We have an "Emperor's New Clothes" siuation here

I know, I KNOW. I have beaten this to death, but I am obsessed. Obsessed with finding out who in their right mind would want "HOSPITAL HOLDS WEDDING FOR DYING MAN" ON A T-SHIRT?!?!?!?!?!?!!??

Why is no one else severely disturbed by this? I feel a strong disconnect with the rest of humanity, because this just seems so weird, absurd, and wrong to me.

Will someboday PLEASE do something wacky so I can get a cute tank top?

So in case yesterday's headlines didn't do it for you, this morning we've got "Drivers honk, scream to get $3.55 gas" (yeah, and if the amount you paid for gas isn't killing your budget, why not buy an over-priced T-shirt) "Don't adjust monitor...puppy IS green" ("Don't use full sentence...). Shockingly, "Coyotes attack kids on playground, yard" and "Hezbollah takes control of western Beirut" aren't available. YET....

Put these on booty shorts and we'll talk

So I noticed this last week, but thought it was some kind of a joke. Or that someone hacked into cnn.com. Or that the finals week-related stress and lack of sleep had finally caused hallucinations. Especially since NO ONE ELSE seems to be talking about this. But then I checked today, and there it is. Let me tell you about it.

So log onto cnn.com. Note the tiny little t-shirt icons next to selected stories. Click on these icons. You'll notice that CNN, in their infinite wisdom, has decided to OFFER T-SHIRTS FOR PURCHASE FEATURING PARTICULARLY WEIRD/UNUSUAL HEADLINES. Yes. Today, for a limited time only, you can buy a shirt in your choice of black, white, or gray with the headlines "Obama's blue jeans but press in tizzy" or "Stiletto-clad beauty queen seeks office" or, my personal favorite, "Ginormous sink hole gobbles up yard" (SIDE-NOTE: I thought that maybe I was just not up on the hip lingo and spending too much time in the elitist world of academia, but blogger agrees; "ginormous" is not an actual word).

I'm not going to get into media ethics (mainly because I have put that part of my brain on vacation for a week and a half until I have to start it back up again for thesis design. Yes, thesis design. I have to do a thesis and design it and defend it and the thought of doing these things makes my body automatically try to assume a fetal position, and it's hard to type like that), but I feel like there is something fundamentally wrong with a news organization like CNN seeking to capitalize on our dumbest exploits as a species. Thoughts?

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