Hello, my name is Bex Schwartz and I am about to sing you a ditty. [A Ditty:] This is my home in the blogosphere. It's not as round as a bathosphere. But it's my place in cyberspace so I hold it dear. BLOG. O. SPHERE!
Hug me, please.
2. Are you an architect? Do you know any architects? Maybe they would like to enter this competition! Because Architizer is THE BEST and I love them so much.
9 days left
On Friday, June 24th, 2011, Governor Cuomo signed the historic legislation legalizing same-sex marriage in New York. The bill becomes a law on July 24th, 2011. Now it’s time to get married. Pop-Up Chapel with TheKnot.com is hosting a day-long marriage ceremony in Central Park. They are providing the wedding, the photographer, the officiant and the cupcakes, now all they need is a chapel! Architizer and The Knot are asking designers to submit designs for two temporary structures to be erected for the day long ceremony.
(Based on Bobby's tumblr about a "chocolate snack pack" in the office fridge.)
Bex: DUDE. what is a chocolate snack pack? and why is it in the fridge?
Bobby: it's just pudding. but it's the best pudding because it has the best name
Bex: why is it called a SNACK PACK? a pack of snacks? i see no pack
Bobby: WHY WOULDN'T IT BE
Bex: i see a ... a tub? SNACK TUB
Bobby: WOULD YOU EAT A TUB? i only eat packs. 'tub' makes you feel like a tub.
Bex: i guess tubs are full of gross things. a tub of margarine.
Bobby: packs make you feel like you have a six pack. aka you're healthy.
Bex: do they come in vanilla?
Bobby: they come in all the traditional pudding flavors
Bex: is pudding a snack? i always thought it was more of a treat. a snack is like some goldfish crackers
Bobby: a snack is any small serving of a food that isn't considered an entree. like you can snack on fries. but you couldn't snack on a burger. a treat is a bite-sized version of a dessert. ok so maybe snack pack should be in the treat bucket. i'm writing these rules and contradicting myself. they're treat packs. you're right. they're basically treat tubs.
Bex: wait. i think the snack pack should be called a treat bucket. i think you just named it
Bobby i'm convulsing right now. treat bucket.
Bex: TREAT BUCKET
Bobby: omg. i'd buy them
Bex: why does that make me feel so dirty? i'd buy them and strap them to my face like a feedbag. "i'm sorry, i can't talk to you right now, i am busy enjoying my treat bucket."
Bobby: "hold my calls" "r'ohm rorry, rah canghtralkyourow. riamburryenroyingmyreatbrucketrrrrrr"
Bex: snerk. now i want a treat bucket SO BAD. let's go steal the one in the fridge.
OMG, best weekend ever, right? I am still slightly drunk (I think) from celebrating MARRIAGE EQUALITY so very hard!
So -- hugetastic news:
Some friends and I have been hard at work on NYC's first Pop Up Chapel. From our site:
On Saturday, July 30th, the first weekend after same-sex marriage becomes legal, we will host New York City’s first pop-up chapel in Central Park (or a designated space, if interest outpaces capacity.)
We provide the wedding! And the photographer! And the officiant! And witnesses! And cupcakes! And music! And everything you’ve always dreamed of! A free and legal wedding... We will perform your wedding ceremony, sign your license, and process the paperwork.
Please check out our site, and follow us on twitter, and like us on the facebook.
Also, we need your help! Want to volunteer? Want to sponsor us? Want to provide cupcakes? Play guitar? Set up the altar? Provide flowers? PLEASE let me know! You can email me at:
Bex AT popupchapel.com
If you want to get married, especially once it becomes legal for EVERYPERSON TO GET MARRIED in NYC, I have the power to wed you. Here, in my fingertips. For I am an ordained minister with the ULC, and I am legally registered with the City of New York as a wedding officiant.
You just need to be very much in love and excited about getting married, and then you'll just need to get a marriage license. I will do whatever sort of ceremony you'd like. (You want some Hebrew? Sure thing. You want an original song parody about your relationship? I can do that, too. You want the whole thing to rhyme? SURE THING. You want it to be Star Wars themed? OKAY! You'd like your wedding to be all interfaithedly atheistic? GOOD THING, BECAUSE THAT'S HOW I ROLL. You'd like to enter the ceremony riding an elephant? YOU WILL NEED TO FIND THAT ELEPHANT.)
The point being: if you want to get married, I will ordain your wedding. I will sign your marriage license with my very special New York City wedding officiant information and then I will send your license to the city clerk and they will process it, and then you will be all married and shit like that.
I’m so sorry. I have made myself laugh so hard that I am crying my eye makeup off. And then every time I stop laughing, I look at this and then I laugh again. I am just sitting here WEEPING. WEEPING. WEEPING. Maybe it's because I was awake until 6am, but this is the funniest thing I have ever written.
This morning, I tweeted at Rob Lowe to tell him that he does not know what “glass ceiling” means and he is TOTALLY IGNORING ME and giving me the ROB LOWE SILENT TREATMENT and I am literally sobbing.
Also, after I tweeted at him, I spent about 5 hours worrying that he was making a joke about the glass ceiling that I just didn’t grok, until I realized (I think) that Rob Lowe just doesn’t know what “glass ceiling” means.
Go see my friend Greg's movie! If you like teenagers and you like slam poetry and you like Chicago! It's playing at the IFC Theater here in NY right now! You are a fool if you miss this.
I saw this spot on TV and I was like “WAIT, WHAT?”
Andrew Smiley says “See you next Tuesday.”
And I don’t think he knows? He could have just said “Call us on Tuesdays!” or “We run this promo every Tuesday to teach you about medical malpractice!”
This morning, as I was still clinging tenaciously to the remaining threads of a delicious dream, Panda Boo puked all over me and my bed. And it was so gross and so warm and so gooshy that I involuntarily puked all over the cat, and myself, and the bed. We were both covered in puke! Me and my cat, with so much puke in our fur! So I put me and the cat into the shower, and then I cleaned the sheets and dropped them off with the nice lady who does my laundry and asked her to bleach them to high holy heaven. WHAT A MORNING.
There is a documentary about Robyn on youtube! I love her so much! I want to cuddle her! I want to be the outside spoon, and believe me, I never want to be the outside spoon. But I would be the outside spoon if I were cuddling Robyn,
During some downtime in Ye Olde Shriners’ Temple, we somehow started talking about “Who Let the Dogs Out.” Oh! Because we were talking about crosswords for stupid people, like ones in People. (Crosswords for stupid People). And once there was a clue that went “Who ___ the Dogs Out.”
So we wanted to come up with all the other possible 3-letter words that fit in there. Who blank the dogs out?
*Who set the dogs out?
* Who put the dogs out?
* Who sat the dogs out?
* Who got the dogs out?
* Who had the dogs out?
* Who met the dogs out?
* Who bid the dogs out?
* Who fed the dogs out?
* Who kit the dogs out?
* Who pet the dogs out?
* Who ran the dogs out?
* Who saw the dogs out?
* Who won the dogs out?
and my own personal favorite:
* Who ate the dogs out?
Oh, hello! I wrote an essay about my mom and dad for Eliot Glazer's new book "My Parents Were Awesome." You should buy a copy! My essay is on page 78! And all my friends' essays are so good! I haven't finished the entire book yet because I get verklempt when I read it, but I WHOLEHEARTEDLY endorse the idea that you should buy this book for your mom for mother's day or for your dad for father's day or just in general, because, you know, love your parents!
Panda Boo does not want to eat his kittycat food! Perhaps this is because he is a cat but I call him Panda Boo. Maybe he is confused! Maybe he wants to eat bamboo instead. I have tried singing to him but so far I have not stumbled upon the proper song.
Because EVERYONE has a song that gets him or her to eat, right?
I mean, all of you wouldn’t eat unless someone sang a VERY SPECIAL song to you, right?
I used to suck my thumb and I didn’t ever want to stop sucking my thumb, not even to eat. So my dad used to sing this song to me, although I misremembered the lyrics so thankfully he corrected them via facebook:
“Out goes the thumb and the food goes in, the food goes in, the food goes in. Out goes the thumb and the food goes in —- down in Becky’s tummy.” (lyrics copyright 1978 by R. Schwartz)
So, you know, when I get all eating disordery, as I am wont to do, you could try just singing this to me. I will teach you the tune.
Maybe you already know how to improve your DVR viewing experience by changing the settings on your remote, but if you don’t, let me share my joyful discovery with you!
You know how when you’re watching TV and you fastforward through the commercials and then hit play when you see the show again? But after you stop fastforwarding and hit play, your remote dumps you backwards and you have to watch the end of the Progessive Insurance spot or the Outsourced promo?
You can tell your remote not to do that!
If you hit “settings” on your remote and go to the “Display” tab, you will see something called DVR Compensation. Tell your cable box that you want “less.” (I tried it with “none” and I am so used to the remote backwards bump that it threw me off. Just a little bit of the remote backwards bump is perfect.) Life changing! And you’ll probably save 3 minutes or so per show.
When I was 8, there were two things I loved more than anything in the world:
1) Weird Al Yankovic
2) The Monkees
Every morning, I listened to Weird Al as I got ready for school. And every afternoon (when I didn't have to go to stupid hebrew school), I would watch The Monkees. I was also madly in love with both Mike and Mickey. First I had a crush on Mike, and then it went to Mickey, and then back to Mike, in a never-ending vacillation between the (clearly) best Monkees. (Sorry, Davy and Pete fans! They just don't do it for me).
One night at the dinner table, my dad asked me and my brother what our ideal concert would be.
"WEIRD AL! WEIRD AL!" we shrieked.
And then he asked us who our second favorite band was.
"THE MONKEES! THE MONKEES!" we yelped.
When my dad has very special information to share, he does this thing where he sort of angles one shoulder up and then shifts that shoulder down and brings the other shoulder up. He does this whenever he is trying draw out suspense.
"What if I told you," (shoulder shift) "That we were going to go to a concert at Great Adventure" (shoulder shift) "and we were going to see Weird Al" (shoulder shift) "AND The Monkees?"
To this day, I recall the frisson of almost agonizing joy. WEIRD AL AND THE MONKEES? IN CONCERT? IN NEW JERSEY? Dreams do come true.
I could tell you about how we ate lunch at the theme park and my dad held a Schwartz Family meeting to announce that it was very important that we were a Weird Al type of family because so many people who were also at Great Adventure were just there to see The Monkees.
I could also tell you how as we were leaving, my dad said hi to someone and the rest of us were like "What was that?" and he said, "Oh, Weird Al" and then we chased after him and he signed autographs for us and I told him he was my hero and I sang all of my own parodies (for of course, at age 8, I was writing song parodies like a motherfucker) to him and he listened patiently and then shook my hand and I swore I would never wash it again.
But the point of this story is that sometimes two things you love end up all smushed together like chocolate-and-peanut-butter.
And sometimes, two things you love end up all smushed together and it is more like crunchy-frog-and-nougat.
And that would be Julee Cruise singing R.E.M.'s "It's the End of the World as We Know It."
If you like R.E.M., or if you like me, and if you'd like to hear me talking about how much I like R.E.M., you could listen to Newtown Radio today from 4-6pm. I will be gushing over R.E.M.'s new album, "Collapse Into Now," which is fucking fantastic.
Speaking of the radio, this is what KRS-One and Michael Stipe were thinking in 1991:
Check it out --
What are you saying?
What are you playing?
Who are you obeying?
Day out day in?
Baby, baby, baby, baby
That stuff is driving me crazy
DJs communicate to the masses
Sex and violent classes
Now our children grow up prisoners
All their lives radio listeners
So, um, set yourself free, I guess, and listen to internet radio? Radio Free Internet?
I'll stop now.
True story: The first time I went to LA for work I made a mix CD with this song on it 20 times in a row. Okay, it wasn’t a mix. It was 20 tracks of “I Love LA.” And, whatever, I could have just pressed repeat but I am very nervous when I am driving and I thought making a CD with 20 tracks of “I Love LA” made more sense than trying to press repeat while making a left turn (because left turns are THE WORST, as we know).
Also, once I went to San Francisco for work and I made a CD with “We Built This City” on it, 20 times in a row, and I played it while driving over the Golden Gate Bridge AND while driving down Lombard street, because, shut up, I am awesome. Then I left that CD in the rental car so the next person to get the rental car could share the joy.
Going to see Randy Newman tomorrow night! Because I love The Hold Steady, and Robyn, and Randy Newman because people be RANDOM with their musical tastes, yo. I hope he plays Dixie Flyer, because it is my favorite, although I am worried (A lot. I am VERY VERY VERY worried) that I am going to cry during this concert, because when Randy Newman touches my heart strings, he touches them very very hard.
This is on teevee tonight! Of course, it is on at the same time as Survivor, Top Model, and Idol, so you will have to record a repeat (and you will also have to watch Survivor on primetime on demand because you need to record Idol because you can’t watch it on primetime on demand or itunes, and you have to watch Top Model on Wednesday nights with your gay friends because that is the rules).
I just informed a friend that he has to watch American Idol with me this season, like it or lump it.
And then I was worried that he might choose “lump it,” because I am not entirely certain what “lump it” consists of as an option.
Then I realized that, in my head, “lump it” meant that one of us would end up with a bowl of oatmeal on his or her head. Because oatmeal has lumps, I guess? When I was a tiny person, my dad would feed me oatmeal by making a tidal wave out of it (this is a thing parents do to feed their children oatmeal? Maybe?) and I, apparently (because I do not remember because I was a tiny baby) used to snort the oatmeal lumps. Like how people who do blow might do a bump off their hand where the thumb meets the other fingers and if you drew a face on that part, you’d have Senor Wences — I would snort oatmeal lumps. Bumps of oatmeal lumps. Oatmeal lump bumps.
And then I secondarily realized that I was conflating “like it or lump it” with “eat it or wear it” from Judy Blume’s Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing in which Fudge dumps a bowl of cereal over his head.
So now I am sort of aware that “like it or lump it” does not mean that “lump it” implies dumping a bowl of oatmeal over one’s head, but I don’t think I’ll ever quite be able to separate that image from the phrase.
This is how my brain works! Aren’t you so glad you don’t live with neural pathways like these?
What is the magical silken dog beast thing? I don't know, but when it dances with the plates, it is the best thing ever in the world.
My new internet-friend Freecocaine posted this as a gif and told me that it originally said "Inception," so I started looking for an Inception dog gif and I am pleased as punch that I found this amazing nugget of Panchi (sp?) joy. (via)
I spent the entire weekend lying in bed because my brain was exploding out of my face. Seriously. I was half convinced — well, more than half — that there were alien eggs erupting out of my sinus cavities. My kitty was so confused why I was lying in bed all weekend long making whimpering noises, instead of doing Disco Abs or whatever else I normally do on the weekends. I was in SO MUCH PAIN. Like, the sort of pain where you’re sure it will be like that forever. It’s not like when you break your big toe (which I have done) and it hurts like a motherfucker, but your brain can still function. When you have a combo migraine/sinus infection and there are auras around everything (especially the cat, who makes “mep” noises all the time) and it hurts to think or even to open one’s eyes, your brain stops functioning. Thusly. Apparently, at 4am last night, I wrote a joke in my pain-induced delirium and emailed it to my work email address, because I am just that awesome. Would you like to read it? Of course you would.
subject: good bear joke
Bear walks into a bar, and says “Hi, I’m a bear and my name is Nate.” Bartender says “Hi, Bear Nate!” and the bear instantly curls into a ball and goes to sleep.
That is some FANCYPANTS delirious humorjoking there, my friends.
It is ten minutes after midnight here in the Spain and I am supposed to wake up in 6 hours to take the train to the airport (aereporto, maybe, I don't know, I don't speak this language) and I understand you are battering the Northeast, so here is my request: If you are going to snow real fucking hard, please snow REAL FUCKING HARD RIGHT NOW so that Delta will know waaaaay in advance that we cannot possibly land at JFK at 12:35pm so they'll Flight Notification me and then I can sleep later than 6am and spend more time walking around the city (despite the re-broken toe thing that happens whenever I travel and walk around for 8 hours a day) rather than spending the entire day at the airport.
Alternately: don't snow at all! And then I can just get on my flight!
But if you are going to Bitch Snow, please Bitch Snow the fuck out of right now so that the airline can call an audible (that is a sports term, right?) and let me know very soon that my flight will be delayed because spending the day in the airport, which is filled with ham, will like totes fer sure harsh my mellow. Also, circling NYC, if there is a lot of Bitch Snow, will make me anxious like in that Die Hard movie when Bonnie Bedelia knows they have been circling for too long and is worried they will run out of fuel. I would not even get Alan Rickman in trouble, would that were the case.
My boss and I were just discussing the song. I learned it from a friend who went to Reform Jewcamp where they were allowed to sing in English (at my more serious Jewcamp, we were only allowed to sing in Hebrew. HARDFUCKINGCORE) about 25 years ago and I haven't thought about this song since then, and yet I still know all the words. And so should you.
Wherever you go there's always someone Jewish
You're never alone when you say you're a Jew
So when you're not home
And you're somewhere kind of 'newish'
The odds are--don't look far--
'Cause they're Jewish, too.
It would be nice if everytime I felt alone, I was just like "YO, I'M A JEW!" and suddenly my apartment would be filled with friends, like in that story about the guy with the magical table and he says "Little table, get set!" and suddenly his table is magically filled with dishes and food. I guess I'd need to be more like "YO, I'M A CULTURAL JEW BUT I AM ACTUALLY AN ATHEIST ALTHOUGH LOOK AT MY NOSE AND HOW I TALK WITH MY HANDS AND ALSO I AM SO LOUD" to be more truthful. Anyhoo.
A researcher dressed in a panda costume puts a panda cub into a box before its physical examination at the Hetaoping Research and Conservation Center for the Giant Panda in Wolong National Nature Reserve, Sichuan province, Dec. 3. The 4-month old cub, the first in the centre to be trained for reintroduction into the wild, is monitored by hidden cameras. Researchers performing physical examinations on the cub wear panda costumes to ensure that the cub's environment is devoid of human influence, according to local media.
I love everything about this story, mostly about how everyone on facebook posted a link to that HORRIBLE gizmodo article like "OMG ALIEN LIFE, WOW" as opposed to grokking that what this discovery means is that bacteria in an arsenic-filled lake are able to replace phosphorous with arsenic, which means that maybe life on other planets could exist with arsenic instead of phosphorus, which means we should be looking for arsenic on top of HONC and sulfur and phosphorus when we are looking for alien friends out there.
What I am GREATLY LOOKING FORWARD TO is the annoucement that DARPA has already weaponized arsenic-y bacteria and that the resulting biological weapon not only turns you in a zombie but also kills everyone first with Captain Trips.
Best Friend Josh went to Australia to go to Nerd Camp and they made him eat Vegemite and filmed the experience. And so, clearly, someone had to go make a dance remix. And that someone, as per usual, is me.
I wrote/directed this promo for Dance Central. You can view this version and the alt cut at this superspecial page right here! I am super thrilled with these spots! The game is so much fun and so delightful and I love it so much.
It stars many awesome people from New York City / The Internets. People such as:
Carolyn Castiglia
Tyler Coates
Jessica Delfino
Ron Dizon
Ilana Glazer
Lucas Hazlett
Sergio Mejia
Heather Mingo
Paul Wielunski
Keisha Zollar
This is real and DEEEElightful. I’m going to a BYOB birfday dinner tonight and I would very much like to BYO-me. But according to their distributors list, the only people in NY who carry it are based, oddly enough, in my hometown of Glen Rock, NJ. This is very confusing to my head.
So now that the Chilean miners are totally free and running marathons and being kickawesome on Letterman, I must share that I had to physically refrain from blogging about the song "Timothy" by the Buoys throughout the length of their ordeal. But now it is fine to make jokes about how the people in the song who were trapped in the mine eat each other in order to survive and then write a peppy pop song about it! Indulge yourself in these glorious lyrics:
Trapped in a mine that had caved in
And everyone knows the only ones left
Were Joe and me and Tim
When they broke through to pull us free
The only ones left to tell the tale
Were Joe and me
Timothy, Timothy, where on earth did you go?
Timothy, Timothy, God why don't I know?
Hungry as hell no food to eat
And Joe said that he would sell his soul
For just a piece of meat
Water enough to drink for two
And Joe said to me, "I'll have a swig
And then there's some for you."
Timothy, Timothy, Joe was looking at you
Timothy, Timothy, God what did we do?
I must have blacked out just around then
'Cause the very next thing that I could see
Was the light of the day again
My stomach was full as it could be
And nobody ever got around
To finding Timothy
Timothy...
And this song came up on my ipod today while I was running so I figured it was kismet and it was time for sharing. With my stomach as full as it could be (full of ... TIMOTHY!)
Um, HELLO? CNN! If you send everyone a mass-email about where Bin Laden's hiding, don't you think he'll know that we know and then he WON'T HIDE THERE ANYMORE?
I mean. Like he's not looking at cnn.com on his iphone just as soon as he gets that breaking news alert? And then high-tailing the fuck out of northwest Pakistan?
I do not run the media or anything. But I wouldn't announce these things.
When I was home during Christmas break of my frosh year from college, my little brother and I stayed up late one night. In fact, we stayed up so late, there was nothing good on tv, so we turned to the tv guide thing that used to come in the Sunday times. Do they still do that? The print version of the NY Times tv guide thing? Anyway. We were looking through it for something to watch at 4am, and it said:
"With Six You Get Eggroll" ... with two, baloney!
To me, this is a paragon of blurb-humor and I aspire to its greatness on a daily basis.
So! It turns out I know someone who did the Shipoopi with Kerri Green. This is probably the greatest thing I have ever heard in my entire life, and that guy is now my hero. I mean. Andy from Goonies is only the hottest babe ever in the history of babes. Robo-babe, Baberaham Lincoln, Babia Majora &c. But! More importantly! It has been a long time since I was in the Music Man as a freshman in high school. And I sort of remembered the lyrics, but not really.
And so:
Marcellus:
Well a woman who’ll kiss on the very first date
Is usually a hussy.
And a woman who’ll kiss on the second time out
Is anything but fussy.
But a woman who waits ‘til the third time around,
Head in the clouds, feet on the ground!
She’s the girl he’s glad he’s found—she’s his
Shi-Poo-Pi! Shi-Poo-Pi! Shi-Poo-Pi! Shi-Poo-Pi!
Boys:
The girl who’s hard to get!
SO. I only recently found out about the “Third Date Rule” because it was in that episode of Gr’anatomy where Bailey is nervous because she is going on a 3rd date with the hot anesthesiologist and the lesbian doctor is like “Third date! Wax your vagina! The third date means sex!” I didn’t know this was a thing. But apparently, it is a thing, because people talk about the “third date rule” on the internet, and if it’s on the internet then it must be true.
So … clearly the third date rule comes from the Shipoopi, right? I mean, long before “The Rules” or Rachel having a “third date sweater” on Friends, Marcellus Washburn was singing about how a girl who kisses on the first date is a hussy, and a girl who kisses on the 2nd date is anything but fussy, but a girl who’ll wait til the 3rd date is your Shipoopi. In 1957!
So, clearly we should stop calling it the “third date rule” and instead just refer to it by its rightful title, “The Shipoopi.”
Also: according to The Shipoopi, I am a hussy (AND PROUD).
I was feeling a lot like I was in out-of-control drowning-stressed-mode until I watched these bunnies wiggle their noses. Now I feel a teensy bit better. Bunnies in cuppies wiggling their their noseys.
This is, probably, the greatest double Kermit performance of "Under Pressure" you will ever see. At the very least, it is the most passionate and fervent. It is making me weep with longing.
Via Odd Todd'sfacebook!
Last night when I was making tofu pups at 11pm after the gym, “Boys of Summer” came on my ipod (don’t hate, some of us love Don Henley) and I was thinking about the lyric:
“Out on the road today, I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac.”
Did you know Wiki considers that to be the most famous lyric of the song? The wiki entry even explains the line, in case you never thought about it while sauteeing processed tofu in spray-olive-oil:
After a mid-way instrumental break is perhaps the song’s most famous lyric: “Out on the road today I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac.” This image of once-countercultural Deadheads driving establishment status symbol Cadillacs immediately connected with Henley’s age group, and neatly encapsulated the song’s feelings of loss and aging. It is rumored that this line was inspired by Henley seeing Joe Walsh driving a Cadillac Hearse with a Grateful Dead sticker on it while on Sunset Boulevard, despite Walsh’s 1978 driver’s license revocation.
Anyway. We all get it — a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac (don’t look back, you can never look back) is pretty self-explanatory.
So then I thought — what if there were things like Foursquare badges, but more like stickers that you could stick on to people’s blogposts or tumblrs? Like a sort of shorthand commentary — if someone goes to see, I don’t know, Lou Reed perform at that Boom Boom Room thing on top of the Standard and they’re all like “It was all fashionistas and anorexic girls in PR and people only knew the words to ‘Sweet Jane’ and then they didn’t even use the right shape of icecube in my scotch” then you could stick a “Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac” badge onto that post.
There could be other commentary-stickers, of course, but I only got as far as thinking about how I would to maybe stick a “Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac” badge onto certain blog posts (not yours, though) and then my tofu pups were done.
It’s badges for tumblr! Or stickers for tumblr! Badgr? (hat tip to Josh!) Or Stickr?
This morning when I was going to work from thurpy on the N train, I realized that the (N) on the LED sign looks just like a DELICIOUS NEWMAN’S OWN PRETZEL.
This is maybe a sign that I should allow myself to start eating carbs again.
Remember that time Josh and I were 18 and frosh at Wesleyan and we took that giant cat to this Bare Naked Ladies concert in Hartford for Earth Day and then we met Jim Creeggan AND WE ALSO HAD THAT GIANT CAT WITH US?
This is a photo of my family from this weekend when I was the Rabbi/Minister at a wedding. I have been making getting-a-giant-cat noises for a long time, so, in order to persuade me to follow through on this plan, my best friend Josh photoshopped a giant cat into the portrait.
He says: "artist's rendering of what it would be like with a giant cat."
Oddly enough, this is EXACTLY what it would be like if there were a giant cat in this family portrait. My brother and I would be thrilled and my dad would be making a face like "Ooooh Nooooooooo, does there REALLY need to be a giant cat in this family, REALLY?"
Last night at 2am when I was watching HIMYM on my DVR, there was a terrible terrible scary Snickers ad with this weird creepster mask lady. And I was like: “That is not just a mask lady! That is the evil substitute teacher from a book that perhaps I read when I was six!”
Nearly 12 hours later, I realized I thought the mask lady looked like Viola Swamp from “Miss Nelson is Missing,” because this is apparently the way my brain works.
Attention, The Hold Steady fans who also love baseball and also the music of people like my buddypal Scott McCaughey! When I saw Scott last week, he was telling me that Craig Finn wrote and recorded a song about the Twins (the Minnesota Baseball Peoples, not, like, the identical peoples in the doublemint gum commercials) for his band The Baseball Project, and it was already getting played at Twins' games and now it is on the internet for your listening pleasure. Listen to Craig Finn sing all about the Minnesota Twins. I have no idea what most of it means because I don't speak baseball, but apparently the moral of the story is: Please don't call them twinkies.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
You know how when you are a little, little kid and you have the flu and you're sort of semi-delirious and you are watching tv with your parents because your sleep schedules are all fucked up because you're taking all that childrens' tylenol along with your antibiotics and you see a thing where Joe Piscopo sings a song to Tony Denono with the lines "Tony Denono, I can't believe that's your name" and then NOBODY ELSE IN THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN THIS even though you talk about it all the time and you are convinced you hallucinated it?
It motherfucking exists. Somehow I feel like a large chunk of my life has suddenly shifted, rather satisfyingly, into space.
Here is my contribution to 9/02/10!
A few years ago, I was lucky enough to cowrite and codirect a spot for I Love the 90s. It was set at a recreation of the Peach Pit and starred none other than Joe E. Tata, better known to you as Nat!
Joe was a pleasure to work with, a consummate pro and a total sweetheart who regaled us with tales from the set during the 90210 glory days. He even humored me when I joked about the Peach Pit offering a dish called a “Joe E. Fritatta” for brunch.
A week or so after the shoot, a box arrived at our office. We opened it up and it contained a thank you note from Joe, along with an autographed headshot and his “Nat” shirt from the Peach Pit, that he signed. I always meant to frame it, but instead it has been all crumpled up in a box for several years. Until today. Happy 90210 Day, peach pitters.
How does this happen? I was thinking about the bushes in Glen Rock that kids used to cut so they said “Glen Fuck” — they would cut off the round bit of the R and the top of the o — so I twittercized about it, and then I googled the bushes to see if I could maybe find something about it, and HuffPo had already picked up my tweet? Is this a thing that happens now? The internet is eating itself and then pooping itself and it is a human centipede / ouroboros?
There is too much internet for me to catch up on, and I haven’t seen Mad Men or Jersey Shore or any of the Big Brothers I missed when I was away by myself in Belize. So I am going to stop catching up on the internets RIGHT NOW, because Sean won them. Because this is the greatest backpack the world has ever seen.
I hate everything, except for this. I just watched this four times with tears streaming down my face in a combination of joy and just plain being overwhelmed by the eye injections. EYE INJECTIONS. Why did it take until now for the Rockafire Explosion to sing The Arcade Fire while the world is destroyed and Mitzi and Beach Bear get EYE INJECTED?
When I was about 4 and my brother was teeny tiny, we went to visit my dad's family in Charleston. When we flew back, my brother got his finger stuck the fold-out airplane tray that comes out of the seat when you're sitting in the bulkhead. His finger was gushing blood. The stewardesses called an ambulance to meet us when we landed. My brother and mom went to Valley Hospital in the ambulance. My dad and I met them there. There was a toy shaped like Ernie from Sesame Street that was filled with sand and you could tilt Ernie and let the sand flow from his fingers to his feet. We were not supposed to be spending that night in the emergency room waiting for my baby brother to have his hand stitched up. WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GO TO SHOWBIZ PIZZA TO SEE THE ROCKAFIRE EXPLOSION. My parents PROMISED. But we TOTALLY DIDN'T GO. We went to the ER and there were no animatronic animal bands or ball pits. There was just a stupid plastic Ernie filled with sand.
Oh, Wellmont Theater of Montclair, NJ (did my dad put me on your mailing list? Why are you emailing me?) All I can say is: you have put your Primus chocolate into my Bob Saget peanut butter and I am not sure if you aware of the raw genius that is this email blast.
Primus and Bob Saget! Two delicious tastes that go even better together!
My secret girlfriend Robyn did a secret (?) show in Tribeca yesterday and nobody remembered to tell me about it. But at least there is video.
Also, I am totally into the half-blue-head thing.
Remember on Lost when everyone had to FEEL IT? This song makes me FEEL IT. I have been FEELING IT for months, me and this song. But this morning on the way to work, I super duper FELT IT. It was totally a could-have-been-on-Lost FEELING IT moment, except before Lost decided to suck like nobody's business with the world's worst cop-out of crap. Stop thinking about how much Lost sucked! Watch Robyn! She will make you FEEL IT.
Via Lindsay and Urlesque, today I internet-met a pug named Teddy Almond Turtle who yells BATMAN! Except, in my head, he sings it. Because I am tone-deaf and can't really sing, so basically hitting the right words at the correct time with a vague sense of rhythm is good enough for me. By which I mean to say: I very sloppily and hastily cut the pug into the Batman theme song, because I am very, very, very easily amused.
This new Quizno's spot wants to be by Joel Veitch, the genius behind the singing kittens and the original spongmonkeys Quizno's campaign. This new spot is not by Joel Veitch. It is a poor man's version of Joel Veitch.
Joel is my friend and we collaborated many years ago on 9 singing kitten spots for VH1. Quizno's can suck a dick for ripping off the Veitchness and hiring someone else to do the awesomeness that Joel does so well -- but at least they fail, so there's that.
AHEM. This new Quizno's spot is NOT BY JOEL VEITCH.
It lacks his cleverness and mastery of the absurd.
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