Friday, August 30, 2002

trumped again



this is why the Sports Guy is a God among men.

best quote about "The Karate Kid Trilogy":

Was there a bigger loser in the history of Hollywood lead characters than Daniel-San? And does this explain why so many people went out of their way to antagonize him? Do you realize that, in the span of 12 months, this kid was terrorized by three different groups of people in two different countries. What were the odds? Couldn't this kid catch a break?


pure genius.


MTV Awards



In honor of "The Sports Guy," a writer for ESPN's website, I took a running diary of tonite. 7 handwritten pages of notes lay before me now. Please excuse the number of typos I am sure to make. I'll type 'til I pass out then take up the rest tommorow.


Without further ado:


7:25 p.m. They're interviewing Justin Timberlake for his big first solo performance. Justin is exemplifying a little known corollary of Newton's law of intertia, which states, "an object that fundamentally sucks will stay sucky for pretty much ever."

7:27 pm. The "pride of Canada," according to MTV, Avril Lavinge, is introduced to sing "Complicated." What a shocking song choice! Very daring. Her arm wear looks as if she watched both Judas Priest AND Pat Benetar as a kid. Who am I kidding? She wasn't even born when those two had videos.

7:28 pm Hey Avril, I want my tie back.

7:29 pm Was canada aware that Avril has been designated the personification of "Canadian pride"?

7:33 pm. No Doubt is being interviewed. Gwen Stefani is the first of about 18 guests in a row who clearly have no idea who is performing that night. Excellent.

7:34 pm. They pan to show the whole band, including the bassist, who until the day he dies will be know as "that schmuck who dumped Gwen Stefani".

7:36 pm. Avril's back, asks the crowd if they're "ready to rock." The crowd looks anxiously at their parents for permission to rock.

7:37 pm. She's performing "Sk8ter Boi" (actual spelling). Camera shows the crowd, who have that panicked "Wait, this isn't 'Complicated', what the heck?" look on their collective face. Camera cuts back to Avril quickly.

7:39 pm. MTV unbelievably goes to commerical mid-song. Canada ain't feeling so proud anymore, methinks. Somewhere in Ontario a "come see avril's country" campaign gets squashed. This is taking that TRL-, "take a video, show 18 seconds then move on" technique to a new low.

7:40 pm. If P. Diddy "invents the remix" with Bruce Springsteen so help me God I'll drive to NYC myself and "bust a cap", as the youth of America says...

7:42 pm Ok, I'll say it---I don't get the Reese Witherspoon thing. Just drawing a big shrug from me.

7:44 pm Who does John Norris have naked pictures of to still have a job with MTV? This guy is as hip as my grandmother after her surgery.

7:46 pm. I'll never stop snickering whenever I hear the words "Gideon Yago." Heh - makes me happy.

7:47 One of the dudes from Outkast stole the mesh shirt from Right Said Fred, spray painted it lesbian-purple, and STILL looks cooler than I ever could.

7:48 pm Someone found Christina Aguilera under the rock she's been beneath for 2 years, threw her in 8'' of fabric, and told her to tell everyone she was "dressing comfy." Please. The 8 people left in America who hadn't seen the bottom of her boobs are now sated.

7:49 pm John Norris: "So what's the new album called?"

Christina: "Stripped"

I can't make this stuff up.

"Yea, I know some people will think of sexual stuff, but it's about me being me, about being real".

Riiiight. I have some swamp land to sell ya if you believe that.

7:50 pm. Watching MTV go live is as painful as getting a splinter in the eye. I'm switching channels. *VH1 One Hit Wonders* Exxxxcellent Smithers.

7:51 pm Don Johnson, on his solo album, collaborated with, among others: Willie Nelson, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Ron Wood, and Whoopi Goldberg. All but Whoopie sued to get their names off the record once it came out.

7:52 Jumpin Jesus on a pogo stick, Enrique is really dating Anna Kournakova. I want to punch him in the mole.

8 pm. Show starts for real. BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUCE is playing with the E Street Band, in the middle of a hurricane it looks like.

8:01 pm Can someone get Bruce an umbrella? Or even a hat? Dear God he's a living legend, get the man some protection so he doesn't electrocute himself on live TV!!!!!!!!!

8:02 pm Whoever is getting the umbrella should also get Little Steven a pick, the poor guy's playing bluegrass style and obviously having issues.

8:03 pm---also, while you're back there, someone find Clarence's sax, he seems to have lost it and is banging two Snicker's bars together and trying to pass them off as maracas. Just sad.

8:05 pm Bruce is a god. I hate this song on the radio but the live version is outstanding. A nice way to start to show. I sit back and wait for MTV to screw it up.

8:07-8:12 pm The Jimmy Fallon musical parody, some thoughts---
---Dear God you can't do falsettos, homes
---Bless you for mocking Enrique. Enrique looks embarrased. Dude, you're going home and seeing Anna naked. Just frickin' deal you mole-pocked bastard.
---James Brown comes out to close out the medley. Cut to Anna and Enrique. You can clearly lip read the following statements:

Anna---"Who is that?"
Enrique---"Shut up and look hot."

8:14 pm Straight from Miss Anastasia's dominatrix school, it's Britney Spears! Good God. Head to toe leather. One gets the impression Justin was never that naughty a boy, and now she's lettin' loose.

8:15 pm Britney's here in leather to...give a birthday cake to Michael Jackson?????

8:16 pm His pastiness arrives on scene, the crowd stands when MTV sends 8000 volts through each of their seats, prompting the "spontaneous ovation."

8:17 pm Michael, in his double-breasted red jacket get up, looks eerily like he's about to give the order to invade Prussia.

8:18 pm It's now apparant he's here to accept the "Artist of the Millenium" award. Apparantly you win this by creating thirty- minute long videos that seem to go on for a millenium.

8:21 pm Britney announces Best Pop Video, which isn't 'N Sync. All 4 members look relieved. That woulda been the worst place in history to have a first post-breakup meeting: live in front of 20 million people. MTV---it's faaaaaaaaaaantastic.

8:25 pm "Up next, Pink!" says MTV, showing her. Dear Lord, someone has a coupon to the tattoo parlor. She looks like the stunt double for Ralph Fiennes in Red Dragon.

8:30 pm "Singer/songwriter" Jennifer Love Hewitt introduces Pink after the break. That is the last time the 5 words "singer/songwriter Jennifer Love Hewitt" will ever appear in that order for the entire History of Man.

8:31 pm Someone get Pink her insulin, she's too tired to stand up.

8:32 pm Showing there's life after "The Real World," Pink apparantly has hired Aneessa to play synth.

8:33 pm Head to toe side shot of Pink. 34 more eating disorders just began. Nice job MTV.

8:35 pm Kylie Minogue and Enrique come out to present an award. Enrique misses his line cuz he's looking down Kylie's shirt. Real classy guy. Mole-faced jerk. (can u tell I don't like this guy?)

8:36 pm Mary J Blige wins a VMA, acts like she's won the Nobel Peace price. Enrique seems to cop a feel 4' away.

8:38 pm During commerical break, Anna lands an overhead smash on Kylie's head, then meets Mick Jagger, has no idea who he is.

9 pm The show took a major sugar low turn, I've blanked out the last 20 minutes. Still reeling from images of Britney asking some roadie to lick her boot.

9:02 pm Eminem wins first award, gets the "I have to accept an award from the jackass guys who just used staple guns on each other" look on his face. Kodak moments, people.

9:05 pm I'd like an FCC investigation, we're an hour into the show and not one shot of Shakira's ass. This is not right.

9:07 pm Linkin Park and POD, top contenders for the "Men Without Hats" trophy of "Will Forever Exist on Compilation Tapes But Their Own CDs Will Go Out Of Print," both present. The Linkin Park singer looks like Moby if Moby got surly and let himself go a bit.

9:10 pm---I know J Lo butt jokes are passe, but damnit she got a hobbit livin' up in there. Damn. Damn. Damn.

9:13 pm Aask and ye shall receive---Shakira ass shakin'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tribal drums, and butt wigglin' so strong the power almost goes out in NYC. Best 18 seconds of the whole show.

9:14 pm Oh hell, she's singing.

9:14 and 6 seconds--- *mute button* aaah, much better.

9:15 pm Oh, to be that mic stand. If only.

9:23 pm As much as I will occasionally loathe my job, I will forever take solace in the fact that it is not my vocation to wax the chest hair of American Idol judge "Simon."

9:24 pm Simon makes like a WWE heel and gets the crowd going against him. I'm looking for one of the AI contestants to bust out a steel chair and go ballistic on him. And Paula Abdul to shout "Why? damnit WHY?" I think about these things, you see.

9:27 pm Avril wins Best New Artist, ensuring that the number of people who find my blog via the search "Avril Lavigne nude pics" or "Avril Lavigne feet kissing" (bwa?) will triple. Exxxxxxxxxxcellent. You freaks.

9:33 pm Apparently it's 1986 and no one told me---David Lee Roth and Sammy Hagar are onstage.

9:34 pm My own award---best hair job to the person who found an albino lemur and stapled it to David Lee's head. My God. That toupee is illegal in 34 states. I looked it up.

9:39 pm Mike Myers appears, out of costume. no one has a clue who he is.

9:50 pm Must...fight...ennui...

9:51 pm Christ, Carson Daly...*passes out from boredom*

9:53 pm---*Flicks on pro wrestling* wtf? Why is Undertaker on Smackdown? He belongs on RAW! What the hell is going on? This is what I get for not reading my internet wresting spoilers, and oh, am I typing out loud here? Nevermind. Keep moving. This never happened.

10 pm Yes, it's indeed 1986. Run DMC is on now. Introducing P. Diddy.

Let's take a moment shall we to contemplate the significance of this. This is like Led Zeppelin introducing Poison. This is the Supremes introducing 3LW. This is frickin' WRONG.

10:03 pm P Diddy has alreayd played 8 songs. Usher got lost I think, happened to end up on stage, and danced off, so near as I can tell. That was weird.

10:06 pm Best female artists presented by---Avril and Lisa Marie Presely. Lisa has a shirt that says "bite me." Avril is openly hostile to Lisa Marie. GIRL POWER BABY!

10:10 pm Pink wins, hooks a piggy back on the largest guy in the Western hemisphere, and then delcares "I'm too drunk for this" during her acceptance speech. A perfect 100 out of 100 on the Unintentional Comedy Scale, PLUS extra credit. Well done, Red Dragon.

10:25 pm Ok, we're coming to the tail end of the 9/11 tribute. Nicely done, even if it was all started by J Lo, but MTV found a nice, respectful mood.

10:26 pm "Coming up next, Nelly!" Bye bye mood.

10:31 pm Triumph the Insult Comic Dog with Moby. This should be good.

10:32 pm Well, that sucked. Who green-lit the "faggot" jokes? Nice one MTV.

10:33 pm Moby telepathically asks MTV to save him from utter humiliation; camera quickly cut to Ms. Baggy Clothes herself, Christina.

10:34 pm She might as well have worn a sign that said "Psst, consumers, forget that teen pop is dead and check out MY RACK!"

10:36pm Haha, Eminem won. They have to meet. This should be GREAT.

10:37 pm Well that sucked. Eminem's been hitting anger management classes. No confrontation at all. Damnit.

10:40 pm Who knew Aston Kutcher was moonlighting as the lead singer for the Hives?

10:42 pm The screen behind them plays the message---"The Hives are Law. You are Crime." Think about that. Really. Done? OK, moving on...

10:44 pm "Coming up, Justin Timberlake's first solo performance....ever!" Everyone south of the Mason/Dixon line yawns.

10:50 pm Justin apparantly borrowed Admiral Jackon's old clothes before Mikey stormed Instanbul.

10:52 pm Justin can really dance, but I liked the moves better back in "The Way You Make Me Feel." Nice try though, Justin.

10:53 pm Off camera, Britney flips off some of the Mexican waitstaff. Well, I think.

10:54 Ok, so Justin brings in two rappers, Eclipse, who's entire album consists of autobiographical stories of them being drugs dealers. One wears a shirt that says "I'm Your Pusher." Lovely. Personally, I want the other guy's shirt: "Patty Cake Man." Can I get this at Target?

11:05 pm After the 85th commercial break, MTV runs off the winners of roughly 34 awards that they didn't actually have time to show during the telecast.

11:10 pm HOLY SH%T GUNS N ROSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

11:11 pm Wait a sec, who in sam hell are these guys? As my GF said in an instant message, "Why is slash wearing a mask?" Then I realize it's the "new" Guns n Roses. Brand new except for Axl and Dizzy Reed. But hell, they're playing "Welcome to the Jungle." The crowd is ballistic.

11:12 pm Oooh, how cute, Axl went and got himself corn rows apparently. And about 200 years of age. He ages like a dog. Dear Lord that's sad.

11:13 pm Axl tries for a high note. Silly Axl. You can hear the crowd wince over the 14 guitarists who are apparently now in the band.

11:14 pm Ever sensitive to the cultural moment, MTV starts running the end credits over the performance. Real classy, guys.

11:15 pm What is this new ballad crap, play "Paradise City," you losers.

11:16 pm "PARADISE CITY"! I rule.

11:17 pm Buckethead kills me. Do you think he's a banker by day, "guitarist with a KFC bucket on head atop a Mike Meyers mask" by night?

11:20 pm The show mercifully ends, with Axl looking for his oxygen tent.

Thursday, August 29, 2002

quote of the month



"yea, i wasn't sure, cuz you like Phish, yet you went to Harvard..."

---my friend Sheri, upon discovering some of the more interesting things i did in college

i never cease to find people's perceptions of Harvard amusing. sometimes amusing in a "wanna put a gun to their head and prevent them from ever breeding" way, but amusing nonetheless.

usually i try to keep the identity of my alma mater secret, not cuz i have something to hide, but the inevitable can of worms it seems to open up is something i usually am not in the mood to deal with. i realize that it will look good on my resume for the rest of my life, but other than that what people consider to be "Harvard" (notice the quotes) won't impact my life in the slightest.

which isn't to say Harvard doesn't direct inform who i am, how i act, and who i know. it fundamentally informs all three of those things. but it's not the marketed, ivy-walled, perpetually late-autumnal view that Harvard shoves down your marketable throats. i loved harvard based on the incredible luck of living with 3 amazing guys my freshman year and below 4 equally amazing women 2 floors above. everything spiraled out from there. it had nothing to do with school rankings, or the professors, or the facilities. it was about the people. i don't remember any of the classes i took my sophomore spring, but i remember watching the sun come up that same semester after painting a set for "12th Night" with the stage manager of that show.

my roommates and i were largely the anti-poster children of Harvard---we weren't rebels, we all got good enough grades, but we had days lost to Nintendo, beer, various substances, and each other. they were not my best friends necessarly but i couldn't have asked for 9 better guys to live with. and we all still keep in touch, which is a great marker of success in my books. point is, we weren't the ones you see in the catalog laughing while being stuck inside a 19th century library. we were the ones in the dorm room taking bets on who would win if we let "sega john madden football" play itself cuz we were too drunk to actually use the controllers.

my grades at harvard are by this point largely moot; my major is an anecdote at best at parties. so is the university i went to, so far as i am concerned. i don't want to come off as ungrateful to the school, since i did learn a lot there. it's just fair to say a lot of that education came outside the classroom, is all, in a Harvard most people can never understand and can never know. so to have someone say, "wow, you went to harvard, you MUST have LOVED it"...well, i know they mean well (usually), but i always have to force a grin in response.

Tuesday, August 27, 2002

the terrorists have already won



look what's left in their wake:

celebrity boot camp

i couldn't remotely make up a list of people this bizarre.

someone thought that people would wanna watch greg brady, coolio, that kid from "married with children", and someone who's claim to fame is to be married to ian zehrnig, on a "survivor" ripoff.

shoot me, stuff me, mount me.

Monday, August 26, 2002

Phish etiquette



love your fellow man, and never give them a wedgie.

yowsas. good to know as i plot to see my first show next year.

yikes



ok, y'all searching Google for "avril lavinge nude pics" are sick.

not as sick as the SOB who looked for "nuns gone bad pics", but sick nonetheless.

yeesh.

Wednesday, August 21, 2002

teen scene



OK, so obviously i didn't go far enough in explaining the whole "britney with guitar" thing last time; it was a throw away paragraph but obviously sparked at least one person's interest (thanks tim!). it was basically a "wow, these new TRL gals be hot, yo" and tim comes back with a "hey, what about the alicia keys, the nelly furtados, why aren't you giving them props, bee-hotch?" (well, i am paraphrasing here.) so i'll spew a few thoughts on each separate group (since for me they are separate) and their relation to the basic singer-songwriter scene they all seem to want to reinvigorate.

basically, yesterday i hinted how the new, TRL-approved teen pop seems to come heavily from the "pretty people who play instruments" category. since MTV themselves know the exact course of a trend (since they, well, dictate it), they have slowly segued from Britney, Mandy, and Christina to people like Vanessa Carlton, Michelle Branch, and Avril Lavigne. All the prerequistes of the intial triumverate are there---great faces, great bodies, winning smiles, and catchier-than-all-get-out songs. But, these latter three actually write and/or play instruments on thier tracks!!!! This is a darwinian evolution for the typical 15 year old MTV fan at home on the scale of the advent of opposable thumbs. they're at homethinking, "hey wait, Britney doesn't play the guitar...hey wait she didn't even write that song, and uh, f$ck Britney" while watching Michelle stand in the CG-created rain screaming in melody to a boy at #4 on today's countdown. and somewhere, britney flips off another non-English speaking country, sealing her fate even faster.

the appeal makes sense. if the former teen gods and goddesses were indeed about their very unattainability, the powers-that-be have constructed a slightly-more accesible version; they wear jeans, they skateboard, they suffered through the same piano lessons your mom made you go through, and look, they have something to say about it! these new artists are being marketed as having an authentic point of view in their songs; that is, there is the sense that even if the songs aren't autobiographical, they come from within the artist themselves, not from a Swedish pop factory.

authenticity, then, becomes a factor. yes, girls can sing along to "what a girl wants", but there's not the sense that the message comes FROM Christina, but rather THROUGH her. she's more of a conduit than the physical embodiment of that ideal. (case in point---"baby one more time" was originally offered to TLC. can you for a second even imagine that? but there's dozens of these switch-a-roos, songs that exists only on paper until a studio executive decides Person A gets the right to sing over the already-produced track). now, for a 15 year-old, TRL-approved demographic, the very fact that these new girls have any "say" in their music is enough authenticity. every high school girl can relate to avril's hit "complicated" because it's a very useful, alebit teenage dilema. ok, yes, the "you're one person around me and a jackass around everyone else" does not stop at 19, but the specificity of the lyrics prevents a generational leap in application.

where the whole thing gets tricky, and where the first schism occurs between the "TRL Gals", for lack of a better term, and the rest of the young singer-songwriters, lies in this issues of autheticity tied into the nature of the genre. these TRL gals want to be important, be songwriters, not pop stars. however, these TRL Gals are limited simply by their age and scope of musical influences to truly trascend into the pantheon of the Carole Kings, Joni Mitchells, Tori Amos, even Sarah McLachlans (though even she cuts a bit too close for my tastes, but I still love most of her work). when one listens to say, alicia keys, nelly furtado, jill scott, you hear an entire history of a musical genre being distilled through a personal interpretation. stylistically and lyrically, their's generations of artists being filtered into a modern sensibility. as such, just as the rolling stones were stepped in blues and rose heads and shoulders above almost everyone around them, artists such as these distinguish themselves through their intelligent reading of the history of themusic, which allows a little more slack if the lyrics say never quite get to the height of "What's Going On?"

with the TRL Gals, it's almost a one to one ratio of influences, with small differences in this iteration:

Avril Lavinge---Alanis Morrisette, on a skateboard
Vanessa Carlton---Tori Amos with a slightly hunched back
Michelle Branch---(this one's tough, I wanna say a Til Tuesday Aimee Mann but that's giving her slightly too much credit)

the power of "you oughta know" by alanis was in the voyeuristic feel one had listening to it. i mean christ, you almost felt dirty when it came on. but you listened anyways. cuz the song was sold as a "damnit this really happened and the f#cker ain't getting away with it anymore". and THAT struck a chord across every female demographic and voila, 14 million records got moved. then alanis found peace in india and now one gives a rat's ass. in comes avril, with an album full of canadian pop angst with a heavy guitar sheen and "confessional lyrics", same as alanis. hoever, as catchy as her album is, and as much as i like it as a pop album, it's a cycle of songs that can be distilled into

1) "I'm not Britney".
2) "By the way, I'm not Britney."

The problem with an initial album spent telling everyone what you're NOT is that you can't know what you actually ARE. and with the angst firmly entrenched in a 16 year old girl's perspective, it fails to transcend.

Vanessa Carlton makes the fatal mistake of having her lyrics actually make sense. the beauty of tori is that 90% of the time, even she doesn't know what the hell she's talking about. but she writes pretty, obtuse lyrics about horses and clouds and demons, and everyone gets to put a little (or a lot) of themselves into the songs themselves. this is a very powerful tool, and the devotion of tori's fan base indicates this trend is happening---by purposeful obscuring the meaning (without making the sense purely menaingless), tori places the listener in control of the ultimate message of the song. every album since "little earthquakes" has taken this approach. the lyrical directness of "me and a gun" :

it was me and a gun
and a man on my back
but i haven't seen barbados
so i must get out of this

and replaces it by "black dove (jaunary)" with

she had a january world
so many storms not right somehow
how a lion becomes a mouse
by the woods
but i have to get to TEXAS

as my sophmore year philopshy professor would say, "well, that's as clear as mud".

"me and a gun" works purely on the strenght of the lyrical content. her later albums use the vocals and the lyrics often as melodic counterpart to the music proper---the add color, tonality, and shape, but are often a great fury signifying nothing.

one more interesting note about these two---tori's last song on her last album of original mateiral was entitled "1,000 Oceans" and featured possibility her most direct lyrical content since her breakthroug album. Vanessa's big song is "A Thousand Miles". the choruses are eerily similiar:

Tori:
well, i can't believe that i would keep
keep you from flying
and i will cry 1000 more if that's
what it takes to sail you home
sail you home sail you home

Vanessa:
If I could fall
Into the sky
Do you think time
Would pass me by
'Cause you know I'd walk
A thousand miles
If I could
Just see you
Tonight

*does that dr. evil finger to the mouth thing*

I don't have as much to add about Michelle Branch as the other two. As I have said, it's hard to pinpoint exactly where she is derived from musically, but even this uncertainty points to me that's it's not grounded in something entirely solid or lasting. And yes, I know some artists simply spring from a new well of inspiration and muscianship, but even these come from SOMEWHERE. (nothing comes of nothing, lear says to cordelia). when you first hear "fallin'" by alicia keyes, you KNEW you has heard it before. or at least you SWORE you had. that's what i mean about music steeped in a history so thick it's in our very essence. avril doesn't stick the same way becuase her source material (at least on the surface) dates back 5 years. in "fallin'" was every great Motown and/or soul ballad wrapped up into a 4 minute package by a dynamo virtuoso piano player who made you simply prick up your ears and listen. the first time i heard it i went "damn, aretha's got one helluva new song out".

the fact that this song hit every radio station but the country ones attests to the cross-demographic nature of this hit. yes, it was on TRL, yes she performes at the VMAs, but do you see Michelle Branch winning 5 Grammies next year? yea, not so likely. and my mom owns "songs in a minor".

now, confession time---i am not a huge fan of alicia keys. i like Fallin' just fine, but her follow-ups were disappointments to me. "a woman's worth" is a great lyric attatched to a terrible song. i can't even tell you the name of the 3rd song. but what she, and by extension the entire neo-soul movement, did was both introduce the TRL set to soul music AND do justice to their forefathers and their fans. soul music is amazing at conveying emotion in a way that shimmering pop, for all its catchiness, simply can't touch. and by the 5th time you hear avril whine about "all i can be is me", you wish she'd attempt something of the lyrical content of "what a woman's worth". in the end, you don't care what avril's worth.

and lyrical honesty is at the core of the entire movement. let's take a perhaps surprising example (and one of tim's favorites, so he'll be sure to reply): no doubt. every song on "tragic kingdom" was a response by gwen to her breakup with the bass player (know in the press as "the moron who dumped gwen stefani"). america (and in particular american girls) responded to the emotional honesty in her words, not necessarily in the music itself which, while catchy, wasn't necessarily the best ever (there's a reason why there was no big ska movement in the wake of no doubt). this unflinching honesty, where the artists bore his/her self to the public was long out of the pop realm until Lilith Fair and its inhabitors made it safe waters again. people responded to JamesTtaylor, Joni Mitchell, and the horde of 70's singer/songwriters becasue the impression was given that no filter existed between the artists' mind and the listeners' ear. yes, maybe you had to work for the ultimate meaning, and maybe the meaning was yours only to derive, but it could be found, in a direct one on one relation between you the listener and the artist coming though your stereo.

with the TRL Gals, it should hopefully be only a matter of time. i only devote so much time pointing all these faults because I think eventually they will mature into the artists some poeple already claim they are. even people such as alicia are not wizened people compared to these young women, but the alicias of the world do have a slight advantage right now. i personally look forward to seeing how Avril, michelle, and Vanessa progress, because if they're successful, it means i never, ever have to see "Lady Marmalade" again.

and that, friends, will be a great thing.

Tuesday, August 20, 2002

must...provide...content



it's tough to actually have a life and maintain a blog.

ok, so that came out harsher than i meant it, but it's true...i say the few, the proud, the noble, checking in daily, going "dear god ryan take away the misery of my life and give my content" and yet i leave you high and dry, like my junior year prom date.

my content is almost directly related to the craziness of work...the worse for the wear i am here, the less i can come up with amzing witticisms that will win me the first Nobel for online content. lately it's been a crush akin to the one i have on Michelle Branch (more coming on that below)...just insanely intense. it's been rewarding, in that we actually have work and i still um, well, have a job. and given the $$$ situation (again, more on that below) all steady income is entirely welcome.

so, for lack of a cohesive narrative, here goes things in my life as they come to me while munching on my turkey-n-cheese on wheat

1) The Rise of the the Guitar-Wielding Britneys

This is both a musical trend and a scary fetishistic one as well. Firstly, on the musical side, we're slowly seeing the erosion of pretty people who can't play instruments with pretty people who CAN play instruments. not quite a seismic shift, but Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither was the singer-songwriter. So instead of your Jessica Simpsons, Mandy Moores, etc, you've got your Michelle Branchs, Vanessa Carltons, and Avril Lavignes. All these records are pure pop, purely addictive, purely fun. Maybe not Grammy material (then again, Milli Vanilli won a damn Grammy) but a step above "Ooops I Did It Again" to this ear.

And these girls are insanely hot.

Yes, Avril is 17, and the others aren't much older. I realize this. I'm not proud of this trend in my life. I think it all started when I was 25, and dating a 19 year old (who you know, fair readers, finally turned 21)...i sorta got stuck in that "whoa, young girls still find me cute" and couldn't wait for a mid-life crisis to jump ito the "ogle teenage girls" phase of my life so i just jumped right in. medication hasn't helped. i'm hooked. shoot me in the head.

my top 5 safety girls used to have an average age of early 30's...i don't think 2 on the current five are even in their 20's. someone should just strap the ankle bracelte on me and keep me under house arrest.

which is ok, cuz

2) Man, I'm Broke

so we all rejoiced when i got my car. well, at least those in the greater Boston area, for they now no longer have to worry about my '87 Cadillac exploding somewhere near them. alas, this whole "car payment" thing is a doozy. i knew it would be, but the reality is still a bit of a stinger.

a lot of blogs now have those PayPal thing-a-ma-bobs, where you send people money, well, cuz they want it, i guess. they're not quite saving the whales. now it's all good for some people, but i'm not so sure i'd go that route here. one, i'm not a charity case (mental case, admittedly, but not a charity case); two, i'm not really sure anyone would float me cash for this content. so maybe i'll threaten to have content no one wants to see, that is of course, unless i receive one meeeeellion dollars.

so, a 2nd, part-time, job is potentially in the works. this is what happens when you live in Boston, have studnet loans, and own a car, even on my admittedly decent salary. alas.

so i for now will be PayPal-less. if you see the link on this site anytime soon, it means the stripper gig didn't pan out.


Sunday, August 18, 2002

gone baby gone



today, the girl left for three weeks.

on a much less sad note, my hair also left today. should also come back in about 3 weeks.

yup, took the ol' clippers and buzzed what little annoyances of hair were left. we're not Kojak here, but we're purty darn close.

also, ten points for the person who can name the band that sang the song which is the title of this entry...

Thursday, August 15, 2002

step two towards immortality



go visit blogcritics and see a reprint of my old mix CD article here.

hopefully the first of many i write there. seems like a great site, i hope it takes off.

Wednesday, August 14, 2002

new euphamism for a booty call



a few weeks ago a bunch of us went to see "reign of fire". the day of the movie, my roommate bowed out, citing that she didn't have enough money for the movie. we found this odd since she had purchased a $250 train ticket to NYC for the very next day. so we grumbled amongst ourselves but had a good time at the movies.

a week later, it was revealed to us by her that in fact a boy had been over making a house call whilest we watched CG dragons. the fact that we dind't so much as suspect attest to how tired we were when getting home that night.

so, from now on, every time she has a date, we say, "oh, so you don't have enough money for the movies again, eh?" or "damn, you've NOT been seen quite a few movies lately!" good times.

authorial note: this story was a lot funnier in my head. management regrets if any of you are disappointed in the humoric quality of this post.

hunting and pecking



know what word is hard to type? REALLY hard?

"urogenital".

Monday, August 12, 2002

trip to south bend, part 3: return of the weather gods



(sorry for the delay, o 3 of you who care)

so i've endured a hellish delay and 3 hour drive on Friday, and "land of a thousand bad soliloquies" on saturday, so sunday should hopefully be bad kharma-free. ha.

the invite to the wedding specified that there would be a brunch the moring after the wedding in a local catholic high school. hrm. after the kegs had been kicked a mere 9 hours before, i figured no one would anyone go to this. wrong.

ok, so here's the layout of the room. it's a poweder blue rectange of death in the basement of this little high school that spelled out "LOVE JESUS" in big, 5th-esque cardboard letters on the windows as you pull into the driveway. it's gotta be maybe 40 feet long by 5 feet wide (i could be exaggerating here, but throughout the event it felt increasingly like the trash compactor scene in "star wars". by about half-way through i'm looking for my com-link to C3PO.). there are 100 or so people anxiously awaiting the feast to arrive. the tables are so close together than i had a better chance of limboing under my rug that getting into my seat.

i also notice that the food serving area is on one end of the room. only one end. ie, 100 plus people will all be in the same line for their mass-produced bacon strips. exxxxxcellent, smithers.

throwing all decorum to the wind, we scoot up early, the girl, myself, and her two friends. the bride and groom get to eat first and leave about 5 minutes later. i don't notice the parents waving them goodbye. a bit odd, but then again, there's a giant cross above the hash browns so really, my mind is a bit elsewhere as it's reciting, "Lord, i am not worthy to receive these hash browns, but only say the word and I shall be healed".

it turns out when we leave that the kitcehn area was roughly a 10 minute walk from the eating area, so the parents of the bride and groom needed to walk baaaack and fooooorth to serve this food. poor buggars.

so we make it out in about an hour. we have lunch with the girl's mom, nice and mercifully uneventful. then we head to the south bend airport for our 6 pm flight at 4 pm. we get through all security no problem. like the trip in, i had pre-removed all metal items into my carryon. the security guy asks me if i live near the place of "the perfect storm". i say sure. all seems good.

then.

4:25 pm---"uh, for those of you on Northwest Flight 63, we have a mechanic coming to check out some mechanical problems and there seems to be heavy weather, uh, over detriot. we'll update you in...one hour."

two thoughts---one, obviously airlines send all their employees to the same public speaking course. secondly, apparantly i was in fact NOT worthy to receive the hash browns and am being duly smoted by my angry Creator.

so we had a fight to detroit, and then boston, on northwest. south bend being only one terminal also has other airlines in the same hangar. turns out we could transfer to another airline, go to chicago, and then to boston, arriving only an hour later. we don't see a platoon of marines like we did in LA, so we hope we're safe.

unfortunately, the 5th Airbourne Batallion had nothing on "Old Annoying Lady" (OAL). This OAL somehow used her super-hearing to hear the girl talk about how we were going to boston, and levitated towards us without us hearing and suddenly sprang a million queries on us, finally launching into a "this would never happen on delta" schpiel which while heartfelt made me want to punch her in her wrinkled nose.

the girl goes up to the counter, asks the guy if we should switch. he makes the point that if it's delayed INTO detriot, it's probably delayed OUT of detriot so we won't miss our flight. so the girl sits back down.

we 5 minutes later here him on the phone talking to someone from the airline, and we didn't hear much, but we did hear, "no, we're still WAITING for the mechanic".

oh crap.

the girl gets back in line while i guard the stuff and make phone calls. OAL has since gotten in line in front of us and gets booked on another flight, and gloats to me while jenny is still in line. there should be a law against people getting this old.

long story short, now on US Air to Chicago then to Boston. leaving an hour later. great. however of course have to go back through security to get our real tickets, and re-enter. this time to security guys asks me if i ever saw george clooney at that bar from "the perfect storm". i humor him because, well, he has a gun. but i forget that i had put my belt back on, the alarms go off, and i am searched head to foot.

we get to board about 30 minutes later. since we switched airlines, the check the girl's bag, and her SANDALS for a bomb. the girl's bag is a model of efficiency. there were roughly 4,000 pounds of pressure per square inch, so compactly was it packed. the George Clooney fan, who's now asking me for directions to Gloucester when he comes in the Fall, takes a look at the bag and basically says, "um, just get in the plane".

so we're in the plane. luckily sitting nowhere near the OAL. the doors close. sweet.

"uh, this is your captain, we uh, wanna inform you that there's, uh, some weather coming into chicago, so we're uh, gonna hold here for an hour and uh, we'll update you when we know."

the cabin gets frightened by the tall, balding, hysterically laughing passanger in seat 12C.

the weather system in detriot had migrated in the hour we were waiting into chicago.

we deplane.

and wait 2 hours.

and the flight is cancelled.

out of the corner of my eye i had seen an empty door for US Air, hoping i would never have to get closer than the 20 feet i sat from it. but by the end of the night, i knew i would get closer.

the gate read: "Pittsburgh, 5 am"

at 10 pm, we left the south bend airport, knowing we would be back in 6 hours to catch a 5 am flight. our wake up time? 3:15 am.

Friday, August 09, 2002

with 30 percent less geek calories



You are 26% geek
You are a geek liaison, which means you go both ways. You can hang out with normal people or you can hang out with geeks which means you often have geeks as friends and/or have a job where you have to mediate between geeks and normal people. This is an important role and one of which you should be proud. In fact, you can make a good deal of money as a translator.

Normal: Tell our geek we need him to work this weekend.


You [to Geek]: We need more than that, Scotty. You'll have to stay until you can squeeze more outta them engines!


Geek [to You]: I'm givin' her all she's got, Captain, but we need more dilithium crystals!


You [to Normal]: He wants to know if he gets overtime.

Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com



seems about right, ja?

Thursday, August 08, 2002

helpful hints from hamletmachine



(as a sidebar from the trip narrative...)

if your girlfriend should ever happen to eat a combination of pickles, raspberries, Edy's Scooby Doo ice cream, and diet coke, and then blow into your mouth on purpose when you're kissing her goodnight, it's gonna suck for you.

man o man. a foul cloud of death entered enter my oral cavity, laying siege upon any and all living organisms, til much of my mouth looked like England in "Reign of Fire".

damn, woman. damn.

Wednesday, August 07, 2002

trip to south bend, part 2: saturday



ok, so rather than a minute by minute blow, let's just focus on a few key moments here. (the whol purpose of this trip, mind you, was to attend a wedding of the girl's very good friend from high school, the very first one to get married, first time seeing the whole crew in 4 years, etc. so big deal for her, not so big for me, but i was glad to be able to go. in theory.)

after a blissful night of sleep, i arose groggily around 11:30 am. i had slept in a basement room with no windows, so as far as my body was concernd it was still 3 am and really couldn't deal with the fact that it was almost lunchtime. couple this with a lack of coffee and let's just say i'm the "pre-V8" guy in that commercial. having amassed a decent amount of stubble through the week,. i stepped into the shower to shave (damn you all who disagree, but shaving in the showers is the way to go). ok, so neck...done. cheeks...done. chin...done. moustache...whoops. no more hot water.

so here i am, looking like burt reynolds and freezing my butt off (central air, so foreign to us poor Eastern coast boys, is a wonderful thing til you're in an artic rainstorm)...and for the men out there (ok, well YOU tim), y'all can attst that having with cold water poses a few problems, number one of which is MIND SHATTERING pain as you try to liberate the hairs from your face. long story short, i get it done, but not without feeling afterwards that i had been dragged facefirst along 50 yards of highway.

so we're at the church. hunky dory. catholic wedding. OK. i cand eal with this, being nominally catholic. i know enough to know i really shouldn't take communion (with the few million venal sins weighing my walk towards the altar). i don't share a vampire's fear of the cross, but let's say i can understand where they are coming from.

everything is going pretty smoothly, until we hit the homily. the fact that "homily" was mispelled in the program should have tipped me off that something odd was about to go down. here is a sample of the homily which yes is biased by memory, but so frightening that it mostly etched itself into my skull....italicized words are my concurrent thoughts........

"well, i see that you've chosen some interesting readings for your wedding...the first, form the Song of Songs, is not often performing, being an erotic love poem.." did he just say erotic love poem? "and it's a bad poem to boot." oh boy, danger will robinson. "the poem talks about your love being like a gazelle leaping acorss the mountains...oh please!" ok, i get the mock sarcasm, but these people aint' exactly getting your irony, dude. you're a priest. irony belongs in the priesthood like prank humor belongs in surgery "and in your second reading" (i can't remember the passage, sorry) "it talks about how Love is neither boastful, love is neither proud...and it's said so often that we often think it means it's about us. but look closer. this is an unattainable love. it's an unattainable goal. you cannot achieve this love." BWA? you are doomed to fail at this love. is the bride sweating? "Just as the priesthood has broken me, so marriage will break you."

ok, i think we've achieved a new paragraph here. i mean, the place went quieter than a teenage crowd watching Barry Manilow doing a mega-mix of his greatest hits. the priesthood has BROKEN him? marriage will BREAK them? now, confession of snobbery--i had a feeling this priest COULDN'T be this dumb..but it was one of those skin-crawling, "this really can't be happening" moments. did the couple ask to see the homily previous to the ceremony? maybe we should install a system ala valedictorian speeches in high schools, where the faculty makes sure the kid doensn't pull a fast one on the stage. now, i missed about the next two minutes because the whole place was whispering "did he just say what i think he did?" to the point where it became a quiet din.

now, to the summary of the speech, he brings up the gospel reading, which was the loaves and fishes parable. and he attempts to bring it all together by saying this is considered the purest distillation of Jesus' teaching---he takes, he breaks, he gives forth more than was before. ok, i can see where this is going, that the "breaking of marriage" is not only necessarily but hoped for, that we have two choices between turning inwards or outwards after that break, but til the day, i'll always have that quote in my head:

"Just as the priesthood has broken me, so marriage will break you."

(along with my favorite quote of all time, spoken to me by the light of Mass. Ave. during my freshman week of college by a very attractive girl: "do you have a problem with a highly physical, non-commital relationship?" Just classic. will never ever be topped.)

OK, so you'd think we're out of the woods, rhetorically speaking. hell no.

we get to the reception, and while the reception is not my idea of swank, apparantly for South Bend it's a big deal to have BOTH bud and bud light on tap in the keg. fine. but without further ado, here's the best man speech:

"I really wanted to not right anything down, and you know, speak from the heart." oh yea, a speech free from cliche, oh joy. "But I have been trying to think of a good example of what exactly Annie and Matt mean to each other. I was thinking about one night, we were in the apartment senior year, and I was watching TV, and they were making dinner in the kitchen. and they were making a recipe that called for seasoned croutons. but matt had bought regular croutons. so annie says, 'matt, i think we need to get seasoned croutons.' and matt said 'no, it'll be fine.' and annie said "no dear, i really, really think we need to go to the store and get seasoned croutons." and i could tell there was a leeeeetle bit of tension." scientists will always debate the long-lasting effects of the Great Crouton Debate of '01. "but a few minutes later i heard her say 'i love you'. and he said 'i love you too.' and this to me sums up thier relationship. no matter how bad things get, their love always pulls them out of it."

i know i'm supposed to have a joke, or a witty comment here. but please. can i top that? no way. i have about the same odds as sir mix-a-lot topping "baby got back".


Tuesday, August 06, 2002

trip to south bend, part 1: friday night



3:30 pm: leave work, right on time

3:39 pm: meet girl in remarkable coincidence as i pull up to park street. things are going well.

4:00 pm--we've gotten e-tickets, gone through security (after last time going through the detectors i all but wore a tupperware suit and had put everything into my bag well before arriving to the airport)

4:25 pm--after a game of travel scrabble, we here that the flight in the gate next to us is being delayed cuz of weather. uh oh.

5:00 pm--our flight announces a 30 minute delay due to weather in detriot, our stop off point beofre going to south bend. we have a 60 minute layover. not good.

6 pm---plane starts to board for a 6:30 departure time. our flight out of detriot, mind you, is at 9:11 pm. keep this in mind.

7:18 pm---plane starts to actually leave the taxxing area. a lot of people are annoyed, but by this point ok, we're screwed, we'll fly to chicago and get picked up there. there's no possible way to make the 9:11 pm flight. period.

8:35 pm---we start descending. holy crap, there's a chance we might make the flight. we both try not to get too excited, but of course clammy hands, nervous tapping, and watching-looking every 8 seconds, commences.

8:42 pm--holy crap, we're on the ground! we're gonna have a shot. we have only carry-on, so all we have to do is pull in, book it to the gate, and boom, we're home free.

8:44 pm---"uh, folks, this is your captain speaking. we have uh, some baggage trucks blocking our taxxing area, so we're uh, gonna wait til their cleared out."

random thought---this "uh, this is, uh" is typical of all pilots. doesn't matter if news is good or bad. "uh, the rockies are out to your left, uh, yea, they're cool". or "uh, so yea, who else likes Procol Harum"?

8:47 pm---about 18 people officially lose their sh$t on the plane verbally. if i weren't one of them, it might be high comedy. alas. you'd think "britney spears: acoustic, unplugged, playing songs she wrote on an accordion" had come on the television.

8:54 pm--the baggage carts are FINALLY moved. we're ready to get off. we're one row behind first class, all we have to do is get off the plane. we can do this. we've been hitting the gym 5 times a week. 30 minutes plus of cardio a day. boo ya, i say.

8:56 pm---thank god they don't allow sharp objects on planes, cuz i wanna wield one on the OLD FUCKIN' FUCK IN FRONT OF US who is sloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowly taking his luggage out of storage. after a few audible despairing gasps, he actually turns around, looks at all of us, sighs wearily, and then goes to the overhead bin across the row to get his other bag. about 37 mental darts strike the back of this guy's head. he was kharmic toast.

8:58 pm---we get out onto the little hallways bewteen the plane and airport, only to get behind the fattest woman EVER. now, nothing against you overweight types, but DAMN. i think she placed her carry-on luggage up her ass. or a small pony. one of the two. we maneuver around her and book it. *cue mission:impossible music". we see the "on time" sign for our flight it's still here. we have 8 minutes to go from gate a to gate c, which involves....

8:59 pm---springing like holy hell through the terminal, down the ramp, and into...

9:00 pm---this long cylindrical hallway that was straight out of john tesh's demented psyche. this place had weird, new age, "future scene in bill and ted's excellent adventure" music with accompanying light show. i barely notice since 30 minutes of cardio a day doesn't prepare you to do a 50 yard dash over a half mile with a 25 pound suitcase in your hands...bag...heavy....breathing...difficult....

9:02--get to terminal, unable to form sentences with verbs, we gasp "south bend!" pimply mctavish, our young hope, looks confused, picks some ear lint, and says, "uhhhhhhhhhhhhh...i dunno...i think 6, i..." and we're gone, towards 6. now two other passengers have joined us, equally tired, equally confused. gate 6 is not south bend, gate 17, another 400 yards away, is. mutherf#cker.

9:04 pm---like a band of hellions the 4 of us run down, screaming "hold 16!!! hold 16!!!" (not quite "hold the line!" from the opening battle of "Gladiator", but ya know, you do what you can) and ant-like in the distance we see some employees walking this way, nice and casual like. by the time we get to them they say "oh it's gone. closed up".

9:04 and 18 seconds---i think the direct quote was ***FCC steps in to edits Ryan's stream of vindictives which would make a sailor blush, Mamet cry plagarism, and my mother weep for humanity"

9:04 and 45 seconds---the girl sees the plane sitting in the runway. the door's closed. the last plane to south bend has left.

9:07 pm---walking back i decide, yes, this is a fucked up cylindrical hallway.

9:25 pm---we're exploring options---rental car and a 3 hour drive hour, or stay in local hotel and take 7 am flight next morning. hotel is $60, car is $80. hotel=sleep, driving means home safe and sound, albeit at 2.

9:40 pm---riding on the Avis truck, talking to a woman with enough make up that's she's legally blind. going out salsa dancing. i wonder how many people in detriot salsa dance. between this thought and her eye shadwo my brain buckles.

12:30 am---after 2 hours of driving, i think i see amelda marcos using a snoopy sno cone machine on the road ahead of me. i decide it's time to pull over and let the girl drive.

2 am---we finally pull into south bend, 10 and a half hours after i left my office.

2 am and 18 seconds---zzzzzzzzzzzz


Monday, August 05, 2002

and the hits keep on comin'



for those of you who thought my last trip was riddling with fun and merriment, wait til you get a load of my latest excursion this weekend. sadly, i won't get to it for a while, but it'll be in 4 parts, starting tonite. maybe. see, i'm a wee bit tired right now.

i got up at 3:15 am in Indiana to try and make it to work in boston by 10. good times. good times.

shoot me in the head.

friday night, appearing on a "hamletmachine" near you soon...

Thursday, August 01, 2002

i don't completely suck...yet



12.5 %

My weblog owns 12.5 % of me.
Does your weblog own you?


i'm sure if i put my mind to it, i can completely regress socially.