Friday, December 31, 2004
2004 In Review: Part III
I am so sorry for being so pretentious, y'all and dividing this up into three "exciting" parts. Actually, no, not really, but whatever.
I now present to you the thrilling conclusion of my list with the most memorable pop culture moments of the year, in my expert opinion.
Janet Flashes Her Titty
Janet Jackson flashed a boob at the Superbowl halftime show and the Puritans in America had a shitfit, as if it were more offensive than the cheerleaders or Mike Ditka talking about penile enhancement pills. Shit, it's the least offensive thing any Jackson did all year! The most offensive part of the whole debacle was the fact that Janet was prolonging exposure to the "talent" of Justin Timberlake, who promptly left Janet high and dry with his "wardrobe malfunction" explanation. Whatevah, bitch. The media coverage of this was insaaaane and it ushered in a very scary "Won't someone please think of the children?!" period of time, as if the children aren't snorting Ritalin off of their cubbies in the classroom.
Bennifer Is No Longer
The long national nightmare ended, as Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez broke up for good. The editors at Us Weekly cried, at a loss for how they'd fill up the eighty percent of their magazine devoted to the couple; the world mourned. I once wrote a poem about Bennifer, for a creative writing class, back when they postponed their wedding and it got an A, so I was rooting for those crazy kids. But I knew it wasn't meant to be, solely for Ben's fashion choices, as he was fond of tanning and wearing tracksuits. And if there's something that Ben Affleck can't pull off, it's tracksuits and orange skin. Well, technically, Ben can't pull off lots of things, but I don't have enough time to detail them tonight, as I've done it for y'all before. I'll just say this: Reindeer Games. Mmmhmmm.
Britney Spears marries a guy in Las Vegas
Way to start off the year, Brit! Marrying some guy in Las Vegas and then having it annulled almost immediately. Mama Spears no doubt flipped at the prospect of losing her precious money-er, her daughter's precious money, rather and pulled some strings to have the annulment taken care of, stopping short of having Jason Alexander (the guy) killed. This is the moment that Brit made it perfectly clear that her grasp on reality was tenuous at best.
Britney Spears marries Kevin Federline
Just...wow. For starters, ew! Kevin Federline is like that grody guy at the gas station who you don't make eye contact with because you don't want to catch the skank. Then, the more we heard, the weirder it was--Springing a surprise ceremony on guests and making lil sis Jamie Lynne cry. Pimp sweatsuits. Chicken fingers. Phil Collins cds. Four (!) wardrobe changes after the ceremony. Kevin carrying the bride out of a club, presumably because she couldn't do it herself. Kevin crying when he saw Britney in her "Wicked" lingerie. Allegations of a faux wedding. Rumors that Kevin correctly used the word wed in a People magazine interview. It was like watching somebody's acid trip, you simply cannot make this stuff up.
William Hung auditions for American Idol
Hey, I never said it was a list of good things from the year. William Hung famously auditioned on American Idol and after being laughed at by Simon, Randy and Paula, became, like, the most famous person in the world. It was very uncomfortable for rational human beings because he just seemed so earnest that we weren't sure if he was being exploited but his voice was so bad that we didn't care. Personally, his audition wasn't as funny to me as Keith's was from Season 2. But, alas, the American public and I disagree once again.
Jon Stewart goes on Crossfire
Jon Stewart said what we all wanted to and lived the American dream of calling Tucker Carlson a dick on national television. Media savvy girls and boys across the land swooned and doodled "I <3 Jon" all over their Trapper Keepers.
STEWART: How old are you?
CARLSON: Thirty-five.
STEWART: And you wear a bow tie
CARLSON: What's it like to have dinner with you? It must be excruciating. Do you like lecture people like this or
do you come over to their house and sit and lecture them; they're not doing the right thing, that they're missing their opportunities, evading their responsibilities?
STEWART: If I think they are.
CARLSON: I wouldn't want to eat with you, man. That's horrible.
STEWART: I know. And you won't.
Brill. Just...brill. I love you, Jon!!
Ashlee Simpson on SNL
The horror! Ashlee Simpson was exposed as a lipsyncher on national television and was attacked in the media for her lack of ethics or whatever. As if any pop stars sing for real! The story dominated the news for weeks, more so than, I don't know, REAL stories like the war in Iraq. That crazy media!
I'll defend Ashlee's choice to lipsynch because I don't really care either way, but I cannot, in good faith, defend her dance.
The Red Sox win the World Series
The Curse is Reversed and all that. I'll let Conan explain it in detail. The downside of the Sox winning, really, is that they're just like any other team now. Being (lovable) losers was the key to their charisma, and now they're totally normal, albeit with terrible hair (say it with me! Pedro has a jhullet, y'all!)
Shandi cheats on her boyfriend on ANTM
Hilarious. Just hilarious. We actually heard a man's voice raise twelve octaves as he wailed, "You had sex?!" on national television. It was absolutely brilliant (and sad for him and all that). Apparently, Yoanna won that season or something. Whatev. That was the highlight and I thank the lord everyday for Tyra Banks and her willingness to bring me such television.
The world overdoses on Paris Hilton
Homegirl was everywhere this year. And let me tell you--when the gossip columnists at the news vow to stop covering you? You've really overdone it. Please, Paris, take this lesson and just go away. Take your sex tapes, "abusive" exboyfriend and your married/annulled sister whatshername with you. Thanks!
Other Stories Of The Year
And so on. 2004 was a crazy year, you guys, and I can only hope that 2005 is just as insane. Happy New Year!
Mallory at 12/31/2004 08:10:00 PM
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
2004 In Review: Part Deux
I'm still in one of those reflecting moods, so let's continue on, shall we? Or, to put it in Tyra Banks speak-pack your bags, y'all, we're going...to 2004.
There are some trends that just make me scratch my head and wonder if I'm missing a link or something, because they appeal to the rest of the world SO much and me SO little that there is just something off.
The Poncho
Who the fuck came up with this one? "You know, women don't wear fugly and unflattering clothes often enough. We should make clothes that make chicks like Christy Turlington look obese. I know! Let's bring the poncho back!" I mean, really. Ponchos were everywhere and worn by women who should have known better. Ladies, no one looks good in ponchos and people look even worse in patterned ponchos. So just STOP, okay?
Faux fur collars on anything
If you want to wear faux fur, that's cool, I'm not down with PETA, I don't care. But honestly? Track suits and anything green or red do not need fur collars. That's just...that's just disgusting, you guys. Really.
Maroon 5
No, okay? Just no. Their music inspires eyerolls and a vague desire to go to Hollister. I don't understand their appeal. And the lead singer looks like he carries roofies in his back pocket at all times.
Vera Bradley bags
Because what says "hott!" more than bags that octogenarians wear to their bingo games? Nothing!
Clive Owen and Viggo Mortensen
I...but...okay. I know beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but for fuck's sake, Clive Owen looks like a greasy tow-truck driver and Viggo looks like he bathes in the mud. And also, his name is Viggo and he writes bad poetry. Like, really bad. They actually repulse me, looking at them makes me slightly ill. And yet they're discussed as though they're the second coming of really hot people. And they aren't! At all! Ew!
51 Percent of America re-elected George W. Bush
I'm not going to go into the whole red state/blue state ish, but...fo' real?
George W. Bush namedrops Dred Scott
Hands down, the most bizarre moment of all of the Presidential debates. I suppose on the one hand that it's nice that he admits that he's against slavery, but on the other hand...um, what?
Jennifer Lopez marries Marc Anthony
I never hated Jennifer Lopez. Really, I always sort of admired how disgustingly ambitious she was, she was sort of like a soap opera character come to life. But when she married Marc Anthony, I knew she had lost it. Because the man looks like he's the walking dead. She was obviously heartbroken and crazy to rebound from Ben "Not a prize himself" Affleck, so she married the next man who wanted her. And it's Marc Anthony, a well-documented serial cheater who looks like he's dead. Way to go, Jenny.
24 hour media coverage of Ronald Reagan's death
I understand that the media goes into a tailspin when a President dies, but...the man was 93 and had a debilitating illness for at least ten years. It wasn't the tragedy that the media made it out to be. He was 93! That's what people do when they're 93! They die!
Nonstop coverage of Plum Sykes and Bergdorf Blondes
Okay. I'm not going to pretend that I don't read fluffy chicklit books, because I do. And I'm not going to pretend that I didn't want to see how Plum fared outside of the Anna Wintour protected pages of Vogue. But really? It's like people had never heard of a British person before. The media obsession with this (horrible!) book and Plum's (heinous!) fashion sense was downright mystifying.
I should make a confession here; not one of Usher's, but my own. The first confession is that I just knowingly made an Usher joke that wasn't mean. The second is that when it comes to music, I'm sort of...um...well, you know how all the cool kids are all listening to those bands with The in the title? Yeah, no. I'm very particular about my music--though it hasn't stopped me from listening to the aforemention Usher...more than once--and I don't buy CDs too often, so I'm just going to recap my favorite songs of the year, mmkay? Don't judge.
Britney Spears, "Toxic"
Before you even start--shut UP, I told you not to start!--this song rules. Don't try to front and say it doesn't, it so does. Yeah, Britney went off the deep end this year in a public and humiliating fashion, but this does not detract from the awesomeness of this song. And the video was so fun! Fine, I'll stop.
Usher, Lil Jon and Ludacris, "Yeah"
Okay. Now, this song is bizarre. You know why? Because it's the song of the year. It really is, I don't think anyone can deny that it's the pop music song of the year, it was omnipresent. But the weird thing is that it's an USHER song. U-S-H-E-R Raymond! We had all forgotten that he existed because he, like, went into hiding after his last album or something. But here he comes with a song like this, with Lil Jon and Ludacris, and not the smooth, faux Marvin Gaye stuff he's built his name on. And if you tell me that you can't sing along to it, you're lying and you know it.
Franz Ferdinand, "Take Me Out"
This is the song people were like, "You have to hear". And hear it I did. Many, many times. But I didn't mind, because I really like it. It's most excellent to run to. If you run. It's also excellent to walk leisurely on the treadmill to and trust me, I know from walking leisurely on the treadmill.
Jay-Z, "99 Problems"
I had issues with The Black Album as a whole-it was sort of erratic and some songs were soooo annoying, but "99 Problems" was excellent and oh so quotable. What do you do when your friend is complaining? You say, "If you're having girl problems, I feel bad for you son, I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one". You can even throw in the "hit me" if you're feeling extra saucy. And then your friend will laugh and all will be right. Or not. But whatever, it's one of the best songs off the album and one of my favorite Jay-Z songs, period. Now, if we could just convince him to really retire...
Kanye West, "Jesus Walks"
I love Kanye West. I really do. I know that he throws temper tantrums or whatever, and pairs Cosby sweaters with Louis Vuitton backpacks and medallions from Jacob the Jeweler, but you know what? He's awesome. "Jesus Walks" was one of the best songs from The College Dropout and it's uber dramatic. Fun!
Mos Def, "Sex Love & Money"
I love Mos Def. Far more than is healthy, really. And this song is one of many of his that I love.
Jay-Z and Danger Mouse, "Moment of Clarity"
I really loved The Grey Album and I had a hard time picking my favorite song from it, so I settled on "Moment of Clarity" randomly. I think the whole thing is just brilliant, really.
Twista, "Higher"
Twista was everywhere this year, yes? Singing with Kanye, singing with Lil Jon and singing on his own album. "Kamikaze" was flawed, as a whole, but "Higher" was one of the highlights.
Alicia Keys, "You Don't Know My Name"
I think this song might have come out last year, but I'm putting it on this list because I want to. Anyhoo, I have a love/hate relationship with Ms. Keys, but I adore this song. Possibly because the video features the aforementioned Mos Def. I luff it.
Talib Kweli and Mary J. Blige, "I Try"
I love this song. I love both of them, so a combination is killer, yes? It does get stuck in my head for a long time, but unlike other songs (Hi G-Unit!!!), I don't mind it.
Again, to be continued, wrapping up with tv, people who are heinously overexposed and my favorite moments of the year. Wheee!
Mallory at 12/28/2004 10:49:00 AM
Monday, December 27, 2004
2004 In Review: Part I
I'm going to be totally obnoxious and presumptuous and assume that you are all interested in hearing what I think of 2004. And to be even more obnoxious, I'm breaking it up into sections! Ha!
Sorry.
Let's begin, shall we? Actually, before we begin, can I just say that all of this is just my opinion? So if I left off your favorite song or whatever, I'm sorry. Maybe I haven't heard it. Feel free to recommend songs/movies/books/whatevah to me if you'd like, I'm just whack as all get-out and haven't been on top of things as much as I'd like.
Top Movies
Closer
It's not exactly a feel-good, fun-filled movie, but the acting is uniformly excellent and it gave me an actual reason to justify my love of Natalie Portman. She, Jude Law and Julia Roberts were excellent and gorgeous and Clive Owen...was excellent. I'm sorry, the man looks mad sketchy. But yes, great performances all around and it was really visceral and emotional and sort of a grown up movie.
Collateral
Go ahead, laugh. I don't mind. Jamie Foxx was really, really good in this movie--totally OCD and quiet. Tom Cruise played against "type" (I think he's way cold and sociopathic in real life, actually) and was not bad! Perhaps I should admit that I have a soft spot for Tom Cruise and his films because of an ill-fated sixth grade love affair that ended tragically when I found out I was taller than he is. Or perhaps I should have kept that a secret. Anyway, it was a really good action movie and Jada Pinkett Smith didn't even annoy me! What are the odds?!
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Just...fabulous. Really, it made me sob and admire Jim Carrey. Kate Winslet was, of course, divine. It was just excellent. I'd go into more detail, but I'd start crying and nobody wants that.
Mean Girls
Sure, it's a teen movie. And yeah, it fell apart in the last third. But you know what? Up to the end, this is a near-perfect, clever and hilarious movie. I quote it incessantly, which I'm sure gets tiresome for some. But it introduced us to Lindsay Lohan, it made being a Math Enthusiast/Badass M.C. something to aspire to and it reaffirmed my love for Tim Meadows and Tina Fey. Really, what more could you ask for?
The Life Aquatic
Wes Anderson + Bill Murray + Owen Wilson + Cate Blanchett = Divine.
Top Books
America (The Book)by the Folks At The Daily Show
Hilarious, fabulous, everything you could ever want it to be. Stephen Colbert's rant on Warren Harding is a thing of genius, as are Samantha Bee's sidebars about Canada. Read it immediately, if you haven't already.
Middlesex by Jeffrey Euginedes
I got around to reading this a bit late, as I am lame, but it's amazing. Really. It's equal parts funny and sad and just well-written.
Everything About Me Is Fake (And I'm Perfect) by Janice Dickinson
All hail Janice Dickinson. Required reading if you like supermodels, cocaine or laughing.
Tropic of Orange by Karen Tei Yamashita
Totally cracked out and dependent upon caring about globalization and all of that crap, but it still manages to work.
My Life by Bill Clinton
HAHAHAHA! Just kidding! As if I finished this in 2004. I'll let you know by 2006 or so what I thought.
Top Models
Gemma Ward
Sometimes she looks like a fetus. Other times, an alien. And still at others like a drop-dead gorgeous young girl. It's her first year as a recognized, name model, and she was killer. Her ad campaings for Prada and YSL, among others, were divine and her runway work was fab. She can do the out-there stuff as well as the classics. Versatile, gorgeous, and still down-to-earth. She's awesome.
Gisele Bundchen
Back from her brief break, Gisele picked up where she left off, doing great work on the runway, ads (Dior was awesome) and Victoria's Secret. She's fierce and amazing.
Daria Werbowy
Daria Werbowy is gorgeous. Almost unfairly so. She was in Vogue almost every issue this year, and she deserved it. her Prada campaign was so pretty. And her name is fun to say.
Natalia Vodianova
Her Calvin Klein ads continue to be great and she now looks fifteen, rather than twelve.
Tiiu Kuik
Not quite as famous as I'd like her to be (this, you see, is why I should rule the world), but she's getting more noticed and landing campaigns left and right.
Stay tuned for more, including the tops in TV, Music and general "What the fuck"-ness.
Mallory at 12/27/2004 10:16:00 AM
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
I'll Make Him An Offer He Can't Refuse
The Godfather is on that channel that Spike Lee sued tonight. Eeee!
Surprisingly, few things in the world make me happier than mob movies (the short list being baseball, football and Starbucks). It's another one of those things that people are always like, "Really?" with a quizzical expression when I mention my fondness for them. It's as though if someone wears a lot of pink and generally acts like a teen girl, they can't like sports and gory movies. Who knew?!
Anyhoo, The Godfather and its sequel, The Godfather Part II--I live in a world where there was no Part III and in my world it's also normal to like Dynasty. It's a nice world--are two of my very favorite films and, with Goodfellas make up the mafia portion of my top ten of all time list.
Blah blah romanticizing the mob, blah blah violence, whatever. I think that they're nearly perfect films. How heartbreaking is it when Fredo is taken care of? Or when Connie gets the crap beaten out of her by her husband? Very heartbreaking, that's how much.
I'd also like to take a moment to confess that it took me quite a while to get to the point where I could watch Sonny's death scene without sobbing. Sonny was absolutely my favorite character, ever since I first saw it, and he made me have an enormous crush on James Caan. Yeah, I don't know.
Mallory at 12/22/2004 06:05:00 PM
Monday, December 20, 2004
Suck It, VH1
Jhullets get in the way of love
I really thought that those two crazy kids had a chance of making it.
Martinez and de la Rosa. A story for the ages. And now, they are no longer.
Is it wrong of me to hope that the entire little population of little people stand up for their brotha and take their aggression out on Pedro? It is? Okay, then pretend I didn't say anything. I really do hope that Pedro either cries on the mound during a temper tantrum or is beaten with a fungo bat in the dugout.
A Christmas present from me to you: You know the group Destiny's Child? They're the ones with Beyonce and The Girl Who Sings Sometimes (Kelly) and that other girl. Oh, poor Michelle. All she gets to do is stand around nodding her head and hoping that she doesn't mess up bad enough for Papa Knowles to smack her.
And she's messed up bad enough for Papa Knowles to smack her (allegedly) numerous times. Like here, for example.
You'd think, then, if someone were to update Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer and have Destiny's Child sing a little bit, that they'd let Michelle sing, with the spirit of Christmas and all.
No, no they don't. Just like in real life, she stands around and bobs her head.
Hilarious.
VH1 thinks we're all fat
It was VH1's "Fat Free Monday" today, with ample showings of From Flab to Fab, Diet Secrets of the Stars and Rock Bodies.
I, of course, was inspired to make a hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps.
Anyhoo, for those of you who missed it, Jennifer Aniston is on the Zone Diet (thanks so much for telling us, VH1! It's not like she hasn't mentioned it in EVERY FUCKING INTERVIEW she's given since 1997, usually before her hairstyle and after her marriage), Jessica Simpson am dumb and Usher is a conceited mofo. Just so y'all are up to speed.
All Hail Mo Rocca
Is it sick and wrong that I'm so looking forward to I Love The 90s Part Deux? Yes? Oh. I know that I Love The 90s was sort of scraping the bottom of the barrel--"Wow, remember that South Park show?! Oh, wait, it's still on"--but I have a deep love for these shows, aided in part by the fact that I love Mo Rocca dearly and am planning on wasting several hours this week watching I Love The 80s Strikes Back. For hearing Mo Rocca discuss freebasing Chicken McNuggets? Comedy gold, people. Gold.
Mallory at 12/20/2004 07:09:00 PM
Saturday, December 18, 2004
"What happens when people stop being polite and start being real!"
While celebrating the end of the semester last night--if by "celebrating", you mean "sitting in bad in sort of a school related coma, too burnt out to even think of drinking alcohol and you know things are bad when you reach that point--I had on MTV and was watching The Real World/Road Rules challenge.
Let me take a moment to praise the good lord that brought us Mary-Ellis Bunim and Jonathan Murray.
Okay.
I'm not too fond of Road Rules for whatever reason, but I do declare that The Real World is one of the most perfect television shows ever created. From New York to Los Angeles to San Francisco to Miami to Boston to Seattle to Hawaii to New Orleans to New York again to Chicago to Las Vegas to Paris to San Diego and Philadelphia, this show has been absurdly brilliant.
(Please note: I left London off of the list because the London season sucked. Don't try to change my mind, you know it did)
The seasons differ in quality, but even the more boring seasons have their high points, right? Let's take a look.
New York: The season that started it all. With Eric Nies. Who still thinks he's 22. This was probably the best depiction of the "real" world where people had mature discussions about race and dating.
Los Angeles: I will say no more than "It wasn't not funny". Except also "I'm a slave, I'm a slave, I'm a slave to your lovin'! I can't forgot the feeling of your kissin' and your huggin'!" Oh, Tami. So fun to love/hate.
San Francisco: Puck. Pedro. Judd. Fights over peanut butter. Rachel the Republican. Good times.
London: ....
Miami: Okay, the Miami season is the best season ever, solely for the threesome episode. A threesome! And then Flora and her huge ass and boobs tried to get in the window to spy and then it broke. Then there was Dan and Melissa's fight. "Was it yours, you stupid bitch?!" Ahhh, so awesome. So, so awesome.
Boston: Montana was a b-i-t-c-h, but her getting fired for giving alcohol to a kid was hilarious. And then, the best moment ever-her conversation with her boyfriend Vaj. When he called her a "Whooooooore! Whore! Whore!" I'm giggling just thinking about it. And then Jason, the sensitive artiste, had a girlfriend named Timber. Timber and Vaj, who named these people? Then there was Genesis, the trashy lesbian, and Elka the virgin. And Stupid Sean who married Rachel the Republican from San Fran. See how interrelated they are?!
Seattle: Stephen slapped Irene. One of the weirdest and most memorable episodes in reality tv. And then there was David and his girlfriend drama. "This is more real than anything you fucking have!" Okay, David, if you say so. Janet from this season strongly reminded me of Tiffany from the fashion club on Daria
Hawaii: Amaya was a loon, Matt was a prick, Kaia was...um. The season became famous for Ruthie's alcoholism and the numerous interventions it took for her to get sober.
New Orleans: All I'm going to say is, ""Matt's in there praying to die, while David's servicing the hos." (They cut to a shot of this) "Jamie's passed out in Danny's bed. Kelley comes home with Peter, and they go to bed in their room." (Cut to a shot of this) "So next, I get a, 'Psst! Yo, Melissa!' 'What?' I'm thinking I'm seeing Jesus and my days are through. It's just long-haired Julie. 'What do you want?'"
"Next face. 'Psst! Yo, Melissa!' 'What? What?' It's Danny. He doesn't know where to sleep. He's trying to jump in Kelley's bed, and there's already a man up in there. Try to get in his bed, butt-naked with Jamie, that's not gonna work." (Camera shows this) "Try to go up in Matt's room. Matt's still over there praying." (Shot of Matt with his pillow over his head) "David's still servicing some hos." (Shot of this)"So, he jumps in my bed. Doesn't know Julie's in the bed! So, let me tell you what the sex life is like. Melissa is in bed with a Mormon on the left, a naked gay guy on the right. What am I supposed to do with that?"
Back To New York: Zzz. It brought us Coral, who I love, but it also brought us "The Miz" (eyeroll) and Nicole, who looked like a bad drag queen.
Chicago: Kyle and Keri hooked up but not for real because he had a girlfriend and thought that acting like an ass on film would hurt his political career. Okay? Then there was Aneesa and her girlfriend who looked like Eminem. And Tonya had kidney problems and was from Walla Walla. That's fun to say. Walla Walla.
Las Vegas: This season gave my tv herpes.
Paris: Zzzzz. Notable for the fact that one of the roommates has the same name as me, it did little to entertain other than bring us Adam and his psychosis and Leah and her...whatever it was.
San Diego: Awesome. You had two (!!) very special episodes-Robin using a racial slur and Frankie--who will have you know that she's too punk rock for the show--and her cutting. Then you had Randy, one of the best real worlders ever. So quotable!
Philadelphia: Okay, so this season is boring. Like, way boring. Not even Landon's drunken stupidity and Karamo's Dr. Phil psychobabble can make it work.
But whatever. Overall? Best show ever.
And why is it not out on DVD?! Why, MTV, why do you hurt me this way?
Mallory at 12/18/2004 02:30:00 PM
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Random
While meeting with my professor about my internship, he asked me if I'd seen any good movies recently. He's somewhat scatterbrained and often asks random questions rather than focus on the task at hand. I said that no, I hadn't, and he told me that he had just watched Mean Girls and that "it made me think of you!"
I wasn't exactly sure what he meant. Did he think I was a bitch? Or a loser? Or...? So I asked him to clarify.
"Oh, because of your teen girl patois."
Hmph.
Despite looking seventeen, I'm not a teenager anymore (sadly, as it's a perfect excuse for doing dumb things. "But I'm only nineteen!)and had hoped that my speaking patterns would mature along with me.
I then paid attention to the way I talk for the rest of the day and decided that excessive use of "um", "totally", "seriously" and "brill" are probably keeping me in the teen girl market.
That vignette served little purpose other than to apologize for my teen girl speak and to get myself out of studying.
Pedro Martinez and his jhullet are on their way to the Mets!
The Mets, obv., are in New York. And I am in New York. So, theoretically, I could, say, go to Queens and, I don't know...taunt him about his jhullet if I so desired. Because, say it with me! Pedro has a jhullet, y'all.
Ugh, Pedro Martinez, I can't staaaaaand him. I don't care how good he is, the diva tantrums (and the hair don't) have to go.
For those of you on the West Coast, turn away if you should be so inclined, for I shall be discussing America's Next Top Model, as decided by that esteemed panel of Ty Ty Banks, Janice Dickinson, Nigel "Hot" Barker and Nole Marin.
I'll begin by admitting that my friend Nicole and I did jumps of joy and possibly squealed (see: my teenaged girl patois) when Amanda was eliminated. I hated Amanda for many reasons-her bitchiness, her temper tantrums over her beads, her crying, her dancing, her attitude, her weave made of hay, etc. And also, she sucked. And was blind. And too old to start modeling. And was blind.
Once it came down to Yaya and Eva, I was fine with either. And, as I predicted earlier, Eva won. And I find it hilarious that her last name is Pigford. It's the little things in life, you know?
I figured Yaya was done for when they said she looked like Ty Ty. Because the odds of Tyra picking a model who looked like her, but ten years younger? Slim to none.
Oh, Tyra. I love your show so damn much, I'm sad that it's over. I'd ask for an all ANTM channel, but if it ever came to that, I'd never leave the house.
Mallory at 12/15/2004 01:33:00 AM
Monday, December 13, 2004
Thank You, Thank You!
I'd like to give a special shoutout to the fab Alexa over at A New York Escorts Confessions for featuring me on her latest Carnival of Sin. I could namedrop Sally Field right about now, but I'm too cool for that.*
Really, though, go check her site out, she's excellent and her writing is a great way to pass time while avoiding your finals and presentations. If you're one of those slacker types. Not that I'm a slacker. Um. Yes.
Today, Courtney and I were discussing the horror of our presentations that we need to give this week and, in a true testimony to my madness, I theorized that I could describe wars using Britney Spears songs. No, really. Really.
World War I = "You Drive Me Crazy (Stop Remix)" (shell shock)
World War II = "Oops I Did It Again" (obv.)
The Cold War = "Me Against The Music" (er, what with McCarthyism and all)
Vietnam = "Overprotected" (POW Camps)
The Gulf War = "Toxic" (Drugs)
The Cola Wars = "Pepsi (Joy of Cola)"
I've a feeling that, were I to do this, my professor would either tell me that I was a bloody idiot** and pray that God have mercy on my soul or call the police/sanitarium to have me taken away, or both. So I don't think I'm going to do it, though I do give myself credit for the absolutely genius idea.
There's something very inspirational about Britney Spears, yes? Perhaps it's the fact that she's a published author and New York Times Bestseller, not to mention the owner of multiple Harvard sweatshirts. Maybe her genius is easily transmitted to others?***
Whatever it is, my love of Britney is both embarrassing and sincere. I do adore her unique blend of Pro-tooled vocals and pop beats, best displayed in such classics as "Slave 4 U", "Toxic" and "Stronger". And, for a time, she was just so adorable, if slightly cloying with her whole "I'm a dork, y'all!" And I hardly felt ashamed to like her. But 2003-2004 was the beginning of a Britney meltdown that included more than I have time and energy to mention, plus we've all read Us Weekly, we know, and also highlighted the fact that Britney's taste in boys...just sucks.
I didn't think that one could go lower than Justin Timberlake. His only saving grace is "Cry Me A River" which, it pains me to say, is a rather awesome song. However. He is a wimp with bad hair and a crackho girlfriend. Yeah, I said it.
But, really, Britney's taste in guys decreases every month. Consider:
Le sigh. Britney, why hast thou forsaken me (and basic hygiene)? Hmm? It is for this reason that I will not buy your Greatest Hits album!****
*--I'm really not too cool to namedrop Sally Field, I've done it on numerous occasions
**--I'm not British, I am just overly fond of British slang
***--I decided that an STD joke was far too easy, so you can make one up for yourself
***--I'm totally going to buy her greatest hits album.
Mallory at 12/13/2004 02:07:00 AM
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Away In A Manger, No Crib For His Bed...
Last night/this morning (what? Neither of us like doing real work), the ridiculously hilarious Young Mr. Grace and I wrote the most brilliant play in the history of ever. It started, like all good things do, with Posh and Becks.
It all started with my post about how, Madame Tussauds has an exhibit featuring Posh and Becks as Joseph and Mary in their nativity scene, with a host of other entertaining supporting players. I've been obsessing over this story, as I want Posh and Becks figurines for my nativity set.
We then wondered what really went down that night and the rest, as the kids say, is history.
The Cast
Joseph: David Beckham
Mary: Victoria Posh Spice Beckham
Angel: Kylie Minogue
Wise Man 1: George W. Bush
Wise Man 2: The Duke of Edinburgh
Wise Man 3: Tony Blair
Shepherd 1: Samuel L. Jackson
Shepherd 2: Hugh Grant
Shepherd 3: Graham Norton
Mary: (With bitchface) Jesus? What the hell sort of bloody common name is Jesus?! He shall be called Oedipous Bronx. (Looking at the little drummer boy)A SONG? I want fucking VERSACE, DAMN IT! HE DOESN'T NEED A BLEEDING SONG! HE NEEDS A GUCCI NAPPY, IS WHAT HE NEEDS! PEASANT!
Joseph: (In whispery little voice) Please, calm down
Mary: You shut up! You wont even have sex with me! I got knocked up by fucking GOD you stupid pansy! If you hadn't been so bloody busy shagging half of Jerusalem, p'rhaps we wouldn't be in this bloody manger, now, would we? Jesus Christ -- no, darling, Mummy didn't mean you! Kylie? Angel? Help? The thingy, the thingy is crying.
Angel: (Puts on her ipod and grooves away, oblivious)
Joseph: (Stares at angel's ass)
Mary: And what do YOU want? Frankenscence?! MYRRH? Unless those are new talcum powders from Dior, you can just follow your bloody star back to wherever it was that you came from!
Samuel L. Jackson: (Staring at angel's ass) Now thas' what I'm talkin' about! Hey baby, I got your Myrrh right here!
Mary: Will somebody please hit on me?! A spirit got me pregnant, I have needs too! And Joseph here . . . well, really, now. I let a spirit impregnate me for a REASON. Consider the bloody OPTIONS.
Joseph: Now, Mary...
Mary: BUY ME DIAMONDS, BITCH.
Hugh Grant: (In his foppish manner) Well, I s'pose I could . . . I say, would you care to . . . we could . . . that is . . . oh dear, I . . . I really don't know how to do this without a car and a twenty-dollar bill.
Mary: Is it a Mercedes?
Hugh: No.
Mary: NEXT!
Hugh: Liz?! Liz, darling, is that you?! Oh, I've missed you so much!
Samuel L. Jackson: Well baby, why don't you and me see if we can't recreate the immaculate conception . . . without the immaculate part.
George W. Bush: Don't mess with Texas
Everybody (Including Jesus): Shut it!
Tony Blair: You know, it's like the-
George W. Bush: If I may interrupt for a minute-Don't mess with Texas. And Merry Christmas to Dick Cheney
Samuel L. Jackson: N----, you said that already! Fuck you!
Graham Norton: Kylie, your ass looks fabulous!
Samuel L. Jackson: Mmmmhmmmm. Y'all may have followed some [bleeping] star, but I followed DAT ASS!
Angel: (Turns the volume up, dances) Someone make that baby stop crying! I can't get it out of my head! That bloody noise is all I can think about!
Mary: And what about MY ass? Isn't it FABULOUS?! Well?! JOSEPH?????!!!!
Joseph: (Ogling the angel) What? What? Um, Manchester United! Football! I love my wife and family! Rebecca Loos is mad! The newspapers are all lying! I'm a pretty, pretty princess, and my hair has it's own agent! What? What?! (Stares at angel's ass) Er, yes, it's nice, quite nice, yes.
The Duke of Edinburgh: (Tries to make conversation) So, Joseph, where will you put the Jesus tattoo?
Reporter from The Sun: And most importantly, Joseph, will the birth of your lovely son . . . what was his name . . . oh yes, Jesus-
Mary: (Furious) Oedipous Bronx or I'm out of here!
Reporter from The Sun: Yes, well, will you change you hair to reflect you joy at the birth of your son, Jesus.
Mary: OEDIPUS BRONX!
Joseph: (Still ogling the angel) Er, yes, I'm going to, um, get it, uh, yes, layered. Perhaps a shag and with highlights. Light highlights like...like that angel has. Mmmm . . . shag . . . yes . . . wait. Um. What?
George W. Bush: Jesus, my man!
Mary: (In the background) OEDIPOUS BRONX, YOU BLOODY AMERICAN SHEEP!
George W. Bush: I'm your best friend! We have so much in common! Like, we both hate gay people! And minorities! And poor people! Right? RIGHT?!
Jesus: Wait . . . who are you again? And why do you smell like sheep dip?
George W. Bush: You know, Jesus, you can get me some oil. Yeah, oil. I'll have Dick Cheney get your signature, all right?
Samuel L. Jackson: Man FUCK you N----! And FUCK Dick Cheney! I got my fucking black ass out to a fucking manger and I am gonna get laid, bitches! Which one of you is coming home with me?
Mary: Speaking of oil -- what is this bloody cheap stuff you brought?! WHERE ARE MY DIAMONDS?! AND MY GUCCI NAPPY?! WHAT OF THE GUCCI NAPPY, JOSEPH? (Turns, stares at Samuel L. Jackson appraisingly)
Joseph: (Trying to cop a feel of the angel) Gucci, yeah, I'll Gucci her...angel...
Samuel L. Jackson: FUCK ALL'A Y'ALL! Crazy fools! Is Sam Jackson gonna have to choke a bitch?!
Jesus: (Turns up his ipod, dances along with the angel) It's love at first sight, cuz baby when I heard you for the first time, I knew...
Hugh Grant: (Falls over his own two feet) Erm. So . . . you're . . . an angel . . . hmmm . . . so, er . . . would y' . . . that is . . . oh dear
George W. Bush: (To Jesus, who is bopping along to "Love At First Sight") Okay, so a family is one man, one woman, and one spiritual entity born of the creator? Yeah? Yeah? How about it? What do you say? Don't Mess With Texas!
Mary: (Desperately) Hugh, how much do you pay?
Hugh Grant: $20.
Mary: Give me a hundred dollars and a Dior watch
Hugh Grant: Erm, yes, that's quite, yes, erm, uh...yes, erm...
Mary: (Looks between Hugh and Joseph) Hmmm. Fey British man with bizarre hair and fey voice or . . . oh, bloody hell
George W. Bush: So, Joseph, marriage is between a man and a woman
Joseph: Mmm, woman...
George W. Bush: So don't mess with Texas.
Joseph: But, Texas? I--no, her name's Kylie, Kylie the Angel. At least . . . I think it is. Maybe it's Rebecca . . . or Ruth? Is it Ruth? Maybe Helen? I mean . . . wait! Um. I don't know what 'er name is, 'cos I only have eyes for my lovely wife . . . um . .
Mary: MARY!
Joseph: Right! Mary! Mary! And my beautiful son, um . .
Mary: OEDIPUS BRONX!
Joseph: Oedipous . . . wait. Wasn't it . . . wasn't it something else?
Jesus: Jesus Fucking Christ.
Joseph: That's it!
Jesus: God, 33 more years of this shit. Thank God I can turn water into wine, huh? I'm gonna need a lot of it to get through this.
Samuel L. Jackson: Wine? What what? Awwww yeah! Thas' what I'm talking about, N-----! Let's party! It's a celebration, bitches!
Mary: Oedipus, honey, do your thing, let's see. It better be good, not generic or anything. None of this cheap litre jug stuff. You turn out some Chardonnay or you're out on your own, understand.
Jesus: (Turns water into wine)
Mary: WAIT until that bitch Madonna sees this! No, not THAT Madonna! The other one! She thinks her kids are so special, with their castles and their private schools! Can they make Chardonnay? No, they cannot. Oh, Oedipous, honey, you're BRILLIANT
Jesus: You know, my name is actually Je -- oh, forget it. Man, I need to ask Dad what the hell he was thinking. (Composes letter: Dear Dad: What the hell? You couldn't at least have tried for Ginger? No love, Jesus)
Joseph: (Perving on the angel) I couldn't help noticing your very, eh, provacative dancing. You must be parched! Would you care for a drink?
Samuel L. Jackson: Awwww HEEELL no! What did the five fingers say to the face? SLAP!
Joseph: No, my artfully moussed layers, stop! (Hits him all girly like)
Samuel L. Jackson: Fuck yo' hair, N------, fuck yo' hair! (starts beating the ever-loving hell out of Joseph)
Angel: Can't we all just get along? No? Okay, then.
(Angel and Jesus start drinking wine and grooving to "Come Into My World)
Mary: 20, eh? At least give me that gold. What's this Frankenscence and Myrrh? Oooh, are those the new scents from Versace?
Hugh: Oh . . . erm . . . I don't really . . . I'm not . . . I couldn't really . . . I suppose . . . oh dear
Graham Norton: Those new Versace scents are DIVINE, Donatalla outdid herself!
Mary: I KNOW!
Graham Norton: And did you SEE the new line from Prada? HEAVENLY!
Angel: Oh, they really are! And believe me, honey, I KNOW from heavenly!
Jesus: Preach it, Angel!
George W. Bush: (Panics) No, no, not heavenly, Jesus! No, you have to like manly things! Like Texas! And oil. You REALLY REALLY like oil!
Graham Norton: Oooh, oil! George, you dirty, dirty boy!
George W. Bush:(Flustered) I-no, I mean, uh, I mean, DONT MESS WITH TEXAS! Get him, Tony!
Tony Blair: (Obediently beats Graham up)
Mary: YOU BLOODY AMERICAN FOOL! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! IF YOU WANNABE MY LOVER, YOU GOTTA GET WITH MY FRIENDS! Cheap bastard! Richest bloody country on earth, and you couldn't even bring me a bloody diamond to celebrate the birth of my son . . . my son . . .
Joseph: (In the background) Oedipus!
Jesus: No, it's NOT Oedipous! It's JESUS! JESUS! What the hell is the matter with you people?!
Mary: OEDIPUS!
George W. Bush: I TOLD YOU BITCH, DONT MESS WITH TEXAS!
Mary: JOSEPH! GET HIM!
Joseph: (On the ground, immobile) Angel. Please?
George W. Bush: Just you wait, missy! One of these mornings, you're gonna wake up and find inspectors crawling all over this place, looking for weapons of mass destruction!
Mary: There's no weapons of mass destruction here!
George W. Bush: WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES THAT MAKE?! (runs out of the manger to find Dick Cheney, screaming)Don't mess with Texas, y'all! Jesus, call me!
Samuel L. Jackson: I will BREAK MY FOOT IN YO' ASS MOTHAFUCKA! YOU LEAVE MARY THE FUCK ALONE!
Mary: And WHO are you?
Samuel L. Jackson: I'm Sam Jackson, bitch.
Mary: Well, Sam Jackson, tell me something: How do you feel about Gucci?
Samuel L. Jackson: Honey, I'll Gucci you good. I'll Gucci you whenever you want it, however you want it. Girl, I'll Gucci you all night, if you want."
Mary: Now that's more like it! What do you say we go someplace a little more comfortable and talk. We can talk about my album. And Gucci. And that bitch Gerry. And Gucci. And The Spice Girls. And Gucci. And my hair. And Gucci. And . .
Samuel L. Jackson: Hell fucking yeah, Gucci...
(Exit Stage Right, followed by paparazzi)
And now it's just Angel, Jesus, Hugh, plus Joseph and Graham Norton, on the floor, all beaten up. Angel and Jesus are grooving and drinking wine, and Hugh is "dancing" in that horribly stiff, straight-white-man way that looks like epilepsy set to music.
Angel: Hell of a party, Oedipus!
Jesus: IT'S JESUS!
THE END
Mallory at 12/11/2004 01:39:00 PM
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Repressed Memories
The national nightmare (okay, maybe not national, but the tri-state area's nightmare, then) is over: G-Unit is no longer stuck in my head.
However, it has been replaced by a song just as evil: Neil Diamond's "Coming To America".
Those of you who know the song will realize how painful this must be for me and, surely, will send sympathy my way. However, those of you who went to elementary school will know why this hurts so badly and feel my pain.
You see, it all dates back to fifth grade.
Our school had a "Living History Fair" as a way of getting us involved in history. And a way to get the whole school out of teaching for two days.
We all gathered in the auditorium and had to go up to the front, one by one, and pick a name out of a hat. That sounds sort of odd and similar to The Lottery, yes? The whole process just took on a new, creepy meaning. Shudder. Anyway, this was the person we'd be playing in the history fair and doing a report and project on. I lucked out and got Gloria Steinem, who is totally cool and had a kicking wardrobe. My friend Maureen got Lucille Ball (aside: Your wig? Straight up hilarious), Jill got Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Carol, a girl famous for being obsessed with Michelangelo from The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (I'll tell the story at another time), was Bonnie Blair.
Let me backtrack and explain what, exactly, the history fair is. You pick your person and then you write a big report on them and do a project (poster, diorama, etc. I made my own issue of Ms. Magazine and a display of a march in NYC with a skyline and little Candyland figures holding picket signs. Hott!) on them. You would then bring your project to the auditorium which was set up with tables, and you'd sit there with your project and all of the other grades would come and walk around and visit each table and get your autograph. Did I mention that we were dressed up as this historical person as the time? Okay, we were. I got to wear bellbottoms and a cute shirt and big sunglasses and carried a picket sign. Let's face it, y'all, you wish you were me.
Before we got to sit and sign autographs (I practiced for weeks), we all had to enter the auditorium in a procession, while Neil Diamond's "Coming to America" played on repeat. We then all stood on the stage and recited the preamble to the Constitution, sang The Star Spangled Banner and all joined in singing that wonderful song "God Bless The USA" while all of the students watched. We also repeated this performance for parents.
Bizarre, no? But, really, listening to that song on repeat will drive a person mad. Mad, I tell you. So having it in my head, for reasons that I cannot begin to comprehend, has brought psychological trauma back to the forefront.
It also reminds me of yet another part of my fifth grade experience-The Multicultural Megashow.
Our teachers brought in some Broadway actress woman (probably found snorting coke in a bathroom somewhere) to direct this "megashow". She had big crazy hair, and wore leotards and did impromptu dance routines. Our teachers were relieved to give her an hour of the day and ignored the fact that being in close proximity to such an obvious crackhead would promote some sort of lasting emotional trauma. She wrote this big play about how a group of diverse students learn from other cultures, complete with song and dance and a grand finale with lots of confetti.
All well and good, I suppose, but for the fact that we had two minority students in the grade. The story of five racially diverse people who travel to other cultures wouldn't work well with a lily white cast. Or would it?
She didn't consider this a problem, and cast us all with abandon. I, for example, was Native American. Mmmhmm.
Thankfully, I didn't have any solos, but I did have to participate in the group songs that are so heinous that I remember them to this day. Example:
Come see the land we built up here/see how all the rules are clear/see and if you feel some fear/ignore it, come and play/what about the people who aren't included?/what about the people who don't fit in?/what about the problems that we're ignoring?/what about the issues that do not need to be here, yet we have them?/save us today/we need a way/to celebrate diversity/honoring both you and me
Forcing us to sing songs like that--and trust me, the others were far, far worse, if you can imagine that, one was about talking drums and the chorus went "Ah, setu, setu, setui, setui, setui, setu". I swear--surely counts as some form of child abuse. That was called "Yup A Dup", for God's sake. They left us in the care of a woman who penned a song called "YUP A DUP". That's what a fancy schmancy, suburban New York education gets you. Songs about talking fucking drums!
Perhaps we can all muster up a class-action lawsuit....
If you're ever reading my entries and wondering if I'm on some sort of drugs, the answer is usually yes, but remember, please, that my attitude is exacerbated by the emotional impact of my year in the fifth grade.
Mallory at 12/09/2004 01:00:00 PM
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Bending It Like The Beckhams
I defy you to look at this and tell me it's not the most awesome thing ever. Because it? So is. Awesome, that is. (Link via Dancing Brave)
All I want for Christmas is Posh and Becks figures to put in my own personal nativity set. I think I could die happy.
I'm not sure if I've mentioned my Beckham fetish before; people act as though I should be embarrassed by my deep love of the Beckhams, but I'm not. I adore them so much. It's not just because I have a crush on David, though I do (voice aside, it's surprisingly twee and girly) or because I lurved Vicki when she was in the Spice Girls (which I did, her bitchface rocked the house).
It's because of the little things, like the fact that they named their sons Romeo and Brooklyn and the fact that Posh got into that awesome bitch fight with Naomi Campbell--and lived to tell the tale!--and the fact that they had thrones at their wedding. Thrones, y'all. If that's not classy decadence by way of Eurotrash tackiness, I don't know what is.
Really, they're just fabulous. No, really, they are. I can't recommend David and Victoria's books highly enough, they're fascinating and entertaining. It's enough to make me overlook stuff like David's inability to control his libido, or Victoria's horrible, horrible boob job or their combined IQ of 64.
All of this and they're friends with Tom Cruise! Can you IMAGINE how much fun hanging out with them would be? I long for a reality show.
Tom: So, would you like to go to Scientology meetings?
David: Sci...?
Vicki: No, we're not in high school any more.
Tom: I can teach you all about Thetans.
David and Vicki, in unison: Is that Gucci?
When I tell people about this fascination, they always assume that I'm being ironic, similar to their reactions to my love for supermodels, Wham! and The Golden Girls. But I'm not being ironic, I'm being totally, embarrassingly honest. Really. They're just so...fab.
Like, in my British literature class, whilst discussing Yeats and falconry, the first thing that popped into my mind was the passage of Learning To Fly where Victoria refutes allegations that David was training in falconry. I don't know who accused him of it, or why, but Vicki has three pages of "Lies" in her book (pp224-226) and explains:
Lie: David takes falconry lessons.
Truth: David is scared of budgerigars, let alone falcons.
I didn't know how pertinent that was to the discussion at hand. Well, no, I do, "not very", but still, I'm all for working in Beckham references in every day life.
I totally understand if all of you lose respect for me after reading this. But if you're at a loss for what to get me for Christmas, you cannot go wrong with Posh and Becks nativity figurines. I'd celebrate Christmas all year round!
Mallory at 12/08/2004 03:48:00 PM
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
The Horror! The Horror!
I wonder why Nelly and Ashanti keep trying to hide the fact that they're dating. The only explanation I've come up with is that they're aware that such an awful couple will deplete the ozone layer and cause a shift in the space time continuum and they want to shield us from that pain. Somehow, though, I doubt they're that considerate.
Sorry, that couple gives me the willies. There is something desperate about Nelly and his efforts to go from hardcore to Lite FM (Don't even try telling me that "My Place" isn't made for the adult contemporary station), not to mention the band-aid/do-rag thing he's got going on. Then there's Ashanti, who's always seemed creepily close to Ja Rule and has been linked to Irv Gotti, in addition to being about as dumb as a box of hair weave. She and Nelly have seven brain cells between them, I'm surprised that they don't need protective helmets when they walk outside.
While at the mall today, I learned that Isabeli Fontana is a new H&M model and I cursed the world of spokesmodeldom. Because, really, it's bad enough that I have to deal with the cold, dead eyes of Adriana Lima in Victoria's Secret; now I have to see Isabeli and the jaw that ate Manhattan whenever I so much as walk through the mall? That's cold.
For those of you concerned about my mental health and well being, G-Unit continues to be stuck in my head. I've become resigned to it; soon, I'll start dropping lyrics into everyday conversation and then, before we all know it, the only words I'll be capable of saying will be lines penned by that brilliant poet 50 Cent.
I'm not sure that there's an easy way to say it, so I'll just be blunt Nicolas Cage has had the nation's number one movie for three weeks in a row.
I know. I know.
That news is terrifying for, as far as I know, it is no longer 1995. I thought that the proverbial Nicolas Cage ship had sailed, as he had run is artistic integrity into the ground by continuing to ride the jock of Jerry Bruckheimer and had lost the looks that he never really had in the first place.
Yet, in 2004, he has a box office hit that, really, looks worse than the average Mentos comercial, a 20 year old wife and...no, still ugly. But still, for Nicolas Cage, life is good. And that makes me want to drink bleach.
Mallory at 12/07/2004 12:33:00 AM
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Son of a Nutcracker!
Today, while gearing myself up for entering the zany world of the mall on a Saturday during Christmas season, I remembered that the best way to get in a good mood was to listen to Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmas?" which, of course, is on my CD of the ultimate holiday songs*.
I do not mean any of this ridiculous "Band Aid 20" business with Chris Martin and the like-I'm talking about the original. Boy George, George Michael, Sting, Simon LeBon, Bono, Phil Collins, Paul McCartney, etc.
You may think that this group of musicians is the cheesiest assortment of singers ever in the history of the world, and you'd be correct. You may feel that the subject matter of the song--the starving folks in Ethiopia, don't you know--is rather depressing, and you'd be correct. You may say that you don't like George Michael, in which case, I'd have to cut you, because my love of George Michael knows no bounds.
At any rate, it may not be typical holiday fare, but damn if it's not a great song. Not great as in good, but great as in fluffy. For my money, there's nothing in the world better then when Bono wails, "Well, tonight thank God it's them instead of you", real dramatic like.
So that psyched me up to venture to the mall, though it didn't do me much good when I was stuck walking behind the slowest people in the history of creation, or the gaggle of middle school girls who would randomly stop and hug each other. It was all very bizarre.
Really. I'm all for taking your time shopping, but the holiday season is high pressure, y'all! You can't just STOP WALKING to compare lip gloss or whatever or count the money in your wallet! GOD!
Not to mention that the mall was blisteringly hot--I had two Diet Cokes while I was there. Evil marketing ploy, that. And the heat, um, gets to me and makes me buy things for myself instead of shopping for others. Yeah, it's the heat's fault, that's the ticket...
Highlights of the trip included the man playing the french horn in the entrance to Lord and Taylor (huh?) and the random choir singing in the food court. From now on, "Winter Wonderland" will always be associated with Taco Bell. Sad, really.
It's also fun to watch little kids get their picture taken with Santa, because I swear, the Santa they have is on leave from Attica. I rarely see people so creepy, he looked positively evil sitting on his throne (Of lies!) and all of the kids had positive panic attacks whilst having their picture taken. The "elves" looked flummoxed as to how to calm the children down enough to take a photo. I left after a while, so I'm not sure if they ever resolved that, or took to doping the children up.
The fetch holiday cd, for those of you who were wondering (and those who weren't, because it's my blog, neener neener) has the following songs:
1. Band Aid "Do They Know It's Christmas?" (Fab! Aside from the Bono line, I'm partial to the way Simon LeBon sings "There's a world outside your window" I don't know why.)
2. Mariah Carey "All I Want For Christmas Is You"
3. Run DMC "Christmas In Hollis"
4. Bruce Springsteen "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" (I was in love with Bruce when I was little and I adore this song)
5. The Waitresses "Christmas Wrapping"
6. Jackson 5 "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus"
7. Brian Setzer Orchestra "The Nutcracker Suite"
8. Donny Hathaway "This Christmas"
9. Wham! "Last Christmas" (George Michael 4evah!)
10. Kylie Minogue "Santa Baby"
11. Nat King Cole "O Holy Night" (best song ever, for real. It makes me cry, but it's so, so pretty)
12. Otis Redding "Merry Christmas Baby"
13. John Lennon "Happy Christmas/The War Is Over"
14. David Bowie and Bing Crosby "Little Drummer Boy/Peace On Earth"
15. The Vince Guaraldi Trio "Greensleeves"
16. The Kinks "Father Christmas"
17. Bing Crosby and Doris Day "Baby It's Cold Outside"
18. Keith Richards "Run Rudolph"
19. Johnny Cash "Hark The Herald Angels Sing"
20. The Love Actually Soundtrack "Christmas Is All Around"
21. The Temptations "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer"
22. U2 "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)"
23. The Pogues "Fairytale of New York"
24. Judy Garland "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"
Mallory at 12/04/2004 11:23:00 PM
Thursday, December 02, 2004
G-G-G-G-G-G-G-Unit!
You guys.
Things are getting bad. "Wanna Get To Know You" has not yet left my head aided, in part, by certain people (Pasha!) who namedrop it and my own brain which has a habit of refusing to let certain songs go.
This could wind up being worse than the great Ja Rule/Ashanti terror of 2002. I had "Always On Time" stuck in my head for two weeks, hand to God. I'd wake up with it in my head, it would be in my head while I showered, ate, did homework, went to class, etc. It was awful, I think it's a testament to the strength of my character that I didn't commit suicide because of it.
But this G-Unit business seems to be on that level, if not eclipsing it, which is more disturbing than I care to comprehend. You see, while I slept last night, I had a dream and the song was in it. And then, while walking down the block this morning, I came close to singing it-out loud!-on the street. And right now, it is poisoning my mind and killing brain cells.
Because seriously, the song sucks. I know some of you, sadly, vibe the G-Unit business and dig Lloyd Banks, despite him being lame and having no flow of which to speak. However, you guys even have to admit that this is not their finest moment.
I'm lovin how you look in my eyes, swangin them hips when you pass
I'm visualizin my name tattooed on that ass baby
Wow.
I think we make a perfect couple, but you think I'm trouble
Maybe that's the reason you gave me the wrong number
That's a safe guess, yes.
Your toes painted, hair fixed all the time/And your Gucci boots the same color as mine
The G-Unit boys are metrosexual? Interesting.
Make a decision shorty, good thangs don't last long/Your girlfriend keeps showin me that thong
Well, that definitely makes me want to date you! And do girls still really crib their dating advice from the school of Monica Lewinsky?
Before I head home I'ma stop at your house and blow the horn/If you come outside you know it's on, holla at your boy
Suck on that, Shakespeare. You wish you could be so romantic!
Now bitches be frustrated with a baller, wonder why I don't call her/Maybe because I'm busy and she need someone to spoil her/It gets annoying, from time to time I gotta ignore her
Busy doing what, douche? Designing ugly sneakers and stabbing people?
I get her and wear her down, next door neighbors hear the sound/Pictures hittin the ground, just enough to hold us down/I'm stickin and movin, cruisin after the third round/Just lay back baby and let me drive you crazy
The most profoundly unsexy thing I've ever heard, outside of that Meg Ryan movie.
I admit I fell in love with her friend
Damn, this friend business again. Girl's got game.
And to make her feel special I let her call my by my government name
Bitch, your name is LLOYD. You should feel special that she didn't reject you on the grounds that you sound like you work for State Farm Insurance.
Her panties wet over fame, fell in love with my chain/I wonder if I wasn't an entertainer, would she remain?
Jay-Z tackled the subject of freeloaders already in "Can I Get A?" and he did it much better.
Surroundin me, houndin me, tryin to be my ON-LY/I'm not your boyfriend, I'm your HO-MEY
Sweet.
Don't know what fuck me up more, watchin her lick her lips/Or watchin her walk, she hypnotized me with her hips man
For the best way to a girl's heart is to be stalkerish.
Look, I'm legit now, I used to break laws/Now you can reap the benefits of world tours
You may be legit, Fitty, but you're still not cool.
You ain't got ta look like a model for me to adore you/All you gotta do is love me and be loyal
This is true, he did date Vivica A. Fox, proving that he has no standards. And then she wasn't loyal, talking about his son and stuff, so he dumped her. You don't mess with his kid, Viv. He bought the little boo a bullet proof vest, if that's not fatherly devotion, I don't know what is.
Don't indulge in my past, fuck what happened before you
Ah, yes, his infamous past. Getting shot nine times; as always, one too few.
C'mere, let me touch on you, I let you touch on me/Put my tongue on you, you put your tongue on me/Let me ride on you and you can ride on/We can do it all the night, we can have a baller night
Ew.
So, after reading those lyrics, you can see why my predicament is so tortuous and why it is so wrong to be singing this song. And not even so wrong that it's right, this is just wrong.
And! Also! I saw a rottweiler this morning. In addition to my issues with horses and donkeys, I get seriously twitchy around large dogs. It stems, like most of my phobias, from a childhood trauma that is terribly embarrassing but, as the G-Unit is making me lose my shame along with my sanity, I'll share it.
When I was but a young little thing, I was obsessed with The Wizard of Oz. And I bought myself a little blue jumper and ruby red slippers and I wore that outfit all the time, when not in nursery school. I also carried around a large basket with a stuffed dog in it-the dog, of course, being my Toto. Strange, but cute.
It was on one of these days that I was out and about in the yard, doing something, when my neighbor's rotweiller ran over.
And he grabbed Toto out of my basket.
And mauled him.
Right in front of me! It was one of the most traumatic experiences ever, I was depressed for days and I haven't trusted large dogs since.
The combination of these two experiences is rather terrifying, I feel somewhat Twighlight Zoney.
Mallory at 12/02/2004 10:43:00 AM
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
I Heart Apostrophes
Today was highly disturbing on several levels.
I'm not exactly sure why this news bothered me so much, though I'm guessing it may have had something to do with the twenty minutes of sleep I got last night or the massive amount of caffeine I consumed in an effort to make up for that. I know I'm odd, but I never thought of myself as being personally attached to the apostrophe.
At any rate, I was profoundly upset by this and spent the rest of class envisioning sentences written without apostrophes (Todays the day that Im going to see my sisters friend. Gah!) and tuning out the rest of the lecture. Which, naturally, means that I'll make some sort of mistake and she'll crucify me for it.
But really...do we want to live in a world without apostrophes? I'm not sure I do. Apostrophes don't get much love, I realize, but they're a necessary and vital part of life. Or perhaps I'm just odd. At any rate-Save the Apostrophe, y'all.
I am not one to judge. No, okay, that's a lie, I am. But if you can score a good knockoff on Canal Street, more power to you. But this bag? Not a good knockoff. The LV logo was upside down. And she was just walking around with it. A bag with an upside down logo! She also had a Louis Vuitton do-rag on, the hideosity of which I will not elaborate on further, because the memory will surely cause me to go blind.
Naturally, his phone rang a dozen times after making this decisions so, while sitting in my literary theory class, all I could think was "I wanna be your lover
I wanna get to know you, baby/One dose of my lovin'/I'm really gonna drive you crazy". That's just not cool. Really, not cool.
And, ooh, now it's back in my head. "And to make her feel special I let her call me by my government name". Romantic!
Mallory at 12/01/2004 11:44:00 PM