Sunday, September 30, 2007

5 Things That Don't Suck

1) Other than Yosemite Sam cartoons/mudflaps and 2004's misguided purchase of a knit poncho from Banana Republic, I can't say I really like any Western-themed items. That was true until I saw 3:10 to Yuma last night, which was one of the best movies I've seen in a long time. I honestly haven't felt that good about spending $8 since, well, earlier yesterday when Walgreens had Diet Coke on sale. But Yuma is phenomenal, from start to finish and passed the "I Would Rather Hold My Pee So Long That I Have to Unbutton My Pants Rather Than Walk Out and Miss A Single Moment" test, even though I'm pretty sure that the sight of me fumbling with my crotch during a particularly intense sequence killed my chances of having a second date. There's also a monkey.*

* In the movie, not in my crotch.

According to the Humane Society's movie-review site, the monkey was not harmed. It "sat on a desk scratching itself...and the action was mild". I believe the exact same phrase was used in my last employee review.

2) My beloved Red Sox clinched the AL East on Friday night with their victory over the Twins (and the Yankees' loss to the Orioles). I'm almost ashamed to admit how much pleasure this win brought me. I've always been too emotionally involved with my sports teams and the fact that each victory leaves me beaming and each loss leaves me broken has almost led to my separation from the Sox more than once over the years. I flirted with Dodgers fandom--even went so far as to buy an LA hat--but neither one seemed to fit me.

It's like when you change schools or go off to college and are determined to become something else, to finally shake whatever Breakfast Club-ish 'princess' or 'basket case' label you've been tagged with since the minute you set foot into homeroom. But then you realize that your "new" you is just like the old one, your new friends reminiscent of the ones you've left behind, and that you'll always be a basket case. Or a Sox fan. Or that girl with bad skin who is way too old to continue shopping at Wet Seal. And you're OK with it.

Also, you can read my tribute to the hottness of the Red Sox here.

3) I admit it. On Friday, I DVR-ed three episodes of TLC's What Not to Wear. The premise of this show is that the hosts Stacey London and Clinton Kelly take very unfortunate-looking women and, over the course of a week, teach them how to dress like gay men.

I do admire the women that allow their flaws to be examined and closets to be plundered on national television. I know I'm not that strong. The second Stacy tried to wrench my "Big Weenies are Better" t-shirt from my grasp, I would probably set myself on fire.

Confidential to TLC Producers: If this is something you would be interested in, please email me.

4) Rarely do I have anything in common with hipsters other than an interest in ridiculous clothing (see #2, #3) and a commitment to poverty, but I'm so in love with Iron & Wine's new release "The Shepherd's Dog", I have stopped taking my birth control pills so that I may carry its child. It's such a good album, I actually purchased it from iTunes rather than illegally downloading it because singer/musician Sam Beam seems like a real, accessible person who deserves some measure of success for his art. Also, I think he works at my local Whole Foods.

Confidential to Sam Beam: Could you please save me one of those tomato and feta stromboli things? They're always either gone or withered beyond recognition by the time I get there. Please? I bought your album.

5) On Friday, Wordpress featured my House recap on their front page, marking it as a "Hawt Post". That's right, I'm blogging about a blog post about a blog post. I feel so dirty.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

House: Season 4, Episode 1

So last night was the season premiere of House and I couldn't be happier to again share my Tuesday nights with Hugh Laurie, the sexiest thing with a cane since Mr. Peanut. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't spend the last four days watching Season Three in it's entirety to prepare myself for tonight's premiere. I'd also be lying if I said that I didn't eat Cool Whip for breakfast, so who knows if I'm a credible narrator.

Last night's episode, titled "Alone", opens with a young man standing in the parking lot of an office building, trying to convince his girlfriend to leave work so they can go see Star Wars (Episode 4) in the theatre, which makes me wonder how this guy has a girlfriend in the first place. When he starts to apologize for getting upset with her, perhaps relieved that he'll have the freedom to masturbate in peace, the building starts to tremble and eventually collapses.

It's never really explained why the building caved in but suffice it to say that I added "Freakish Building Collapse" to the list of reasons I'm glad I'm unemployed, right above "Can Spend Weekdays Pretending Neighbor's Springer Spaniel Is My Own". Oh sure, I don't have insurance and I'm out of so-called "solid foods" but at least I'm not going to be buried alive under a pile of rubble and rebar and toner cartridges.

Cue the Massive Attack, opening credits, and commercial break.

We find House alone in his office, playing the guitar and wearing a graphic tee from OmniPeace. OMG! House shops at Kitson! I read the OmniPeace website and their mission statement says that by 2025, they would like to feed the remaining African children that haven't been adopted by Angelina Jolie, apparently by selling t-shirts made by Asian children.

Cuddy barges into the office and yells at him for not having a team, tells him he's spent the last two weeks doing nothing, and what does he mean he doesn't have insurance? Sorry, that last one was my mother. His team--who at the end of last season resigned (Cameron), got fired (Chase), or quit (Foreman)--wasn't to be seen in this episode, since they were styling their bangs (Cameron), styling their bangs (Chase), or coaching the Pittsburgh Steelers (Foreman).

Cuddy insists that he hire a team while House claims that he can solve the girl's case on his own. House starts by writing symptoms on a dry erase board and by collaborating with the janitor (who suggests "lupus" as a diagnosis, a winking remark by the show's writers that made me insanely happy). The janitor is then given a lab coat, christened Dr. Buffer, and sent to speak with the family, illustrating that cleanliness really is next to playing god-liness. I'm pretty sure that this is also the typical career path for most of the doctors who work at the local PrimeCare.

House and Wilson go break into the girl's house to look for environmental clues. While Wilson clips Tide coupons, House reads her diary and notes that she used to be depressed but over the past few months, has had a decidedly improved outlook. He concludes that she must be on anti-depressants, a fact that affects her treatment. I revisited a couple of my recent journal entries ("Ate box of brownie batter. Cried" and "Watched QVC. Cried") and made a mental note to ask my janitor for a prescription.

When they return to the office, House goes to play his guitar and finds that it's been kidnapped. I add "Guitar Won't Get Stolen" to my list, even though I don't have a guitar. House races to Wilson's office to confront him about the missing instrument. It should be noted that Wilson has a teddy bear dressed in a lab coat on his bookshelf. Wilson also has a vagina. It was Wilson, however, who took House's TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLAR guitar in an effort to make him hire a new team. Twelve grand for a guitar? Twelve grand?

Confidential to Me: See if neighbors have any items that could be held for ransom.

Anybody know what a Springer Spaniel is worth?

Back at the hospital, Ben the Boyfriend, and Megan the Patient's Mother are in Megan's room noting that she is possibly on the mend...and then she starts convulsing. Anyone who considers treatment at Princeton-Plainsboro hospital should know that this is the way things happen:

  1. You'll get an initial diagnosis and show signs of recovery before...
  2. Developing additional symptoms and receiving additional treatment that you won't respond to. Repeat as necessary before...
  3. You begin frothing at the mouth and/or bleeding out of the butt (check and check!) and...
  4. Start loading your things into Death's U-Haul before...
  5. An offhand, seemingly unrelated comment makes House realize he missed something important and
  6. You'll most likely be cured and will be so relieved that you won't even consider suing the hospital for the unnecessary tests, botched diagnosis, or the fact that they cut off your legs/removed your eye/blew up your liver/etc.
So hang in there, Megan! You've got 28 minutes left in this episode!

Although right now, they determine that she's suffering DTs, since she is an alcoholic. Boyfriend Ben protests and says that he would've noticed if she'd been drunk all the time but House points out that he didn't notice that he "was basically living with Sylvia Plath". BURN!

They begin treatment by giving her IV alcohol, which I'm pretty sure I had at my friend Scott's Halloween party last year. Problem solved, until Cuddy notices that she is silently screaming, and we are rewarded with a closeup of her swollen, scabby face (Megan's, not Cuddy's) and I immediately regret my decision to have a late dinner.

Now Megan has developed pancreatitis (#2) and after she bleeds from the butt (#3) they operate. During the surgery, House notices her giant uterus and discovers that she has recently had a procedure done that rhymes with shma-shmortion. After putting the clues together--the anti-depressants, the alcoholism, the birth control pills--they surmise that she is a member of Chi Omega's Fall pledge class.

House is no closer to solving the case, no closer to recovering his guitar, and definitely no closer to hiring a new team. Cuddy sends a memo to the hospital staff telling them not to cooperate with him. When he stands in the crowded ER and no one speaks to him, he asks "Am I in an M. Night Shyamalan movie?", which also explains why his next patients are Howard, Bryce D. and Speak Of, Those We Do Not.

Of course Megan isn't getting any better (#4) and has developed an allergy to antibiotics (#2) that can't be explained. House paces his office, stares at his white board, and sits in the dark. Until Wilson stops by to ask about one of his patients that House has stolen in response to the guitar theft...and #5 happens. Wilson's offhand comment about the patient's chart makes House stop. He stares into the distance, tilts his head downward...the revelation has come! Or maybe he just has gas.

The symptoms were correct, as were the diagnoses. The reason Megan wouldn't recover is because, well, Megan wasn't Megan. She is actually Liz, Megan's drunk, pill-popping, Pro-Choice co-worker who was also in the building collapse. And, sorry Ben, the real Megan died yesterday, which just proves that boys apparently don't pay attention to anything important since both Ben and Liz's boyfriend ID'ed each of them incorrectly.

Ben could probably identify each StormTrooper in the Galactic Empire but has no idea who the chick is that he's been dating for years. He immediately breaks down, not because she's dead, but because if he'd known yesterday he still could've gone to the movies.

I'll give them the benefit of the doubt though, because I think the same thing happened to my ex-boyfriend when he started sleeping with someone else and then kicked me out of his house. He actually thought that she was me and that I was an imposter even though I'm young and supple and his new girlfriend looks like Grendel if it shopped at Ann Taylor.

Cuddy says that even though Liz is alive and doesn't know that her boyfriend is also retarded, this proves that House needs a team because Cameron wouldn't have accepted that Ben didn't know anything about his girlfriend (except, um, what she looks like), Foreman would've tried to debunk House's multiple diagnoses, and Chase would've tried to debunk Foreman if they were alone together in the employee locker room.

The show concludes with House--recovered guitar in hand--addressing a room of students who are all vying for the chance to be his new team. I can't wait until next week. And neither can my new Springer Spaniel.

Note: This was also posted at DeadOn. I will post recaps on both sites so that my 8 readers may enjoy them too.

I Genuflect In Their Presence

I have seen the face of the Lord, and that face is covered in chewy, chocolatey, trans-fatty goodness.

Eating one (or two, or nine) Oreo Cakesters is probably a lot like making out with George Clooney:

Sure it's amazing but it's hard to totally enjoy it because you know you're just going to get hurt in the end?

When they're gone, you feel so hollow and alone and you can't understand why you fell so hard?

You wipe your tear-streaked face with the sleeve of the t-shirt you got for free after you opened a new checking account and curl into a ball on the sofa, cursing the day you ever met them and wondering how those crumbs got on your scalp and feeling more than a little like you are going to be sick but maybe if you just stay very, very still and listen to Spandau Ballet you'll feel better? I knoooooooow this. Much! Is truuuue! God. I'm so alone.*

*Author's note: This scenario is probably only applicable to Oreo Cakesters. Because there's no way I'd let George Clooney see me in a Wachovia shirt.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

But What About Devils and/or Dust?

"This is just a straight-up, rockin' out Springsteen album. None of that acoustic shit, no songs about hookers or poor people". -- One of my friends, reviewing his advance (read: illegally downloaded) copy of Bruce Springsteen's Magic.

Well, now I can't wait for the release date.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Panama! Panamaaa-aaa-aaa!

Is it a tribute to Van Halen? A celebration of Helvetica? Or an homage to Experimental Jetset?

Who cares, it's one sweet-ass shirt, perfect for wearing to any of the fall Van Halen reunion concerts, to weddings, job interviews, or--in my case--just around the house as you build a pillow fort and eat Teddy Grahams.

Purchase your very own shirt here. Please. I'm so hungry.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Multiple Choice

Please choose the correct answer.

I got this supersexxxy black eye and fly-ass puncture wound by:

A) Freestyle battle rapping
B) Rescuing a labradoodle puppy from a fire
C) Building a playground at the Children's Home
D) Hitting myself in the face with a picture frame