Twitter: Retwarded or Here To Stay?

No matter what you're opinion about Twitter -- the social networking tool that allows users to send and read short messages (tweets) by posting them to a profile page and to the pages of those who follow them (followers) -- no one can deny the rise of Twitter is thought-provoking. (Full disclosure: I really really wanted to put "twat-provoking" but then I realized that maybe putting a "w" after all the words that start with "T" in this post might be running the joke into the ground).

Which brings me to why I have been so reluctant to explore Twitter and give it a fair shake. First, the name. Twitter? Tweets!?? KM and I spent a good month riffing on this new social networking language by calling each other out whenever we found the other to be telling us something meaningless, as in: "My foot fell asleep. Twizzler!". "I can't find my stapler. Twaddum!" "Maybe we should clip the cats' nails. Twaff! Twerpy!" This suprisingly provided entertainment for us long after the joke was old. (And truthfully, I'd have been more inclined to use it if it was called something cooler, like "Informant," "WhisperSecret," or "InfoVomit").

Of course, our joke was going on when I was still fairly sure Twitter as a trend would eventually implode and bottom out, like "The Rachel" haircut or backwards clothing inspired by Kris Kross, or The Snuggie. It was just too silly to take seriously as a cultural trend. Not only that, but it is an editor or writer's worst nightmare: 140 character non-sentences that encourage horrendous use of language, and no introduction, description or transition sentences to soften the blunt force of information (akin to plopping bits of a raw, bloody mess of meat on plate - no dressing, no cooking, no marinating in a discerning, thoughtful brain before being served up to the consumer). In short, the very idea of the back-assward masses giving each other "news", or distributing whiney thoughts and feelings that are best left locked in an gothy live-journal entry bothered me.

And indeed, when I started exploring Twitter, that's a lot of what I found; friends giving status updates, stupid jokes taking up space, your basic Facebook status update. BUT, the reason I was even deigning to log on to Twitter was that I was beginning to concede that it actually might have a useful side - or at least a side that wouldn't make me want to commit hari-kari with my calligraphy pen should it last into the future.

One, I can see how it can be a short, useful way of distributing up-to-the-minute news. From tweeting an open parking spot (Twitter is working on incorporating a GPS-like functionality so users may be able to do just that) to the oft-cited college kid who was released from an Egyptian jail because of a savvy tweet, I'm conceding there MAY be some practical use in being a twit..terer.

Second, it appears to be a useful business and marketing tool. You may have already read some of the stories about shoppers this holiday season being able to tweet for customer service help (better than waiting on an endless phone queue because the tweets appear publicly and the business has more incentive to help), or finding great deals on twitter (businesses can directly target followers who are interested). In fact, following a business or service seems to be a form of direct marketing that actually allows consumers to choose what promo crap they WANT to be sent for a period of time, which is good for both consumer and business. Business saves money by targeting people they know are interested in a low-cost way, and consumer can remove the business anytime they choose. Er, at least ideally that would be the way it would happen.

But for these two uses, however, I still don't see the point of tweeting your inner thoughts every second, when you can do it on this, and this, and even this. There are only so many ways we need to send status updates- that is, um, if we even need to at all, since we are all afflicted with at least one Facebook friend that feels the need to update their friends about when they are going to bed, feeling [broad emotion], or other boring-as-hell info. For now, Twitter stands as an evolving mix of these uses, and I hope it becomes more of the business and news tool it should be, rather than emo-party twatters tweeting with nothing to talk about than their own twatting tweets. Give me a news story, sure. Give me what you ate for breakfast, twuck off.

Body Computers, Superphones, and SciFi in a Googleverse

Lately, we keep reading and hearing about the endless (and relentless) push to make digital devices, smartphones, and personal computers a real life version of Tom Cruise's in Mission Impossible, or whatever that movie was where he moved projected images in the air with his hand. For example, according to the guys at Microsoft, the future of computing is surface displays for your home, where you can "interact with your kitchen table" or all of your household objects (No thanks, salad-spinner, for the millionth time I don't want to play "Farmville" on Facebook!).

Another crazy technology attack comes from Xbox, set to release Project Natal gaming in 2010, where you play and interact with games device-free, (kinda like a Wii without the remote):





Despite the somewhat cheesy promotional video where moppety haircuts on boys and forced diversity family fun manage to make xbox's impressive technological feat seem kind of lame, it's pretty crazy that Ray Bradbury's short stories are actually becoming reality. As in - science fiction come to life. Which brings me to my questions, since said sci-fi stories always turned out to contain a twisted moral message about technological advancement exploding/eating/turning people into heartless computers like themselves.

The there's also the inevitable spectre of the company that will first succeed in smushing together of all current electronic devices we use to form one super electronic device - think an iphone/kindle/computer/dailyplanner/body temperature sensor/ipod/personal attendant sort of thing. Yeah, I know, smartphones ALREADY KIND OF DO THIS, but I think it's coming: a computer bodysuit that will probably be able to pre-diagnose illnesses, provide you with witty quotes or a tip-of-the-tongue fact recall in social situations, analyze your poop to give you diet tips, etc, etc.

While I don't necessarily consider this technology porn threatening, I question whether we really need this stuff. It's weird watching that floppy-haired boy in the xbox video scan his real skateboard, so that he can use one like it for his avatar on screen. I mean, you can see the sun shining through the living room window as he plays his new motion sensor game in his living room, and it crossed my mind that while he was generally looking kind of like an idiot thrusting around on the carpet, he could actually be out skating in his neighborhood...you know, like, totally having experiences or something - instead of hanging out for perpetuity with his lame smiley xbox commercial family playing buzzer games.

Not that I don't support moving forward, I just don't know if it makes sense. Lest I sound like a "back in my age, we bathed in earthenware jugs and heated water with our breath" kind of luddite grandpa, let me explain:

Compact Discs are - as KM keeps sadly whispering while caressing the plastic cases of her extensive CD collection- a "dead medium," and they aren't coming back. Now all of us who particpated in a decade-long version of the Columbia Music Club - a.k.a. compact disc owners - have to figure out how to load all of the music we purchased for 24.99/disc in the nineties into digital storage without crashing our computers. And even then, you have to back it up with an external hard drive lest your overloaded computer crash some day. And when that happens, back up the music again lest your external hard drive accidentally get dropped in the toilet, or more realistically -- stop working. And so on. It sounds like a never-ending digital download of your - well your STUFF. And frankly, maybe I'd just rather have the individual CDs - to accidentally ruin one-by-one rather than all at once.

Music, files, photos, writings - it's all seemingly on its way to becoming digitized, and yellowed corners of photographs, handwritten notes stuffed into a box, and mix tapes lovingly decorated with inked playlists seem like they may be in danger of becoming obsolete.

Or are they? I kind of feel like people have an innate desire for handheld objects that don't require a charger and that the thrill of collecting objects is hard to transfer to the thrill of ...um, creating a folder on your desktop. The point is, I'm kind of pulling for these super experiments to simply become a niche brand of technology - not THE only technology the way ipods and smartphones have (and have started to) dominate the market. I like cool technology as much as the next geek, but I still want to be able to have real-life interactions outside my computer suit, teenagers are still gonna want to get into trouble in real parks rather than fake ones that exist on a game their parents play, and I still want handmade things that don't require a keyboard - or a touch sensor - to create. So I guess I'll just wait and see how these things play out to test my theories. In the meantime, I'll be crafting a luddite grandpa bath action figure out of clay.

Strangers with Candy Revelations

Strangers with Candy is one of my all-time favorite shows. So imagine my delight when I came across a clip of the woman who inspired Amy Sedaris' character on the show. Florrie Fisher apparently participated in this PSA in the 60s? 70s? Here's a clip:









And here's Jerri Blank, although all I could find on Youtube was a clip of the unaired pilot. Kind of funny to see the changes they made from this to the show that was aired on comedy central.





R.I.P. Strangers with Candy.




-KE

Pitching a Fit Over Pitchfork

With the amount of access people have to inexpensive home recording equipment and the ease of posting something on myspace the amount of DIY underground music in all genre's has reached levels that would make Ian McKaye's head spin. There certainly is A LOT of material to sift through and for a music lover it becomes overwhelming to keep up with all the bedroom/dreamhaze/lo-fi/video-game-dance/drank-hop/post-rock possibilities. For years I have been relying on the site Pitchfork.com for a little help with this sifting. In the beginning of their online presence, Pitchfork was known as sort of the indie kids Rolling Stone, a step up from the local punk zine, a step to the side of Magnet and a step into "the future" of online music news. As the years marched on there has been a growing swell of backlash against the site which I generally attributed to whiney, hipster hating, downer types who could find a flaw in a warm summer day. Everything has some imperfections but give me a break Pitchfork does fill a void and you can take it or leave it. I felt a sort of loyalty to Pitchfork, the same type of loyalty I feel when a friends band starts getting some publicity and the naysayers begin their naysaying.

But now Pitchfork, the war is ON.

A review of the album Feels Good Together by newcomers Drummer received a 7.5 on the Pitchfork review scale of 1-10. I am not really sure what the criteria are for these numbers but generally speaking a review in the high 7's is quite good. Anything over an 8 and the record makes it to the "Best New Music" list, which this year (just to add fuel to my personal vendetta) is compromised of thirty nine albums thus far only six of which feature female fronted bands and I AM including the gender mystic Antony in that count. I digress, the point being the record by Drummer is horrible. I am not talking "I just don't get it" bad, I am talking "I get it, this is shit" bad.



I was interested in this album for a few reasons, foremost being it is comprised of all drummers from other bands, the most well known drummer being Patrick Carney of Black Keys. When I first caught wind of this group I thought it was an interesting concept and assumed that it would be some kind of experiment in rhythm and percussion. I was wrong. The album starts out promising with Lottery Dust, a solid, churning rock and roll song. From there the songs digress into an unfortunate clamor of trite full-mouthed lyrics and musical wanderings that meander into the land of Creedance-ish southern rock (Connect to Lounge) and lots of loud-soft-loud-solo structures. The record feels indulgent in almost every aspect from the "concept" to the indie-rock-star (sort of) line up, to the guitar soloing, to the more then a mouthful lyrics. Okay, fine I just don't like it. We are all entitled to differing opinions and this is not the first time Pitchfork and I have agreed to disagree.

Still, while listening to this album an overwhelming flood of all the little irritants and nagging issues I have had with Pitchfork in the past began to amplify with each forced "I smoke a lot and drink late" breath that singer Jon Finley wheezed. Why a 7.5?! Why is the reviewer heralding this clearly redundant BS and not reviewing some other band that I have never heard of, some surprise band?! Why did Micachu and the Shapes, by far one of the most interesting and fun records of the year not make it to the "Best New Music" list (they got a 7.9, the injustice!)? Why do I need to hear every single thing laid to tape by Bradford Cox? Why does Pitchfork coin terms such as "chillwave" and "glo-fi" without an after thought? Why are they primarily interested in bands who play music that makes me feel sleepy and/or suggests the full experience would be had by gulping down a mental patients medicine cabinet? Why did Sleater-Kinney have to break up? Where is Kathleen Hanna?



Kathleen Hanna: Last seen with former band Le Tigre.

Okay, fine, those last two questions have nothing to do with Pitchfork. Although they could tell me where Kathleen Hanna is if they REALLY CARED.

Even the government agrees that monopolies are not good business. How is there no competing indie/underground music reviewing site yet? Can someone else please start a super cool, interesting music blog? Someone who is not famous already? Someone besides Carrie Brownstein? Then I will be able to officially break up with Pitchfork yet remain on friendly terms. The sooner the better cause my contempt is building.


Micachu and the Shapes. At least an 8.5 in my opinion.

-KM

Giant Shoe Mystery

A few weekends ago, we were executing an apartment re-org, during which KM was clearing off the uppermost shelf of the coat closet. Like a grandfather pulling a quarter from behind a kid's ear, she pulled a giant-size athletic shoe from the depths of the top shelf and proudly announced she had found "something special." Since we haven't seen a giant race of humans roaming around our building, we were mystified as to who the owner of this footwear could be.

Stereo is scared by the magic shoe

Perhaps a previous tenet got the shoe as a gag gift? Maybe his friends called him "bigfoot" because he had abnormally big feet, or he was so small and tiny the joke was that he would fit into a giant shoe.

Have you had a "shoe moment" lately?

Days went by, the shoe revealed no answers, and we left it sitting on the floor for the cats to sleep on and went about our lives. As the shoe continued to do nothing, I began thinking about our "surprise shoe" and looking for the "perfect fit." Is it a coincidence we found such a comical version of footwear hidden beneath the dust bunnies and plywood shelves of our closet while our government officials search for a health care reform bill that will fit the beat-up, gangrenous "feet" that is the state of our nation's health? Could its garish colors and outdated Reebok logo suggest that KM and I review our past fashion choices with a more discerning eye? Probably not, but I DID begin to wonder whether the shoe is something meant for US, a sign that we should forget our squabbling over finances and travel plans and whose hair clogs up the shower drain or who dances with footloose-style enthusiasm to avoid helping the other person cook dinner, and think more about the "foot" that we're all idealizing, the "size" that will be "perfect" for our collective closet shoe. Maybe the giant orange shoe we found in our closet will never be matched with a foot as large and warm as that of its original owner. And maybe that's okay. Like our unexpected suprise, we can all learn to enjoy the "shoes" life puts in our "closets" this holiday season.

-KE

Guilt and Reality TV

I once wrote a two page review of the movie Stealth, starring Jessica Biel and Jamie Foxx, for a humor website. The "review" basically consisted of me pointing out how ridiculous and unbelievable the plot, editing, and concept of the movie were, to the point that it was one of the most enjoyable movie-watching experiences I've ever had. I truly couldn't believe the movie had been made. From the opening sequence where Jessica Biel is introduced as one of the top three "ace" pilots in the U.S. to the HAL-like fighter jet that turns out to contain a mean streak malfunction, the movie was BAD in the most painful, excruciating sense.

For me, this type of BAD means movies and TV shows that cause me to lightly punch whoever is watching/listening with me, and embark on long monologues about quality, plot holes, cheese, idiocy, and brain damage within the human race. At some point I become depressed and ashamed, and I turn away from the entertainment in question, like a toddler that has accidentally shit on the floor and is both fascinated and repulsed by his-or-her own mess.

Everyone knows just how awful reality TV can be, yet everyone (who is not a complete pompous ass) will also admit that there is a seductive allure to these shows, be they bachelor-esque dating dramas, self-improvement (makeover, weight loss, home renovation shows), or pure competitions a la survivor and its ilk. It's actually kind of funny to think back on the original granddaddy of reality TV - MTV's Real World - and realize that there was no catch or prize or bonus round of selection.

But back to my original intention - addressing the guilt and slight self-hatred that often accompanies watching the worst of these shows, most of which glut the schedule of VH1 these days.

I will say that I enjoy some reality-classified shows practically guilt-free. Project Runway, Top Chef, What Not to Wear, and even The Biggest Loser are the fruit and yogurt of reality TV shows (as compared to the fried oreo on a stick of something like Rock of Love). In the "healthy" shows, no one is (usually) made to look stupid on purpose, contestants' public image generally is improved, and some people I think genuinely do change their habits or lives for the better.

I will also say that there are some dogs that eat their own shit without hesitation - a comparison that may ring a bit too true for some of us.

I guess my point is, I think watching trashy reality TV should be treated like junk food - okay once in awhile, as long as your brain is being stimulated by a variety of other forms of intelligent entertainment, and keep it away from children as long as you can lest they grow up thinking all women look like strippers, all men are complete dicks, and everyone has a vocabulary of three words: "bitch," "slut" and "daaaag".

-KE

Delusional Downtown Divas

As far as I can tell, the Delusional Downtown Divas are girls that live in and around lower Manhattan, were involved with the culture of the art world in some way, and saw its potential for mockery. It sure beats KM and I's improvised skits about pharmaceutical and tampon commercials.

Check them out on Index Magazine's website, or just watch this:

-KE

Can We Live Outside of NYC? Rhode Island Says: NO

In the spirit of all the zombie movies that are due to come out soon, I thought I would relay the zombie run-in KM and I had during our Forcation (Forced Vacation) to Rhode Island. Basically, we wanted a vacation that would provide us with the essence of nature, but that still involved running water. We found a "vacation cottage" in Rhode Island for pretty cheap here, and, a car rental and a google map later, we arrived for a long weekend. Unfortunately, we forgot that everywhere within driving distance of NYC is the suburbs. The cottage was fine, albeit decorated with the taste of a Midwestern schoolteacher and nestled along the same stretch of road as an Applebee's and a Super Stop n' Shop. We had a lovely day in Providence, strolling along and looking at houses built in the 19th century (we knew this because the person's name who built it, say Josiah Hamburg, 1852, for example, is printed in a plaque on each house). We did, however, run in to large groups of college kids, who all seemed to be talking loudly about how much pot their friend smoked, or how they never studied but didn't care, or how they couldn't believe what their friend did last night. Since KM teaches college kids on occasion, there was much eye-rolling among our group of two. Running into people kept ruining our vacation.

The next day we decided to tour scenic Newport, RI, where the main attractions are sailboats and really extravagant mansions built by the Vanderbilts and other filthy rich tycoons around the turn of the century. As we toured the mansions, the audio guide kept referring to this as the "gilded age". I thought it was more like the "throw up gold all over" age. The mansions were actually pretty fascinating to see, merely to marvel at the excesses these families went to to show off their wealth. Their is an entire mansion made of marble, for example, or entire rooms filled with statues of greek gods, or french royalty, or "sun kings". KM's favorite parts of these houses were the huge kitchens where we heard that french chefs threw tantrums and poor servants had to toil away washing dishes while the family played billiards or something. I am pretty sure she was just eyeing the cooking space in envy. My favorite part was imagining the family secrets being revealed by a young, arrogant son in the breakfast room or the verranda, or the crystal powder room. Perhaps one of the Vanderbilts was a transvestite or otherwise socially deviant and was forced to reveal his preference by the cathedral-like windows rimmed in silver, ice cubes tinkling in his glass of scotch. I guess the mansions kept turning into Eugene O' Neill plays for me for some reason.

The most interesting thing about the mansions though, and Newport in general, was that unbeknownst to us, it is a mecca for old people. The 70-plus set, to be exact. Old, white people. Old, white, pinch-lipped tourists in beige coolats and mauve tunics. As soon as we started driving around it dawned on us that we were probably the only ones under 60 on these tours, which made us feel slightly foolish and very rebellious. We both said later that we felt like our parents had forced us to go to this land of AARP zombies, which caused us to act like we were teenagers, especially in the "gift shop" where older women browsed like slow-moving cattle across a plain of tchotchkes, baubles, and marble house paperweights. We should have made some sort of effort to shake things up, like talking loudly about dildos or practicing african dance on the tailored lawns, but honestly the atmostphere was too depressing to do anything but glance at each other in horror everytime we passed a glazed-eyed tourist fingering an applique purse. Lest you think we are assholes, we tried to smile and be friendly in a this will be weird but fun! way when we first arrived. However, when KM bought our Mansion tickets, the woman not only took her sweet time, she didn't say one word to either of us and possibly appeared to be sleeping and/or in pain.

We high-tailed it out of Newport slightly depressed. If this scenic town could fail so badly, could we have fun anywhere outside of New York City? Sure Stop n' Shop is convenient, and it's funny to eat at Friendly's once, but eat at Friendly's once, shame on Friendly's. Eat at Friendly's twice, shame on us. In our attempt to "get away" we had been drawn back in to the unearthly flourescent glow of suburban america that we both felt we narrowly escaped from in the first place. So Rhode Island, thank you for the memories, but thank you more for the lesson. Next time we want to go on vacation, we'll save up our money and encase ourselves in a fancy hotel in the middle of Manhattan.

Here's KM when we first arrived at Friendly's for breakfast on the last day of our trip.





.....this was taken after five minutes



-KE

The Internet Age; Or - Is There An Internet Vaccine?!

We can all count a thousand ways our lives have been altered by the Internet, whether through online shopping, networking, dating, messaging, blogging, blah, blah, blah...you know where I'm going with this. Oh, and there's that silly little business of the fall of print journalism , the rise of Craigslist and the complete overhaul of want ads and personal ads and anything ads since everything now needs an online site, or a portal, or a www-dot attachment if you want to gain any traction in the market. Even TV, once an evil empire itself, is now kowtowing to the power of the Internet and its hulu-netflix-youtube-network-preview-giving entertainment tentacles. It has to. And we sort of all do. Which is all well and good, time marches on and new innovations occur, we become a space-age society wearing solar-paneled shirts to power our computer necklaces etc. etc. But lately I've been reading a spate of articles that have piqued my already-strong interest in the way the Internet-infected world will play out. 

Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia for the masses, by the masses is increasing its editorial oversight. According to CNN, the web has "erupted in debate" over this news. So I guess this is my contribution to... the lava. As I was telling KM over brunch this morning, I think this is a move indicative of more editorial oversight for The Net in general. I don't want to be reading an entry on some little-known historical event only to see that someone's edited its last paragraph to include the sentence "Billy Fisher likes tits" or, even worse, to see that every other sentence in the entry is "questionable" or needs further proof to be considered legit. I like knowing the information I'm getting is written by experts. Call me crazy. So I guess my lava in this case is taking the form of polite applause for Wikipedia. 

It seems like what we've done in the past 10 years or so as a society is to throw anything and everything up online. And it is awesome, in the true sense of the word. That it is such a large and vast ever-moving wave of information that it inspires awe and fear and joy all at once when trying to wrap your mind around its power. And now, I want at least part of it to be reliable. As Wikipedia responds to user complaints of inauthenticity and false information, I hope that online news sources will be held to similar standards. That's not to say that people still shouldn't be able to throw whatever completely random crap they want up on the Internet, but just that there will be a certain "tier" of information sites that are 'vetted in some way.

I'll wrap up my whiny little essay with a link to a NY Times article on a new documentary about a now-batshit insane Internet pioneer who seems to think we will all be living in a virtual world in 20 years. Here's the trailer:

And one for old times' sake:

-KE

And in Addition

Another source of inspiration for the anti-apatow film yet to be released...

and maybe a dash of...

A Word About Judd Apatow Movies

Okay, I'll just say it. Are they funny? Sure. Are they entertaining? Of course. Do I launch into uncomfortable, slightly-than-way-more-than-slightly annoyed speeches about the blind social acceptance of yet another iteration of american teen boy comedy splooging transparently-plotted adolescent fantasies all over movie screens across America every two weeks while the number of films depicting realistic young female protagonists in popular movies remains close to zero? I think you know my answer. Look, I'm game as the next guyish-gal to laugh about a dude's balls being dipped in something -- that's not necessarily my issue here. I find that numbering my rambling thoughts might help bring some fake coherence to them:

1. In case it's not clear by now, we saw Funny People, the latest Japatow vehicle in theaters recently. I had read some reviews that seemed to suggest this movie represented a departure or advancement of some sort in the Apatow oeuvre; however, it was not so.  Triad of dorky-but-hilarious young men? Check. Penis yarn after penis yarn? ("yarn" in this sense meaning detailed story or focus on penises and how important they are to everyone involved) Check. Female characters that end up representing some media-inspired conglomoration of motivations and actions that don't make sense to any actual female viewers (when they are given any thought at all)? Check. So I felt a little stupid for going and expecting something, well, different. 

2. So, fine. Yet another movie full of funny jokes and dude romps. It's his movie, I don't have to watch it. I get it. I'm not really mad at Apatow, or the nerd-dude actors, or even the poop jokes, which are pretty funny most of the time. Nay, it is the reception of these movies, and the lack of any female challengers stepping up to the plate to make a good, funny movie that can stand toe-to-toe with these penis-and-poop princes. I guess maybe it's also the inability for Apatow to explore the life of the other sex. I mean, he has millions of dollars, he's made the same movie every year for the last ten years, and he's wrung every bit of adorableness out of Seth Rogan: you'd think he's want to give a little more thought to the characters he makes his wife play in every movie. I dunno. I guess it's not a fair complaint, and instead I should be focusing on why more women either a)aren't writing and pitching scripts or b)they are writing and pitching scripts, but no one is making them. I just want it! Isn't that reason enough, Internet hole?

3. Typically, once I get to this point in the rant, I start plotting to write my own female-teen comedy, that will brilliantly lampoon all the stereotypes laid across the backs of all the hot camp counselor/sweet good girl neighbor/unattainable vet and/or kindergarten teacher with very little personality characters that have come before. A movie that will realistically portray a group of smart, funny, self-aware girls that aren't made from jetstreams of wet dreams, video games, lightning and magic, Drew Barrymore movies, and tampon commercials. Then KM tells me she's heard this speech like three times and that I need to calm down. 

4. So let's have it. If I don't do it in time, and Apatow clearly isn't anywhere near this kind of revelation, somebody will have to. What kind of script am I looking for? Here's some inspiration to start:

The Sarah Silverman Program
That's Been Done
comedycentral.com
Joke of the Day Stand-Up Comedy Free Online Games

- KE

Some Thoughts (I have no thoughts)

In an attempt to thwart facebook and the status update craze I have decided to conduct an experiment in which I update my status every hour for one day. I will tell my 200+ friends exactly what I am doing just like they frequently tell me. The difference will be I will not tell them exactly what I'm doing but rather reveal an inspirational aphorism possibly/probably referring to light, connectivity, the weather or my sleeping habits. 

The point: I don't really care when you went to bed and I have nothing to say to these people. 

Also, we finally retrieved the new cat, a fine looking black and white male with yellow eyes. After testing various forms of Michael Jackson for a name it has been decided, while a great idea in theory, like so many things it doesn't work in practice. We are currently testing the name Condo, inspired by the location of the animal shelter we adopted him from which is in Williamsburg.

Condo?

Stereo is not pleased.

Thank you. KM.

More TV Shows! More! More!

Continuing my last post about TV shows that are worth checking out.

2. True Blood. This HBO show is about vampires in Louisiana, so we were immediately intrigued. The premise is that vampires (as a race, I guess) have "come out" and revealed themselves to the American public. While they do require blood to survive, they (supposedly - hint, hint) now survive on synthetic blood invented by some asian scientists. So they don't need to drink human blood...or do they!!!!! From what we can tell, as in other vampire series like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Twilight, and even classic ol' Dracula, True Blood not-so-subtly draws a distinct parallel between drinking blood and sex. They pretty much hammer this point home by showing lots and lots of dirty sex, talking about sex, and portraying vampire blood (V-Blood!) as  a drug that enhances sex. Also, having sex with a vampire is "the best sex you've ever had in your life". Also, some vampires have sexual minions. Also, sex.  Everyone has sex. That's basically the gist of it. In truth, I like the religion-soaked, backwoods, gothic and haunted setting/tone of the show, so I am willing to slog through the jack-hammering pelvises. But it hasn't fully been approved yet, because I'm waiting for it to give me something a little...smarter I guess. An example of why we may end up trashing this show is a choice line from the episode we watched the other night that made KM roll her eyes ALL OVER:

(After Sookie and her vampire boyfriend Bill have sex and he feeds on her blood for the first time, they are soaking in his hot tub)

Bill (tenderly, towards Sookie): "Perhaps you might obtain some Vitamin B12 to replenish your fluids"

Yikes. Oh, there is also a bar called Fangtasia, and you should know that Sookie has some sort of power to read people's thoughts.

Here is a clip where Bill conveniently explains all of the backstory:


And here is the opening sequence, which I think is the best part of the show.

3. Twin Peaks. Amazing in too many ways to count. Good for a day with weird weather, but really just good anytime, especially with cupcakes or pie.

In contrast to shows like True Blood, each episode of Twin Peaks lives up to the intro sequence:

4. Freaks and Geeks.  Tragically, Freaks and Geeks only lasted one season, but it's a damn good season. I wasn't in high school in the 80's, but it doesn't really matter because Freaks and Geeks pretty much captures, in a realistic way, (i.e. with female characters that aren't rich popular gangleaders or cheerleaders) the experiences of high school. Like the first time you got high:

5. 30 Rock. I'm sure enough has been written about this show and why it's funnier than anything else on T.V. Like everyone else on the planet, I'm glad Tina Fey was born. 

- KE

Naming the Cat

So I meant to finish the for-those-without-cable-or-even-one-channel-of-tv list of shows, but this week we've also spent our spare time thinking of names for our new cat. Since the two cats living with us previously were picked up by their owner and we were left with Stereo, who promptly began yowling at the walls, we decided we needed to get her a companion. 

After a visit to the Brooklyn Animal Resource Coalition, a somewhat zany (they have a cat attic and framed pictures of kittens over the front desk) Animal Rescue Center in Williamsburg, we picked out "Barney", a black and white guy who crawled into my lap without hesitation and proceeded to lay on his back with his paws jutting out as if he was doing a cat hand-clap or a cat robot/vogue.  His uninhibited poses and quiet determination not to scratch us scored him lots of points, so we sealed the deal, as they say in frat houses (I think). However, the wild-eyed grandma figures at BARC informed us he may or may not have a tooth condition that may or may not be gingivitis-related, and they must test his teeth for a week before we could take him home. Despite this unexpected delay, and despite his ill-fitting, Grandma-appointed name, we are willing to hold out for "Barney". We will pick him up next week (with or without the weird tooth condition -- but hopefully without).

We spent the rest of the weekend brainstorming new, cooler and/or cuter names for "Barney," ones that would truly capture his cat personality, his coat color, and his zany dance moves. I rattled off several names, while KM characteristically remained silent and brooding over the perfect name, finally releasing her suggestion: "Michael Jackson." She claimed it was perfect because the real Michael Jackson sang a song about being black and white, was black and white, and had crazy dance moves. I thought naming a cat after M.J. was disrespectful so soon after his death (Funnily enough, KM thought "Jacko" was disrespectful). The debate rages on, although we were able to think of a few more names for consideration, including:

-Pillow (KM)

-Scraps (KE)

-Salt n' Peppa (KE)

-Meowsers (KE)

-Marble (KM? or me, I can't remember)

-JPEG (KM)

-Cotton (KM)

-Blanket (MJ-related suggestion)

-Dazzle (suggested by me, but deemed "too gay" by KM.)

Nothing has been decided as of yet. 

In lieu of a photo of the cat in question, I've included this classic of Stereo going after ice cream. Hopefully she will play with "Barney" and not sit on him:

Here's a pic of what life is typically like for the cats we house:

And here's a cute one for all you cat-lovers out there. Talk about a sinkful of adorable! This is cat calendar material if I've ever seen it:

-KE

Bev Kills It.

Today at lunch the boys introduced me to quite possibly the best website ever, everythingisterrible.com

Please enjoy a  few personal favorites, Bev...

A special time in everybody's life, and quite a magical musical ending...

A laugh riot brought to you by KM.

Scrambled Channel Blues (Bonus Show List!)

The digital TV conversion is a sensitive subject around these parts, mostly because I insisted we get the free government "coupon" to buy a digital TV converter months before we needed it, in preparation for shelling out 40 bucks or whatever amount it was to buy the new technology being foisted on the general population. 

After letting one coupon expire, and several catty comments suggesting one person of our twosome was to blame for letting said coupon expire (comments made every time the announcements would come on the one cable channel we still received through rabbit ears), and through a series of complicated ropes courses and friendship rituals, we were able to procure a converter box. My constant tic reminding both of us that the converter box MUST be obtained before the final deadline in June bothered both of us, but mostly bothered KM, because it was annoying for her, and part of me. 

We quickly figured out that not only did we need a converter box, but also a special antennae that would work with the digital signal. Curses! After a quick bike ride in a monsoon, and a special personal envoy into the Brooklyn Target, which everyone who lives in Brooklyn knows is a special circle of hell involving large,  sweaty people, braying families, and faulty shopping cart lifts, I obtained the antennae. All of this effort resulted in one sad, scrambled channel, the local NY channel that is kind of like the WB, but which also shows baseball games. All in all, a sad state for our TV watching--for those interested, the channel we do get, "My9", plays a show with a black man in drag playing a sassy grandmother about 20 of 24 hours in a day. So we gave up TV. . . at least watching it the normal way. 

Which brings me to the shows we take care to rent via netflix, own, or stream online. Those in the rotation now and in the past are listed below. For those of you who suffered a similar fate via the digital conversion, this list is for you (actually, everyone we know has cable, so this is probably for no one). And by "you" I mean "me and KM" since I am treating this blog as a personal diary. These aren't ranked in any order, so don't get excited about either #1 or #10.

1. Party Down. KM was referred to this show by her bandmates, M & M. It's on Starz, which for some reason I associate with porn and porn only, but apparently they are trying to ride the coattails of the successful comedies and dramadies and shows about penises and lesbians and housewives smoking pot that HBO and Showtime put out. Anyway, it's pretty awesome. It Starz (hahahah) the blond, older woman that was in Best in Show, the girl who was Lindsey Lohan's gothy but kind of funny high school dork friend from Mean Girls, and Bill from Freaks and Geeks. I could find the real names of these actors on the World Wide Web, but I don't feel like looking them up and you'll know who I'm talking about better this way anyway. These three and a handful of others portray a ragtag group of struggling actors in L.A. that are forced to take menial jobs as caterers working under one of the guys who starred in The State on MTV. This dude plays a Michael Scott-type -- lovable but delusional, full of himself but pathetic, etc. etc. The first season of Party Down (we watched all 10 episodes on Netflix in two days) has some great cameos, especially Jennifer Coolidge (Best in Show, Legally Blond) on Shrooms in Episode 10. Party Down is similar to the office in lots of ways, but is worth it thanks to the funny lesbian's role and the L.A. actor hook. Kudoz, Starz.

2. I'll finish this list another time, this post is already too long. Stay tuned!

-KE

Farewell Friends

-KM

About I'm Full

What is this?

We started this because we’re full. We’re normally full of food and cupcakes, but sometimes when the moon strikes the trash on the Brooklyn streets just right, we’re full of ideas and images.

We are two people, with three cats, several computers, a new apartment, a general sense of ennui, but not depression; excitement, but not cheesy, gushing unchecked optimism. It's important to know that one of us is a Pisces and one of us an Aqaurius, and that we consult such venerable texts as Sexstrology to inform us about our relationship tendencies.

We live in a Brooklyn apartment we luckily scored despite being in an personal economic downturn, which we like to think is due to our willingness to consult the Suze Orman books our Moms have sent to us over the years, but which is actually due to the fact that KE lived in shitty New York apartments for the first year of her existence in the city.

KM likes include flourescents, designs, and pixels. KE likes include thinking of projects and workouts. We like feminism, animals, npr, Amy Sedaris, and gay-but-not-too-gay things. Basically, if we feel too full of shit, we'll attempt to vomit it back up into this blog.

-KE