Captain Jackass Rides Again

Seriously, someone explain David Blaine to me. Is he a magician? An illusionist? A middle child who didn't get enough love and or attention? Why does he insist on doing these ridiculous "stunts" that are just barely weird enough to be noticeable, but not magical enough to make anyone really care?

I mean, I get it. You held your breath for a million hours. Impressive, I guess. I think my issue is that these little feats of ridiculousness aren't at all entertaining to watch. It's not like when David Copperfield used to chain himself to a burning safe in a building filled with poisonous rabid snakes and strap a bomb to his face, then explode the building and wind up escaped and unscathed in the middle of a desert with the wind flowing through his hair and billowy white shirt (opened to the navel, natch).

And if I'm being totally honest, I think his face has something to do with why I dislike him so much. The eyelids, to be exact. He's a heavy-lidded fellow. And it just gives me the impression that he walks around all day saying things (in a monotone voice) like "oh, it's soooooo hard being me. I have to live in fish-bowls and hold my breath and put myself in a box and live there without food for a long time." He just looks so put upon all of the time.

Whatevs. My new theory is that he's an attention whore who's just jealous of Miley.

The Grown-Up, Cyber Equivalent Of Hanging A Picture From "Teen Beat" In My Locker:

*sigh*

Obama and the IU insignia in the same picture....my heart, it bursts.

I'm dying over here

There's no reason why this promo picture of Kim Catrall and Daniel Radcliffe for a TV movie called "My Boy Jack" should have made me laugh as hard as I just did. Oh wait, it's probably because he should never be anything but a child wizard with unfortunate eye-wear (he's rocking that here, thank God) and she should never be anything other than an over-sexed man-eater with an unbelievably affected accent, or a mannequin. And yet, here they are, modeling the latest in turn-of-the-century drab-wear. And I don't know if he's her son, husband, or twin. What I do know is that it's solid gold and it's made my day.

'Cause we were barely 17, and we were barely dressed

Remember when I just saw a commercial for AT&T "Go Phones" featuring Meatloaf singing his song "Paradise By The Dashboard Light" with a kid that's supposed to be his son? The very song that's about a teenage boy trying to coerce a teenage girl to sleep with him in a car? This is why media studies is important; were I a consultant to AT&T, I would tell them that this was a batshit crazy and tasteless move. These are academic terms. Yes.

Ohmigod!

Friends. Listen to this. So, earlier in the week I made the decision that hey! I love television and movies but what I really love is music! Popular music, to be exact! So why not bite the bullet and decide to do my thesis on popular music! So I did! And I feel great about it! And the Pop Music Gods shed their catchy, albeit slightly contrived, blessings upon me and bestowed not one but two gifts in the form of favorite musicians of my past returning and releasing new music and insane and slightly inappropriate promo pics!

GIFT #1:
Alanis! I adored Ms. Morissette from the first time I saw her on MTV, shaking her abundance of brown hair and feminine angst in the desert for the "You Oughta Know" video. It was scary and exciting and 12 year-old Jenn was all "Yeah! Right on, sister!" even though she had barely kissed a boy at this point, let alone had one stomp on her heart so hard that it inspired one of the greatest woman-scorned ballads of all time. I was slightly disappointed upon learning that Dave Collier and his mullet inspired that scorn (dude had a MULLET and played second fiddle to BOB SAGET for Christ's sake), plus I didn't want to think of him having terrible inappropriately things done to him in a theater, but STILL. Love for Alanis.

ALTHOUGH... something's not quite right with that picture. Maybe it's the terribly calculated faux bedroom hair, or the last night's eye-liner look, or the cleavage, or the see-through shirt. Something is telling me that she's trying, albeit very, very subtly, to look sexy. I just can't put my finger on it.

There's a slight chance it's the fact that we all now know the intricacies of her upper, UPPER thigh muscles. Who's to say.*

GIFT #2Yes. That is all.

Except also! Danny was my favorite and clearly the cutest, I am pleased to say I stand by the assessment I made as a 6 year old.

Good lord.


PS: If you must leave my blog for whatever reason (like, say, the awesomeness becomes too much to handle, or you find my intense dislike for scented razors off-putting) ,then I invite you to check out the blogs of my friends Val and Melissa, two fellow Media Studiers who are truly delightful.


*Um, I'm still totally buying her new CD "Flavors of Entanglement", whatever the hell that means, when it comes out. I'm willing to overlook the over-share.

In poor taste

Dear Lisa on Top Chef,
Oh, I bet you think you're sooooooo very clever. Clever and sneaky. You might even be under the impression that you got away with that little thing you did with the eggs on episode 1. You probably didn't count on the Jewish girl who is learning to textually analyze media FOR A LIVING watching that episode, did you sweetheart? Well, she did and she's pissed off. Because, Lisa? The copy under that thing you made read like this: poached egg on toasted challah bread with lobster, spinach, hollandaise sauce & bacon. Yeah. No good, sister, no good. You have offended me by taking bread that my people use in religious ceremonies and smothering it with not one, but TWO of the the big super un-Kosher foodstuff. GROSS.

Love,
Jenn

PS-to make it up to me and get in the spirit of the season, I think you should be forced to cook only with ingredients that are Kosher for Passover. I can't wait for your matzah/marshmallow twist/weird-ass jelly fruit thing souffle!

867-5309 (Jenny, get it?!?!?!!?!? NOTE: That's not my phone number. Nor is it the number to an elite escort service. Text Spitzer for that info)

I love this. It's like a greatest hits list of political sex scandals! Also, what exactly do we think Spitzer had to promise to get his wife to stand next to him while he admitted how little his marriage meant to him on national television? I'm thinking that the toilet seat will never again be left up in the Spitzer household. Also, she probably has rights to his kidneys or any other vital organs, should she need them in the future.


In other "people acting arrogantly and not considering the consequences" news, I purchased a cell phone that is too cool, too fancy, and way too complicated for me to use

This is the largest phone ever produced. It's approximately the size of a newborn baby, and holding it up to my ear is giving me killer biceps (I can't balance it on my shoulder, the sheer weight of the thing would surely crack my clavicle in two). But I guess that's to be expected when a phone shares the name of a cruise ship I once went on. The phone is a tiny bit smaller, and lacks the amount of swimming pools.

I am seriously an advertiser's dream. I went into Verizon and the only thing that I absolutely knew that I wanted in a phone was its ability to fit in my pocket, as my old one did. But then I saw this one and thought ooooh! It's so shiny! And there is a touch-screen! And you can change the fonts! Seriously, the fonts were the major selling point for me. But I also bought my car because the gear shift in the middle of the front seats made me feel like I was driving stick and I thought that was cool, so clearly I don't always see the big picture when it comes to these things.

Bowl-ed Over

HA! I'm back! And I come bearing puns!

So I watched the Super Bowl. Here's what i have to say about that:

1. Tom Brady wears superfluous make-up (if that black stuff is to cut down the glare, why is it needed indoors, at night?). Also, he is SO PRETTY. Almost too pretty. Every time he got tackled I feared for his delicate facial bone structure.

2. Why did 90% of the commercials involve animals?

3. The whole dramatic "throw the red thing on the field to challenge a call" thing is fabulous, and I wish I could do it in life.

4. The Giants' uniforms are TERRIBLE. Why the red knee-socks?

5. Tom Petty still totally does it for me. I don't care if he's sporting a mountain-man beard, his smile kills me every time. Plus I'd like to share hair-straightening tips with him sometime.

My one complaint: too pretentious for solitaire?

This blog entry comes straight from my brand new 15 -inch MacBook Pro.  Yes, "pro".  As in "professional."  Professional laptop-breaker?  Perhaps.

I am a "computer person's" worst nightmare.  I know nothing about technology.  That seems insane to say in 2007 when computers are no longer dorky and we rely on them to live and function, but really.  I understand precious little.  My sole requirements for a new computer were the following:

1. Not heavy, or, at the very least, not heavy enough to break my nose

2. Pretty

And that's it, so this new one really fits the bill (I can't believe I just used that cliche-just because I'm reluctant to join the 21st century technology-wise doesn't mean I should talk like I live in a speak-easy).  I'm basically terrified of breaking it, and I don't really know what I'm doing, but dammit, it LOOKS really cool.  And that's what counts.  I'm nervous of it getting scratched or something, so I've finally found a use for those dust-bags from purses and shoes that I have lying around (I'm rotating between Coach and Seychelles-I've found that the Juicy Couture ones are too thick and cumbersome.  Maybe I should post this observation on some kind of Mac forum so I can get pelted with e-fury and cyber insults).

But I'm loving this Photo Booth thing.  Is someone at Apple as OCD as I am about having something stuck in your teeth or on your face?  Because I will use this constantly.

Apparently it counts down before it takes the picture.  I wasn't aware of this despite the big red flashing numbers, so I now have a default picture that looks like I fell asleep while setting up the laptop.  I plan on keeping it like this for two reasons.  One, it makes me appear completely aloof and unfazed by this fancy technology.  And two, because my eyelashes look fabulous in MacBook Land.

Ali Lohan, take notice

Jamie Lynn: Mom, I know that I'm 16 and your only daughter that wears underwear in public, but I think I'm going to move in with my 19 year old boyfriend.
Mama Spears: No, I don't think so...
Jamie Lynn: Oh, really? Have you reconciled with Britney? Do you not need my Zoey 101 money anymore?
Mama Spears: I'll get the U-Haul!

I mean, seriously. My favorite part about this whole thing is the fact that she's "shocked". Really? Shocked? Shock is a word that I reserve to describe something that is completely unexpected and unlikely. Not the EXPECTED outcome.

God bless Lynn Spears and her crackerjack parenting. Dina Lohan is going to have to really step up her game.

"I said, in these shoes? I doubt you'd survive..."

Dear Friends At School,
I adore you all and have enjoyed your company immensely. However, I regret to inform you that you will never see me again, as I will not be returning to graduate school next semester. For I have fallen in love.


I know what you're thinking: it will never work out. This is fleeting. Once you commit to to these, it will only be a matter of time until a newer, shinier, younger pair of black, round-toed pumps catch your eye. But you're WRONG. This is different. It's special.


The reason that I can't simply relocate my relationship is simple; as I've learned in the past few weeks, the streets of upstate New York will be covered in some form of ice, snow, or dirty sludge until probably July. And while I'm not above wearing fancy clothes in the apartment (I've coded and done research in a black cocktail dress, not going to lie), I'm at a point in my life where I'm not interested in hiding my relationship from the world. Nor do I want to be the girl who ends up in traction because she wore stilettos to the bar and slipped on ice en route (although if I look good in the emergency room, then I'm kind of a little OK with that). I mean, please look at what the weather has done to my favorite jeans. Mangled.


I have been SO GOOD about cutting back on the heels lately, ever since I came to the realization this summer that "hey, lady...maybe you don't need to be 8 feet tall." And these babies put me in the upwards of 6'2 range. And it's NOT BECAUSE OF BOYS. Entirely. Look, I don't think I'm a traitor to my gender or statuesque women around the world just because I recognize that it's a distinct possibility that some guys don't want to date women who are a foot taller than them. And that's fine. Different strokes. It took me years and years to be cool with the idea of dating a guy my height or shorter. And I don't NEED to wear heels all the time-in truth, I think I overdid it with the espadrilles this summer. But OCCASIONALLY, I want to wear ridiculously impractical (and, let's face it, dangerous) shoes, and I will never be with a man who can not accept that (or who is not willing to go get the car for those times when the ridiculously impractical and dangerous shoes render me immobile and unable to walk across a parking lot).

Also...can you please notice the red DSW tag on the bottom of the shoe (also, note my makeshift makeup table that I have commandeered in my parents' basement over break):
Because they were 70% off of the sale price. Eighteen dollars, friends. It would have been foolish NOT to purchase them*.

*Please remind me of this when I am an 80 year old woman, hobbling around on knees without cartilage and non-functioning Achilles tendons.

I'm Only Sleeping

I'm WAY too busy to be doing this, but who am I to spit in the face of great blogging traditions?

John Lennon
October 9, 1940 – December, 8 1980

"On a cold December evening
I was walking through the Christmas tide

When a stranger came up and asked me
If I'd heard John Lennon had died

And the two of us went to this bar
And we stayed to close the place

And every song we played
Was for The Late Great Johnny Ace, yeah, yeah, yeah"

"Well he's still alive. He's still with us. His spirit will go on you know.

"You can't kill a person that easy.

"That's the way I feel about it."

-Yoko Ono

Seriously, don't call me

Dear CNN.com,
I have about 8 million things to do. I don't have time to be writing this blog entry. But we need to talk.

Look, I'm all for free flow of information and blah blah blah. But sometimes? You should keep certain stories to your damn selves. Stories that will do nothing but terrify and exacerbate an already legendary anxiety disorder. Stories like this one.

I already live in fear of my stove (it's GAS, people, gas-there is a flame involved), my car (I know, it's been a year since Big Red but I still can't adjust to the fact that not all cars have parts that will literally fall off in your hand or explode while you're going 70 on the Beltway), and my Rocket Dog sneakers (the bottoms are SO SLIPPERY). I do not need another thing in my apartment/life to fear.

Love,
Jenn

PS-Also, what happened to Bill Hemmer? I know he was on tv and not really on the website, but still. Why did you guys lose him to Fox? He was dreamy, and I can't watch Fox because, well, it goes against all of my principles (i.e. "don't pay attention to crazy people"). Unless I'm watching O'Reilly. Gotta keep that heart rate up, and nothing gets me going like the utter lack of spin that man dishes out.

It doesn't show signs of stopping...

So remember when, exactly one year ago this week, Big Red finally died for real and poor, recent college-graduate Jenn had to buy her first car? And she debated and debated over getting all-wheel drive, because it would cost more? And her dad was like "Jenn, get the all-wheel drive, you're applying to (insert name of large, private, upstate New York university) if you move there you're going to need the all-wheel drive, trust me"? And Jenn was like "oh dad, if I even end up going there, and who's to say, as there's a chance I will write and publish a wildly successful novel and will make a bajillion dollars and will therefore not need to go to graduate school or use my brain ever again, even if I end up going there that's a billion years away (i.e., 9 months) and I don't ever like to plan for the future"? But then she ended up doing it anyway, and was slightly pissed about how that decision affected her monthly Target budget?

As it turns out, "Father Knows Best" wasn't just a title of a boring black-and-white 50's TV show that I've never actually watched before.

I awoke Friday morning to a veritable blizzard (like an inch of snow on the ground and it was still falling from the sky in impressive volume, so shut up) and had to get myself from my apartment to campus. It was a NIGHTMARE. If I was still in the D.C. area, not only would the federal government have been closed and I wouldn't have to go to work, THERE WOULDN'T EVEN BE ANY SNOW IN THE FIRST PLACE BECAUSE IT DOES NOT SNOW IN EARLY NOVEMBER IN CIVILIZED PLACES. And people keep tossing this phrase "lake effect snow" around and I STILL don't know a.)what that means or b.)what lake they're talking about.

By Friday evening there was literally about 4 or 5 inches on the ground. I've had winters where we've never had that much snow on the ground ever, and here it is November and we've already had that much and no one seems to care about it. I knew about the snow situation here before I moved, but it's really starting to hit me. I had to buy SNOW BOOTS on Friday, ya'll. Snow boots. No no no no no. Children need snow boots because they go into the snow and play. Adults don't need snow boots because IN CIVILIZED PLACES they can always get from place to place without having to worry about walking through 8 foot-high snow banks.


I'm officially in hibernation mode.

The Celebrities Have Lost Their Damn Minds: A Pictorial Expose

Is it weird that I am most bothered by her sleeveless turtleneck sweater?

I'm going to pretend that they're not actually shooting right now, and instead stand by my theory that the cast of Grey's Anatomy truly believes themselves to be actual medical practitioners. Also, you know that those two on the left just hate Pompeo.

KATHERINE HOLMES, why the hell would would you run a marathon without a bra??!!? I wouldn't take the trash out without one! This is absurd! I'm having sympathy pains just imagining how uncomfortable that would be. I truly believe that gravity is going to strike back with a vengeance just because she's clearly mocking it.

Ok, so I'm all for fairness and getting what's rightfully yours and blah blah blah. But these pictures of the strike crack me the eff up. Because, people? IT'S NOT THAT SERIOUS. It's not Vietnam. YOU DON'T NEED JESSE JACKSON (note: I was going to make a reference to Jackson maybe not realizing who runs Hollywood-google Jackson and anti-Semitic if you don't know about the good reverends slightly racist leanings-but I opted not to, because in this time of strife and conflict and Internet royalties, we need to band together as a nation).

Oh, Mickey Rourke. For a dude who's walking out of the police station after being charged with a DUI, you certainly are chipper, aren't you. And why wouldn't you be. You have a face that looks like a caricature version of your former self. You're wearing cowboy boots and what might possibly be a snakeskin shirt in a charmingly unapologetic manner. And you take the time to shave your chest, yet you leave that Captain Hook-looking facial hair. You are truly a delightful, alcoholic enigma.

Sigh. When I grow up, I hope I can find a husband who will take me to fancy events and present me like he's Vanna White and I'm a sparkly, drugged-out vowel. And he let her wear heels! Nicole is going to be so pissed!

Hey, it's the creepy pharmacist from Desperate Housewives! I wonder what it's like to have no friends, mirrors, or knowledge of the existence of pomade.

This doesn't really relate to the rest of this post, but seriously, I don't know which to love more-the fact that Bowie looks like he's doing a damn Vogue shoot, or the fact that he has been in upstate New York (because really, I live there now, and I can't see it).

1.)Why are you still here?
2.)Are you aware that the picture on the right looks like you're wearing eye-shadow?
3.)Is that cord REALLY going to wrap itself around your neck and drag you off what might be the worst album cover I've ever seen, or are you just a tease?