A (slightly drunk) Love Letter To New York City

I remember before I ever dreamed of living in New York City thinking it was impossible to know the whole city. Now I know you don't have to. You only need a few blocks here and there to be familiar and the rest fills in. NYC, I love you because you give us back so much. What we need. what we ask for, what we're too afraid to ask for, and what we crave. Thank you for never giving up on me even when I clearly haven't been as faithful to you. You shine, you sparkle; you hold when I need you to. I am truly blessed to call myself a New Yorker. There is nowhere more lovely, more inspiring, more welcoming, more forgiving, more challenging. Kick my ass and I will say thanks. You are there for me, keeping my secrets like a stalwart friend. Cheers.

The New York City night makes tomorrow feel like an impossibility and a trivial at one at that. Every neon sign calls at you; especially the ones too far away to discount on the grounds of filth/terror.

Too much

Too much time has passed, too much to update you on, too much work to make this blog presentable.

Meanwhile, you guys, surveying my archives has made me nostalgic and ambitious, an always dangerous combination. So here's to renewed posting and cheers to the many lovely developments in my life since my last posting. From the great (my job with the people who make American Idol. Um, yes, actually) to the small (Blogger app on iGoggle); a lot has changed since 2007, but much remains the same. I still love TV and the sound of my own voice. I genuinely think that is enough to get me back in the swing of things.

To start: Glee! Friday Night Lights! So You Think You Can Dance! It's snowing! The Golden Globes/Oscars are rolling around again! TWITTER FTMFW!!! Wow, kids, there is so much I want to talk about now, but I fear much of that is the wine spurring me on, so I will demure for now with a promise to return post-haste. If anyone ever reads this, do comment. T'would make my month. Cheers, y'all and here's to upcoming output. There is way too much out there for me to shut up about it.

Hersey sponsors the US Olympic Team

My favorite bit is the cigarette.

Track 02 Update!

Ok, for all of my ranting against iTunes, we had a pretty special moment today. You may or not remember my plea for information on a random mp3 that appeared in my iTunes library after a rash of music blog acquisitioning. I loved the song, but had no information on it at all, and that really does not sit well with my OCD. I’ve deleted lesser tracks if I couldn’t identify the artist or album. Heck, sometimes even a lack of album artwork (my #1 iTunes obsession) is grounds for removal. But Track 02 was really lovely and I couldn’t bring myself to dump it. So I attempted to Google the lyrics, a usually fool-proof tactic, to no avail. A few weeks ago, after another mass-download and open day, it appeared again in my library! Track 02; same sweet tune, still no identifying info. I tried to back-track my steps that day to see if I could find the actual blog it came from, but still no dice. This track was seriously messing with my already irritatingly disordered iTunes library.
All that changed this morning as I was working my way through a new batch of tunes, rating and researching missing album artwork. I was looking up a new Sea Wolf song, Middle Distance Runner and upon clicking See All Tracks by this Artist, there it was. The Garden You Planted. A key line in the chorus of Track 02 and certainly a phrase I used in my attempts to reverse-Google the lyrics. Sure enough, The Garden You Planted IS Track 02!!!
Is it sad that this is maybe the best thing that’s happened to me all week? Wait, no, I saw Max again on 47th St (sighting #4, bee tee dubs. Not that I’m bragging) yesterday, so that wins. So this will have to settle for being the best thing that’s happened to me while sitting at my work desk this week. It’s not as easy a title to claim as you might first surmise. Does this mean I can claim my own $15 iTunes reward? Because there are some soundtracks on sale that I’ve been eyeing…

Back to the Max thing for a moment – there are friends of mine who work in my same building that I randomly run into with less frequency. This has got to be the work of higher forces. How are we not BFF yet?

Freakshow of luck

I win a lot of stuff. This has not always been the case; I won Optimus Prime in a drawing at Shop-Rite when I was 7, and then pretty much nothing else until college. I’m also leaving out anything merit-based in this assessment. Sure, it was awesome to snag a first place in the 6th grade monthly writing contest but I would really like to think that had nothing to do with luck.

But starting around my junior year in college, I’ve had an uncanny touch when it comes to winning random contests, raffles and drawings. All of this is not to gloat – luck is not an ability; by its nature luck is something that we have no control over and therefore nothing that I can take credit for. However, I am starting to believe it is a genetic gift, and I would just like to share my gratitude.

My father’s mother, my Oma, is the luckiest person I have heard of. From major life events to the smallest happenstances, she finds good fortune at every turn. There is almost no way for me to fully explain about my Oma’s extraordinary luck without including an extremely depressing back-story, so I’ll just put it this way: her life-long lucky streak makes me believe in things I would rather be cynical and dismissive of. I am no where NEAR as insanely lucky as she is, but I am getting warmer.

In the winter of 1999 I won TWO separate radio contests on two different stations, approximately one month apart. In the first one, the prize was dinner and two tickets to a Uconn Lady Huskies Basketball Game. Pretty sweet and I had a wicked bad cold when I won, so that cheered me up considerably. The second prize was two-fold: first I won tickets to a Rod Stewart concert. I promised to take my best friend to the show, and when MH protested, I told him he could come with me if I won the grand prize trip to Los Angeles to see a taping of the Tonight Show. Well, he and I still think Burbank is generally a waste of space but that Darrell Hammond is a gifted impersonator.

Lately, the Edge Theater Company has been the source of some of my more memorable wins. From a $200 gift certificate to Bluefly.com handed to me by Philip Seymour Hoffman, to an alleged dinner at Medieval Times with the band Run Run Riot (still waiting to hear from those folks…), I called both of my wins ahead of time, adding another ring to the freak show.

Today I received notice that I won The Morning News’ Headlines Pop Quiz. (Side note: I love this site, and reading through most of the stories linked in the headlines makes me feel just a little smarter at the end of the week.) I am still delighted when stuff like this happens, if less surprised than mere mortals might be.

My To-Do List

• Get manicure
• Book room in Portland, ME for wedding…in 4 weeks
• Buy Ziploc bags and dryer sheets
• Finish blogging about the Personality Matrix
• Look up A-Rod’s current HR total; realize I failed to match my number of blog posts in June
• Blog about how I suck worse than the Yankees
• Re-read Harry Potter 5 & 6 before 7 comes out…in 2 weeks
• See Once and Ratatouille in theaters
• Clear out sacks of old clothes from under the bed; donate to Sal’s Army or the freegans
• Haircut?
• Get my photo taken with the very large poster of Max outside of the Brooks Atkinson, thus killing two birds: making up for lost cell phone photo tragedy AND replacing tired MySpace pic that I am sick of looking at.
• Blog more

Personality Matrix

Click to see larger.

How my summer was made

It was Tuesday and an M-F’ing hot day. I left work around 6 – technically 30 minutes later than I should but nothing too far out of the ordinary. Rocking out to my iPod, blasting past tourists on 42nd St, when I catch a glimpse. I’m not positive, but I HAVE to investigate. So I do a 180 in the middle of the sidewalk (something I am normally extremely opposed to), lift my sunglasses and start scanning the crowd. Sure enough, in the group of attractive young folks standing outside the Yoshinoya, dressed in a white t-shirt and UM track pants, was Slacker Danny and NYOne Crush of the Summer ™, Max Crumm. Naturally I walked right past him. I collected myself (mostly unsuccessfully, as you’ll learn), queued up his songs on my iPod, and made my way over.
I led with the oh-so-original “I just have to say, I love you”. Max was, of course, super sweet and gracious. I showed him the songs, TMI’d that I also named my iPod Max, but not entirely after him, because it’s just a really good name in general…Mm hmm. He asked my name and did the cute thing, “Hi [NYOne], I’m Max.” Yes, dear, yes you are.

(Side note: Have you ever found yourself watching Last Call with Carson Daly or an especially weird sketch on SNL and found yourself thinking, I can’t believe THIS is the only thing on the National Broadcasting Channel right now. This right here is what GE is spending millions of dollars to send out over the airwaves. In the same vein, I can’t believe that for two shining minutes, I was in that moment, actually talking to Max and he was talking to me.)

Back to our story – I managed to salvage a shred of good sense and asked for a picture with my cell phone. He said “Of course!” and asked his friend (who had been listening to me ramble without once laughing at me, as far as I could tell) to get us both. He apologized for being sweaty from rehearsal, which was seriously not a problem. (I’m not being gross; it was hot out, we were all sweaty). My hands were very obviously shaking as I handed the cell phone over. So lame! But they get a little shaky just thinking about this again. My heart seriously races just from recalling the specifics. I am too embarrassing for anyone to be friends with me.
Picture snapped, I thanked him again and wobbled away. You have to realize that almost all of this, but especially the last part, is a blur. I still had the phone in my hand, but must have closed it when Max’s friend handed it back. Without hitting SAVE, which you need to do on my stupid, God-forsaken cell phone if you want to keep the photo. So yeah, I lost the picture, which is pretty heartbreaking if I let myself think about it at all. BUT instead, I chose to focus on the fact that I MET MAX CRUMM. I was dying for it to happen, and it did. And he was dreamy. Hopefully, I only came off as mildly insane and hey, at least I didn’t cry. I only hope that I was able to brighten his day a fraction as much he did mine.

What? I AM ALLOWED TO BE COMPLETELY CHEESY. IT WAS MAX CRUMM.

Next week we return to your regularly scheduled sarcasm. Maybe.

Just wondering

Question: Why doesn’t white-out work anymore? Back in [falsetto] the year 2000 [/falsetto] we used it daily in the BTF Box Office (Our motto: “Computers are for sissies”) and it worked fine. Ok, it did resemble Elmer’s Glue in that it dried practically clear, but that was Quill brand and all of their products are crap. But here in my current office, we have BiC ® Wite-Out ® Brand Super Smooth Correction Fluid. I am here to tell you there is nothing super about this other than its utter uselessness. It’s not dried out and crusty, it’s more of a stretchy, congealed glob connecting the sponge brush to the reservoir of gelatinous goo in the bottle. I guess the lesson here is that years of disuse is no good for the shelf life of Wite-Out, much like nail polish and one’s ability to recite the state capitals.

TOLD YOU SO

I swore up and down to anyone who would listen and several people who probably didn't that I WOULD see Max Crumm on the street or in the subway at some point...

AND IT HAPPENED!!

I will come back to document the full story later. Sadly, without pictoral evidence to back me up as I am lame and forgot to hit the SAVE button on my phone after his friend (and "publicist") was kind enough to snap one of us. I really, really hate my cell phone. Meanwhile, I just needed to put this out there. I SAW MAX. And got a sweet and sweaty hug. Squee-ew. No, really, just squee. So so SO much squee.

Cause life's like this

FINALLY, yesterday, the Video Gods* graced me with a showing of Fergie's Big Girls Don't Cry. From the beginning, no less. Two observations, upon rewatch:

1. There is nowhere NEAR enough Hot Milo in this video.
2. Especially when he is wearing the aforementioned unacceptable porkpie hat in one scene. WTF is with the hat? I know in the grand scheme of high-waisted denim overalls and peed-in shorts that make up Fergie’s regular vestments I shouldn’t get so worked up over one egregious piece of millinery. But that hat just punches me in the rage bone. I need way more shirtless, guitar-strumming Hot Milo if I am to ignore That Hat.

So naturally, having seen the vid again, I thought I could return to my previously peaceful toggling between MTV and VH1, leaving those trickier high-number channels out of the equation. But, glutton for punishment that I am, of course this morning I had to just check really quickly and see what might be on MTV2. They play exactly two types of music on MTV2 in the morning: hip-hop (70%) and screamo (30%), that “I AM VERY SMAD + LOUD” brand of rock. To which my response is that {sigh} I am so old but SHUT UP and wash your hair already and you know what, I ALWAYS liked Brian Krakow better anyway.
Except…for this:

I do not understand what happened to My Chemical Romance. This was probably my #1 most despised band before I really knew anything about 30 Seconds to Mars. They are shrill, angry and worst of all, seemingly humorless. As near as I can understand it, they discovered Queen sometime before writing and recording their most recent album The Black Parade, and it did them a world of good. The first video, for the title track, had the benefit of a surprisingly melodic and rousing chorus AND the lead singer’s hot new haircut/color. As for this video, well, the angry/disaffected cheerleader thing will forever be a rip-off of Nirvana, and I can’t support Gerard’s return to the black hair, but…THIS SONG. It is BEYOND catchy. You know it completely the very first time you hear it. It’s the auditory equivalent of Hey! It’s That Guy! In fact, where DO I know this song from? Oh man, this is going to drive me nuts…

*Simon LeBon and Toni Basil , natch.

WTF of the day

So my mission to see the Fergie/HOT MILO video again goes on fruitlessly to this day. But I have not given up, and in fact have added Fuse and MTV2 into my morning rotation. And while I may be suffering from an acute lack of HotMilo in my life, I am being compensated for my efforts by a guarantee of at least one video every single morning that makes me put the remote down for a second to go, “…the fuck?!?” I hope I can make this a regular feature; there is certainly plenty of WTF out there:



Please watch as much of this video as you can handle*. Now let’s just sit Elliot Yamin down and ask, what HAPPENED here? Is it 1994? Is this one of those booths where they take an All-4-One video and insert you lip-syncing?

*It might not be much. Or you might be like me and find yourself physically unable to turn away until the whole thing is done. I think maybe the fact that I just saw this again recently really helped.

Watch this show:


You will not be sorry. Also, it must be summer if I’m actually watching a show on CBS.


I noticed a funny thing the other day - I have the same number of posts in April and May as A-Rod has home runs for the respective months. So I only need two more here in June to catch up! Pick it up, slugger, or my fan(s) here will be sorely disappointed!


Speaking of baseball, the Yankees are on their way to sweeping the Arizona Diamondbacks as I type this and thus far I have only one question.











What the Eff IS this? A hockey jersey? I find it totally offensive when teams/schools shorten their names to something slangy on official game wear (a la Mizzou. Gross). And also, Gordon Ramsay called and would like his font back.

Mixtape (thank god it's not) Monday!

Choosing a name for your band is not easy. It is the very first impression you will likely make on anyone. While it is possible to randomly overhear music without knowing who the artist is (a dangerous situation in which one can find oneself bopping along to Stars Are Blind, because I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS A PARIS HILTON SONG, OK, AND IT’S DAMN CATCHY AND YOU KNOW YOU LIKE IT TOO. Ahem.) it's rare. So when it comes time to pick a name for your band, you want something generally short, not already in use by any other of the 8 billion bands on MySpace and of course somewhat evocative of your sound. Well, sometimes two out of three is the best you can do.

Death Cab for Cutie – Marching Bands of Manhattan
Think back to when you first heard of Death Cab. Oh shut up, hipster troll, my reader(s) and I first heard of Death Cab because they were Seth Cohen’s favorite band. And come on, with the word Death in the title, I know I was not the only one surprised by the band’s vaguely-castrati sounds.

Acid House Kings – Do What You Wanna Do
Recently discovered from one or another of the awesome mp3 blogs I like to crawl through. I remember thinking to myself, ugh, there is no way I will like this band. Clearly the expectation here is psychedelic/dance/electronica, like a raver tripping at Woodstock. Imagine my delight to get happy, jangly pop, complete with handclaps!

Teddybears – Cobrastyle
On the other end of the spectrum, we have a band name that sounds like they should be playing PopFest on a double bill with the Pipettes. While there are handclaps present here as well, the vibe is more synth-Shaggy. Also, you have heard this song before. It has been featured in several commercials and movie trailers, and most prominently (at least in my house) on the soundtrack to FIFA 2006 for Sony Playstation.

The Damnwells – Kung Fu Grip Kiss
Wow, double whammy here. The name to me sounds like an angry and unwashed punk band, but the Damnwells actually play indie/alt-country rock that’s more rocking live than some of their tracks would lead you to believe. Strike two is the song title. I almost demoted this song back down to 3 stars after an initial 4-star rating, simply because I couldn’t believe I would like a song with such a ridiculous name. Well, suffice to say the song has actually made the incredibly rare leap to a FIVE star rating, and their concert (note: NOT my photos) kicked some serious ass (in a hygienic and non-punk way).

Rigby Lane – link to their MySpace page
This pains me in a way, because I know these guys and they are awesome people. The band’s previous incarnation was called Catherine St. and while everyone agrees that was a basically acceptable name, numerous changes in the lineup dictated an entirely new band name for the remaining members. Here is the problem: they are not, I repeat NOT, actually a Beatles tribute band. I know, right?


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Has anyone else noticed that I fluctuate between listing the songs title first vs. band name first? Yeah, it annoys me too. In this post, listing the band name first made sense as that was the thematic thread tying together the mix. But I feel like my default is song title first, then artist name, like reading left to right in iTunes. I need to do some research on music blog standards. OR if you have a preference one way or the other, do tell.

Dirty!

Working on a slightly delayed Mixtape Monday for y'all. Meanwhile, I'm hosting my music at Box.net and if you don't think that tags like "My Public Box", "Share Your Box" and "Upgrade Your Box" make me laugh each and every time, well clearly we don't know each other very well.

A lack of blogging

…not because there is nothing to blog about. On the contrary, there are loads of things I’ve been meaning to share, but a change in my work environment makes daytime blogging infinitely more challenging. Why not just do it at home in the evenings like a responsible person? Look, it’s hard to argue with you when you won’t stop making sense. BACK OFF! No, sorry, please don’t.
Currently the things I feel most strongly in need of sharing (in ascending order of importance):

Thank Effing God the Yankees won last night. MH and I constantly play the “If X = Y, then T = D” game, wherein X is the current batter, Y is the desired result of the at-bat, usually a homerun, T is some form of reward and D is usually an alcoholic beverage. So it’s normally, “If Derek Jeter hits a homerun right here I’m going out and getting ingredients for margaritas”. And A-Rod’s top of the 9th two out at-bat would have been an IDEAL opportunity for this game, but unfortunately we were thoroughly convinced that a lead squandered is a lead lost and so were watching the MTV Movie Awards instead at the time.

Which brings me to point the second: was it me or was Mike Myers disturbingly hot in the black tie/black shirt combo doing his Austin Powers dance? I was a little distracted by the threat of Cam Diaz’s crotch coming out to attack, but DAMN. Boyfriend was kind of working it. As was maybe Shia LeBoef and he is at least 20 by now, plus I have heard rumors that he’s fibbing about his actual age so don’t look at me that way.

WHICH in turn brings me to my most significant point, WRT to “working it” and hot guys. Obvies I have been enjoying Milo Ventimiglia as Possessor of Emo Bangs of Hotness Peter Petrelli on Heroes. So much so, that he even looks better to me in old eps of Gilmore Girls (specifically, the sprinkler scene and the much later Jess-gets-his-shit-together last time we see him). But nothing really prepared me for this:

HE HAS NO RIGHT TO LOOK THAT GOOD. I'm just saying.
I might possibly enjoy this song, and Fergie’s oeuvre as a whole, despite her often tragic fashion choices. (A porkpie hat...that just hurts.) I often spend my small window of free/napping time in the mornings flipping between MTV and VH1 because at that ungodly hour they actually show music videos. Seriously though you guys, ever since I first saw this vid, all I do is obsessively check back and forth waiting for this video to play. And does it? No! I get Pink (which, Ok but the song is better enjoyed on the radio), Kelly Clarkson (which, awesome) and simultaneous Carrie Underwood on both channels (COME ON!) but no greasy-ponytail-wearing, fake-tattoo-sporting, HOTTER THAN FIRE MV have I seen in the last two weeks. I know that this is why God invented YouTube, but for reals, MTV. I need a pick-me-up in the morning – make mine a Venti.

Eek! A Week!

Ok, I know I suck. I missed From the Archives, Mixtape Monday and don't really have a This Week In: Crushes prepared yet. (In my defense, *someone* picked an awfully inconvenient time to start sucking. Yeah, I'm looking at you, Lewis.) In other news, my TV died. Tragedy, especially so close to the finale season! I could take it as a sign from God that I watch too much TV, but luckily I was shown a sign yesterday that that is not the case. On the way to buy a new (awesome, huge, HD) TV, I sort-of-by-way-of-MH spotted John Krasinski! Here:

No, obviously I didn't actually take that picture, but that is where we saw him - passing by the premiere of Shrek 3. MH was super casual about it, all, "Hey, there's John Krasinski. He looks good" as I proceeded to lose my shit just a smidge. I am 100% useless at spotting celebrities. It doesn't help being this low to the ground, but for reals, yesterday, in addition to JK, MH also saw Kelly Ripa and George Whipple. Me, I spotted Brad Blanks. As in, the Aussie from THE RADIO STATION, and how do I even know what that guy looks like? Anyway, back on topic, CLEARLY spotting JK, my #1 celebrity crush (just barely edging out Max Crumm on the shortlist of My Life Is Not Complete Until I See...) is a message from above that the mission to get the awesome, huge, HD TV was blessed. I'm thinking my Max sighting might come when I go to switch the DVR box. Boy's gonna need cable, right?

I'm just asking

What is so wrong with medium? Why are there no reasonably sized coffee beverages available outside of a $4 latte? I don't want the 8 oz dinky cup that will be gone before I even get back to my office; nor do I need a French Vanilla Big Gulp. Normally, I will admit, I am a fan of the wee. I like tiny, bite-sized, kiddie portions of everything from steak to cheesecake. But sometimes you want to upgrade to the not-so-wee. Unfortunately that was not an option and now, as you may well imagine, I am sitting with a FRIGGIN' HUGE cup of joe on my desk. Not a cup of Joe, either. That would merit FH.
I also hate it when pizza places have only medium and large. No, that means you have small and large - medium is a strictly relative term requiring bookended modifiers for definition. There is no Jan without Cindy.

Mixtape Monday!

Apparently I used up all of my storage allowance on EZarchive so I have switched over to box.net. Let's see if my reader(s) notice!

Today's Mixtape Monday is supremely dorky. As I mentioned before, I have this playlist, embarrassingly titled Only Connect (and I didn't even like Howard's End) where words in the band name or song title...whatever, you'll understand when you see it. The bonus is they are all lovely songs. I couldn't fit it in here, but after my last post about this, where I cracked there should be more songs with the word wolf in the title (because every damn band now is Peter and the Wolf, or Wolf Mother, or Sea Wolf, etc) I actually searched my iTunes library and found FIVE songs with wolf or wolves in the title. So that expanded the list substantially.
Anyway, ignore if you can my obsessive need to find patterns and connections everywhere and instead just enjoy the tunes!

Stars - Lamar
Ok, what is the story with this song? I LOVE it, and you may recognize it from not one, but two promos for the Office. However, every time I try to look up this "Lamar" person, I come up with someone who is clearly not responsible for this lush pop gem. I will extend my $15 iTunes gift card offer to anyone who finds me this album.

your ex-lover is dead - Stars

Fallen Snow - Au Revoir Simone

Shut Your Eyes - Snow Patrol

Haligh, Haligh, A Lie, Haligh - Bright Eyes

Telescope Eyes - Eisley

I know, nothing revolutionary here, but you see where it's going. And except for the Bright Eyes song, all 4-stars in my book. The great thing about having basically terrible taste in music and owning up to it is that I never have to pretend to like a band (coughJane'sAddictioncough) when my heart lies elsewhere.
I promise to be back, hopefully tomorrow, with actual interesting things to talk about. I've missed my window to discuss:

Future Peter's look on Heroes: Loss of the Emo Bangs vs That Scar.
The unending awesomeness that is Blake
Why Reuben looked like he was posing for his 8th-grade yearbook picture?
Cinco de Derby: Isn't a Mint Julep really just a Bourbon Mojito?

But I'm sure there is plenty more where that came from. I was supposed to have a subscription to Premiere magazine (thanks, work!) but they of course folded, so the replacement has been Us Weekly. As if I didn't do enough damage to my brain cells on the weekend benders. My main reaction thus far has been, Katie Holmes. When POSH SPICE is your only link to the real world, things have gotten BAD. Y'all KNOW I loved the Spice Girls (that doll collection is going be worth serious $$ some day, I'm telling you) but you could never ever trust Posh to know what was going on. I'm not even talking about the "I've never read a whole book in my life" bit that came AFTER she released a "memoir". Back in the day, Ginger had to explain to her the math behind "If you put 2 and 2 together/You will see what a friendship is 4". Aw man. I really miss my sneakers with 4-inch rubber platforms.

This Week in: Crushes

'Nuff said.