things I learned from the Super Bowl

1. Women, and relationships with women, exist solely to emasculate men. We do terrible things like force them into lingerie sections at malls, make them hold our lip balm, and not drink Bud Light whenever they damn well please. For these transgressions, they should be allowed to go out and buy a gas guzzling muscle car as a way to regrow the dick we so callously cut off of their body. Also, Dove body wash for men = less girly than normal Dove, apparently.

2. Two guys kissing in an ad? Not cool. Out of place (and frankly, dull as shit) pro-life commercial? Awesome. If anyone knew what a foaming at the mouth, hypocritical, and completely wacked group of assholes """Focus on the Family""" really are, they'd know that a more adequate ad would have been a drunk, belligerent Mel Gibson dressed in full Braveheart regalia ranting outside of a Planned Parenthood. In short, political ads have no place in the Super Bowl, unless of course they pander to fundamentalist Christians.

3. Puppy Bowl is still the superior Bowl, despite the VERY exciting game the Saints and Colts brought to us last night. The Kitty halftime show was also far superior to the actual halftime show.

4. The Who performance would have been better if Roger Daltrey could have kept up with his own backing track.

5. Google rules the world. That was one of the most brilliant ads I've seen in a long time.

In short, the ads were mostly sexist, homophobic nonsense. The game was great. The David Letterman ad with Leno and Oprah was even better.

St. Vincent at the Allen Room

I saw St. Vincent at the Allen Room at Lincoln Center last week and it was AMAZING. Here are a couple of highlights.

Justin Vernon of Bon Iver and St. Vincent (Annie Clark) performing "Roslyn" from the Twilight New Moon soundtrack (there is not enough love for this man's voice).



"Marrow"


Duet with David Byrne (!!) (accompanied by Justin Vernon and Bryce Dessner from The National)

Welcome to Stankville (or, my Thursday at the gym)

My gym is a ubiquitous and overpriced chain in NYC (I won't call it by name, but it rhymes with "Blue Pork Shorts Rub") that is the go-to gym for many a moderately income-d NY'er like myself. It is...well...it's adequate. That's really all you can say for the place. There are many many locations in the city, and they all vary. Some are more well-equipped as far as variety of machines goes. Some have nicer locker rooms. Some have awesome classes. Some don't have classes at all. Some are GIANT multi-floor extravaganzas, and some are the size of a storage locker. It's basically a grab bag of quality levels - all yours for the low, low price of $90 per month!

Happily, this chain has two locations that suit me; one that's a 10-15 minute walk from my apartment in Queens (it used to be 7 minutes before the move *sniffle*), and one in midtown, a few blocks from my office. The one in midtown is usually a reasonable establishment. Yesterday was a notable exception.

• The locker room was especially disgusting. There were wet towels strewn all over the floor. The showers were covered in hair, soap scum, and pubes. YES, pubes. Who trims their bush in the fucking gym shower? WHO DOES THAT? *cries*

• My spinning instructor was really annoying yesterday. He's usually not annoying. Maybe I was just annoyed because his class was unusually difficult yesterday, and in the middle of a quad shredding climb, I kind of wanted him to STFU. Also, I have grown weary of his affinity for the Black Eyed Peas and the club remix of "Sweet Caroline".

• The guy on the bike in front of me smelled...well, there's really no other way to put it. He fucking stunk. Hardcore. He smelled like an incontinent homeless person had borrowed some sweaty running clothes, obtained a pet skunk, and then thrown on a handful of Old Spice for good measure. I know you probably think I'm exaggerating, but I almost dry heaved. The girl next to me and I bonded making faces of Serious Disdain through the whole class. What's worse is that the heat in the gym was on full tilt, causing the air in the room to be made of 90% Pure Stank.

• I forgot my water bottle and the vending machine was broken. This wouldn't have been so offensive had there been a sign indicating such. Therefore, the vending machine ate my dollar, and I was still sans water. Annoying. Luckily, I found an empty sample of Gatorade in the bottom of my gym bag, so I was able to use that as a water receptacle. It's small size, however, was most inconvenient, as I had to leave class three times to refill it. It's spinning. I get thirsty.

• Finally, the piece de resistance - some nasty bitch left her used tampon ON TOP of the tampon/pad receptacle in the bathroom. Holy gross, Batman.

Needless to say, I composed a Strongly Worded Email to the customer service department. I can handle a reasonable degree of stankitude - it is a gym, after all - but this was just beyond the pale.

oopsie!

A couple of people informed me that there have been weird ads in my feed when you look at it in Google Reader. For some reason, the AdSense account I signed up for a long time ago got activated just for my feeds. WTF. Hopefully, this was some sort of snafu and not someone who hacked into my account.

At any rate, many apologies for any inconvenience!

Justice for Dr. Tiller

I was going to write a long entry on the Scott Roeder conviction (the man who murdered physician Dr. George Tiller in cold blood, which I scribbled madly about some months back), but my brother said it all quite elegantly. I'll just link him here. I echo his sentiments wholly (we may have slightly differing views on late term abortion, but other than that, we agree). He writes:

Roeder was convicted of the murder of Dr. George Tiller, a late-term abortion provider in Wichita, Kansas. For the pro-choice movement, a man getting life in prison for killing an abortion doctor in the state of Kansas, a pretty conservative state at that, I would consider it a victory.

I agree that it is a victory. A victory for who, though? Certainly not Dr. Tiller, who is dead and gone. Certainly not his family, who is mourning a husband and father. Certainly not his patients, past or future, who will no longer receive the compassionate and excellent level of care he provided at the most difficult time in their life. It is a victory for choice, a narrow one, but a victory nonetheless. It means that violence against women or physicians making a private medical decision will not be tolerated in Kansas, or in any state. It means that wackjobs with guns can't just storm into a church (A CHURCH) and kill whoever they want based on "morality". A human life, one that already exists on the planet, must take precedence.

Needless to say, I am very relieved at the conviction. It's not often in this world I feel that justice has been done. In this case, I truly believe that it has.

RIP Dr. Tiller, and thank you for all you did. Although many (incorrectly) think of you as a murderer, I am certain that you saved more lives than you'll ever fully know.

ways in which the Grammys make me feel old

• The Lady Gaga performance did nothing for me. Less than nothing. In fact, I really hope that Gagamania dies down a little so that people don't continue to tell me how wrong I am for not loving her. She's like a Marilyn Manson type. Who sings pop songs. Big whoop. If one more person explains to me how her performance last night was "ironic", I am going to cut my wrists with an envelope opener. I get it. I'm a theater person. I know this stuff when I see it. Coming out of a prop piece called "The Fame Factory" on a manufactured awards show is ironic. Duh. I don't know. I understand that I am supposed to like her and that she's important or something. Maybe I'd like her better if I thought her songs were decent. I suppose it's the utter pretention of the whole thing that bothers me. This post sums up my feelings pretty well ("Lady Gaga and the Myth of the Grotesque"). She has a very calculated image that appropriates and reinterprets many aspects of pop culture, which I think I'd be more interested in if there wasn't this unbelievable amount of pretense attached to it. Everyone screams "authenticity", and why? Because she's entirely inauthentic and manufactured, it makes her authentic? In a lot of ways, she is the epitome of hipster culture, something that annoys the fuck out of me (irony as art, foregoing actual substance). Whatever. It's not even that big of a deal. It's just that EVERYONE likes her except me, which makes me think there's just something wrong with me. Or Lady Gaga has brainwashed everyone. I'm sure that some Gagasquad dressed entirely in shorn pieces of Tupperware and rhinestones is going to come and force me to take this blog entry down.
  

• Beyonce = WTF.
  

• Pink, on the other hand, was awesome. I thought Pink was better than both Beyonce and Lady Gaga combined (more proof that I'm old: I still have "Get This Party Started" on my iPod and I'm not sorry).
  

• The TPain/Slash/Jamie Foxx performance made my 1989 Guns n'Roses fan self cry in the toilets.

• I was relieved when Stevie Nicks came out to rescue poor Taylor Swift from her flat notes.

• Watching the 3D portion of the show without 3D glasses had me muttering like an old lady.

• I felt weirdly protective of Michael Jackson's kids.

• I wasn't even mad when Bon Jovi started singing.

• The Dave Matthews Band performance was oddly refreshing.
  

In conclusion, get off my god damn lawn.

adventures in fail - a Friday gchat

2:46 PM me: so, I figure this is a good time of day for a laugh

Ben: okpuppycam?

me: nope

your friend Kari was at the front desk

2:47 PM minding the phones

what have you

dropped my stapler

bent down to pick it up

RIRRRRRRIIIIP!

Ben: ohnoes

sadlfkjsadf

me: OHYES

Ben: TIME TO GO SHOPPING

me: MAH PANTS

THEY ARE BROKEN

Ben: ewps

me: and we're not talking a little rip

oh no siree bob

we are talking a FULL split

2:48 PM Ben: wow

me: there had been a hole at one point

in the crotchal region

that I mended

and she gave way

so there i am

in a half squat

with a stapler in my hand

and ripped pants

Ben: oops

2:49 PM me: happily, my receptionist came back from lunch

and i was like

HI! HI! DID YOU HAVE A NICE LUNCH!

YES?

AMAZING!

SO YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHAT JUST HAPPENED

Ben: lol

me: so she ran back and got me my coat and my pashmina (thank GOD I have one)

2:50 PM i tied it around my waist

and off to Express I went!

Ben: hahaha

good idear

me: yeah

moral of the story?

if your pants ever get a hole in the crotchal region

that hole will one day become a giant rip

Ben: hahaha

me: on a day you are wearing a bright blue thong

THE END

Ben: oops!

me: oh yes

that was the best part

because she was all

2:51 PM "let me see!"

Ben: hahaha

me: and I was like 'TWOULD BE INDECENT MADAM

she came to the bathroom with me and was like

omg

at least i had a coupon

capitalism can blow me

A lot of my posts lately have been inspired by my fellow bloggers, who always have interesting and thought provoking things to say. The most recent post that got me thinking was from David over at The Rest is Still Unwritten. The post was about whether bloggers can be considered "real writers". Click here to read it - it's totally worth your time. His blog is always an entertaining read. I often disagree with him, but he always states his case in an intelligent, well-written way, and I appreciate that.

This was the quote that hit me in the gut:

To me, you can’t call yourself a writer or an artist unless you get paid for your work. Most bloggers don’t get paid for their work/words.

My response to his post was this comment:

I consider myself a playwright even though I've technically never received payment from it. I also don't have a writing degree from a university (I do have a theater degree, so one could argue I have expertise). Does that mean I'm not a playwright, but a theatrical dabbler? Once you put qualifiers on things, it makes it very very tricky. Semantics are just that - semantics. I agree that blogging has started to include a heapload of unearned pretension (usually from people who think they are Amazing Writers and are decidedly not), but it's difficult to say that the majority of bloggers aren't writers. They're writers all right, just maybe not very GOOD writers. :) There are plenty of shitty actors who work for free, but they still call themselves actors. You know?

I stand by this. Something that gets under my skin more than anything is when people try to qualify your work by how "famous" you are or if you have been financially compensated for that work. There are a certain number of idiots on this earth who will defend their favorite writers/musicians due to the fact that they won an award or received financial compensation, and if you don't fall into that category, your opinion is somehow irrelevant. Just because I haven't technically been paid or won awards, I'm somehow not a playwright? My first production was a success in every way, except financially (well, actually, we broke even, which is pretty amazing all told). If I go see a play by someone famous/paid, and I think it's crap, am I not allowed to say it's crap simply because they are famous and have been paid for their work? This is the problem with qualifying art in this way. Once you say that the only real artists/writers are the ones who have been paid, you view art as a commodity. I think art as commodity is something that is killing art. I mean, technically, Miley Cyrus is a "real" actress because she makes money. Is that the kind of world we have resigned ourselves to? A world where I watch unbelievably talented actors (who blow Miley and her ilk out of the proverbial water, times twelve) struggle in menial service jobs while doing unpaid shows in the Fringe? A world where amazingly talented people are not allowed to define who and what they are because of money? I'm sorry, but that's bullshit.

Semantics are just that - semantics. If you feel that you are a writer and writing is an expression of your soul, then you are a writer. Are you AMAZING at writing? Probably not. Very few people are. I do not profess to be an amazing writer. I am a far better playwright than a prose writer, but I am not a genius by any means. I am, however, moved to create. I devote my life to it. That makes me a writer, whether I see a dime from it or not. I don't see anything wrong with attaching your identity to something that means something to you, something that you spend time and energy doing.

I fully realize that David was mostly talking about blogging, and it's true that any dipshit with a keyboard and an internet connection can start a blog. But successful bloggers (basically, anyone with a devoted readership, large or small) are writers. Even unsuccessful bloggers are writers. Are they good writers? Well, that is a different matter. That's somewhat subjective. I've read some very popular blogs (where the bloggers are paid) that I think are total shit and some little known blogs (where the bloggers are not paid) that blow me away. I cannot consider the lesser-known blog to be less important or valid than the popular one based on dumb stuff like money.

Long story short, I don't want to live in a world where we our aesthetic contributions are based not on their quality, but on their profitability. I realize that in a capitalist society and a globalized free world, not everyone sees things my way, which makes me sad. I guess in a world where everything is defined by money, it would be nice to think that there are a few things on this earth that are not.

New Joanna Newsom - "81"

Stereogum is was streaming the new Joanna Newsom song, "81" from her new TRIPLE ALBUM called "Have One On Me". While the idea of a triple album sort of scares the shit out of me, if anyone can pull this off, it's her. The photo above is from the album art.

**edited at 5:12 pm - OOPS - it looks like they took it down. :(

If this song is any indication, we're in for a big treat. Joanna Newsom is probably my favorite musician, and four years has been a long wait. I'm seeing her twice in March. Too excited.

We should all be as cool as Conan

From his final Tonight Show:

"Please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism. For the record, it's my least favorite quality. It doesn't lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard, and you're kind, amazing things will happen. I'm telling you, amazing things will happen. I'm telling you. It's just true." -- Conan O'Brien

That's the way to go out classy.

And FUCK YOU, Jay Leno and NBC. You have taken Triumph the Insult Comic Dog from us. Have you no decency, sirs?

We love you Conan, and see you soon.