ARCADE FIRE's new album, Neon Bible, is marvelous. This will probably shred whatever indie cred I had (not much, considering I posted Paris Hilton's "Nothing In This World" with unironic pleasure), but with the exception of a few songs, I wasn't such a huge fan of their first album. Neon Bible, though, I love straight through.

This video for their song, "My Body is a Cage," is a mash-up or sorts; the YouTuber took the song and set it to clips from Sergio Leone's spaghetti western, Once Upon a Time in the West. Cool how well it works. The song, while not my favorite on the album, is moody and powerful nevertheless.

Arcade Fire - "My Body is a Cage"

My body cage ain't big enough for the both of us, pardner.

Bonus! Here's the group performing "No Cars Go" at Rock en Seine in Paris. I love the way Régine Chassagne's vocals are brought further forward in this version, how, at the end, they're all just belting it out, and the way they yell "Let's go!" with so much gusto. A great song about the desire to escape to someplace safer and more innocent.

Arcade Fire - "No Cars Go (Live at Rock en Seine)"

"Little babies, let's go!"

And what the hell, here's the same song from the ACL festival, this time with more propulsive drumming and tighter instrumentation.

Arcade Fire - "No Cars Go (Live at ACL Festival)"

"Between the click of the light and the start of the dream."

Don't worry, my gay pride is offset by my white guilt

2007-06-11T11:57:00.000-05:00

THIS WEEKEND WAS GAY PRIDE in Washington, which meant that Team Peen was out in full force across our nation's fairest district. Personally, I feel like gayness is a strange thing to be proud of. Not that one should be ashamed of being gay, but it seems weird to be proud of something in which one played no part. I mean, be proud as hell when you make out with a great guy, but as Margaret Cho so aptly pointed out, there's no such thing as the Slut Pride Parade.

If we're being honest, Gay Pride Weekends aren't doing much for gay politics. I have straight friends who get more excited about Pride than any gay people I know, in large part because the gays all know that the three days should really be called We're All Trying to Have Sex At Once... Weekend.

Gay Pride also seems to give people license to act in ways they would never act normally. I was out at a bar this weekend and had the following conversation:

"Hey," he said. "Where'd you get those shoes?"

"Thanks! I got them online. Do you like them?"

"Yeah. So, like, are you a top?"

Are you kidding me? Can we at least exchange names first?

Electric Six - Gay Bar

First Cobalt, then the after party in the Lincoln Bedroom?

Back in the hooskow!

2007-06-08T16:23:00.000-05:00

DEAR LA COUNTY -

First she's in, then she's out, now she's back in. I have work to do; I can't just spend all day refreshing People.com and The Drudge Report to find out what's happening with Paris Hilton.

For the sake of my continued employment and our national productivity, please make up your collective mind.

Love,
Wizzle

In case you've forgotten in all the excitement, Paris isn't the first celebrity to be thrown in jail after an alcohol-related infraction.

Diana Ross, Live From Jail

"Tina-ni-na!"

Wetness is the enemy

2007-06-07T17:50:00.000-05:00

MY DOCTOR SEEMS ALWAYS to have a health obsession to push every time I visit. The first time, she gave me a goodie bag of allergy pills and told me that my mission in life was to keep my "passages clean and dry." Upon my second visit, however, it seemed that wetness in general had become the enemy, and I was being redeployed lower down the body.

I'm lying there catching my breath after the cough test, practically smoking a post-coital cigarette, and she asks, "Are you using an anti-fungal spray every day?"

Anxiously, I sit up. "Is something wrong?"

She uses her pen to point to my feet, looks at them for a moment, and then locks eyes with me. "Athlete's foot never goes away, you know. It's with you forever."

I'm shocked. "I have athlete's foot? Doesn't that itch? Or flake something horrible?"

She shakes her head. "You don't have it. Yet. But your toes are very wet."

"They are?"

"All feet are. They're a breeding ground for fungus, slipped into a warm, dark sock." I'm tasting vomit. "Your mission in life is to keep your toes dry."

French and Saunders - Dawn's Doctor Visit

"Just a big, fat, wobbly tummy I've got!"

I Love Mo Rocca

2007-06-05T10:52:00.000-05:00

DEAR MO ROCCA, where have you been? Ah, that's right. You're in a musical now on Broadway. Well, good for you, I suppose. But bad for us, though. VH1 and my poor and bitter soul miss you.

Please note Mr. Rocca's reaction when the hipster compliment's The Sound of Music's Nazi backdrop. Classic.

Mo Rocca Takes on Indie Rock Kids

While visions of nazi's danced in their heads.

23 days will fly by, sweety. Be strong!

2007-06-01T18:20:00.001-05:00

THE 80s HAD MADONNA. The 90s had Britney. And in the 00s, we have Paris Hilton. Every decade needs a quintessential blonde, a blonde that reflects back to us what we love and despise about ourselves, deep down at the root of our being. So what does it say that America's Favorite Blonde, the Blonde America Loves to Hate, begins her 23 day sentence in an LA County correctional facility?

Is it possible that she actually wanted to do time? Lend her a little street cred? Stay with me here, just for a second. Word is that Ms Hilton has already lined up a book deal for the Paris Hilton Prison Diaries. If she can make it sound terrible enough, and believable enough, I bet she makes a cool mil off the deal. Even if you think she's reprehensible, but you kind of have to admire her particular form of resiliency.

Jennifer Delfino - "I Wanna Be Famous"

"Paris, put down that notepad! This is joke, not advice!"

And for an extra treat, because you've been so good to me, here's Paris' finest music videographic achievement to date, "Nothing In This World."

Paris Hilton - "Nothing In This World"

"I want Paris to come to MY school!"

Eve - "Tambourine"

2007-06-01T15:52:00.000-05:00

THE WEEKEND IS HERE, first one back in DC in a few weeks, and tonight promises to be a dance party for K's birthday, and then a Team Peen party later in the night.

I have but one desire, and that is for Eve's new song, "Tambourine," to make it onto a playlist at some point in the night. Miss Eee-vee-eee has been undercover for a while, but I predict she's back in a big way with this song. It's a great summertime song, and the fact that it samples Puffy's "Can't Hold Us Down" is hilarious. Expect to hear this heavy for the next few months.

The video is a good too. Very colorful, which always gets a plus, and she looks like she's having a blast on the shoot. Particularly in the shiny teal pleather leggings. I mean, hello!

Eve - "Tambourine"

"Shake your tambourine and go get yourself a whistle."

Get on it, State Farm!

2007-06-01T08:14:00.000-05:00

THE PAST FEW WEEKS have seen me spending my hard-earned cash like nobody's business. I bought new shirts, new pants, new shoes, got a new haircut, went away for two new weekends, bought new expensive face shit (undoubtedly a ripoff), and bought rounds of new drinks for old friends. It's absurd, and I need to stop.

Or do I?

My friend M sent me this link and now I'm thinking all I need to do is make a low low monthly payment.

Coming Out Insurance

"What the hell is a bedazzler?"

French and Saunders Do America

2007-05-30T16:31:00.000-05:00

WHAT DO YOU DO when you've already created a pop culture touchstone? If you're Jennifer Saunder, you put down that last "Absolutely Fabulous" martini and start a show called "French and Saunders." It's British and hasn't crossed the pond, but M recently had linked me to this clip, and it's phenomenal.

"Come Stateside, ladies," I thought. "I beg you."

Jodie and Jordan Peel a Potato

"You lucky bitch."

And then I found this clip and I realized why they haven't crossed the pond. They already know America so well - what would be the point?

Jill and Jo's American Retirement

"There's only one size here... BIG!"

The National - "Mistaken For Strangers"

2007-05-30T12:05:00.000-05:00

THE NATIONAL, an indie rock outfit from New York, recently released their moody and fantastic album, Boxer. A lot of the reviews talked about how the album is a slow-opener, which is to say that you have to listen to it a few times before it reveals itself to you. I disagree. It hooked me immediately, and I think it ranks up there with the best indie rock releases of 2007.

"Mistaken for Strangers" is representative the album's tone. It's brooding and stylish, with a strong forward propulsion and a subtle but memorable hook. I love the way Matt Berninger's vocals rides the baseline, the way the drum beat is relentless, and the way the chorus grabs you without falling into the standard "quiet-loud-quiet" formula.

The lyrics also hit home. The song is about the way people deflate and acquiesce their way into adulthood; the drum and bass line capture that the transformation to your adult self can feel sort of inevitable, inescapable. About six months into my first job, I was spreading mayo on a sandwich for lunch and all of a sudden it hit me that this was the new life - making five sandwiches a week for the next 40 years. I think I've gained a lot in the years since college - perspective, certainly - but sometimes I wonder what was lost.

Anyway, the video is of the low budget "watch the rock band play their music" variety, and isn't much to write home about. In fact, I would recommend plugging in your headphones and listening to the song without the visual, as the song creates an atmosphere and a depth that the video works against by being rather claustrophobic.

The National - "Mistaken For Strangers"

"Another uninnocent, elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults"

Do you like fajitas and other Tex-Mex specialties?

2007-05-17T17:38:00.000-05:00

Stevie Nicks Fajita Round-Up

"There you go again you say you want burritos."

And because I found this when looking for the first clip, a beautiful, backstage jam from 1981 by the actual Stevie Nicks. The album version of this song is sort of a shambly, shapeless mess, but the clip shows that there's a gorgeous song in there somewhere.

Stevie Nicks - "Wild Heart"

"Don't blame it on me. Blame it on my wild heart."

Feist - "I Feel It All"

2007-05-17T17:17:00.000-05:00

LAST WEEK I POSTED a couple of videos off of Feist's easy-to-remember album, The Remainder. I like the songs I posted, but I was wishing hard that I could post a song off the album called "I Feel It All." The song highlights my favorite things about her voice - the way it can envelope those high notes, and really sink into the middle range. The way it naturally sounds like you're hearing her off a well-loved record.

And then my wish was granted. Last night, she performed the song on Jimmy Kimmel Live. To make matters more awesome, she performed it on a municipal bus. I'm not sure whether it's just this clip, the bus lights, or if the show used a filter, but I love the golden tone - it gives the clip an appropriate late-70s vibe, as if she was somehow projecting forward from the past.

Feist - "I Feel It All"

The wheels on the bus go 'round

In which I entertain preposterous American Idol fantasies

2007-05-17T16:52:00.000-05:00

LAKISHA JONES WAS ELIMINATED from American Idol Season 6 a few weeks ago, but I can't get her rendition of Bon Jovi's "This Ain't a Love Song" out of my skull. She blows the roof off. Simon was so impressed that after Randy quit "Yo Yo Yo-ing" and Paula stopped saying that her voice was sparklepants and the special-est unicorn rainbow, he kissed her.

I downloaded the Bon Jovi version, but she just demolishes it. I can't even listen to the original. I load this puppy up and sing my face off, fists pumping, arms stretching out, face all screwed up and feeling it too too much.

Please watch for the "I'm selling this bitch tonight" face at the 2:00 mark.

LaKisha Jones - "This Ain't A Love Song"

A little somethin' somethin'?

Dan Deacon - "Crystal Cat"

2007-05-17T16:42:00.000-05:00

THE INTERNETS RIGHT NOW are all about Dan Deacon, an electronic artist from Baltimore. Deacon is known for his bat crazy live performances, and for his recently released album, Spiderman of the Rings. The music is propulsive and frenetic, with references to Devo and Talking Heads. The video is unsafe for even the mildest of epileptics, and it makes you wish you were wearing 3-D glasses, not only because it would blow your mind, but because you get the impression that all the cool kids should be wearing them. And a full-body tiger costume.

Don't everyone go for Deacon's buddha belly all at once. I'm looking at you, J.

Dan Deacon - "Crystal Cat"

"Get your dance dance on."

We can break these things because we have before

2007-05-07T18:03:00.000-05:00

WHEN I WAS IN HIGH SCHOOL, I went away to a summer writing camp. At the end of the program, we pulled together a compilation of the writing we did that summer, and titled it, "I can break these things because I have before." Although the writing was, for the most part, high school angst poured into high school prose and poetry, I've always thought the title's sentiment was beautiful.

I came out a few years later, and although I was blessed to have a relatively uneventful coming out process, the decision to come out was incredibly hard. Today, when I'm going through a tough spot, I remember that I've faced down bigger demons, and came out better for it.

With everything our country is going through, sometimes I wonder why we don't take a stand more often. Maybe it's because we don't think we'd be effective, or that in the long run it really doesn't matter. Maybe it's because we don't live in a world of clear rights and wrongs. This video, set to the song "Hold On" by Mavis Staples, is a reminder that if we stopped paying lip service to change, stopped spending our nights and weekends in the office or at the bar, and actually tried to make it happen, we could do tremendous good.

Mavis Staples - "Eyes on the Prize"

"Keep your eyes on the prize. Hold on."

What the eff, David Blaine?

2007-05-07T17:45:00.000-05:00

IMAGINE PUNK'D, but with David Blaine, and David Blaine's creepy demon eyes staring directly into your soul.

(Thanks A!)

"Stop putting orange soda in our mouths!"

Feist - The Remainder

2007-05-07T17:06:00.000-05:00

MY BIRTHDAY IS COMING UP, and I'm hoping that when I show up at the bar, an impromptu dance breaks out along the lines of this video. It's happy, hand-clapping good time. The video practically radiates hippy joy... plus it has sparkly, color coordinated jumpsuits!

The song, by Feist, is called "1234" and it's the second single off her new album, The Remainder. Feist, aka Leslie Feist, sang the song "Mushaboom," which was a minor sensation about two years ago. Her voice is a gorgeous instrument, and even in happy-sounding songs like this one, it has a heartbroken edge. "1234" feels like a day early on in the summer when you want to sit under a fan because the air feels so good and you just want more of it. Fans of Jose Gonzales or the Kings of Convenience will approve.

Feist - "1234"

"I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony."

And for good measure, here's the first single off the album, "My Moon My Man." I love this woman; she's not a great dancer, but she doesn't give two shits and just wants walk to the beat. The video reminds me of what you would want to have happen if the song came on your iPod when you were walking through the airport.

Feist - "My Moon My Man"

"What do you mean, I'm strutting?"

Planet Unicorn, Episode Three

2007-05-04T16:51:00.000-05:00

THE LATEST PLANET UNICORN episode just popped up, and I know you're excited to see it.

Also, watch in amazement as I use my newfound blogger skills and assist you watching Episodes 1 and 2. <-- Look at that hyperlink, man!

Episode 3

"It's fun!" "I like to have fun!"

Rihanna - "Umbrella"

2007-05-04T08:27:00.000-05:00

LAST WEEKEND, a group of us rented a Zipcar and drove down to Charlottesville to explore the town and help a good friend get excited about going to UVA next year for law school. It worked - Charlottesville is gorgeous, the school is gorgeous (so many hallways!), tons of tasty restaurants, great little community. The only downside? The scores of white chicks wearing identically cut Lilly Pulitzer dresses.

On the way down we heard this song for the first time and became instantly obsessed. We walked all around Charlottesville singing, "Under my um-ber-ella/hey, hey, hey" - the only words we could remember. The entire ride home we set the XM radio to the Top 20 station in the hopes of hearing it again, and when it finally came on we rolled down the windows and sang along, shimmying in our seats.

Rihanna is an R&B artist, but this song, off of her forthcoming album, Good Girl Gone Bad, is an irresistible little slice of weirdly dark synth-pop. Plus, Rihanna takes a distinctly unsexy word ("umbrella") and sells it like a fucking pro!

Last word: this video is also a sort of ad for some new Covergirl lip gloss, so ignore those parts at the beginning and the end and focus on how banging she is, and how the song swells at the 3:08 mark (at which point she starts dancing amidst a shower of sparks - DOPE).

Rihanna - "Umbrella"

"Um-ber-ella"

Patrick Wolf - The Magic Position

2007-05-03T17:04:00.000-05:00

PATRICK WOLF'S great new album, The Magic Position, was released stateside this week. It's a rollicking, theatrical hodgepodge of indie rock, pop and electronic music. Lyrically, he's doing interesting things with the standard themes of love, despair, sex and joy, but he's also bringing in war imagery to great effect - in "Overture" he sings, "Was it worth all that war just to win?" which I think sums things up nicely.

Fans of Depeche Mode, Jeff Buckley, Morrissey and men in sparkly clothing will approve. He's like the gayest little girl scout in the East Village! Girl, you know what position he thinks is magical, okay?

Despite his big voice and personality, he can be a little awkward in front of the camera, which means these videos aren't as dope as they could be. I can't hate too much though because I'm sure I would look even more uncomfortable on film. The difference, of course, being that I would be wearing J. Crew, not Hot Topic.

Patrick Wolf - "Accident and Emergency"

Patrick Wolf - "The Magic Position"

Patrick Wolf - "Bluebells"

Cold War Kids - "Hang Me Up To Dry"

2007-05-03T16:16:00.000-05:00

I'VE BEEN LOVING THIS SONG for a while now, but just found the video. The video is nothing special, but Nathan Willett's vocals tear me up - I love the way he sounds like he's right on the edge. This song is really fun for sing alongs.

Cold War Kids - "Hang Me Up To Dry"

"All mixed up in the wash/hot water bleeding our colors."

In which I represent for Long Ridge

2007-05-03T15:30:00.000-05:00

PROFESSOR, SET THE WAYBACK MACHINE for Westhill High School, circa 1997.

Every year in Health class we learned all about gangs and why they were the devil. While this was valuable learning for certain members of the student body (I'm looking at you, homeroom girl who brought her box cutter to "kill a bitch!"), it was unnecessary for my Honors classmates. That is, unless Long Ridge was going to rumble with High Ridge over who had claim on late nights at the Bulls Head Diner.

Yes, I did just use the word "rumble," and I think that proves the point.

Although a valuable experience in the spirit of "diversity" training and knowing your "community," our primary take away was how to look hard by making the Blood sign in pictures. Which we did constantly over chicken fingers at The Diner - just like the kids in actual gangs!

Thank goodness for Regan-style social engineering - Just Say No to gangs, kids! I mean, I probably signed a fucking pledge about it. But hey, at least I managed to keep that promise.

"Are you stepping to my honey mustard, bitch? Hold me back! Hold me back!"

Gay Robot

2007-04-27T13:46:00.000-05:00

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

Episode 7

Episode 8

... and then I think they lost interest.

Frontiers of Science

2007-04-26T21:11:00.000-05:00

GEEK ROCK by a Columbia undergrad. The beat in this song is kind of sick.

This one goes out to all my Ivy League people.

Reni Laine - "Frontiers of Science"

"Sexy ladies, get out your calculators. We're going to do a little thing called back of the envelope calculation."

In which too much is revealed

2007-04-26T17:03:00.000-05:00

THERE ARE SO MANY amazing things about this video, pulled from Atlanta Public Television. This is why we invented public access, for all the learning.

Heads up: This is NSFW, unless you have headphones.

"You can't let every man hit the root of your vagina." It has a root? I know now why it's called "deflowering."

"He won't take you to Long John Silver for some shrimp, but he will give you a mouthful of sperm, or a rectum ful of sperm... The penis will have ejaculated all up in your brain." Apparently, LJS shrimp is the way to a woman's vagina root.

A friend in college had the jackrabbit. The day she got it, a few of us went down to her apartment on our way out for the night, and she answered the door wearing her robe, hair all sexed up and a mess. "Hiiii guuuyssss... I think I need to stay in tonight..."

Now I know why, and I kind of wish I didn't.

In which I reveal my fervently held secret wish

2007-04-26T11:27:00.000-05:00

MY FRIEND K sent this to me. She may have been implying that my friends and I are like the unicorns -- the conversations in the video are disconcertingly similar to ones I've had at Halo.

Episode 1

"We've got to do something." "That sounds dangerous."

Episode 2

"I don't like your shoes."

When I was a little boy, I had a My Little Pony. But, I mean, I had the boy My Little Pony with the blue mane and tail, so it was totally fierce. I mean butch. I mean masculine. I mean, I had no male friends.

Trillions! (Episodes 1 and 2)

2007-04-25T15:35:00.000-05:00

A GOOD FRIEND shared these -- his brother's boyfriend is one of the actors.

Episode 1

"Congratulations children, I'm on my deathbed."

Episode 2

"I'll alert the papers that we need a new chauffeur's son."

"Triiillionssss!" I can't wait to see what happens next.

In which I reveal how I attract and retain boyfriends

2007-04-24T16:16:00.000-05:00

From www.foundmag.com

In which I reveal what I do when alone in my apartment

2007-04-23T08:04:00.000-05:00

MY FRIEND LEFT ME a link to this video, saying, "This is what I imagine you do in your apartment by yourself. Tell me I'm wrong."

"Yes, although my routine involves a lot less clothes and a lot more mirrors."

In which I share the secret to my popularity

2007-04-20T16:00:00.000-05:00

WHATCHU KNOW 'BOUT ME?

Go turn on my tree

2007-04-20T14:40:00.000-05:00

SEASONALLY INAPPROPRIATE, but who's keeping track?

My mother has a similar obsession with Christmas trees. Every year she becomes unreasonably attached to the idea of the perfect tree. The woman can point out a tree's bare patches like none other. We all stand around at the tree place while she has our tree attendant and/or my father shake the tree's branches free, then walk it in a circle so she can take a good look. Despite her best efforts, once the tree opens, there's usually lopsided patch anyway, which we have to hide with the bigger ornaments.

Every year, my parents fail to account for our enormous tree stand and inevitably wind up buying a tree that is at least six inches too tall. Turning the tree upright always scrapes the ceiling, which leads to a bout of muttered cursing by my father -- usually of my mother, who insisted that a smaller tree would be diminuative in our GIANT CONNECTICUT HOME. He then has to chop the top foot off the tree in order to affix the star at the top.

Jackie and Debra

2007-04-20T13:49:00.000-05:00

IN WHICH DEBRA explains why she and Jackie are no longer BFs.

Please note Debra's puppy purse.

Apparently not that interesting

2006-10-19T12:55:00.000-05:00

I JUST GOT a fortune cookie that said this:

"In order to discover who you are, first learn who everybody else is. You're what's left."

What the fuck?

In which I decide to always wear khakis

2006-10-13T13:18:00.000-05:00

MY COMPANY, like many, has Jeans Casual on Fridays when we don’t have clients in the building. They will occasionally give us Jeans Casual as a special treat on other days, like the days between Christmas and New Years for the poor suckers trapped in the office while the other poor suckers are trapped with their families.

I will occasionally give myself an unsanctioned Jeans Casual Friday. I’m not really one for breaking the rules, so giving myself Jeans Casual is my way of sticking it to The Man. I feel anxious every time I do it. I feel the way I imagine people at the Boston Tea Party would have felt, only they were dressed as Indians, and I’m a denim-wearing pansy.

Normally, my minor rebellion goes unnoticed – just the way I like it – but today was different.

As I step into the elevator this morning, who do I run into but our company’s CEO. He is not, I should mention, wearing jeans. I look from him, to my pants, back to him, and then try to slide inconspicuously beside him. I then do what everyone does instinctually in elevators: I stare up at the floor number display.

Silence. I exhale. This is going to be fine.

“It’s cold today, huh?” he says.

I panic. What is he implying? That I’m wearing jeans because it’s cold? I look over at him.

“Yeah. But I like it,” I respond. Great. Good job. Don’t say anything stupid. Pause. But what if he hates the cold? Normally, in that situation, I go on to say that I like cold weather because I went to school in New Hampshire. Thick blood and all that shit. But because my mind is so preoccupied thinking about my bedenimed legs, the 10% still focusing on the actual conversation decides that the whole school thing would be far too complicated.

“I’m from Canada,” I blurt out.

No you’re not! You’re from Connecticut! Why are you lying? Abort conversation! At this point, the panic has grasped my brain in a death-like vice, and I start imagining a conversation between my CEO, my boss and me. In this imagined conversation, my CEO brings up the fact that I’m from Canada, my boss looks confused. The truth comes out. I’m shamed. It’s horrible. I’m sweating.

“Really? My family has a house in Vermont,” he says, “right on the border. Beautiful country.”

“Yeah,” I say. My mind is totally blank. “Yeah, but Vermont’s not Canada.”

Nice job, asshole!

“That’s true,” he says.

Silence. The doors slide open.

“Well, uh, this is my floor,” I say. “Have a nice day.”

KILL SELF.

In which I discuss this afternoon's activities

2006-08-31T17:24:00.000-05:00

FROM THE BEGINNING of any relationship, toothbrush etiquette is important. When is it okay to start bringing your toothbrush? When is it okay to leave it there? When does it become your responsibility to replace the other person’s toothbrush at your place? And most recently, what am I supposed to do with the ex/boyfriend's toothbrush now that he’s moved to New York? In a compromise I considered appropriate for our current "understanding," the toothbrush had recently started shuttling out and in of the medicine cabinet: out of the cabinet before he arrived for one of his many weekend visits, and back in when he left and we were supposedly not together.

The ex/boyfriend and I progressed quickly from the “Hello, nice to meet you” stage to the “I am providing you a toothbrush” stage, in large part because I think it’s only charitable and the mark of a good host to provide even a quasi-significant other with their own toothbrush. And if we’re being honest, (A) I have no interest in kissing your morning mouth, thank you, and (B) under no circumstances are you using my toothbrush. My tongue may slut around with every mouth in town, but my toothbrush will know one mouth and one mouth only.

From there, it was a hop skip and about 8 weeks to, “I am replacing this for you, and for that matter, here’s a replacement for your other one at home because that one is a big ol’ mess too.”

Then, earlier this week, in a moment I was sure was rife with symbolic meaning, I used the ex/boyfriend’s toothbrush to clean the mysteriously orange-colored stuff around my bathroom sink faucet that had suddenly crossed the border between “chill out, no one notices this shit but you” and “mother of god, this must go immediately.” While cleaning, I daydreamed. In one of those reveries in which you try on a scenario to see how it might fit were it to come to pass, I imagined the conversation that might ensue when the ex/boyfriend returned to find his toothbrush had become a cleaning utensil.

“Babe? Where’s my toothbrush?”

“Oh, I used to it to clean the sink,” I would say from the other room, the very embodiment of poise and calm. In fact, I imagined myself sitting on a bed covered in a white comforter, surrounded by plump white pillows. This bed bears no resemblance to my actual bed, mind you.

“You did?” he would ask, coming out of the bathroom, eyes big moons of confusion and the beginnings of hurt.

“Well, we’re not really boyfriends any more, are we? So I felt funny having your toothbrush here.”

And then we would have that discussion we’ve been avoiding, the one about what exactly we’re doing and whether our "understanding" is working for each of us. Maybe we would cry. And maybe I would feel badly for so heartlessly using his toothbrush as a grime removal device, and I would dash out to the 24/7 CVS around the corner and buy him a new one. In the rain. And then we would make out. After he brushed his teeth.

TWO DAYS AGO, I learned that the ex/boyfriend is coming down this coming weekend, and suddenly my using his toothbrush to neaten up and thereby spark a conversation I'm not prepared to have at this juncture became the Wrong Thing to Do. Standing in the bathroom, holding his now gray (and, again, strangely orange-colored) toothbrush, I immediately decided I had to buy him another toothbrush. While I’m at it, I thought, glancing at my own toothbrush, mine could stand to be replaced as well.

When I got to the CVS, I headed directly to the toothbrush section. Or as directly as anyone heads anywhere in CVS. I think it’s actually impossible to find what you’re looking for with any sort of alacrity, as there seems to be neither rhyme nor reason to drug store product placement. Regardless, I eventually found the toothbrushes, and it hit me: there are far too many toothbrush options.

Do I want a compact, regular, or full head? Do I want soft, medium, or firm bristles? Do I want a narrow handle that curves, or a bulbous monstrosity that couldn’t fit through my door, much less the holes in my toothbrush holder? Do I want it in normal red, deep red, bright red, or some shade in between? Do I want to do all the work myself, or do I want Dora the Explorer to do the work for me? Do I want my bristles to be of uniform material, length and direction, or do I want them to be a jumbled mess designed to hit every nook and cranny from every angle, massage my gums, and straighten my bottom teeth?

The problem with having this many choices for something like a toothbrush is that, through trial and error, you eventually figure out the exact type you prefer. The truth is that I’ve developed quite an attachment to a toothbrush that I think acknowledges the advancement in toothbrush technology, while still nodding at classic toothbrush design: the bristles are arranged in a ridged pattern, with a clump of longer bristles at the top to really get at those back teeth, and a patch of those blue bristles that let you know when it’s time to trade it in for a newer model. For a good two years, I’ve been able to find this toothbrush without fail, in my preferred blue no less, which I have considered a testament to my good taste.

(I've even been able to find it in red -- just plain red -- for the ex/boyfriend. Who, it bears mentioning, has the exact same toothbrush preferences as I do.)

That is, I was able to find that toothbrush without fail until today. Today I visited no less than three drugs stores in a fruitless attempt to find my preferred toothbrush, and ultimately wound up settling on these totally bland CVS brand disappointments in his and his navy and light blue.

All of which is to say, I’m stocking up on toothpaste.

Brian Boitano takes it to the streets

2006-08-31T13:18:00.000-05:00

ON MY WAY to take my GMATs this morning, I saw a man on rollerblades weaving in and out of lanes on a very busy thoroughfare in Washington. He wasn't wearing a helmet. This sort of blantant disregard for personal safety brings out mixed emotions in me. One part of me wants to grab the person and shake them and tell them to be careful before something terrible happens. Another part of me secretly wants it to.

As I watched, expecting/fearing/wishing for him to be mauled by a car before my very eyes, I realized in horror that he was doing a full ice capades routine, right down Connecticut Avenue. He zoomed up ahead with powerful strokes, and then crouched down and pooched his butt out, spreading his arms wide and waving from side to side with one of those faux euphoric smile plastered on his face.

When I first noticed him (and, really, how could you not?), he had the road all to himself and he was making use of three full lanes. Moments later, however, the cars came up behind him and began honking, which he misinterpreted as encouragement. He smiled more broadly, and – I shit you not – lifted one leg off the ground while waving at an imagined crowd. 30,000 invisible elderly women swooned.

Do you know what I have to say to that?

Gay.

Scoping a Disaster

2006-08-30T09:37:00.000-05:00

YESTERDAY was the one year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina's landfall. The media commemorated the anniversary with stories that tried to parse out how much progress has been made thus far, whether there should have been more or less, and (depending on where you stand on that issue) who deserves the blame or praise. There was also a lot of commentary asking why the devastation on the Gulf Coast hasn't been bigger news over the course of the past year.

I've wondered about that as well, especially as we approach the five year anniversary of 9/11, which has been commemorated with two major motion pictures and countless TV specials. A lot of folks are quick to jump on the media (as if the media were a single person), and I do think that the fact that 9/11 took place in the nation's media hub is certainly pertinent.

I wonder, however, whether the disparity isn't primarily a result of the vastly different scopes of the two disasters. 9/11 happened fast, while we all watched, and although the motivations of someone who would murder for political purposes are hard to parse and fathom, 9/11 happened on a human scale. It was a human act, and if for that reason only, somehow more comprehensible. Katrina, on the other hand, was a series of catastrophes and failures in the face of an impersonal force of nature that took place over days.

I lived in New York City the summer after 9/11, down in the Financial District. When friends would come to visit, we would walk over to Ground Zero, through the vendors already selling memorabilia, and stare through the chainlink fence at the massive hole in the ground where the towers used to stand. The memories were fresh, but in a way they were contained and processed on the tip of Manhattan.

Katrina washed away tens of thousands of homes, wiping out entire neighborhoods and ripping apart communities. Everyone who comes back from New Orleans talks about the incomprehensible destruction. Where do you contain something like Katrina?

Ultimately, everything failed in New Orleans, the entire social fabric; in New York, the horror of that day was cut through with stories of hope and faith.

Maybe less has been said about Katrina because we just don't know what to say, because it's too big, too hard to understand. And maybe, on some level, we know that despite our very best efforts, disasters like Katrina are ultimately beyond our control, and that too is too difficult to accept.