Never underestimate the power of tardiness!

So I was supposed to do a reading of a new play today. The piece is pretty good and it was a good opportunity to work with some interesting people and make some connections. But what I didn't know when I signed on was that it was in Brooklyn. I hardly ever go to Brooklyn. That's not outer borough snobbery (hello, I live in Queens!), I just rarely have occasion to go there.

Trying to get from Brooklyn to Queens is the one trip where New York's subway system starts to resemble those in the rest of the country. Though they're on the same land mass, and I could walk from one to the other in about half an hour and drive it in five or ten minutes (just over the border, I mean, not necessarily to my final destination), taking the subway involves making a big "U" through Manhattan and crossing the same river twice, or taking the one highly unreliable route that only goes between the two eastern boroughs.

So, being the good, punctual stage manager that I am (and since no one actually told me what time they wanted me there, simply what time we were starting), I decided to aim to be 30-45 minutes early. And since I had no idea how long it would take me to get there, especially on a Sunday, I decided to allow an hour and a half to get there, more if I was being really good.

Well, I wasn't really good, or terribly good at all. Even nine hours after I had gone to bed I didn't want to get out of it. I figured I was okay since I had allowed for so much extra time, but with the snow and everything I wasn't exactly looking forward to the commute.

Then, as I was putting my jacket on -- about 45 minutes after I was supposed to have put my jacket on -- the phone rang. The director is stuck in Philadelphia so we have to cancel the reading. It's amazing how easily we regress to elementary school. No matter how much I may be looking forward to whatever it is I have to do, my immediate reaction to news like this is always "Woohoo! Snow Day!!!"

And if I'd been on schedule I'd have been underground and halfway (or maybe even all the way) to Brooklyn by the time the call came! So clearly the moral of the story is that oversleeping is good!

Now the only question is what do I do with my newly free afternoon? Laundry? Projects around the house? Curl up under a blanket and play video games? Uh-oh, I think we have a winner!

Make him go away!

For someone who's left SNL, Chris Kattan sure shows up A LOT!

It has definitely gone too far!

First Faustus posts this link on his blog, then last night I'm walking up 6th Avenue, near Radio City Music Hall, where throngs of tourists have just left the Christmas Spectacular, and I overhear a family -- middle-aged father and mother, early teenage daughter -- of obvious out-of-towners discussing and debating the meaning of the word metrosexual. They were all familiar with the term but the mother wasn't quite sure what it meant, and the father kind of got it wrong. The daughter, clearly exasperated but not the least bit embarrassed, started to set them, um, straight.

Then other noises on the street drowned them out, and the next thing I heard was the daughter, now sounding completely horrified, say: "No, Dad, you are not a metrosexual. Jeez!"

That's when I ran.




On an administrative note, I'm now quite happy with the state of my template. I still value your feedback, but you can ignore the "It's not 100%" caveat in yesterday's post.

Oy

I've had issues with my sidebar formatting since I started this blog, and apparently it's been acting screwy on certain browsers, so today I decided to choose a new template with a different style sidebar that's fixed and would solve all these problems.

Blogger makes this fairly easy, and I figured I'd just spend a little bit of time cutting-and-pasting my content and some font and color information into the new template and all would be well.

Three hours later...no gym, nothing on my to-do list anywhere near done...and I'm still not 100% satisfied with it. But it's good enough to publish.

Reader feedback is, as always, encouraged.

Finally!!

After last night's bout of severe grumpiness and sugar overload, I felt the need to be productive, but didn't want to do anything actually resembling work. This seemed like the perfect time to attack the three-foot stack of magazines on my coffee table. I only subscribe to three magazines: two relatively fluffy weeklies and a computer-related monthly. Somehow, around this time last year, I got hopelessly behind on Time Out New York. I don't have a year's worth left, but I've been reading them very slowly and there's at least five months' worth all out of order. I seem to be unable to just throw them away, and I've made a self-imposed rule that I may not buy an new books, or even crack any of the ones I have until I've eliminated The Stack.

It's largely the principle that I've paid for these things, I shouldn't just toss them out. But also, TONY tends to review smaller films and books that don't get much coverage in more mainstream press (not like it's some little indie rag itself, but it's not the Times either), so I like to at least flip through the reviews for ideas for my Netflix queue and Amazon wish list. I'm mostly turning pages, stopping only occasionally, taking care not to get sucked in to things like reviews of Pirates of the Caribbean or Dance of the Vampires and the completely outdated TV sections.

This is the perfect task to tackle in front of the TV, so I finally -- finally! -- started watching 24. Watching the season premiere, I realized why I've been so lackluster about it. Last season was kind of boring, and after a while logic pretty much vanished. I got nervous when they said they had five hours to stop the disease. Because, like last season, that means they've got to pull a plot out of their asses for the remaining nineteen. The new boy is hot, there's a Buffy survivor, and it seems unlikely that Kim will run into any wild cats working at CTU. But it was slow and I found I didn't care much about even the characters I used to care about.

But then something happened around hour two or three: It got good. Really good. Exposition over with, the pace picked up and I found myself completely engaged and fascinated. I'd planned to watch two episodes, three tops, and go to bed at a reasonable hour. I watched five, then came back for the remaining two this morning. So far, the plot is moving forward interestingly without getting bogged down in "We have X hours left!" stuff. The twists have been both unexpected and logical, a combination that was sorely lacking last season. The characters have taken shape and even Kim isn't annoying (though in merely seven hours she's already been duct taped to a chair). The acting is top-notch.

My only complaint is that, as much as I like Dennis Haysbert and DB Woodside, I'm completely bored by the presidential plot-line. Just couldn't care less about it. And I actually hope it doesn't become intertwined with the CTU plot like it did last season, because that just wouldn't make much sense. Wait, I lied, I have another complaint -- do these very important government offices not have any kind of formality or protocol? Maybe I've been watching too much West Wing and Alias, but I don't buy that everyone at CTU, regardless of rank, is on a first name basis with everyone else. And even if the President's chief of staff (or whatever it is DB Woodside does) is also his brother, when talking to other people, would he ever refer to him as "David?" It's a little thing, but I find the lack of credibility disturbing.

So there ya go, I'm all caught up. I think perhaps I've been using the Explorer 8000 Home Entertainment Server as an excuse to avoid doing anything else, telling myself I "have to" get through all the stored shows. The pitfall of never having nothing on TV to watch. Hopefully I'll be better about that now. Until the mid-season replacements start anyway....

I knew it!

The world really is against me today. I suppose I borught it on myself by tempting fate and mentioning it yesterday. I just turned on the radio, only for a few minutes while I did some stuff in the kitchen, and there it was: "The Christmas Shoes." Musical critique aside, the lyrics are even creepier than I remembered. How exactly does the little boy know his mom will meet Jesus tonight. Awfully specific, if you ask me. Shoes or not, that child is up to no good. (Okay, that lyric link says "if," but I'd swear he was singing "when.") But I'm glad the singer is reminded of the true meaning of Christmas: the slow death of loved ones.

I think I'll follow those cinnamon buns with the half-pint of Uncanny Cashew ice cream in my freezer.

To wash out my brain, I threw my favorite modern holiday song on iTunes: "Do They Know It's Christmas" by Band Aid. I'm such an 80s nerd. It makes me happy. Though it's always bothered me a little, even as a kid -- I suspect the starving Ethiopians don't know it's Christmas, and don't much care, what with them not being Christian and all. And "tonight thank God it's them instead of you?" Nice, Bono, way to get into the spirit of charity.

The world is against me today

The day began (admittedly, not until after 1:00) with an phone call from "Unknown" on my cell. If I'm not expecting a call I generally don't answer those. I checked the message as soon as the phone beeped again, and it was Temp Agency #1, calling with an assignment that starts tomorrow and goes through the end of the month. Wow, way to plan ahead, folks. But whatever, work is good. I immediately called back, got voicemail, and said I was available.

Then Boy left here to go to his place, and he called me from the street to tell me my mailman had accosted him in the lobby, chastising him for not saying hello. We assume my mailman assumed he was me, as we're often seen together and as far as I know I'm the only white man who lives above the first floor of my building. Fair enough, but still sort of weird and rude. I've had troubles with my mailman before. He's usually very friendly. Too friendly. I haven't seen him in a while but he'll often comment on what's in my mail, or say things like "Have you been out of town?" based on what he sees there. The most frequent topics of conversation have been my unemployment checks (or lack thereof, if I'm working) and the frequency with which my Netflix are delivered. It's not like these conversations are sinister, but they are pretty inappropriate. We all know our mail carriers have a pretty good window into our business; I'd really prefer that they not acknowledge that so openly! On top of that, I'm convinced he sometimes just skips my building, and I often have tricky issues with packages or package notices.

So anyway, I figured since he was down there, this was a good time to go get my mail. I didn't have a clear idea of what I was going to say to him -- I guess I wanted to ask if he'd skipped us yesterday, as if he'd ever admit it if he had -- and I was caught off guard when he asked I'd gotten my package yesterday. Well, it had been the day before, but I said yes. He was asking because he'd left it with the super. "I rang you twice and you rang me twice but you didn't come down." He was referring to the buzzer on the door to my building, which unfortunately doesn't have an intercom, so if the bell rings in my apartment I simply have to let people in or not, but I have no way to communicate with them. Not the safest system, but what can I do? I explained this to him, and said I expected whomever it was to come up if they were actually buzzing for me (and not coming to shove takeout menus under the doors or one of the kids who lives in the building pushing every button), and he said "Oh, I don't go up," and then tried to end the conversation with an abrupt "Have a good day."

"Wait," I said, "how was I supposed to know it was you?"

"Well, I got a note saying you'd be home." This is true, I'd left the package slip from earlier asking for delivery.

"And I was home, but when you rang the bell how was I supposed to know to come downstairs? Aren't you supposed to come up, and deliver my package?"

He claimed that federal law prohibits him from going above the second stair landing. He sounded pretty convincing, but I'm skeptical, having never lived below the third floor before and had packages delivered to my door.

"Okay, well, I didn't know. Thanks for leaving it with the super."

In writing this conversation seems pretty benign, and I can't figure out how to convey the mailman's hostility. He seemed to be angry with me from the moment I stepped into the lobby, and he treated this whole exchange as if I was the rudest, most ignorant person on earth. Adding to the strangeness, I got a form from the unemployment people, but no check. Since both form and check are issued when I file my weekly claim, they usually arrive together. I'm sure the check will come tomorrow, but I started to wonder if maybe he'd held my check hostage because he was mad at me...or mad at Boy who he thought was me for not saying hello to him. It's ridiculous, of course, but we never really think about the power people like postal workers have. They carry our money, our bills, all kinds of vital items and correspondence. I don't care to think about how they can fuck those things up, either by accident or out of some kind of bizarre malice.

So by now an hour had passed since the phone call from Temp Agency #1, and I was totally rattled from the encounter with Hostile Mailman. I was getting cranky that I hadn't heard from the Agency. I was assuming they'd called someone else right after me (while I was listening to the voicemail) and that person had answered the phone and gotten the job. Which is entirely fine, but since we were talking about an assignment for tomorrow a return call didn't seem unreasonable to expect. So I called back, and the receptionist told me the woman who'd called me was on another call. She asked if I wanted her voicemail, and I said no because I'd already left a message, and explained that I was just checking in about tomorrow's job. She put me hold again and came back to say "She'll definitely call you back." Okay.

Shortly after this, Temp Agency #2 called. This is the one I work for most of the time, at Huge Financial Company. They have a day and a half of work for me next week. I tell her I'll have to call back in an hour or so, since a full two weeks of worth is clearly better than that.

Tick tock. 4:15 and no word from Agency #1. I called again, and the receptionist tells me the assignment was cancelled. Okay, that's understandable, but if you know I'm holding off on making plans for tomorrow, is it so hard to pick up the phone and let me know? It's bad enough I actually do spend so much of my time being a slug on the couch, I'd like it if these people assumed I had a life instead.

So I called back Agency #2 to accept the other gig. Shockingly, nothing went wrong with that. But then my manager decides to tell me, "by the way," that a department I've worked for several times told her they don't want to have me back because the last time I was there I wore cargo pants. The hell? Now, I only have one pair of cargo pants that I would ever wear to a corporate job, so I know exactly which ones they were. They're nice. The job is a concierge position, and it involves sitting behind a desk all day -- where no one can see my pants. And of course I was wearing a shirt and tie, which was all I was told the dress code involved (most of the company is far more casual). Now, every rational person I've told this story to so far has said, "Why didn't they just tell you they weren't happy with your pants?" Duh! I come from a world where people give notes on your job performance, and then they fire you if you don't take them. I mean, my pants??? If I'd known it was going to affect my future employment opportunities, I would have gone to the Gap on my lunch break and picked up some new ones!

I'll be the first to admit that my attitude at Huge Financial Company has not been great of late. I'm only there a couple of times a month, and I usually haven't slept enough, and I hate it. I try hard to keep any of that from affecting the quality of my work, but there's no question that I've been lazy and crabby when I'm there. But no, they don't have a problem with my punctuality or my attitude and certainly not my work, it's my pants. It's extra-frustrating because I've been there before and they've asked for me back, so they must like me, yet they don't give me a chance to fix what was obviously a mistake?

My manager at Temp Agency #2 was cool about it, and agreed with me that it's a little ridiculous. It's a big company, so there will be more work. But it just underscores very clearly all the things I hate about temping in particular, and the corporate world in general.

So, taking all of the above into account, and the fact that all I had to eat today was a Lean Cuisine pizza, it's okay that I just ate an entire box of Entenmann's cinnamon buns, right? What if they're "Light?"

Save Carnivale!

I'm not sure how legit this is, but this survey is supposedly being circulated by HBO to determine the fate of Carnivale. I could have sworn I'd read somewhere that they've already renewed the show, but why take chances? If you like those wacky freaks, go take the survey, it only takes 5 minutes and never asks for an email or anything that would suggest it's just a fiendish marketing/spamming ploy.

Addressing the Situation

I've kept a computerized address book for years, since long before I actually got a Palm Pilot. When I'm working, I generally put all of my colleagues in my personal organizer because it's much easier to deal with than a contact sheet. Because I freelance, this practice has resulted in an address book with over 1,100 entries. All too often I spot someone's name in the book and I have absolutely no idea who it is. I have to look at the little note I've put in there, and even then I often don't really remember.

Recently, I switched from Palm Desktop to Apple's built-in address book. It's a pretty easy conversion, but any time you change this kind of software there are a few things that don't import exactly right and need to be adjusted. As I've been going through and fixing stuff, I realized that now that I'm syncing my Palm with the new application, my Palm Desktop file will remain untouched. So I can safely delete all those people who I haven't thought about in years, but the compulsive anally retentive side of me is still satisfied knowing that I have a record of them somewhere.

This has been an interesting process. I'm actually evaluating people I've known and deciding if I should "keep" them. If I haven't talked to you in more than two years and you don't have e-mail, you're definitely out. Then there are various celebrities who probably have no idea who I am anymore, but I've hung on to them in case someone might look through my Palm and be impressed. Yeah, 'cause that happens all the time. I suppose a better reason to keep them is in case I need something from them someday, but see above re: I was a PA for them five years ago and they won't remember me. Gone. If I don't actually remember who someone is, clearly they're out too. Then it gets trickier...might I want to send an e-mail to this person even though I haven't in forever? What's the harm in keeping them around just in case? On the other hand, what's the benefit? I thought it would be a depressing experience, contemplating long-lost acquaintances, but it's actually kind of liberating. There's something oddly comforting about accepting that some people are simply of the past and letting go of them. Besides, with the exception of a couple of people from high school for whom I only have outdated information for their parents, we're mostly talking about "that guy who subbed for two days on light board for that show." Or "that director who was a raving lunatic and could never remember your name even when she saw you every day." Hardly a big emotional experience.

Still, I feel like I'm doing a good job of eliminating clutter. I like eliminating clutter. Of course, electronic clutter is far less insidious than physical cutter, and given the state of my desk and my living room right now that's what I really should be tackling. So I suspect this project is really just another form of procrastination. Damn, I knew it was too good to be true.

(Christanukah) Spirit Fingers!

My usual Scroogishness seems to have vanished. Maybe it's the great Thanksgiving I had, or the snow storm last weekend, or just the fact that it's finally December and all the hoopla seems appropriate, but I am fully in the holiday spirit. Constant Christmas music in stores and on the radio is actually making me happy (though to be fair, I've so far avoided hearing the Waitresses' "Happy Christmas," or "The Christmas Shoes" this year), I haven't felt drowned in a sea of tourists, and I'm generally chipper and excited for present giving and getting. I got really ambitious and I need to check my list twice but I think all my Christanukah shopping is done and all that's left is the wrapping. The cards I ordered from Broadway Cares came today, and I'll probably deal with them next week. God help me, I'm jolly.

What the hell is wrong with me???

What would we do, baby, without us?

So I'm watching one of the Family Ties episodes I DVRed over the weekend, and I realized that "And there ain't no nothing we can't love each other through," while not grammatically correct, actually does mean what it's supposed to mean. "No nothing" would be "anything," and of course "ain't" means "isn't," so it actually all works out. It's a triple negative, and it cancels itself out!

Sha la la la...

Average Nooooooooooo!

(Warning: This post contains spoilers...but not 'til the end.)

Okay, what the fuck? Did they not screen properly or was this part of the plan all along? If one of the Average Joes is a millionaire, doesn't that make him not at all average?

I also got really tired of the voice-over about "looks vs. charm." Because it's not like Adam is bad-looking. Sure, he could lose a couple of pounds and his teeth are too big for his mouth, but he's not like those guys who were eliminated in the first round. (Adam on kissing Melana tonight: "My stupid big teeth got in the way." At least he knows!) On the other hand, what is it about these shows that makes people write lame-ass poems?

I've been a little confused over the weeks by how long the taping of this show lasted, and tonight we found out it was five weeks. Isn't that a really long time, or do I just watch a lot of really low-rent reality TV? Boy Meets Boy was only a week, I think. Who are these people that they can pick up and leave their lives for five weeks? Especially without the promise of a million dollar prize like on Survivor?

At one point, Melana said (in voice-over), "After the way I felt on the first night, I would have never guessed that I could have such strong feelings for someone --" and there was an incredibly obvious cut. I want to know what she said next! 'Cause again, if it's not "with humongous teeth," I'm not sure what she could have said about Adam.

Towards the end, there was a montage of all the guys, and someone looked at the camera and said "Remember Wally!" Um, I don't remember Wally. At all.

Every time Jason opened his mouth in this episode he seemed dumber and dumber. "When we first met, it was all superficial, but now it's, like, deeper." Yeah, like when you first meet anyone, and then spend a bunch of time with her?

The Rocky montage of Adam working out was just degrading. I know I shouldn't expect anything more, but they've stayed away from that for the last couple of weeks. Speaking of staying away, where was Kathy Griffin for the first 90 minutes of this episode? Hello, she's the best thing about the show!

Okay, there's no avoiding it, on to the final decision. Or as I like to call it, Melana is a Big Stupid-Head.

"To me he's the total package," said Melana of Jason. Um, apparently Melana likes her packages dumb, living with their parents and taking 8 years to finish undergrad.

To be fair, if Melana is what she appeared to be (and given what I'm about to say, that's not a fair assumption to make) then I can only assume the producers/editors were playing us this entire episode. Every time we saw Adam he was charming and sweet and he and Melana were getting along fabulously, and whenever we saw Jason he was dull, kind of a schmuck (I know I don't know much about the mating habits of the heterosexus americanus, but I think if you're actively trying to get your date drunk, maybe you should be a little subtle and not order her two drinks at once), and seemed to have little to talk about with Melana. (There was plenty of kissing with both couples, so "nothing to talk about" isn't some kind of euphemism for constant sex.) Yet I'd like to believe, from what we've been shown of Melana, that she truly felt more chemistry with Jason, but we just weren't allowed to see it. On the other hand, she rationalized her choice with this: (I'm paraphrasing here) "Adam has stronger feelings for me than I do for him so I'm sending him home." My translation: "Jason and I are both lukewarm about each other, and that makes for a much better couple." The hell? I guess there's some kind of logic to that, not wanting to hurt Adam, but if she likes him too...it just sounds weird to me.

This whole episode was clearly designed to mislead the viewer. First the unbalanced portrayal of the guys, and then they broke with dating show convention and showed the acceptance before the dumping. This was torture, because we had to watch Adam get dumped knowing he was getting dumped, when he thought he was getting on the prize plane. And I'm convinced that someone wrote her speech to Jason, because it was cleverly constructed to make us think she was rejecting him at first.

It's funny, at the beginning of all this I was really harsh on Adam, and tonight I was not only rooting for him, I found myself feeling actively hostile towards Melana for not picking him ("It tore me up, literally, to send Adam home." Really? Literally? Then I wanna see BLOOD.) That has a lot to do with the manipulation of the producers, and for that I tip my imaginary hat to them. Because let's face it, I and many other people who should know better were totally hooked. And that's just good TV.

Is it totally wrong then that I'm looking forward to Average Joe 2? It looks like they managed to find a bunch of guys even dweebier and creepier than the first set. It's really hard to believe it's not Fox.

The Great Work Begins

"Imagination can't create anything new, can it? It only recycles bits and pieces from the world and reassembles them into visions.... So when we think we've escaped the unbearable ordinariness and, well, untruthfulness of our lives, it's really only the same old ordinariness and falseness rearranged into the appearance of novelty and truth. Nothing unknown is knowable.... The world. Finite...."
-Tony Kushner

I saw both parts of Angels in America twice on Broadway, and again on tour when I was living in Boston. The New York production was nearly perfect, with a nearly perfect cast, so despite all the great press and my faith that the script could withstand anything and the wonderfulness of all the actors involved, I was a little nervous about the HBO film.

Of course, I needn't have been. There's not really anything I can say that hasn't already been said by every critic in America, so I won't kvell too much here. If I have any real criticism it's that there were a couple of directorial touches that seemed to bog the pace down in order to remind us that we were watching a film, not a play. I didn't think it was necessary. At no point did the talky scenes seem static to me, yet occasionally there'd be weird shots of the cosmos or camera tricks. Pretty, but superfluous in my opinion.

But hey, I'm talking about maybe one minute in a three hour film, so why quibble? And some of the more cinematic gestures were utterly perfect. I actually got a lump in my throat before a line of dialogue was even spoken. Bethesda Terrace has been my favorite spot in New York City since I was a kid, and seeing Angels on stage and learning the story of the Angel of the Waters only made me love it more. The shot of the fountain in the opening sequence of the movie broke my heart a little...in a good way.

It's been a long time, I think, since television has done something really Good. I mean Good in the larger sense, not just quality work. Bringing a play like Angels to a mass audience is definitely Good. Great, even. The Messenger Has Arrived. Who knew she would actually take the form of HBO?

TV Wrap-Up, 11/25 - 12/8

I don't really have much to say about the TV of the last two weeks. All of my regular shows were pretty good, which tends to make for a boring post.

No, I'm really excited about the show I discovered at 2 AM on Friday night on VH1: Super Secret TV Formulas. It's genius. Among the segments we caught were "Gay But Not Gay," about characters who are clearly queer (Paul Lynde on Bewitched, Jm J. Bullock on Too Close For Comfort, Niles Crane) but weren't allowed to be; "Evil Twins," which is obvious but had the brilliance to include KITT vs. KARR; "Add A Kid," which featured an interview with the actor who played Oliver on The Brady Bunch, who still has the same haircut; and an entire piece about the Very Special Episode of Family Ties in which Alex gets hooked on diet pills (this of course pales in comparison to the Very Special Episode of Saved By The Bell in which Jessie gets hooked on diet pills, but I suppose that's less mainstream).

There should be a segment called "Talking Head Nostalgia Clip Shows," which seems to be all that VH1 does nowadays. But hey, they seem to be working. I could watch these things all day (and have, thanks to evil marathons). The best thing about SSTVF: No Hal Sparks.

In an odd twist of accidental synergy, Nick At Nite ran a weekend-long marathon of Family Ties, and I DVRed all three of the Tom Hanks episodes. It's nice to be reminded that there was a time when he didn't annoy the fuck out of me. Now if only someone would have the good sense to rerun Bosom Buddies (Wendy Jo Sperber, we hardly knew ye).

In other, less gay TV, The West Wing made me very happy. I was bitching about something in the opening scene (I'm so over the four years of "My father/husband/boyfriend doesn't have time for me because he's the President/Chief of Staff/Communications Director" whining -- hello, running the country!) when the opening credits started and Stockard Channing appeared, apparently restored to a regular, and I stopped mid-word and did a little dance. Boy then sang a song he likes to call "Bi-Polar Boyfriend." Stockard makes everything better though, and this was the first really good episode of the season. Last week's was good too, but this was better. A near-perfect balance of personal and political, drama and comedy. And Bartlets talking to each other, which is always exciting.

The last two Aliases have been fabulous too. It's curious that the best TV this season seems to be happening right after sweeps. Though I'm still dying for the return of Lena Olin, it was nice to see some actors I like resurface after a while, and there was a fight that ran a pretty close second to the Best Girlfight Ever. As usual, questions were answered that only lead to new questions, but it's all starting to get very interesting and loop back around to the intrigue of first season, and I do love a good complicated mythology!

My only complaint about Carnivale is that it's over! So unfair! Such a cliffhanger! I'm too lazy to use the spoiler blog today, so I'll be good and avoid saying anything about plot. But it was exciting and fun and had all this forward momentum...and because it's HBO we'll have to wait 9 months for a new episode. I hate them.

Survivor has been consistently good this season, and the last two weeks were no exception. I'm intensely frustrated by the behavior of many of the contestants, and if I have to watch John and his stupid gang signs and ratty buck teeth for one more week I may have to kill myself, but I suppose that's what makes Survivor good TV.

And I really thought The O.C. couldn't get any better, or Adam Brody couldn't get any cuter. But no, there they go. For the record, I've been referring to the holiday season as "Christanukah" for years, long before Seth's little "Christmakah" spiel, but it was still very very cute. It's just good, fun television. What I like best about it is how they always keep comedy in it but rarely at the expense of the main characters. Like, they're funny people so funny things happen, but it's never the goofy David Silver Is An Idiot kind of plot. So far anyway. I could have done without last week's Gay Dad episode, but they balanced that by having an entirely Luke-free episode this week.

On a related note, the cover of this week's Entertainment Weekly managed to make all four of the "young leads" of The O.C. look terrible, except for Benjamin McKenzie, who looks exactly the same as he always does. This supports my theory that he only has one facial expression.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I just don't like Arrested Development. I tried again last week for Liza. And she was great, and it's nice to see her looking healthy and being funny, but...I'm sorry, I just don't think the show is that funny! Or that interesting. I don't care about any of the characters, and actors who I'll usually happily watch do anything are boring me to tears. I don't think it's earned its smugness or its "wackiness." You have to ground quirks in reality, have to put them in characters who could still be real people, who mean something to the viewer. These people just couldn't, and don't. So to top that off with an attitude of "look how smart and weird we are," in the place of actually writing a compelling plot or, y'know, jokes...frankly I'm a little insulted. And that voiceover is the most annoying thing ever.

And no, I still haven't watched 24. Maybe tomorrow. At this point it's just such a huge time commitment that it's daunting. But I guess I'm still bored from the second half of last season. It's interesting, avoiding spoilers has been incredibly easy. I feel like the press must feel the same way about it as I do.

Two commercials have made me very happy this week, though curiously they're both for Pepsi, a product I usually avoid. In one, a Roomba-like robo-vacuum "eats" a potato chip, and then attacks a man for his Pepsi. It ties in nicely with Boy's fears of secretly-programmed attack Roombas (Roombi?). The other is the one with the sad girl in the hot dog costume, who meets the sad boy in the Pepsi costume. They're both so cute. And it's high time for Blind Mellon's "No Rain" to make a comeback.

In the "Make it stop! Make it stop!" category, the new McDonald's jingle is quite possibly the most horrible thing I've ever heard. Even worse than 1-800-MATTRESS and US Window Factory (on the radio locally).

Of course there was another big TV event this week, but I'll post about that separately in a moment.

Yikes

I was reminded by MAK's rant about theater etiquette yesterday about a conversation overheard at my show last spring. I have no particularly snarky comment about it, I think it speaks for itself.

Man and Woman are reading the ads in the back of their Playbills, talking about shows to see next.

Woman: What about Nine?
Man: We saw the original and didn't like it.
Woman: We did?
Man: Yeah. With Raul Julia.
Woman: Oh, I like him. [pause] What ever happened to him?
Man: He died. Of AIDS, I think.
Woman: Oh. [pause] What ever happened to AIDS?

The Karma Wheel has turned

So, remember the Amazon order that arrived even though it had supposedly never shipped? Well, I got it today. Again. Only as far as Amazon is concerned it was only the first time. Since I called them when I got the first shipment (for those of you just joining us, it was invoiced as complete but was actually missing one CD, and this somehow tricked Amazon's computers into thinking the whole thing hadn't gone out at all) and explained exactly what was going on, and they didn't fix the error when they had the chance, I feel absolutely no guilt or responsibility about keeping the duplicate items. They had ample opportunity to fix the mistake (it took over two weeks for the second box to ship) and didn't do it, why should I have to deal with the hassle and expense of sending it back to them? Especially given all the issues I've had with them lately.

So as I see it, this is my just reward for all the bullshit with Amazon and UPS this fall; the scales are balanced and everybody's happy. And I've got some good Christanukah presents to give out.

Fun With Playlists #2

In keeping with the yesterday's music-themed post, this is a Fun With Playlists combined with a regular post, as the playlist requires some explanation....

Junior year of college I had a girlfriend (shut up all of you, just shut right the hell up) who was, to put it mildly, a raving lunatic. It's flattering to have someone be into you to the point of psychosis and also, you know, utterly terrifying. The same friends who had been so encouraging of us when we got together, saying things like "I think this will be really good for both of you," now all said "Dude, I told you she was crazy." Thanks, guys. I asked her for some space and she actually gave me less of it, and so I broke up with her. This resulted in an even greater lack of space, but now without sex. (Of course as it turns out, I never dated a woman again, so depending on how you want to spin it, I either knew what was coming and made a good choice, or she's responsible for turning me off women completely.)

Anyway, one night there was drama of the sort that can only happen with a bunch of 20-year-old theater majors. Crazy and I had had tickets to a show on campus before we broke up, and we still went together. But after the show there was a party, and while I could handle seeing some Shakespeare with her I didn't want to go out with her afterwards, and neither did any of my friends. So I lied and said I was going home and staying there after the show. When I was back in my room, she called, and there was angst, the details of which I've blocked out. The thing was, I couldn't get her off the phone, and I didn't want to reveal my own lie and tell her I had somewhere to be.

My friends were understandably concerned that I had been killed, and left the party down the block to come find me in my dorm. They tried to get me to come with them, but Nutjob was still making things miserable. I really don't remember what we were talking about, or why I didn't just hang up on her, but I know that it was going in circles and making me very upset.

I never made it to the party, and the next day my friend A.A. gave me a tape entitled "The Adam Must Chill Mix." It was pretty brilliant, and very sweet.

Eventually, things calmed down. This had all happened in March or April, and by the end of the year everyone was happy again (due in no small part to Nutty's graduation). My friends had been incredibly supportive during the whole regrettable episode, and to thank them and say goodbye for the summer I made a sort of reply mixtape, not just for A.A. but for our whole little circle, called "The Adam Has Chilled Mix."

I haven't listened to it in years, but as part of my digital music project I've been making iTunes playlists out of all my mixes. And I couldn't find it!! How could I have lost it? Not that I've listened to it in ages, but still! Fortunately, MCM was just here and she has had it in her car all these years. There's no song list written on it, so I'm listening to it now to make my playlist so I can give it back to her next time she's in town. It's a vastly entertaining trip down memory lane, and it makes me wish I still had some of my tapes from high school.

That the mix is so clearly the work of a 20-year-old sentimental/cynical drama queen is unsurprising. That it's so very very 1996 (picture it: a little show called Friends is gathering steam in its second season, Alanis Morissette tops the pop charts, Stephen Sondheim's Company is on Broadway again, Jim Henson's Labyrinth is ten years old and very popular among people old enough to remember it the first time but only now discovering the joy of watching it an altered state, and we at Tufts produce a mostly white production of Once On This Island (or as we like to call it, "Once On Long Island")) is also to be expected. What kills me is that it's SO GAY! I mean, sure, I was "bi" then (and ironically so was Batty, but she's since decided that she's only into boys...hm, we do have something in common!) but this tape is gayer than I am NOW. I let you judge for yourselves...if you promise not to make too much fun of me:

I'll Be There For You - The Rembrandts
Magic Dance - David Bowie
Rainbow Connection - Kermit the Frog
Mama Will Provide - from Once On This Island
Hand In My Pocket - Alanis Morissette
If I Had $1,000,000 - Barenaked Ladies
Total Eclipse of the Heart - Bonnie Tyler
A Boy Like That - Selena (from a single many of us got for free promoting a terrifying album of pop "stars" covering songs from West Side Story)
Blood and Fire - Indigo Girls
Story of My Life - from Hello Again
With A Little Help From My Friends - Joe Cocker
Some song by an a capella group that sounds like a hymn but is really about sex
Alive and Kicking - Simple Minds
Side By Side/What Would We Do Without You - from Company
Take a Chance On Me - ABBA
Underground - David Bowie
Nobody Told Me - John Lennon
Don't You Want Me - Human League
Until The End of the World - U2
I'm Going to Go Back There Someday - Gonzo
Old Friends - from Merrily We Roll Along

To the Metropolitain Transit Authority:

If you're doing work inside a subway station that involves jackhammers, work that requires the men doing the job to wear protective earwear and goggles and face masks, perhaps it would be a good idea to close off that area of the station, and to post signs informing the public that the train that stops there is not, in fact running, so that several people don't have to stand around breathing in dust and getting their eardrums pounded while waiting for a train that is never going to come. Because really, that just doesn't seem safe. I think it's possible you were making announcements over the PA, but gee, I couldn't really hear anything over the jackhammers. Would it be so difficult to put up some caution tape, maybe post a staff person by the stairs, have the construction workers let people know that there's been a service change? I suppose you thought it was obvious, but it really wasn't. The work was only being done on one side of the platform, leaving the other track free for service. And since this is the last stop on the train (or the first if you will), there's usually not a very long wait before something arrives to at least sit on in the station, so it wasn't unreasonable for the other would-be passengers and I to assume that we wouldn't be waiting in the dust cloud for long. Moreover, it wasn't unreasonable for us to assume that if the platform was open, there was no danger. Only the platform shouldn't have been open, should it? I actually kind of wish a chunk of concrete had hit me somewhere so I could sue you. But alas, my only recourse is to blog about you.

Whining and Beauty

I was going to wait for Boy to buy the new Rufus Wainwright CD so I could copy it from him (and then send a nice contribution to the record company, because god forbid anyone pirate music like they've been doing since the audio cassette was invented), but I saw it on iTunes for $9.99 and figured what the hell. It's not something I feel a great need to have liner notes for, so why not hop on the digital music bandwagon fully, instead of just one song at a time?

Buying the album was great fun (because I'm a gigantic nerd), but unfortunately listening to it is less so.

I want to like Rufus, I really do. And not just because he's openly gay and really cute, but because he writes beautiful songs. So why does he have to go and mess them up by singing them? His voice is so awful. I mean, he hits the notes, but he whines and mumbles his way through everything like he's in pain. I bought his first album and when I didn't like it I figured that would be the end of it. But all the reviews of the new CD mentioned how his voice has improved, and I really like his tracks on the Moulin Rouge soundtrack and Wig in a Box, so I figured I'd give him another try. And aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee my ears! Why can't he just write songs for other people to record? People who can sing.

People like Boy George, perhaps? My other recent CD purchase was George's 1995 solo album Cheapness and Beauty. As much as I love Boy George, I have to confess my collection is scant, limited to the Culture Club VH1 Storytellers album and its accompanying "greatest moments" disc, and the band's reunion album. This is my first George solo CD, and I was drawn to it because it has my favorite song from Taboo on it. And it's faaaaaaabulous. It seems to be a sort of companion album to his autobiography, and it has songs about Leigh Bowery, Marylin, Phillip Salon, and a really scathing little ballad called "Unfinished Business" which I can only assume is about Jon Moss. The lyrics are beautiful and the music has at times a rawness and at times a grandeur (wonderfully overwrought string sections) quite unlike the packaged pop of early Culture Club. But you can clearly hear the same voice in the writing, and of course in the voice. It's out of print, which I think is a bit of a crime. It's readily available used, but (and I mean this in all sincerity, unlike my snarky comment about bootlegging above) it's a shame George no longer gets royalties from this. Not like he needs the money, but... I won't pretend I don't enjoy a good bit of current pop, Britney and all, this is the first CD I've bought in a while that isn't a cast album that's made me really excited about music, and I think it's unfortunate that it's 8 years old and no longer being made. Anyway, I recommend it to all. And Rufus...well, I guess Rufus is just an acquired taste I've not yet acquired.

DUFF: More than just the beer on The Simpsons

Okay, it's totally weird that I'm blogging three times in one day after not doing so for a week, but MCM just told me how very disappointed in me she is because I didn't write about Average Joe. I was going to wait and do a big TV post when I was all caught up, and frankly I'm a little disappointed in myself that it was the very first thing I watched from last week when I got home, but here it is anyway...because no one likes MCM when she's angry.

I actually watched last week's and this week's episodes together, so I'm not quite sure what happened when. I thought two-and-a-half straight hours of AJ would be painful, but the fact is that this has slowly evolved into the Best Dating Show EVER. It's truly amazing to me how the producers continue to come up with twists that are actually both original and surprising, and how the men continue to make complete and utter asses of themselves apparently without the aid of unfair tricks or editing.

I hate not rooting for the Average Joes, but man do they SUCK! John, my once-favorite, now wigs me the hell out. I'm kind of proud of how apt my "Dawson" nickname has turned out to be though. This guy just needs to chill on the "I'm in love with her" stuff. Sure, I've had crushes I got all melodramatic about, but not since high school! (Okay, that's a big lie...college.) I just feel like by the time you're 26 you should recognize that if you barely know someone, you're probably not in love with them. No doubt Melana has a lot going for her and is easy to fall for, but you do not want to tell a girl you've been on one date with that every time she looks in your general direction your heart skips a beat and you feel the heat of your connection to her. Dude, that song you sang on your date? Creeped her out! And me too. And it was all downhill from there. And now you're gone. I really hope he watches the tapes and learns something, because few things are more depressing to me than pathetic losers with potential.

Even my boy Adam (not to be confused with my Boy, Adam) is pissing me off. He was all upset that Melana picked one of the new guys over him...even though a) this is a GAME, and b) he was the only one there who she hasn't gone out with. Of course she'd want to get to know all the guys, that's why she's there. I mean, okay, you want to play the game too and get as much time with her as you can, but he's acting all offended, like it was some big personal insult. When to me it seems only fair that she would give everyone the same opportunity for one-on-one time. She made it clear to him that she likes him and he'll get his chance later, and he still went home and sulked. People, you're on television! It's not like you're dating some tramp who's going out with six guys at once...well, actually, it's exactly like that, but that's by design, and you signed up for it. Shut the fuck up.

And Zach...well, we'll just come back to him in a little bit.

As for the new guys, Melana proved her questionable taste by declaring Greasy McScaryhair the best-looking of the bunch, but he backed up MCM and my first impression of him by revealing, quite calmly, his history of stalking and his insane amount of baggage. Mike reassured me that the producers are actually going for a looks vs. personality thing by being as dull as he is pretty. Also, Mike, if you're reading...if you're annoyed that people constantly tell you you look like Evan Marriott, perhaps going on a dating show isn't the best way to combat that.

This leaves us with Jason, who was my favorite of the new guys all along, though that may just be because I suspect I'd have a better chance with him than Melana. I'm apparently not alone in that suspicion, because Melana made up for all her past sins by asking him point-blank if he likes boys. Of course he said no, but what do you expect? I haven't seen much hint of a personality yet, especially when compared to Adam, but he and Melana seem to have a good connection and if she's going to pick one of the pretty boys I want it to be him. More than anything, I like him because he seems to have realistic expectations, and really understands what he's gotten himself into.

Which brings us back to Zach. Like I said, the genius of these producers knows no bounds, and this week's twist was to dress Melana in some extremely convincing makeup (think, as Adam actually did, Fat Monica on Friends) and have her pose as her own cousin to interview the boys. It was a good twist for Melana too, as in addition to the trick they played on the boys, they sent her out into the world for a few hours to see what it's like to not be super-pretty. She seemed to find it enlightening. Fat Melana and another friend of hers (also pretty) interviewed the guys, and most of them didn't make eye-contact with FM. The brilliance of this exercise, though, was the hidden camera in the room where the guys who weren't being interviewed waited. To be fair, they were all kinda being pigs about it, but Zach...well, Zach was Zach. He explained, for the education of the other guys, that all groups of pretty girls had to have a DUFF -- Designated Ugly Fat Friend. "Get in good with the DUFF, and you're in good with the girl." Because he'd been asked a question about sex, he decided FM wanted him. He asked Mike if he'd rather make out with FM or Adam. Adam said he'd rather make out with Zach than FM, which is saying quite a bit since those two despise each other. Then he asked Zach if he had to make out with FM to get Melana, would he do it? Zach said sure, "I'd just make her go like this," and here he got on a table and spread his legs, "and just [bleep] the [bleep] out of her." Oh, Zach.

Of course Melana was shown these tapes (though curiously, the parts we were shown contained no Jason), and was suitably horrified. All the guys showed some prejudice towards FM, but only Zach had been so...well, Zach about it. The horrible part is, he doesn't get it. He swore and ranted his way through his exit interview, and screamed at the producers for "showing her men talking with men, which is totally different from how men are with women!" What, so you're pissed that you can no longer hide the fact that you're a complete asshole? What a tool. "This isn't reality, this is fucking bullshit!" Yeah, keep talking, just in case there's still a woman in America who'd be willing to date you.

That wasn't even the best part though. For me, the best part was when Melana came into the elimination "ceremony" in the fat suit, and proceeded to take it off in front of the guys. And Adam realized what was happening before anyone, and started to cackle with glee. I like that he's both that smart and that malicious. Unlike resentful Zach, he could clearly see the genius of the trick and respect it. Well, and it obviously meant his nemesis was going home.

Man, I love this show. If loving Average Joe is wrong, then I don't want to be right! Just one more week, sadly.... I'll miss you!

Ah, that didn't take long...

So I took two package slips to the post office yesterday, but there were three packages (I recently ordered a whole bunch of holiday gifts on Amazon, including from a couple of Marketplace Sellers, so this is not surprising). The clerk said I'd probably find the third slip at home, and I should ignore it. But I got no mail at all yesterday, furthering my suspicion that my mail carrier sometimes doesn't bother to deliver. Then today I get a slip that doesn't seem to match any of the packages I picked up yesterday. And since I've been home all day I suspect they never tried to deliver anything at all. I'm not too terribly bothered by there being a mystery package waiting for me at the post office, since I'm not in any hurry to have it and can always wait for a second notice before schlepping out there to get it. I'm much more concerned that if this new notice is in fact for a new package, it means I never got the slip for the third one. I mean, is it really that hard to fill out a little yellow card and leave it in my mailbox? You're already making the trip! I think I have to make one of my goals for when I move getting out of this ZIP code.

Mmmm...Pie...

My extended family isn't very close, and my nuclear family consists of only two people who live in the same city and see each other all the time, so Thanksgiving isn't the big deal for us that it is for some. For many years, my mom and I have gone to a restaurant to celebrate. We always have a traditional turkey dinner (and in fact always go to the same place, so it's starting to feel very homey), but even so, purists would balk.

Last year, Boy came with us, and though he was skeptical beforehand, afterwards he pointed out several benefits: You don't have to do any work before getting down to the business of eating; you don't have to clean anything; and there's no danger of hideous over-eating and days of gorging on leftovers. (Whether that last one is a pro or a con is arguable, but we were both on diets last fall.)

This year, however, we went down to Boy's sister's for the weekend. We call Boy's sister the Dessert Queen, and with good reason. She baked five pies (2 pumpkin, apple, cherry and pecan) for ten people (one of whom is a baby and didn't eat much), along with something called Chocolate Delight and a store-bought cheesecake that were already in the house. And I brought my cookies, which we all agreed were appropriate as a breakfast food because they contained oatmeal.

Needless to say, it was a thoroughly wonderful holiday, and I'm still a little appalled by how much I ate. Though I'd met almost everyone present before, this was my first major time spent with Boy's family. Fortunately, Boy is not one of those people who you suspect was left in a basket on the doorstep by aliens, and his family is as cool and fun as he is. While flipping channels on Wednesday night, Boy was more than a little horrified when I got into an in-depth conversation with his two sisters about The O.C. I think what sent him over the edge was all the drooling over Adam Brody, who was extra-cute in last week's episode. What can I say? I don't think of myself as very flaming, but there are definitely moments, usually TV-related, when I become a teenage girl. And if it gets me in good with the family, so much the better!

The two days we spent in Virginia pretty much revolved around sleeping, eating, and playing with Boy's almost-3-year-old niece. This, by the way, settles the debate over whom the world revolves around. It is most definitely her. I'm frankly jealous of anyone who can command so much attention, to say nothing of the fact that she's required to sleep in the middle of the day (actually, I found myself napping at the same time she did as the house went quiet). There was also an astonishingly stupid and annoying dog, and a fabulous cat who I'm told got more attention from me than he's gotten in years. And did I mention pie?

On Friday, Boy proved his Best Boyfriend Ever status (not that it needed proving) by surprising me with a late anniversary present of a hotel room for the night. In addition to the obvious activities not suitable for this blog, this involved more eating, as getting room service for breakfast seemed like a moral imperative.

The rest of the weekend was spent staying with a friend of Boy's from high school (we also met up with a friend of mine from high school, as DC seems to be the place second to New York that people are gravitating to), and exploring the city a little bit. We didn't go crazy with the touristy stuff, as Boy used to live there and we were both more interested in seeing people and continuing to eat, but I did have a couple of goals. It's a little sad that a) almost all of my knowledge of DC comes from The West Wing, and b) that I got so easily excited by seeing landmarks like the OEOB (Old Executive Office Building, often discussed but never explained or seen on the show). Still, if it weren’t for the magnificent episode "Two Cathedrals," I wouldn't have known the even more magnificent National Cathedral even existed, let alone insist on going there. It's one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen, and I took about 40 pictures in the two hours we were there. The weather was perfect, and the light did the sort of things with the stained glass that I thought only happened in movies...well, and West Wing episodes. If I have a complaint it's that the place is covered in gargoyles but they're all too small and high up to really see. I bought a book of them though, so all is well. I'm not one to make people sit through slide shows of my vacation photos, but I may just have to post a few here.

We also took in the American History Museum at the Smithsonian, which was a huge disappointment. We thought they had a much larger pop-culture collection than they actually do, so there wasn't much to see, and what there was was pretty dull. Still, we checked out a pair of ruby slippers, Mr. Rogers' sweater, Archie Bunker's chair, Oscar the Grouch, and the very first Apple computer, which was made of wood.

From there we went to the International Spy Museum, which has some problems but is pretty neat. They can't quite decide if they want to provide a real history of espionage and intelligence, play up the pop-culture images of spying, or encourage visitors to want to be spies themselves. There's some really interesting stuff though if you can sort out the conflicting messages. In keeping with my TV-themed tour of DC, I was really into the interactive sections and some of the design elements, like the blue-lit Plexiglas elevator. I was very disappointed, however, to learn that the CIA OpsCenter in Los Angeles looks nothing like the set of Alias (there was a photo), and that they weren't selling a replica of the poison-dart-shooting umbrella from the exhibit in the gift shop.

Since my week started with so many things pissing me off, primarily human traffic issues, it was nice not only to get out of the city, but to have everything go so smoothly. The powers that be seem to have finally managed to make airport security both effective and efficient. I was searched on both ends of the trip (in New York because I'd forgotten to leave my pocketknife at home, and in DC because my belt buckle set off the metal detector) and in both cases it was thorough but fast, not the least bit annoying, and actually made me feel secure. It helped that the staff was friendly, respectful, and spoke English well, and I offered the guy at Laguardia one of my cookies (which were mostly crushed when they made us check our bags at the gate to our teeny tiny plane). Except for the over-crowded Spy Museum, DC was a lovely place to walk around, and while I understand it's not as far-reaching as New York's subway, the Metro made me really happy from a design, noise, and traffic perspective. The one thing that really irked me on the trip was the cigarette smoke in bars. New York's smoking ban has only been in effect for a few months, and I'm already so accustomed to it. Oh well.

So all-in-all a fabulous weekend and a fabulous holiday. So far I'm not working this week, which I'm actually happy about because I have a huge pile of stuff to do that normally would have been done over the weekend, I need to think about dieting a little and getting back into the swing of the gym after all that pie, and I have to catch up on TV and try to get back to my regularly-scheduled blogging! Oh and I have to get cranky again. I just don't feel like myself at all!

Lots of funny today, not so much actual blogging...

From Comics.com

Genius

Click here. Work-safe, but it does have sound.

Thanks to Jenn for the link!

Tips for Visitors to New York

Warning: Condescending post that's far too smug and not nearly as funny as it should be!

With the holiday season now inescapably upon us, I've decided to perform a public service to any of you who might be visiting New York in the near future. I often say "I hate tourists," but it's really not true. I like them. I like that I live in a place that people want to visit. And my business needs them. If I see someone who's confused on the subway I'll usually try to help him get where he's going.

But if I see someone who's confused on the street and therefore has stopped in the middle of a crowded intersection to consult a map, I will knock him down. I just don't get it. What is it about New York that turns people into complete idiots with no concept of the world around them? I'd like to give them the benefit of the doubt and say that New York is the most crowded and overwhelming place they've ever been, but in thinking about this post I realized that most people just don't know how to behave in a crowd. And I don't think you can blame that on being from the 'burbs. The mall on Christmas Eve can't be much better than Times Square at rush hour. You may not have subways where you come from, but you still have elevators and escalators and presumably stairs. I got just as frustrated by stupidity in my college dining hall as I do here...which begs the obvious observation, Maybe it's me, but I'm choosing to ignore that for now, and instead take my preferred approach of acting like I know what's best for everyone with the following Tips for Tourists...

First and foremost, Please remember that people actually live here.

It's an easy thing to forget, especially as Times Square gets to look more and more like Las Vegas, but this is not Disneyworld's New York Land, it's a city full of people who are just trying to get through the day. The sidewalk is not a line for a theme park ride, and the people who look cranky and rushed are not animatronics. It's fine to idle while you take in the sights, but please do so off to the side, and allow the people who work in those sights get to where they need to go. It's important to remember that not everything here exists for your amusement. It's an extreme example, but in winter 2001 I was appalled to see not one, but several families posing for group photos in front of World Trade Center debris! What the hell is wrong with these people!! Many things are here for your enjoyment. Have fun. Some of us are just trying to go about our business.

Just because you've reached your destination, it doesn't mean that everyone behind you has.

Don't take one step on to or off of a subway, elevator, escalator or staircase and then stop. Don't walk through the revolving door into Macy's and then stop. The person behind you will have nowhere to go and have no choice but to shove you.

Similarly, Don't stop short or make an unexpected turn in the middle of traffic.

Seriously, I don't care how great the view of the Empire State Building is from the exact spot you just stepped into, or how important it is that you've just realized you passed your destination, or how urgently you need to check your map. Step to the side, and get out of the way, or you will be knocked down. And no one will feel sympathy for you, except perhaps another tourist, who will be knocked down if he stops to help you.

Don't block small spaces that other people might have to enter or get through.

Are you sensing a pattern here?

Don't gesticulate wildly.

You may not be used to such crowded places. Here's the thing: If you flail about while talking or giving directions, or do that weird power-walking thing with your arm that some people seem to do no matter how slowly they're moving, you will very likely hit someone. And we will very likely hit back.

Treat your bag as an extension of your body

It's for your own safety (purse-snatching and whatnot), but for ours too. Just because you can't really feel it when you hit someone with your enormous bag, that doesn't mean the person who's been hit can't feel it.

I know that you are terrified of losing your family in the big bad city, but please do not walk hand-in-hand in groups of more than two. If you must, walk quickly.

Most sidewalks are only 3 or 4 people wide in each direction (imagine a 4-lane, 2-way highway). When you create a Wall of Slowness, you're just pissing people off. A lot. Of course children must be minded, but some of you may need to split up into smaller groups. It's okay, you won't get lost because...

Most of the streets are numbered...

One of the beautiful things about most of Manhattan is that the streets are in a numbered grid. That makes it hard to get lost. Really. Trust your instincts, Young Skywalker. Or at least your ability to count. Which way is 42nd Street? Well, if you're on 46th Street now, and you were just on 47th Street, you're going the right way. It ain't rocket science, folks.

...but you may get lost below 14th Street.

And that's okay. Many natives get lost below 14th Street, where the grid disappears and named streets prevail. It's okay to ask for directions, you won't get mugged. It is not okay however to forget the golden rule and pretend you're in your own private Sex and the City studio tour. Get out of the way. Don't crowd the shop windows looking at shiny objects if you need to block the sidewalk to do so. Take turns. 'Cause the sidewalks are even narrower in SoHo.

Okay, enough "don'ts", here's a big "do:" Go to an Off-Broadway show

By all means, if theater's your thing, go to a Broadway show too. But take a chance. See something else. See something you've never heard of. Go to TKTS and get half price tickets for something that you won't be able to see when the tour comes to your hometown. Just because something's "on Broadway" doesn't mean it's good, or even that it has good production values; it just means it's in a bigger house and your ticket costs more. And just because something's "off Broadway" doesn't mean it's artsy and high-brow or hard to get to. Ask people what they like. Pick up Time Out or The Voice and read some reviews. A few years ago I was in line at TKTS, and a couple behind me was yammering in German about what they should go see. I don't speak much German, but I could tell that the woman was trying to talk the man into something, or explain what their options were. Finally I heard the man say, "Ah! Also! Das Oper mit der Helikopter!" The musical with the helicopter. Miss Saigon. Why travel all the way from Europe to see something you've already seen at home?

On a similar note, don't eat at the Olive Garden or Applebee's.

Nothing against the Olive Garden or Applebee's. I'm a big fan of Chevy's myself. But again, why would you come to New York get the exact same food you get at the mall at home? Sure, it's safe and certain, but take a chance! Pick up a guidebook, ask your friends or your concierge. You'll probably wind up with better food that costs less. Use the money you save to go to another show.

The subway isn't so scary.

It's a big system and it can be a little confusing. But look carefully at the map, and don't be afraid to ask for help. Most importantly, remember the above rules and you'll be fine. The numbered streets go up for uptown, and down for downtown (aka north and south, just like on a map). Don't stop in the train doorway if there's room in the car, because there will be people behind you who will push you without a moment's thought (the conductors aren't kidding when they say "step all the way into the car"). Let people off before trying to shove your way on. (It always baffles me that people don't get this -- it's common sense: if people get off first, there'll be more room for you. It's also the same etiquette for elevators.) If the door is closing on your bag (or your ass) over and over and over again, you're holding people up. Move it. If you can't move it, get off the train and wait for the next one. Don't stop at the tops and bottoms of escalators without taking a few steps first. Don't linger in the middle of high-traffic areas. Go with the flow, read the signs, and...

...Learn to use your Metrocard

I feel this warrants its own entry because one of the most irritating things in modern New York is being in a packed subway station with nowhere to go but forward when the person in front of you discovers his card is out of money or he doesn't know how to work it. True, I shouldn't be tailgating you, but sometimes there's no choice in the crowd. And sometimes people are on the other side of the turnstile trying to get out at the same time. Have your card ready as you approach the gate, so you don't have to stop to get it out while in people's way. It's really simple technology, just swipe the damn thing -- but not too fast. Here's a genuine tip: If it's really not working, blow into the reader then swipe again. They sometimes get dusty and have issues. You'll feel silly doing it, but 99% of the time it works.

Children don't belong everywhere.

New York has many wonderful things for you to do with your kids. But there are attractions, stores, restaurants, etc. where they simply don't belong. At least not unless they can behave themselves. Not to get all Samantha Jones on you, but it is your responsibility as a parent to use proper judgment and remove your child, say, from the theater if he is screaming his head off. Sure, it sucks that you have to miss part of the play, but that's a chance you take, and what were you thinking bringing a toddler to Taboo anyway? And the subway? Not your daughter's private playground. Forget about it being rude to the other passengers, it's not safe for your child.

Okay, I could go on and on, but I fear I'm starting to repeat myself and not being nearly funny enough. It's hard living here sometimes. I love living here, and I really do try to be as charitable to tourists as I can. But that's often at odds with my general policy of being extremely uncharitable towards stupid people. It's tough when you're cranky and just want to live your life and there are all these people in your way. Although the truth is I wouldn't have it any other way. I just ask that you use common sense.

As I was writing, I realized the majority of my "rules" boil down to one thing: traffic. And while I don't quite understand how you can avoid any type of crowd for your whole life, I do understand that a lot of people just aren't used to being pedestrians. So my final tip is this: Pretend you are driving at all times. Think about it: If you were in a car, you'd check out the directions before you left and you'd pay attention to the road signs. You'd never drive on the left, never make a turn without first making sure no one was in your way, would certainly never stop in the middle of traffic. If your kid were making a fuss, you'd get him to stop so you could concentrate on the road. And if you had reason to be slow or were carrying an extra large or hazardous load, there'd be a sign to warn the rest of us. And if all that's not true, I don't ever want to be on the road with you.

Be smart, and you'll have a better time here. So will we. And if you're coming to town, send me an e-mail. I'll recommend some restaurants and some plays and give you good directions for getting there.

Okay, I have to be honest here, not so much because I want to but because I'm sure someone will call me on it: New Yorkers break all these rules all the time. I just prefer to believe that it's all the damn tourists' fault, because I prefer to believe (as so many of us do) that New Yorkers are better than everyone else. Or at least smarter than everyone else. Sadly, it's just not true. But perhaps I can help, and those of you who are reading this will be better prepared for your visit, or your lunch break, or whenever you next hit the streets.

Just remember: the city, like the world, revolves around me.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! See you next week.

Holidays That Don't Exist

Okay, kids, let's review...

Acceptable:
Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade
Macy's Thanksgiving Parade
Thanksgiving Day Parade
Thanksgiving Parade
(if you must) Macy's Parade

Unacceptable:
Macy's Day Parade


Thank you for your time.

Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!

I should NEVER have posted that Onion article! I've created a self-fulfilling prophesy!

When I'm at home all of my e-mail from my various accounts gets downloaded to my Mail program (Apple's Outlook clone). I've only just started using it, and I guess I've missed some of the finer points of address management, because I just sent my mother an email which lists my name as "Adam875" and my address as "judgementcall@earthlink.net," instead of my "regular" address.

What will I say when she asks about it? What if she Googles the terms? Oh man, I'm screwed!

Adam's Famous Oatmeal Cranberry Cookies

By popular demand (okay, two of you), and because my apartment smells so good right now I have to share the joy, here is the cookie recipe.

It's adapted from the recipe on the Ocean Spray Craisins bag, but my way is simply better. :-) (Theirs calls for white chocolate, and while I like white chocolate, since Craisins are already heavily sweetened the dark makes for a better, not so overwhelmingly sugary balance. And I added the cinnamon.)

Ingredients:

2/3 cup butter or margarine, softened
2/3 cup brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 1/2 cups old-fashioned oats
1 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt (or less, to taste)
6 ounces sweetened dried cranberries
1 cup dark chocolate chips (more chocolate is always acceptable, though if you go overboard the cookies will fall apart -- I recommend Ghirardelli "double chocolate" chips)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375ºF.

Using an electric mixer, beat butter or margarine and sugar together in a medium mixing bowl until light and fluffy. Add eggs, mixing well. Combine oats, flour, baking soda and salt in a separate mixing bowl. Add to butter mixture in several additions, mixing well after each addition. Stir in sweetened dried cranberries and chocolate chips.

Drop by rounded teaspoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake for 10-12 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on wire rack.

Makes approximately 2 1/2 dozen cookies.


It's an amazingly easy recipe, and also very easy to double if you need more. Nutritional info is on the Ocean Spray site, but I refuse to post that here! Enjoy!

Funny Word of the Week

Don't you love how I keep titling posts "____ of the Week" and then never ever doing the same thing again? Yeah, I have no follow-through.

Anyway, the plural of clitoris is clitorides. With a D.

Just in case anyone was wondering.

Today's Minor Injustices

In a city made up of three islands and a peninsula, why is there no way to get to the airport by boat??

Far more irritating, why have I had the cute but repetitive song "Stacy's Mom" stuck in my head all goddamn morning?

Joe...uh...Joe....what is it again?

If Linda turned me down because of this lie, I mean I'm'a be very depressed if heatbreaking isn't the word. Like I'm'a be very upset, sad, disappointed... I mean I dunno, I don't know another word for heartbroken. I mean I'd be very...very...SAD.
-David "Joe Millionaire" Smith

Come on, it was the last episode, I had to watch. Jenn made me! It was dull. And are the producers just supplying him with pot now? I mean, I don't think he was quite this inarticulate and slurry in the first couple episodes. As for that quote, which was the high point of the show for me.... Did no one tell him the premise of the show before they started? Was he maybe living in Europe with the girls this whole time? And can someone please buy the boy a thesaurus??

Sadly, I don't have time to watch the Joes that really matter, those who are Average. The half hour I've seen so far (it's an extra-long episode tonight) is cruel to the point of utter hilarity, and it makes me sad that I won't be able to finish it (and therefore blog about it) until after Thanksgiving. Accursed day job!

Now wait, I can't in good conscience do that to you. So here are my utterly random thoughts on the show so far (I've been taking notes):

Can we say, awkward?

Melana: "I think Zach's gonna have a problem with it, I think John doesn't know what to say..." So that's pretty much how things always are, no?

Zach: "My reputation for being a jerk comes from...the other guys in the house self-esteem being so low." No, it comes from you being a jerk!!

I still think Adam is a doofus but there's something undeniably adorable about watching him work out like a fiend to try to catch up to the new guys. Not quite Seth Cohen cute (to say nothing of my boyfriend cute), but close.

It is SO CRUEL to make them do sports! And not only do sports, the winners get dinner with Melana, and the losers have to serve and clean up! I can't imagine anyone thought the original guys would win, but I guess it's okay since they did. Though if the footage of the game is in slow motion, shouldn't the countdown clock be as well?

One of the new guys (interestingly, the one I think is the cutest) is SO GAY! He has the gay accent and everything.

Okay, must tear myself away and turn off the TV. More of my usual scholarly insight next week!

Vive La Tasty of French!

Because I've been watching my carbs and my spending and haven't been temping much (ie, haven't had to be out of the house early enough to necessitate eating breakfast on the subway), I haven't been to Bagel's Plus more than once or twice a month recently. But I know all six of my long-time readers will want an update on the grammatically frustrating transformation of my favorite place for breakfast-on-the-go.

They completed their transition from "Bagel's Plus" to "Bagel's Plus Sports Café" and finally to "New York Sports Café." This pleased me because the dreaded Apostrophe of Doom had gone (strange, all things considered, that it wasn’t “New York Sport's Café”), but it bothered me on the entirely new level that the place itself had not turned into a sports café in any way. True, they added a gigantic TV, on which soccer was often playing (in the morning, which I suppose was due to the time difference between here and countries in which they televise soccer), and they started serving beer, but face facts, kids, this is a corner breakfast place. You've got bagels, a grill, a case of pastries and another of various spreads and deli meats. There's barely two feet between the counter/cases, and the one row of two-top tables along the windows. It's a deli, stop deluding yourselves.

But call it whatever you want, it was a good deli, and they always knew my order, even when I stopped coming as often. Then everything went horribly awry.

I'm not entirely sure what happened, because I haven't had the courage to ask. But suddenly all the people changed. I can only assume they're under new management, and for some reason that meant an entire staff overhaul. Gone are two of the three women who knew my order the moment I walked in the door, as well as the man who always prepared it to perfection. Now I'm greeted by a man of uncertain national origin who seems to be in charge, and while he's friendlier and speaks better English than the man who used to seem to be in charge, he's also kind of an idiot and never seems to recognize me. (I'm not saying he's an idiot because he doesn't recognize me, he's an idiot all on his own.) Adding insult to injury, they never put enough cream cheese on the bagels -- and that's if I'm lucky enough to arrive on a day when they even have lox spread or salt bagels on hand.

The TV is still there, but it’s now usually off. They’ve added a Lotto machine and a window through which you can order things from the street, but they’ve stopped stocking bottled soda (much easier to deal with on the train during rush hour than a can). Curious to see what else had changed, I grabbed a take-out menu today. Though the board on the wall still says "Tasty of French," the paper menu has a section properly titled "A Taste of France," and it's very educational; I had no idea that pancakes and Challah were French. Though they are certainly tasty! On the back of the menu is a heading for "Confectionary Desire," which sounds both dirty and unappetizing, and which includes something phlegmy-sounding called "Ek Mek" (I'm sure I've just offended someone, and if so, I'd love to know what ek mek is!). Under that, the titles "Finger Licking Cakes" and "Finger Licking Pies," which of course make me think of giant desserts running through the streets attacking people's hands.

Most curious of all, the name of the restaurant has changed yet again (they've removed all signage from the actual building, so I only know this from the menu). It's now "Sunnyside Sports Bar Café." Doesn't a sports bar have to have a bar? And, um, sports?

So now they're neither a sports bar nor a good bagel place, and I'm thoroughly disgruntled. On those mornings when I feel the need to break my diet, all I want is the comfort of a good salt bagel with a gigantic slab of cream cheese, and the sweet sweet nectar of Diet Coke. With all the foolish renovation and learning to speak English, they've managed to lose sight of everything that made me love them when I moved to the neighborhood (the very first day, in fact, as I ate a bagel on my stoop while waiting for the movers).

It all just makes me realize that the world will be a much better place when everyone realizes that it revolves around me.

The fates were kind to me...and then they weren't

As I climbed the stairs to the 4/5/6 subway platform at Grand Central Station much too early this morning, I noticed some color newsprint pages fluttering on the floor. I picked them up, and there he was: My dear Opus, in all his full-color, half-page, gorgeously-painted glory. I think the actual pages of the News Sunday comics have gotten smaller since I was a kid, because the strip still looked tiny to me. And it wasn't great, either, but it was a sweet welcome back and a nice reminder of why I was really into penguins in junior high (now I'm all about bunnies, but that's a story for later). Shortly after reading the strip (along with The Far Side which I didn't realize was still being reprinted, and I got really confused about what decade it was for a minute), it dawned on me that I had just picked a day-old newspaper up off of the floor of one of the most heavily-trafficked subway stations in the world, and how gross is that?

So I got to work and washed my hands, and headed to my desk. I'm working in a department I've worked in before, so I know the ropes and it should be a pretty easy three days. The guy I'm filling in for is a little eccentric (which was, in fact, part of what I'd planned to blog about today), but extremely organized, and he left me a very thorough packet with instructions for everything and passwords for voicemail and the computer.

...Only the password for the computer doesn't work. And this company likes to fancy itself as very secure, so you need a password to access even the most basic functions of Windows. So I found myself stuck in a painful bureaucratic feedback loop, as IT told me that they could only reset the password on instruction from the proper user (but wouldn't the correct user know the password?) or human resources (not the proper user's manager?); human resources told me to call my temp agency manager. My temp agency called IT, and was told that she was even more useless than I was as she doesn't work for this company, and called me back and told me to call internal HR again. Internal HR doesn't know who I am, since I don't technically work for them. Meanwhile, I suspect this is all due to a typo in the number at the end of the password (since they make them change their passwords with irritating frequency here, so people usually just increase the number on the end by one) but I can't test my theory as I'm now locked out of the system due to too many wrong attempts...which I was instructed to make by IT...who can't unlock the system for me because I'm not the proper user.

I'm covering the receptionist's lunch hour now, and am overjoyed to have this brief bit of Internet time.

I'm certainly not going to complain about getting paid what I get paid to do nothing at all. But eight hours is an awfully large chunk of the day to not be able to do anything productive at all, either for yourself or on behalf of your employer. And again, getting paid for that time, so I'm happy to show up, but I had lots of stuff to do online today. There's banking to do, Chanukah gifts to order, and of course blog posts to write and read. I can't even write offline, or play solitaire as I can't get into anything.

I've had worse days at work, and other people have had worse days than I've ever had in my life, but it's frustrating. I was doing fine until the red tape tried to strangle me, really.

Then I tried to run an errand at lunch, and after waiting 15 minutes for the subway (it was nearby but too far to walk), I realized I wouldn't make it back in time for my reception duty, so I just got food and came back to the office.

I should have known: If something goes well so early in the day, it must all be downhill from there. If this is the karmic price I have to pay for reading Opus, I'm content to never see the strip again.

Fortunately, I brought magazines.

Hairy Fishnuts?

I can't believe I've posted four times today. Just one more, 'cause I've got a gripe.

Opus returns today, only I haven't been able to find him. As someone who actively mourned when Bloom County ended, this makes me extremely cranky. I was all excited to hear that Berkeley Breathed was not only starting a new strip, but starting a new strip with my beloved penguin as well.

Yet I have no idea where to read it.

Breathed's website asks people to write their local papers to get them to run the strip (because his insistence that it be printed at a full half page and not shrunk down into oblivion is making it tough to get picked up, apparently), yet there's no corresponding page telling you who is running the strip.

Nor can I find it anywhere online, including the site of The Daily News, which ran both Bloom County and Outland back in the day.

So can anyone shed some light on this please? Where can I find it? I want my penguin back!!

I'm a slave to advertising and sugar

For my contribution to our Thanksgiving feast on Thursday, I'm baking my famous oatmeal-cranberry-dark chocolate cookies. This will not, by a long shot, be the only dessert there, so all month I've been trying really hard to stick to my diet, get to the gym, and most importantly, watch my sweets.

I went grocery shopping this afternoon and picked up the ingredients for my cookies. This put me in the mood to bake, which I haven't done since sometime in March. But I can't make the Thanksgiving cookies until Tuesday night, so they'll be as fresh as possible on Thursday (I'm working all day Wednesday, or I'd make them right before leaving for the airport).

Unfortunately, I hadn't yet left the store when I remembered the commercial for Toll House Ultimate Chocolate Lovers cookies, where the grumpy teenager walks through the kitchen and takes a cookie without stopping or speaking, then runs back into frame to hug his mother. It's a cute, ad, and boy do those cookies look good.

Well, they're not as good as they sounded. Hardly worth falling off the diet wagon. Still, half the package never made it into the oven.

Breaking my own rules...again

Earlier this week I broke my obviously flexible No Theater Talk rule because with all the bitchy gossip and negative press around Taboo, I wanted to share my very positive feelings about it to do what small part I could to balance out the show's karma and encourage people to go judge for themselves.

I'm about to do it again because it's a bad season to be straight play on Broadway, and my friends who are working on I Am My Own Wife asked me to tell everyone I can how much I loved it. This seems like a good way to do that, no?

I'm not sure what I expected from the show, but certainly not what I got. I'm not usually a huge fan of one man shows, but this didn't really feel like one. Maybe that's because it's not one of those shows where a famous actor stands onstage and talks about his or her "fascinating" life. No, he's playing a role -- several of them, actually -- and playing them so brilliantly that I don't know why Jefferson Mays isn't a big star. The play is structured in a way that allows dialogue to happen without getting too into the hokey convention of watching an actor talk to himself. Again, I credit this largely to Jefferson Mays' excellent work. Each character is so specific in voice and gesture that you really do (please pardon the cliche) forget you're watching a single actor onstage.

I don't want to talk about the story, because it's worth discovering for yourself if you go see the play. But it's a historical piece, based on real people (including the playwright and his experience of interviewing the central figure), and it's a truly fascinating and easily-lost piece of history that I'm very glad is being preserved this way.

Finally, every element of the design is flawless, from the simple set and costumes to the elegant lighting to the intricate sound.

If you like sitting in a theater for two hours and being told a great story by a great storyteller, go see I Am My Own Wife immediately. It's not even very expensive as Broadway shows go, so stop using that excuse!