I’ve given up giving things up for Lent for Lent. And with that, the fabric of the universe was torn asunder, and your mind was BLOWN.

You may know that religion has always been something to me. First it was boring, then it was annoying, then it was the thing I hated most about the world, then it was something of a curiosity, which is about where it is right now. I often wonder why it is that God would care if you eat meat on Fridays, considering I’m pretty sure God didn’t invent Fridays and that the only reason Friday exists is because some scientists figured out how often the Earth rotates around the sun, and divided time down into years, months, weeks, and days. Equally strange is that God would care if meat and dairy get eaten together, or that cows are holy. For the record, equally strange is that God hates everyone that doesn’t believe the same thing you do, and that nobody seems to care that Jesus was a zombie for a few days.

Anyway, Lent. People give stuff up. Some people do it because God likes to see you suffer, and you don’t want to disappoint God. Other people do it as a kind of “character building” exercise, like after 40 days of not eating Taco Bell they’re going to emerge better and stronger than ever before. I tried to give up work for Lent and then shouting “Don’t persecute me!” when they told me you can’t give up work for Lent. But that didn’t work because I didn’t try it. I wonder…

Brian’s coming to visit in late March. The world’s two greatest minds together again. The men who brought you “Brian and Adam’s Crappy Home Video, Volumes 1-4” (soon to be available on betamax and laserdisc), reunited. Last time these two talents were in the same place, New York was bummed around for a few days. Comedy shows were seen, bookstores visited, drinks drinked, ferries ridden, Statue of Liberty seen. Just imagine what kind of Earth-shattering awesomeness might happen here in Denver, AKA, Colorado’s Biggest City. The big D. The mile high city. The Capital of Colorado. Revned Backwards.

Speaking of Rocky Votolato’s new album, let’s talk about preordering things. I feel like if I preorder something, I should get some kind of bonus. Either I should get the album early, or I should get something else special. Otherwise there’s no reason to preorder things. Suburban Home/Vinyl Collective always get the records to you weeks before they hit the street. I preordered Rocky V’s new album and I’ll be getting an exclusive 7”, which also happened when I preordered Chuck Ragan’s Gold Country. But some places just send you the album when it comes out, and so you end up getting it a week late, with no discount or special poster or song or anything. I think that should be illegal. I’m running for office on that platform when the midterm elections come up and the Democrats get rightly slaughtered at the polls.

I don't have many complaints with the QWERTY keyboard. I like the layout of the letters. The numbers above the letters -- a nice touch, for sure. But just today I discovered an ATROCIOUS and DEADLY flaw that all emasculated men should be wary of. (Note: I'm not an emasculated man myself, I just happen to be on the lookout for my Walter-from-A-Raisin-in-the-Sun brethren.) If you intend to use either the exclamation point (!) or left parenthesis ((), use utmost caution! For, one key to the left of each of these are perhaps the most vile symbols on the keyboard: ~ and *. Just today, in an email, I wanted to end a sentence with an exclamation point and a begin a new one in a parenthetical aside. However, I accidentally typed a ~ and * instead, making me look like a 12-year-old girl. If not for an immediate revision, I can only imagine the fallout. My public image? Shattered. For innumerable years. (Little known fact: In 1965, JD Salinger completed a sequel to "Catcher in the Rye" entitled "Phonies! (You Phony!)," but, due to a typo, the draft he sent his editor came out as "Phonies~ *You Phony~)." And we all know what happened to Salinger after that.)

I haven't been watching much of the Olympics, but I've caught a few events: figure skating, speed skating, luge, and what's that one where the skiers go down the hill, do a flip off a ramp, land, bounce off the little mounds of snow, do another flip off a ramp, land, bounce off more of those little mounds, then finish? Also, seriously, what were the originators of these sports thinking? Figure skating: "You know, I like dance and choreography as much as the next person, but doing it on dry land and a stage? BORING! I also happen to enjoy performing these moves with extremely sharp blades that could seriously disfigure people. What am I to do?" Or: "I like sledding, but how can I do it in a homoerotic way while also risking my life on a completely iced-over track?" Or: "I like skiing down a hill, doing a flip off a ramp, landing, bouncing off little mounds of snow, doing another flip, landing, and bouncing off more little mounds. What am I going to call this? Fuck if I know."

Rocky Votolato has a new CD coming out tomorrow. I'm seeing him on Wednesday, where I'll be purchasing the new album. As a result, I felt somewhat okay in my obtaining the mp3s through dubious means. My consensus: I like the new album quite a bit. "Makers" and "Suicide Medicine" are still stronger albums, in my opinion, but "True Devotion" is growing on me. As much as I liked "The Brag and the Cuss," it never really stuck with me, outside of a few amazing tracks. But "True Devotion" feels like a strong album. It's very stripped down -- just him, his guitar, and the harmonica on maybe one or two tracks. Some of the lyrics are kind of cringe-worthy ("I want to spend more time with you / because you make me happy. / It's something I'd been so little of."), but some of them are fantastic ("The harder you fight the tide, / the less likely you'll survive." And just wait until you hear him sing those lines -- great stuff). Bottom line: check it out.

Oh no, I somehow missed a total Super Bowl commercial scandal! The commercial that I thought was really funny with the little boy telling his mom’s new boyfriend to keep his hands off his mama and Doritos was racist! Darn. I can never pick out racism. I guess at this point I should assume that if there is something that features, mentions, talks about, shows, etc. people who aren’t white men, it’s probably racist, sexist, ageist, or some other kind of offense. And if it only features white men, it’s racist too! So apparently because the little boy is black, the commercial is actually subversively pointing out that black kids often get raised by single moms. Racism at its finest. As long as you totally discount the fact that there are tons of white people, Asians, Latinos, etc. that are also raised by single parents. And the boy slaps that guy in the face, showing that black people are physically abusive. AND, and I just thought of this one, the new boyfriend stares at the mom’s ass as she walks away: RACIST because it shows that black people love asses, and SEXIST because the woman is treated as a piece of meat! Also, the commercial is obviously racist because they don’t show a single white person, or Asian, or Latino, or Middle Easterner, or anything. It’s all black people! What are they, saying interracial relationships are wrong? And the name of their chips are Doritos! Sounds Mexican to me. Speak English in this country!

My point is, everything is an –ist if YOU are an –ist. The only reason you would see racism in that commercial is if YOU are a racist, inherently looking for that kind of thing. Otherwise, you just saw a funny commercial for Doritos. It’s a strange paradox that the people in this country screaming about how everything is racist are the people that are keeping racism alive. If one of these racists hadn’t brought up the notion that because black people were on TV it was racist, it wouldn’t have been racist. But now they’re actually talking about this on the radio like it’s a thing. It’s not a thing!

Sorry about all the f-bombs in that last post, but it had been a while since I went all f-crazy. We’ll try to keep that to a minimum in this post, okay?

FUCK Comcast up their fucking stupid fuckfaced fucking fuckholes. I fucking can’t stand those fucking shitwads, those fucking turd burglars, those fucking fuckwits. Fuck em. I got a DVR from those cock goblins last Monday, and yesterday the shitty piece of shit went out. Every time I push the goddamn play button the shitbox fucking resets itself! ONE WEEK I had the fucking piece of dogshit. One motherfucking week. So I’m talking to Comcast last night about it, and the asshat on the phone tells me that I can go exchange the thing for a new one. I asked him if this new shitty waste of plastic and metal would last more than a week, and he “assure”d me that it would, because they would make sure to give me a “good, working” unit this time. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THE FIRST ONE? A fucking practical joke? Thanks for signing up for the DVR – to build you up to using one, we’re going to send you a box full of kitty shit and dog droppings, and once that one shits itself after a week, YOU can come to US to get your working one. And the guy’s going on and on like he’s doing me a favor by making this exchange free. I tell you what, Comcast. LAST fucking straw. See what happens when this one breaks. And if I can’t watch Lost tonight because of your shitty technology, the bomb threat you receive tomorrow will not be (unlike the garbage you try to pass off as a DVR) fake.

SAINTS WIN! Okay, so really I didn’t care that much about the Super Bowl, but I was rooting for the Saints because they had never been to the Super Bowl, they were the underdogs, and New Orleans deserved something good to happen to them finally. Also, after that onside kick to open the second half, Sean Payton is now my favorite coach in football. That man’s balls should be in the Guinness Book of World Records.

Anyway, there was a lot of commotion going into this year’s Super Bowl commercials. Before I address the ridiculousness on all sides of every issue, I want to know why commercials only get to be good during the Super Bowl? Why is it that the rest of the year we’re treated to boring, stupid, pointless commercials, and then once a year we have this focus on commercials? Maybe if commercials were entertaining all year, instead of offensively stupid, we wouldn’t fast forward through them all the time. It’s not like it’s more expensive to produce commercials that are entertaining. The Doritos commercials that dominated the Super Bowl weren’t technological marvels that cost millions to produce, but they were all very funny and very clever. Keep your hands off my mama, and keep your hands off my Doritos!

So the Tim Tebow commerical that got the pro-choicers all worked up before they had seen it, that was the talk of the radio and TV news programs, that caused righteous indignation to flare aired, and… it was less offensive than a commercial for Cialis. Tim’s mom talks about how he almost didn’t make it into this world, and she’s glad he did, and he tackles her, and they smile at the camera. So, to my allies on the left, pro-choice side of this debate, I have to once again say, YOU FUCKING SUCK. Way to go, you stupid bitches. Way to protest something you haven’t seen. Now it looks like you hate happy families. So now you look pro-abortion and anti-family. Stupid motherfuckers. Next time you want to get all up in arms about something, maybe you should have a fucking clue what you’re talking about so you don’t end up looking like fucking retards (my insincere apologies to Sarah Palin).

Then there was the Man Cruch ad that CBS banned because apparently two dudes kissing is the hardest thing we’d have to explain to our kids during the Super Bowl. Everyone on the right, anti-human rights (which is what I’m now calling the anti-gay marriage side of things) side praised CBS for saving us and our children and our dogs from having to watch this hardcore gay pornography during a sport that is already so homoerotic we have to act as manly as possible to push down those strange feelings we’re getting in our loins watching huge, burly men grope at each other for three hours. But wait! You can’t even see those guys kissing, and it’s actually a pretty damn funny ad. So, to all those people who think gays are agents of the devil sent here to turn us all queer, I once again say, YOU FUCKING SUCK. Hiding the fact that there are gay people in the world from your children isn’t going to make them gay/not gay. It’s going to make more of you dumbshit motherfuckers come into the world who pass on your hatred of your fellow man from generation to generation and keep us from advancing into the tolerant society we should be.

Finally, this Godaddy ad was banned for some reason. I’m not sure if it’s because there’s another gay person in it. Or… because it’s the only Godaddy ad that has ever actually shown what the hell Godaddy is? Actually, I can’t figure out why this one got banned. I’d say maybe it was the bikinis and lingerie, but football has fucking cheerleaders in the fucking sport, for fuck’s sake. All I know is, now that I’ve watched all three of those banned/controversial commercials, the thing I’m most offended by about the Super Bowl was the way they kept saying “New Or-lee-ans” like they’d never heard the place’s name before.

I really enjoy Grape Nuts. But every time I pour myself a bowlful, I think that I'm eating the leftover remains of every other cereal at the Post factory. I picture all the different cereals fermenting in large tin tanks like you see at breweries. (Why cereal needs to ferment, I don't know.) And at the bottom of these tanks are sliding trays that collect all the crumbs. Then, at the end of the night, the Post workers empty, collect, and bag the leftovers, thus creating a box of Grape Nuts.

It was late last night, I was tired, and my cat came to visit me before I went to bed, as per the usual routine. So I was petting him and talking to him, like normal, when I noticed that he was repeating a lot of the same movements. i.e. he walked up to my pillow, then to the foot of the bed, then plopped down on his side, etc. So I said to him (corny joke alert), "If you keep doing the same thing over and over, I'm going to seriously think you have OCD: Obsessive Cat Disorder."

(Thanks to these two anecdotes, I think I understand now why it is I don't have many friends. Speaking of friends, though, I want to go out drinking with Rip Torn. But only if he looks all haggard like he does in that picture.)

I had a dream last night that Terrell Owens was holding me hostage in my high school, along with the rest of the class, because of something Obama did. It went down like this: I was on the third floor of the school haggling with the music salesman about how much he was charging for singles. “I know singles cost more, but $8 for a song seems pretty pricy,” I said to him. He somehow convinced me that it wasn’t that much, so I ended up buying three songs from him for $20 (two for $8 a piece, and one for $4). Then I stood there confused for a second, then went to class, which was down on the first floor. This high school that’s in my dreams bears a certain resemblance to my actual high school, but it’s not the same. Strangely, it is the same high school every time I dream about being in high school.

Anyway, I went to class, and Terrell Owens barges in with a gun and starts saying stuff about Obama. I don’t really remember what Obama had done to him, or what he wanted from Obama, but he sure was upset. He left the classroom but left one of his hostage holding deputies there to keep us in line. He then either became omnipotent and was able to speak to everyone at the school with his mind, or he went and got on the intercom, but either way he started talking a lot about how he was upset with Obama. The dream ended when my alarm went off, perfectly timed with TO yelling “Obama! Obama! Obaaamaaaa!”

So, how about those Grammys? Did you see that Kings of Leon’s song “Use Somebody” was the single best "record" (read: song) released in 2009? It’s amazing that every single music magazine on the face of the Earth somehow missed that one! Since the Grammys are a televised music awards show, they must have picked up on it while the old, lame print media somehow had it slip under their radars. Because the Grammys are totally a real thing that people care about, they way they always take into account real music, and not just music that makes a ton of money and satiates the public’s desire to hear totally inoffensive, bland noises coming from their speakers. That’s why the best new band this year was totally the Zac Brown Band. Music journalists the world over have been talking up the Zac Brown Band as the best thing since Milli Vanilli! And while the print media rejected Eminem’s comeback album “Relapse” as the big pile of dog shit that it was (I listened to it) and instead favored “rap” like the universally acclaimed “Cuban Linx Part II” from Raekwon, the Grammys saw fit to bestow Eminem with the best rap album award, because let’s face it: it sold more copies.

The Grammys are a waste of space. They hand out awards based solely on the amount of iTunes downloads a song/album gets, it seems like. How else can you explain Judas Priest getting the best metal “performance” award? Those guys can hardly even stand on their own without use of breathing apparatti (can someone verify that’s a word?) and walkers. Did the Grammys even realize that Mastodon put an album out last year? No! Because Judas Priest sold a lot of copies. You can’t just pick up Billboard’s year-end-review issue and say “Since the Black Eyed Peas are technically music, and they sold a billion copies, they win the Best Pop Album award!” You have to actually listen to the music! Green Day won the Best Rock Album award? Granted, I didn’t listen to it, but I assume it’s more middle of the road, middle aged pop rock like their last album. And there had to be WAY better rock albums come out last year. Although I’m one to talk, since I could only really easily think of five genuinely great albums that came out last year.

In any case, the Grammys were right about two things: First, Beyonce’s song “Single Ladies” was the best song that came out last year. That’s science. Second, although I’m still not sold on Phoenix, they are now Grammy winners for Best Alternative Album. Which I guess means now all the indie kids who loved them are contractually obligated to call them sellouts and go find another band who no one has heard of to champion.

I watched part of the State of the Union. Going in, I was excited about it. I knew Obama would give a hell of a speech. It was his first address -- the first one delivered by a minority. So I really wanted to enjoy the historic moment. But then it began, and I realized why I hate the State of the Union address. It's all pageantry. I guess I'm feeling particularly jaded and cynical, but I just don't feel like anything that Obama said will actually happen. Instead, the whole thing is a platform for Democrats to sound like they're going to get shit done (they won't) and Republicans to show their disdain for the Democrats' ideas. And the applause. I stopped watching after forty minutes because of the applause. Way to be both self-congratulatory (for no apparent reason [let's see some results, then you can applaud yourselves]) and pandering at the same time. Here's what I learned from the State of the Union: how to make Republicans begrudgingly applaud what you have to say. Here are some examples:

--We are going to instate mandatory abortions for all women BECAUSE AMERICA WILL BE THE BEST AT IT!
--We'll tax the shit out of businesses... BUT NOT SMALL BUSINESSES!
--We're going to punch everyone in the face BECAUSE AMERICANS ARE RESILIENT AND STRONG!
--We're replacing all jelly-filled donuts with meat-filled donuts BECAUSE IT WILL PROVIDE JOBS FOR EVERYONE!

I'm also watching Generation Kill at the moment. I think that might be fueling my contempt. (Generation Kill is written by two of The Wire's writers. The Wire is fantastically amazing. Generation Kill is pretty good, so far, but nowhere near as good as The Wire.)

People riding down escalators: we need to talk. Look, no one's perfect. I understand that. I have my own flaws. For instance, I like to walk at a brisk pace. When there are stairs available, I take the stairs. But sometimes that's just not possible. Sometimes I don't have an option and I have to take the escalator. So look. If you're going up, then kindly step to the right of the escalator, per unspoken escalator etiquette. That way I can walk up the escalators like they're stairs, which, let's not kid ourselves. They're fucking stairs. And if you're going down, then the same thing applies. But let's say that we're on one of those super-skinny escalators, the ones that are single-file only. In that instance, let's move it. You know what's easier than walking down a moving down escalator? Nothing. So walk. Now, if you have an injury or can't walk well, I understand. I'm a compassionate person. But when we get off the escalator, you've gotta give me something. A limp. Drag your leg. Hit me with your cane. But if you can walk without complication, move.

I've watched three Buster Keaton movies recently. Good stuff. The General was the first Keaton movie I ever saw, and it remains my favorite. If you have Netflix, it's on their streaming service. It's like an hour and ten minutes -- check it out. College is also fun and has a great wrap-up. Steamboat Bill, Jr. was my least favorite of the three, but still pretty entertaining. I honestly don't know how Keaton performed the things he did without killing/seriously injuring himself. It's crazy. And it's also crazy how timeless comedy is. Not only in the sense that what was funny then is funny now, but also that situations now applied back then. College, for example, is all about Buster Keaton trying to impress a girl who's going out (? -- maybe not, I don't quite remember) with a dumb jock. But the dumb jock character feels straight out of a contemporary comedy. Anyway, Buster Keaton is the man. Way cooler than Charlie Chaplin. (Though, I've only seen one Chaplin movie, so who am I to say?)

The iPad? Really, Apple? I mean, thank you for finally answering my prayers to have an iPhone that was way too big to carry in my pocket, but how many hours did it take you to come up with that name? iPad. Sheesh! What's next? Shoes with touch screens called the iPed? Personally Identifiable Data that can surf the web called the iPID? This thing that actually exists with a 10-inch color screen called the iPud? (Yes, I did have to look something up for Pud, and yes, I was horrified to find that)

I had a thought the other day about how subconsciously the regular Nintendo taught us how to seduce women. Remember how you couldn’t just shove the cartridge in the slot and expect to play a game? You just got a flashing green and black screen. No, you had to take your time with it. You had to blow in it just the right way, and a little rubbing of the cartridge never hurt your chances. You had to really search for the right spot that would just make the system go CRAZY and actually play your game for you. Everyone had their little routines of foreplay with the NES cartridges that they swore turned the system on in just the right way that it would let you play with it. And it also taught us safe sex, since you couldn’t play a goddamn game without first putting the Game Genie on over the slot. Between that subliminal message, and the fact that I’m pretty sure I learned to read and spell because of Final Fantasy games, I’m not sure why videogames ever had such a bad rap. Videogames taught me everything I know!

I broadened my cooking horizons by making homemade French fries and jalapeno burgers last night. Woo hoo for me! They even turned out edible. Way more edible than the fajitas I made a week or two ago, a mess of red and white disgusting liquid and chunks that haunt my dreams to this day. Cooking is so stressful for me, though, that I think tonight I’ll just be microwaving something.

Are you ready for the State of the Union? Prepare to be temporarily reminded of why we voted for Obama in the first place: The man gives a great speech. Afterwards he does some questionable things like gives trials to terrorists and ignores the economy to focus on a health care bill that no one likes, but the man can talk. There’s no denying that fact. He speaks English very well, and the tone of his voice… oh, the tone. And the pacing! And the body language. I tell you what, between the tone, and the pacing, and the body language, he could be reciting the alphabet and I’d be like “Next time I WILL sing with you, Barack Obama! I will!” with tears running down my face.

Let’s all sing happy birthday to my dad, as today he turns… 56! The big five six. If you multiply those two numbers together, that’s 30, and that’s not so old.

Okay then. Have a happy fantastic day.

Well hey. Brian here. Sorry for my absence of late. Wish I had a cool excuse (you know, like I gained extraordinary superhero powers and have been improving the world little by little), but no, I've just been normal ol' me. (Or have I????) I also had a bout of sickness, mine lasting a little longer than Adam's crazy-short overnight illness. I saw a few shows (of the music, Broadway, and improv variety). I've seen quite a few movies. Read a couple books. So yeah, I've been busy, you could say.

I had a couple ideas for topical things that are no longer topical and wouldn't work. The best idea was to draw up a chart of other cause-and-effect relationships Pat Robertson uses to explain natural phenomenon. I might get back to this one later. I just have to wait for the next global travesty, then keep an ear out for what Pat has to say. (Not that I'm hoping for such a catastrophe, mind you. But think of the humor!)

I also wanted to talk about this business with Conan and NBC, but Adam covered it. And, by this point, it's done, so it doesn't even matter. Sorry, Conan. Shitty move on NBC's part. Nice send-off, though.

I have an idea in the works for another update. Hopefully it won't take me close to fifteen days to get it up here. My writing has been slow recently. As in: nonexistent. I'm hoping getting back into the taking-classes routine will help with that. It should.

Before I go, I gotta ask a couple questions about your self-portrait, Adam: Why are you holding a Legend of Zelda sword? And what's the A&P all about? I see the letters "A" and "P" together and all I can think of is the frequently-anthologized John Updike short story, which, although it's kind of kick-ass, I don't think is what you're going for.

Self Portrait, entitled Kick Ass Adam

Reviews!

Avatar: Story: Cliché, but serviceable. Special Effects: So awesome. I’m not one to get excited about special effects movies. I have no desire to see Transformers 2 or 2012, because they look like movies that exist solely for special effects. But, when I heard that Avatar was having technology created from the ground up to accommodate its special effects, I was interested. When I saw the reviews were good, I went and saw it at the IMAX in 3D, and it was quite a spectacle. It might have been the 3D, or the amazing blue people special effects, or the fully-realized and believable alien world, but whatever it was, when I walked out of the theater, I felt like I had just taken a trip to Pandora, or watched a documentary about it. It’s unbelievably beautiful, every little detail. If I could go back and insert this into my Top 2009 Movies list, I definitely would. This is one that should be watched on the big screen in 3D though. I’m not sure the visuals will have the same punch on DVD.

Up in the Air: Also would have made it onto my Top 2009 Movies list, had I seen it in 2009. I really, really liked this movie. I’ve now seen every Jason Reitman movie, and I like them all. This one is my favorite though. It’s heartbreaking and hilarious, and its characters are all realistic and three dimensional (but not like Avatar). It also doesn’t hurt that it has one of the more attractive casts of any movie I can think of recently. I had a lot of fun watching it. You would too.

500 Days of Summer: While at some points the movie seemed a little too cutesy (especially the end), I found this to be a refreshing take on “romantic” “comedies” (and yes, both of those words are in quotations for a reason). I liked the jumping around in time and the cutaways to which “day of Summer” it was. Plus, I will always have a crush on Zooey, even if she is a big old jerk in this movie. This and Up in the Air are not feel-good movies by any means, but I’d recommend this one too. Even if I think that Joseph Gordon-Levitt is a weird looking dude and sometimes kind of seems to fake a British accent. And his SNL appearance was totally lame, because he decided he wanted to make goofy faces and sing in every single skit. It was cute at first, JGL, but you can drop it now.

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs: You know I love kids movies. This was a fun little movie. Not emotionally involving really, but the animation style of this movie was pretty hilarious. There were a lot of famous people who did voices you couldn’t even recognize (except Mr. T as the hilarious town policeman), highlighted by NPH (if you need to know, watch Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle) as the monkey, Steve. There was good action, funny dialog, and funny animation. Basically, it’s what you’re looking for from a kids movie. It’s obviously not going to compete with Up for the best computer animated movie of the year, or Mr. Fox for the best kids and overall movie of the year, but I kind of think if you don’t enjoy it you have no soul.

I like getting into things way after the fact. Have you listened to The Replacements? They have a couple of good albums.

Oh, how about a Grandma update? She’s out of rehab and sounds amazing. She’s not perfect. Her speech is a little slow and she has trouble thinking of words, and she walks using a walker (unless you don’t watch her, in which case she tries to walk without it because she’s stubborn), but compared to weakly muttering “I love you” a while back, she’s amazing. She has therapy come to the house a couple times a week, and will for a little while, but she’s a strong woman and she’s going to keep fighting to get back to where she was before.

Okay. Uh… yeah. I didn’t really have much to say. But I wrote here anyway. So have a good day I guess. And tell your mom something offensive.

I am sick. Being sick sucks. How did I get sick? I drink orange juice every morning. I eat a lot of green pepper (which I found out today has a lot of vitamin C). I wash my hands like I think they’ll shrivel up and fall off if I don’t keep them constantly watered (thanks, Mom!). And yet, here I am. Sick. As usual for me being sick, my nose is now glowing red. I took a nap in the car today and when I sat up, there was a snot waterfall that spewed out of my nose. A snotterfall, if you will (and you must!). When it didn’t stop for a while, I decided I’d pinch my nostril shut, and it exploded in a gross but hilarious snotsplosion!

Simon Cowell is leaving American Idol after this season, and although my heart has been shattered into tiny little pieces upon hearing this, I will saunter on. But now I’m tasked with suggesting someone to replace the man? I mean, who else could slouch behind a desk in a t-shirt, nipples erect, and say nasty things in a British accent? I suggest Chef Gordon Ramsey. Sure, he might not know much about music, but do you really need to? I can tell if someone can sing or not, and since America does all the voting after the totally obvious tryouts, I don’t think you need to know anything about anything to be on that show. Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to be the judge. I can go “It was bad.” Or I can go “It was good.” Or I can go “It was not good, but not bad, but okay, so yes.” And I can wear t-shirts. I have all the necessary qualifications. If anyone knows Mr. Americanidol, please get me in touch with him.

Good for Conan O’Brien, telling NBC where to shove it. Conan has always been my favorite late night talk show host, followed by Letterman, followed by Leno, followed by whatever else crap they put on (did you know Jimmy Kimmel still has a show?) And, the only parts I really liked about Leno were segments of his like Headlines, which didn’t really have anything to do with him. He’d just show funny headlines or typos in the paper. Jaywalking was funny when it first came about, but now you can tell it’s fake, and people give stupid answers on purpose in order to get on TV. Anyway, the point is, Leno said he was retiring, he handed the show to Conan, who’s much funnier and edgier anyway, then decided he didn’t want to retire, then NBC gave him a show at 10 for some reason, which wasn’t funny and wasn’t any different than The Tonight Show with Jay Leno except the show’s name changed (The Jay Leno Show), the band’s name changed (The Prime Time Band, from The Tonight Show Band), and they got rid of Jay’s desk. Ooooooo, way to go, NBC. If it weren’t for Thursday night’s comedy lineup on that channel, there would be no reason for it to still broadcast. So, now NBC wants to move Jay back to 11:30, bumping Conan, because Jay’s ratings at 10 were so bad that the affiliates lost so much 11:00 news viewership they threatened to revolt. Conan wisely and pleasantly declined to be bumped. So now there are two outcomes I see: NBC breaches Conan’s contract, pays him millions, and he goes to another network (Fox) to compete against Leno and Letterman. Or, Jay Leno gets fired. At this point, I think Leno’s time has come, and if NBC is smart, they’ll let him go and give Conan the backing he deserves. Which means the opposite will happen.

UPDATE: I'm publishing this "tomorrow morning" (I wrote this yesterday), and by the Glory and Grace of God Almighty On High, I feel much better. Or, more accurately, by the Glory and Grace of Vitamin C Supplements In Water, and Rest, I feel much better. Thanks God/Vitamin C Supplements and Sleep.

You know, for all the bad things about drug dealers, I bet they’re really good drivers. They don’t want to crash or get pulled over and have someone find their drugs. So the next time you see an asshole driving a big SUV, talking on her cell phone, weaving between lanes and varying her speed by 15 miles an hour every few minutes, just think to yourself how much better off your drive would be if you were surrounded by drug dealers.

Are you feeling pretty good about that thousand dollars you just spent after finally caving into the HDTV trend? How would you like to spend another thousand, or maybe two, sometime in the next year? Well, you’re in luck! The people who just took your money on a new TV sometime in the last couple of years are back to take more of your money with their next big thing: 3DTV. Just in case you thought your family looked a little too non-brainwashed sitting around together staring at a box with pictures on it, soon you’ll be able to look like a freaky cult by wearing your own 3-D glasses at home while staring at a box! If you’re like me and you went and saw Avatar in 3-D and you turned around and looked at the mass of people all wearing identical yellow glasses staring at the same screen and you thought “Wow, that’s a little terrifying looking, but totally awesome,” you’re in luck! And if after two and a half hours of wearing those glasses, you noticed you were feeling a little high from the fact that they’re ridiculously uncomfortable and cut off about half the circulation to your brain, and you thought “I wish I could wear uncomfortable glasses like this at home too,” you’re in luck! So basically, if you have too much money, and love looking weird and being uncomfortable, your ship is about to come in. 3DTV is on the way later this year.

In case you can’t tell, I’m skeptical about this new “revolution” in TV for a few reasons. The main thing is comfort level. If I’m sitting on the couch watching TV for a few hours (shut up, you do it too sometimes), I don’t really want to have to wear glasses to watch the TV, or goggles, or whatever viewing device you’re required to wear to watch the thing. It’s also hard for me to believe that many shows need to be viewed in 3D. I have never watched a football game and wished it were in 3D, yet ESPN is one of the first channels broadcasting in 3D. If there’s any sacrifice to picture quality, which I imagine there has to be, I’d rather stick with my crystal clear 2D HDTV I have right now. Another thing is price. Everyone just shelled out hundreds or thousands of dollars to get an HDTV recently, and now they’re following that up so quickly with a new kind of TV? Sounds like a money-grab to me. But I’ve been skeptical of 3D even in the movies, and I still am, even having experienced the glory that was Avatar in 3D. That movie was so sick, and the 3D really helped pull me in. That said, I’m still not hankering to see another 3D movie.

Danny and I went to Blackhawk on a whim yesterday to gamble. I sat down at a $10 blackjack table and promptly lost $60. Then after a couple beers, I went to a craps table and promptly lost $60 (but I rolled the dice better than I ever have before). Then I went to a $5 blackjack table, which is much more my speed, and promptly lost $40. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my last $30 and laid it on the table. I worked this $30 into a little more than $100. Once I get $100 at a casino I turn it into a black chip which I put in my pocket and save. Ever since I started gambling I’d marveled at people who could spend $100 on a hand of cards, or throw thousands onto a craps table. So, four or five beers in, I decided that last night was the night. I lost all my extra $5 chips and was down to my black $100 chip. I declared that this was something I had always wanted to do, and I slid that $100 chip into the betting circle. Danny screamed at me not to do it, but my mind was made up. For one glorious minute I was going to be a high roller. The dealer exclaimed “WHAT!?” and I nodded confidently. He dealt me my first card, and my heart leapt when I saw an ace. Everyone at the table got anxious. The dealer dealt my second card face down, so that I would have to wait until everyone else had played to see if I had gotten a blackjack. But, he showed Danny the card first, and Danny exclaimed “No!” and started laughing. Then he acted like maybe he was lying. But sure enough, when that second card turned up a face card and I’d gotten a blackjack on my $100 bid, the table erupted. I won $250 on a single hand of cards, and my life was complete. I took that $250, went on a streak like I couldn’t believe, and left with $390. It was so awesome. You really should have been there.

I didn't intend my next post to be about the news (once again). But when I saw this story, I had to dust off the ol' soapbox. Here's the run-down: Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid made a bit of a faux-pas in 2008. "Privately" (whatever the hell that means, since it clearly wasn't all that private if it's now come to surface), he said that then-candidate Obama would do well in the election because he (Obama) was "light-skinned" and spoke "with no Negro dialect, unless he wanted to have one." Certainly a backhanded compliment, certainly racially insensitive, and certainly a dumb thing to say. But now Michael Steele, the Republican Party Chairman, is asking for Senator Reid to resign over his comments.

Everyone, all together now: What the fuck, Michael Steele?

You mean to say an old white dude from Nevada might "privately" say some stupid racist shit? Wow, I'm shocked. This is news. I mean, really, this is fucking news! Next thing you know, some of the Congresspeople from the South might also be racist! But surely that can't be! They only had the utmost respect for Barack Obama when he was running for president! They only had the utmost respect for Sonia Sotomayor when she was confirmed for the Supreme Court! Racism is truly a thing of the past! Fuck Harry Reid for bringing it back!

(Using exclamation points to indicate sarcasm works really well!)

Okay, I admit it. There is probably a bit of a double-standard here. If a Republican had made the same comment, there'd probably be a much larger backlash. But come on, we all know a Republican wouldn't make the same comment. (They'd say "nigger," not "Negro." [Cheap joke, I apologize. I don't think all Republicans would say that. Just some.]) The thing is, Reid's choice of words, no matter how poor, weren't meant derogatorily. It's not like he said, "There's no way I'm ever voting for Obama, even if he is one of those light-skinned ones who doesn't speak like a Negro." That's bad. That's racist. Admitting that Obama might do well in polls due to the fact that he is, in fact, light-skinned and has a very neutral accent is... kind of true. Frankly, I'm still shocked we have a black president. It's fantastic. But if he had been black black, would he have been elected? There's definitely something to the light-skinned argument. Except, wait, no. I forgot that racism is dead and no one cares about skin color or foreign-sounding names. Everyone, that is, except for Harry Reid.

(There's also a specific coincidence to this story that I enjoy immensely: Last week, Michael Steele made his own racially insensitive remark on a Fox News interview. He said that the GOP platform "is one of the best political documents that's been written in the last 25 years, 'honest injun' on that."

I'd like to see Michael Steele call for Michael Steele to resign over that comment.)

Lost is going to be entering its final season in February. Hopefully Feb. 2, if Obama has the sense to not interrupt it with the State of the Union address. I like Cam’s suggestion: ABC should air the Lost premiere regardless, since the State of the Union will be broadcast on literally every other channel in TV. I have never been this excited for a premiere of any show, ever. Over the course of the last few months, I’ve re-watched the entire show on DVD, and I am prepared to say, I have never seen a show so meticulously thought out and deep on network TV, and probably never will again (especially if network TV seems to think that Flashforward will be the next Lost, but more on that in a minute). I noticed that the ratings for Lost have dipped from a peak of around 20 million viewers in the middle of season 1 to a little less than 10 million at the end of season 5, but those of us that have stuck around for the whole thing have been richly rewarded with a large cast of well-developed characters, recurring themes, science-fiction, and mystery.

Most astoundingly, mysteries that were brought up in the first season are finally being answered in believable ways at the end of the show. The Lost mythology at this point is so confusing that it’s not even worth explaining, but to say the show has transformed from a tale of survival in the first season to an epic and realistic sci-fi experience is an understatement. What other show on TV could introduce a destroyed four-toed statue in season two, not even mention it again for three full seasons, and then bring it back as one of the focal points of the entire series in the fifth? It’s things like that that make watching Lost from the beginning to the end such a fantastic experience.

That’s not to say the show hasn’t had problems. Before an end-date was set, the show meandered through seasons two and three, which were bookended with awesome episodes but stuffed with so much filler that at times it was hard to struggle through weeks of nothing happening. It was also plagued by a ridiculous airing schedule where we would have three new episodes, then not get one for two weeks, then get a new episode, wait two weeks, get five episodes, wait a month, etc, that made the slow episodes even more unbearable. The show would have an awesome episode full of mystery and intrigue, end on a cliffhanger, then the next week’s episode would totally disregard said cliffhanger and pal around with the funny fat guy for an hour, and then you’d have to wait three weeks to see cliffhanger resolved.

It’s no wonder a lot of people gave up on the show. But for me, the underlying mystery of the island and the characters I truly care about were enough to keep watching. And at this point, I’m glad I did. Seasons 4 and 5 were masterfully told, and because the end was nearing and the seasons were shortened, they were filler free. Now on the figurative eve of the final sixth season of Lost, I have no idea where the story is going, and no idea how they’re going to tie things up, but I absolutely cannot wait to find out. This will either be the single best season of television ever made, or a total flop, but based on how well these guys have done making this absurdly complex story make sense, I have faith in them.

Can we talk about Flashforward for a second? Even if that show hadn’t been billed ad-nauseum as the Next Lost, it would still be a shitty show. I watched that show for eight episodes waiting for it to suck a little bit less, and it never did. Here’s the problem: Flashforward begins with a really interesting premise in which everyone blacks out for a while and wakes up having seen the future. During that little while, cars crashed, planes crashed, etc, and a lot of people died. There was some impressive scenery in the first part of the first episode, and then… nothing. The fact that probably millions of people died is left behind, as the FBI starts trying to piece together the future when it becomes clear that everyone saw the same future. So, interesting premise, with interesting questions raised: is the future now inevitable? Does free will still exist? That kind of thing. The problem is, the FBI in this show is populated by the most narrow-minded, idiotic buffoons on the planet. They don’t ask questions that any rational person would ask because the show has decided it’s not time to reveal the answers to those questions yet.

The acting is universally embarrassing, a terrible cast led by the leader of all bad actors, Joseph Feinnes, who insists that every line be growled with an intensity that’s totally unnecessary. “Does anyone want SOME MORE PIZZA!??!!?!” you could see him asking his family, his hands clenched tight around the dinner table, supporting his body leaning over it, spit flying from his mouth, his eyes on fire with a rage that should probably be medicated. Except he wouldn’t ask his family that, because the answer to that question clearly isn’t going to be revealed until the end of the show. And because the producers don’t want you to know if the family wants more pizza yet, they just leave everyone around the table, half a pizza eaten, for six episodes. I think you get what I’m saying.

The great thing about Lost is that it rewards patience. The questions that need to be answered aren’t asked because there’s so much going on that the Losties don’t have time to be asking questions. Who gives a shit what the noise in the forest is when you’ve just been involved in a plane crash on a tropical island with polar bears on it and a strange group of indigenous hostiles are threatening you? But, as the pressing issues are resolved and explained away, eventually you learn more and more about what the noise in the forest is, to the point now where the noise in the forest is almost completely explained. In Flashforward, there is one explicit question raised at a time, which is then bullshitted around for two episodes before someone finally asks “Why is that elephant in the living room?” Then a man will climb out of the elephant and deliver a horribly acted speech about destiny.

The characters in Lost have been fleshed out by an almost inordinate amount of flashbacks to their life before. The characters on Flashforward are the dumbest people in the world. An FBI agent saw in his flashforward that a man with a gang tattoo was going to kill him, and in the present he killed a man with a gang tattoo and thought he had killed his attacker. But then later in the episode he finds out there are MORE people with the SAME tattoo! This man works for the fucking FBI! And they’re retarded as far as answering the central question, “Can you change the future?” too. Instead of blindly recreating exactly what you saw in the future, couldn’t you just make one obvious change? If you see yourself about to get killed at your job, quit your job. Right? But no one in the show thinks like that. In fact, the one likeable character on the show kills himself, WHICH DOESN’T HAPPEN IN HIS FLASHFORWARD, and it’s newsworthy. Stories show up on the news about a man who was brave enough to change the future, opening that possibility. But you’re telling me that weeks after this incident, not a single person in the world had even thought about the possibility that they could make a change that would change the future? Jesus Christ!

I know it’s TV, but please. Don’t insult your audience with this tripe, and don’t insult them even more by comparing this show in any way to Lost. When Lost ends, I don’t know what I’m going to watch for my serialized drama fix, but if Flashforward is the networks’ next attempt at it, maybe I’ll just start reading more.

Everyone can rest easy tonight: We now know the value of pi to 2.7 trillion digits. I don't know about you, but, back in August 2009 (when the previous world record was only 2.6 trillion), I developed a bout of insomnia. My mind couldn't stop calculating the additional 123 billion digits that led to the new record. But, thanks to Fabrice Bellard, I -- and, presumably, you -- can finally get some sleep.

Seriously, though. Pi to 2.7 trillion digits? My favorite line from the article: "These herculean computations form part of a branch of mathematics known as arbitrary-precision arithmetic." Yeah, no kidding. Except that, at this point, "arbitrary" is an understatement.

I've started watching Night Court, the 1984 sitcom with Harry Anderson and John Larroqqueettee (a.k.a. the guy with way too many double-letters in his name. [Okay, okay, so it's only two Rs and two Ts, but still. Larroquette. As if.]). Anyway, I've been thoroughly, thoroughly enjoying it. This is surprising for two reasons. One, the fact that it's 26 years old and yet still holds up incredibly well. And, two, a guy named Reinhold Weege created it (and wrote most of the first-season episodes). Reinhold? Weege? I can only imagine the kind of torment and ridicule he faced in elementary school. (There were probably several references to, among other things, "squeegee" and "wedgie.") So yeah, if you're looking for some Klassic Komedy from the Keighties, check out Night Court. (I was hoping to go for some sort of KKK joke [Why? I don't know.], but it fizzled out before it even began.)

Editor's note: (We don't have an editor. So make that "author's note.") This response began as a comment to Adam's previous post, but then it got kind of long, so I decided to make it its own separate thing. So sorry, Adam, for depriving you of a comment.

That lala.com site is amazing. Thanks for bringing it to my attention. I'll be using it a lot from now on.

I, too, have seen Animal Collective's Merriweather Post Pavilion album all over the place. I haven't had much of a desire to check it out, though, only because I've been to the actual Merriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia, Maryland and it's really not all that great. And yes, I base all of my interest in a CD solely on its title and whether or not I've visited there (if applicable). (This also explains my reluctance to listen to Raditude. [On a side note: Leave it to Rock Band to get me to listen to a couple of Raditude tracks. I actually bought "(If You’re Wondering...)" because it has a kick-ass bass-line. The lyrics sound pretty blah, but you’re right -- Cuomo can still write a catchy tune. The "Let It All Hang Out" song, however, didn't fare quite as well.])

However, I'm going to attempt a slight defense for Phoenix. I do agree that it's not going to change the face of indie-dance-pop forever-and-ever, but it is pretty good. When it comes to listening to new music, I feel like a crotchety old man. I blame it on the radio station, when I had to listen to and review way too many CDs. Very few of them were in the good-to-great camp. Everything else just sort of blended together in an average-to-below-average stew of stuff I'd heard before. So, no, I did not have an earth-shattering experience listening to Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix. But you know, I did like it. (Even with its relatively stupid-sounding album name.) They take a formula that's been around for a while and do it surprisingly well.

I also started listening to the XX (xx?) album. Sounds good, so far. It was on the track "Islands," though, that I realized that the guy's voice totally sounds like Jemaine from Flight of the Conchords.

Thanks to lala.com, I will also look into two other artists: Blue Roses and A Camp. Those come from the BBC's year's-best list. Judging from their MySpace songs, they both sound catchy and fun and innocuous enough.

Finally, I also had trouble thinking of CDs I really, really, really liked from last year. Another reason I didn't make a Top 10 list. Don't think I would've made it past 5.

So that was the would-be comment. See, way too long. I just have two more things from the news today I want to mention.

1. The world's tallest tower opens in Dubai. Apparently it is 828 meters (2, 716 feet) high. That's crazy. Look at the comparison-graph thing to see how other landmarks measure up. (Ugh, sorry about the pun. Couldn't help it, though.) Here's a quote from the article: "Declaring that 'tall buildings are back,' the [architect] company predicts that the groundbreaking techniques it used to push the Burj Khalifa to new heights should enable the construction of even taller towers in the future." Wait, what? We're going to create even taller buildings? Really? Is this thought kind of unsettling to anyone else? And speaking of unsettling news...

2. Someone hung an effigy of President Obama in... guess where... none other than Plains, Georgia! Stay classy, Georgia.

I’ve been undergoing what you could call a research project recently. When The Onion’s top albums of the year came out, and I had heard very few of them, I decided I wanted to hear what was going on in music this year. My difficulty in coming up with a Top 10 Albums of 2009 list made me feel like maybe I was losing my grip on the music scene. I mean, it happens to everyone eventually. How many grandparents do you know listening to Paramore? Probably not many. Or you just have really hip grandparents. So, courtesy of lala.com, I have been going through several top albums of the year lists and listening to the albums, or as much as I can until my ears start bleeding. The disturbing results conclusively point to me not understanding or liking where indie music is heading right now. I focused on indie music because, let’s face it, mainstream music will never be anything other than catchy bubblegum pop music to appeal to the masses’ urge to shake their asses. My ass doesn’t shake (except I guess it does because the fat in it probably wobbles, but I think you get what I’m saying, and I also think you probably didn’t need that image), so I’m forced to rely on the indie scene to reach deep into my body and touch me (you probably didn’t need that image either). It seems to me that the music scene that’s popular right now is this electronic driven ambient music that sounds like high pitched monks chanting over the sounds of a busy freeway.

The album that overwhelmingly dominated Top lists was definitely Animal Collective’s “Merriweather Post Pavilion.” Because of its astounding popularity amongst the indie giants, I was willing to give it two chances. The first time I didn’t like it. The songs sounded fuzzy, there was no energy, and it seemed less like a band and more like a couple of guys who just discovered that computers can make noises. So I researched a little more, and there was literally not a single person in this entire world that thought MPP was any less than an earth-shaking revelation of an album, destined to be ranked with OK Computer, Abbey Road, Dark Side of the Moon, Appetite for Destruction, Ziggy Startdust, etc. as one of history’s great albums. Knowing now what I was getting myself into, I dove headfirst into the song that was supposed to make all other songs seem like chimps screaming while scratching their fingernails down chalkboards, “My Girls.” Having listened to the song the whole way through twice, I can now say for sure that today’s music critics and fans are impressed by two guys who just discovered that computers can make noises. This band sounds like you’re listening to an analog radio that isn’t quite tuned into a station, so some music is kind of coming through but it’s buried behind a wall of static. It’s not catchy, it’s not talented, and it doesn’t sound good.

Okay, so maybe I’m not in the Animal Collective camp. Not everyone is destined to like every band, right? There are people out there who think the Beatles made bad music. So, onto the next standout from the Top lists: Pheonix’s “Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix.” While not the second coming of the Christ that APP was supposed to be, this one purports to be some kind of French indie-rock genius. And, having listened to it twice, I am prepared to bring everyone back down to Earth: It’s harmless pop music that would feel right at home on the radio. It’s not bad. It’s not particularly good. It’s dancey, which I don’t really like. Kind of like a more stomach-able version of Franz Ferdinand. But I don’t hear anything here that makes me like this any more than the newest inoffensive mainstream rock record.

All right, so on to the next: Grizzly Bear’s “Veckatimest.” I’m starting to catch onto a trend here. This is nearly indistinguishable from Animal Collective. It’s electronic noises, guys who can’t really sing, songs that meander but don’t go anywhere, or climax, or swell, or fade. Just what I’m now calling “indie music.” And it’s about this point in my listening that I realize something. I’m not really into where music is headed right now. There’s a reason I didn’t find much new music in 2009. There’s not much new music coming out right now that I like. I used to think I was a pretty open-minded guy when it came to music. My tastes have certainly diversified from when I was in high school and early college when it was punk punk punk. But I see a trend happening here where we’re getting away from traditional song structures and instruments, and that’s all well and good, but when you sacrifice music for the sake of art, I can’t get behind that. I’m all for trying new things if the results are good, but much like splattering paint on canvas is not art, neither is making weird sounds “music.”

That said, I found some value in bands I hadn’t listened to before, like Dirty Projectors (the first song on Bitte Orca is excellent, and the rest is too arty), Florence and the Machine, Tune-Yards (I refuse to capitalize her band the way she does) and… uh… yeah. I also found completely mediocre music from bands like Cass McCombs, Japandroids, St. Vincent, and Girls, music that entered and left my brain within seconds. Checking out the Punknews Top lists, I was shown just how narrow-minded I am. Polar Bear Club’s “Chasing Hamburg,” a well-above-average punk record resonated much more with me than the world-changing Merriweather Post Pavilion. Thrice’s new album “Beggars,” a mature, well-written and –played album that’s surely their strongest since The Illusion of Safety, has much more meaning than the surface level pop music on “Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix.” I guess I just like what I like. Music, played with instruments, with good lyrics and good energy. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

I have twenty minutes. In twenty minutes, I have to move my laundry from the washer to the dryer. So this'll be quick. (Wow, the first post of 2010 is off to an exciting start!)

I'm ready to call it: The first major fashion-travesty of 2010 goes to... Shania Twain. Did you happen to catch her performance shortly after midnight? I did, unfortunately. Now, I'm not exactly privy to all the intricacies of making an outfit aesthetically pleasing. I think that should be evident to anyone who's seen the way I dress. But I can definitely tell when an ensemble is absolutely awful. And I think, last night, Shania Twain was a perfect example of what not to wear. Ever. Especially around a group of children. These little kids were all sitting Indian-style (is that term un-PC, by the way?) on stage and she was prancing around in this atrocity of an outfit. I can't even describe it. So congratulations, Shania! Way to look relatively tramp-ish in front of innocent children! And within the first ten minutes of the new year, no less!

I'm about 35% OCD, and I have a new gadget to feed that compulsion: a pedometer. I've been keeping track of the number of steps and miles I walk each day. Why? Mostly out of curiosity. Especially when I walk around downtown. But it certainly lends itself well to obsessive record-keeping, that's for sure.

Almost time to switch out the laundry. Before I go: I've been reading Dance, Dance, Dance by Haruki Murakami. It's the sequel to A Wild Sheep Chase, which I read last semester. It's been okay, but I definitely like A Wild Sheep Chase better. The thing is, I feel a little weird carrying a book called Dance, Dance, Dance with me on the subway. I think it sends the wrong message, especially to people who don't know it's not at all about dancing. Which is to say, everyone.

All right, laundry. Happy new year! Hope you have a good one.

Here we go, the much-hyped 150th post of the year. Does it bring the funny? A little, for sure. Does it live up to the hype? Maybe. Did we make it? We made it.

I'm going to refrain from doing any sort of Top 10 list, mostly because it'd be nearly identical to Adam's. I'd throw in "In the Loop" and "Coraline" to the movie list, as well as Saxon Shore's "It Doesn't Matter" to the CDs, but, otherwise, he pretty much hit upon the things I liked this year. Especially the Lucero, Avett Brothers, and Neko Case albums. Fantastic.

Instead, to celebrate the culmination of another year, I decided to paste together a massive collage of one-sentence excerpts from each of my updates. I was mostly looking for things that would sound funny out of context, but I'd normally pick the first sentence that caught my eye. Here's my conclusion to 2009: It was a good year. I think it's only natural to anticipate the coming year, but 2009 was fun. I knew fairly early on that I'd be moving to New York sometime in the summer. That realization alone made my remaining time in Virginia all the more enjoyable, somehow. Then, in July, I started my life up here, which has been great. The thing I'm most looking forward to next year? Spending all 12 months here.

Thanks for your time, your patience, and your support this past year. Stay cool.


It's nice to be back. You're getting raw, unedited, uncut (and uncensored!) email. Let's get this show started! Also, I can’t even tell you how many times, as a kid, I’d go outside and replay the scene at the beginning of the movie with Marty on the hoverboard when he’s stuck on the water. Soon I will have to update this blog in the middle of the night. I would put this CD in my CD player (because mp3 players weren’t around at the time, kids), put the CD player on repeat, and do puzzles for hours on end. (Warning: do not expose to young children or the easily startled.) My goal is to make it on EVERY SINGLE ONE of the Girls Gone Wild videos. The bags of beads -- usually containing 8 to 10 pairs of beads -- are like missiles. Despite the fact that no one seemed to be paying attention to him, he was up there, jamming out, lip-syncing the words to all the songs on his killer mix. I swear I don't constantly watch the Game Show Network. Someone gave me a thesaurus one time, but it was a boring gift, so I threw it away. LEWIS: I’m roaming again. Nine matches, and we lost all of them. I'm not ashamed to admit that I made a mistake doing the laundry the other day. Who are you, Billy Mays? I am the rabbit that, one day, ate some carrots and, thus, had good eyesight. As with all Kaufman movies, I knew it required a second viewing. But seriously again: People who interpret dreams, what the hell does my dream mean? Why can't I not think of Johnny Depp when I hear about pirates? But really, if book reviewers started using words like "Psh!," I'd probably start reading book reviews. (Apparently I've traded in my love of colons for a love of forward slashes.) Either Devon's vocal range is exactly the same as mine, or I have just as bad of a voice as he does. Richard Meader, thank you. Seriously, CNN, what the fuck? Is it inherently sad or inherently awesome that I'm drinking a glass of wine while making macaroni and cheese for dinner? My blog posts have been very short recently. Now I have to get back to my cupcakes. Still, where else can you witness an epic battle between a barrel-throwing devil and a sexy 8-bit woman? Those despondent, cruel, black-and-white worlds where everything sucks and everyone acts so fucking hopeless all the time. Unfortunately, it was a decidedly average book. Oh. The second video represents a monumental leap in quality... of the transitional effects. So, yeah, my unpacking is pretty much complete. Super glad they have "Twist and Shout" on the disc, as that's one of the Top 5 songs I was hoping for. Does Rivers Cuomo think he's still a teenager? My ongoing enjoying-the-fruits-of-the-city-as-well-as-using-hyphens-to-join-words adventures continue today. If only I had Yahoo Answers in high school. What the hell was I talking about five minutes ago? It's really very hard for me to take anyone who says "queasy" seriously. So yeah, trip out, man. Though I can assume that Adam had a non-stop week of drunken debauchery in a place called Bisbee, AZ. Rock Cock. So my stealing his cool lighter wasn't some deftly performed theft, it was just me waiting until he passed out. The milk I buy around here has a weird name. This is because, while I like bananas, they are not, in fact, "the shit," as Gwen Stefani would have us believe. I've long given up on CNN.com providing useful news. The least you can do is offer anal. The Beatles: Rock Band is a beautiful, beautiful thing. It's kind of like what Ben and I did in the kitchen of our old apartment, except this time I'm getting a grade and I have to write formal papers. Damn you, Marcel Proust! The Weakerthans put on a fantastic show last night. That sounds a lot more edgy and cool without an explanation. Happy 100th post! But the absolute stupidest fucking idea I've ever heard is thinking the President of the United States should be killed because of this. He's probably a toolbag, but still. Can Toby Keith stop making music? He's left-handed, by the way. If you have anything that can inoculate you against bitterness and stupidity, now would be the time to administer a dosage. Maybe I just like song titles with question marks in them. Now get downloadin' and burnin' and reacquaintin' with your southern roots. This is really an observation of no consequence whatsoever, I just felt like pointing it out on behalf of scrawny people everywhere. As I'm eating a bowl of cereal, I decide to look at the ingredients labels on the various foods I have in my cabinet. Think there's someone in the world whose absolute favorite band is UB40? Everything is just a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy with no origin. And that's how I was able to get to Irving Plaza. Highlights from the past week (in no particular order): calling Montezuma an asshole in my Literary Criticisms class. Instances of Awkward or Unfortunate Juxtapositions. But no, everything's always so damn serious. Lucero is the band of the day. Not to mention the fact that some of the things she's said have been beyond stupid. What lyrics would you change, given the ability to harness this amazing power? But I'll get back to the (old-man rants / discography analyzes / 14-year-old wanna-be-skater-douche rants) soon. "There are times when he makes a point and I don't understand what the fuck it ties into." What if it's actually one of the best releases of 2009 and no one's given it a shot because of its horrible name and horrible cover art? Does anyone else here completely suck at Pictionary? In case you're wondering, I do a pretty good Cher impersonation. See, I told you I'd be back soon. Thanks, Adam, for taking one for the team and actually listening to Raditude. Can I get my I-didn’t-realize-he-was-that-big-of-a-dork badge now? Me with my one-quarter-turned baseball cap. Burn, Burn, Burn, Motherfucker! Moral: Don't hand Jude Law books. But hey, we're almost at 150 posts. We made it.