I Wanna Be a Producer!

Ah, what my summer in St. Louis wouldn't be without a visit to The Muny.

Last week, the fiancee surprised me in a way that I'd never expect such an overtly-straight man to do; he took me to the theatre. No, not just the theatre. The outdoor theatre in St. Louis; the one that specializes in musical theatre.

The reason being that they were running The Producers last week.

I've seen the original movie version (Gene Wilder / Zero Mostel) once, but only after seeing the updated musical version (Matthew Broderick / Nathan Lane) several times. And being an unrepentant fan of musical theatre -- "the greatest two words put together in the English language" as executive producer Paul Blake remarked earlier in the evening -- why wouldn't I?

I had never seen the stage version, so I was delighted to find that was where we were headed Sunday evening after a delectable dinner at Crown Candy Kitchen. Unlike some productions of the past, it did not disappoint; the Muny flew in actors from Broadway for the main roles, and it showed. The set design was the best I've ever seen at the venue, particularly the "Springtime for Hitler" scenes. There's something incredibly powerful about a backdrop of four huge red Nazi flags along the entire Muny stage; it definitely was more startling than watching it on TV.

Mel Brooks is a genius, but the original was definitely wanting of "more," and the musical revival of it perfectly fleshes an already great idea out into a top-notch one. Obviously the movie is the best way to see the show, especially if you can't afford orchestra seats, because you get the full weight of all of the expressions on the actors' faces; which is pretty key in some scenes, and would have been missed had I not already known what was coming. The only problem with relying on the movie is its missing some pretty hilarious tunes like "The King of Broadway," "In Old Bavaria," and "Where Did We Go Right?"

It makes me want to watch the movie all over again. If for no other reason to have "Keep It Gay" stuck in my head, on a loop, for the rest of the week.

The Return of the Yesteryear Hero

Above all, the thing I love most about Kevin Smith is that you can't keep him down. The guy may get discouraged, but he certainly will never stop living his dream.

My teen years were rife with a steady stream of quotations from all of his films, to those who were familiar and those who weren't (the latter receiving guff for being so obtuse). My best friend and I even started a screen play, which I still have in my possession, that was basically a similar version of a Kevin Smith story; Joe Blow has a boring life, a shitty job, an annoying girlfriend, and the girl he really wants is just out of reach, as is the rest of his happiness all of which are solely his own doing.

Everyone loves this guy. Try not to, I dare you. The reason why is because, for the most part, it's all of us. Grass is always greener, "what if I'd done that instead of this," ... maybe it's just the eternal question of the middle class, and no one else, but there it is.

The caffeine kicks in this morning and I retreat to the reading room and flip through Entertainment Weekly to pass the time; in this particular issue, there's a feature on "The Next A-List" of Hollywood. Among them is comedic powerhouse, Seth Rogen. The slovenly, furry, cuddly oddball of whom no one (including myself) can seem to get enough.

Sound familiar?

There's a reason. I learn in the blurb about him possibly dethroning Adam Sandler as the Jewey comedy giant the world over, there's a mention of his role in Kevin Smith's upcoming film Zack and Miri Make a Porno.

That guy always manages to sneak films by me; back in my teen years, that would have never happened; between my best friend and I, we could smell a new project of his before it was even in production. I just don't have the time to devote to superfandom anymore it would seem. Life gets too complicated with work and caffeine addictions and night upon night at the bars.

Costarring Elizabeth Banks, who I've loved since Wet Hot American Summer, I know it's not going to be "great," but certainly will be fun and a worthwhile see ... at least for me, a seemingly forever fan of his wittily-vile-humor-with-a-schlocky-twist style. The fact that two of today's best young(er) comedic actors star only sweetens the deal; particularly since Smith before insisted on only casting his buddies, who are mediocre actors at best. Some will make appearances, of course, in the new film but it's refreshing to see believable talent at center stage. I'm not alone when I say that the kid in Clerks 2 made that movie; had it not been for him, Smith would have had no hope for his future career. None.

So, here I go again. Going from swearing off Smith films forever after a Netflix viewing of Jersey Girl, to swearing I'll never, ever see Clerks 2, I again slacken my resolve for what I know will be a delightful little surprise.

Finally, a free "Gift" I actually want!

Being a music snob from way back when in my Slackers days, I've subscribed to Magnet Magazine for ... oh, say ... 6 years. Or 8. I've lost track (though I guess I could figure out for sure since they're all still in a collection in my basement).

That aside, I've renewed the 2 year subscription just about every other year, save for one or two in the early years. A mostly glossy zine, part half-hearted legitimate music rag, it's been my periodical of choice in my mailboxes for years. My favorites are the always entertaining commentary of the "The Back Page" and "Where's the Street Team?", but the interviews and features are usually quite substantial and engaging, the photography excellent, the reviews usually dead-on, and advertisements kept to a minimum.

The accompanying compilation CD; however, is rarely worth the listen.

But my main gripe is these lazy bums can only muster 6 issues a year. Bi-monthly. Meaning, an entire magazine is supposed to be sustainable toilet reading fodder for 2 whole months?!

Yeah, right. Fortunately issues of Blender and Entertainment Weekly started mysteriously showing up in our mailbox; which, while lame, I'd otherwise be bored out of my skull in there. Thank god I have the likes of Desperate Housewives and Gossip Girl spoilers to keep me company instead.

In any event, a few days ago I get the notice that my subscription is about to expire; and that if I would like to do anything about it, to please send more money and your #1 and #2 choices of the following free CDs we have laying around.

The list was as follows:
Against Me! New Wave
Eels Meet The Eels: Essential Eels Vol. 1
Beach House Devotion
Georgie James Places
Photon Band Back Down to Earth
Bob Mould District Line
Sons & Daughters This Gift
The Aliens Astronomy For Dogs
Evangelicals The Evening Descends
Liam Finn I'll Be Lightning

My selections were:
#1: Sons & Daughters
#2: The Eels

My expectations were:
Some random junk band's CD that was neither in my selections nor on the list.

The reason:
This was the way it was, every time I have renewed.

Same promise of a cool free CD, same delivery of a lame useless one. I had no expectation that it would be different, but Shiva help me if that was going to keep me from trying.

Today, even before delivery of issue No. 79, it comes. The square padded envelope from Magnet.

Inside was my #1.

Talk about a good day.

Wilcome Home

Since my introduction to the band in 1999 with Summerteeth, and catching my first-ever show of them at the Blue Note that hot summer, I haven't missed a St. Louis showing of Wilco yet.

Last year was the first year that I wasn't afforded the option; as they opted to stop in Columbia for an open-air concert with Dr. Dog instead, and on a weeknight no less. Someone shared an audio copy online of the set with my fiance, which revived my interest in the new album.

To tell you the truth, even though Wilco is admittedly my favorite band of all time, I was very disappointed by A Ghost Is Born and completely disinterested in Sky Blue Sky. Seeing it for sale in a Chicago Starbucks and an "are you kidding me?" later, I'd pretty much written it off. On another road trip back from Chicago that spring, a friend started playing it in the car, but I drifted fast asleep in the backseat before "Either Way" was halfway through, before I knew that was the opening track's name.

The VW spots didn't bother me; in fact, they were what started to turn me around. I love my vee-Dub, so naturally it tickled me to hear my favorite band playing in the background of their cutesy new commercials. Especially since I hadn't heard the likes of "Walken" and "You Are My Face" as of yet.

It actually took my fiance, a vehement anti-fan of Wilco's, to get me into the new album. He bought it on iTunes and, after listening, commented that this new guitarist was pretty amazing.

New guitarist?

I've been out of the loop. Obviously.

It didn't take long before I knew the entire album by heart, even getting into the noodly tracks featured on Ghost and Sky that usually annoyed me.

In any event, when it was announced that Wilco would be playing not one but two shows at the Pageant, I was overjoyed. Thank goodness we're not going to have any of that Fox Theatre nonsense again. Great venue, but not right for the band. It was bizarre.

We nabbed tickets for the Friday show straight away, which is good because both nights sold out in under an hour of being posted; a day later, they announce a third date. Crazy.

Fortunately we got into the Halo Bar early enough to get a good spot on Nels' side of the stage (i.e. the "drinkin' side") by the time the doors opened. The energy in the house was amazing; I'm sure plenty of people there had tripped to Columbia last summer, but just as many in the crowd were suffering the same live Wilco withdrawals as myself, making for an electric feel to the air.

The opening band was fine, which is pretty good for a Wilco opening band. The only band I've seen open for Wilco that was worth a damn was Calexico, which was sadly during the dreaded Fox Theatre incident.

This group however, a Minnesota trio named Retribution Gospel Choir, gets first place for the biggest bait-and-switch name ever, but makes up for it with its many musical nods to that of its Twin Cities counterparts of yesteryear, Husker Du and The Replacements (and thankfully none to Soul Asylum). They came and went with polite cheers; until they announced they were playing their last song, which was met with thunderous applause.

Poor guys.

The setlist was the most diverse, fulfilling and extensive collection of Wilco songs I've ever heard live. I actually think I squealed with glee when Stirratt took the guitar and vocals for "It's Just That Simple." While the setlist was pretty Being There and Summerteeth heavy more than anything, you won't hear me complain. They played "Impossible Germany," "Walken," and "You Are My Face," so all was clever with me.

For the record, the list I've linked too is actually incorrect, as one other user commented beneath it, that was a third, solo-song encore of "The Late Greats". Which makes for another St. Louis first for me. I've never seen any more than 2 encores here, ever; not a one band. I'm very pleased that Wilco was my first.

I'm also fairly certain that I've never seen Wilco go on as long as they did that night.

Many long-time fans would pelt rocks at me for saying so, but Wilco finally has the talented lineup it needed to fully realize the epic rock band potential it's always had. I miss Jay Bennett's harmonies and compositions as much as the next fan, but Sky and this new tour is evidence his time was clearly appropriately spent. If Tweedy can manage to hang onto Nels, Patrick and Stirratt while still cranking out those beautiful lyrics; they'll never lose my faith again.

Disappointing

Last year through my obsession with various mp3 blogs, I was introduced to a band named Ida Maria, who was a high-energy rock band with vocals that resembled Bjork's. I loved them. "Oh My God," "Queen of the World," and "Louie" were in heavy rotation on the iPod and in all CD mixes I shared with friends last year.

Finally, she's gone from unsigned, unpublished, and otherwise unknown into a definite "thing."

http://www.idamaria.co.uk
http://www.myspace.com/idamaria

I was giddy when I first realized she was finally there for public consumption; obviously, because I wanted more.

But then I listened to her new recording of "Queen of the World." It was overwhelmingly disappointing to say the least. Instead of high-energy toms in the background along with the jangling guitar and frantic vocals, it's become something of a Cat Power/Feist watered-down mess. Slow, disjointed speeds with sleepy vocals. Good lord, can we be done with this smoky, wistful, wide-eyeliner-eyed wankfest? It was fun at first, but I'm suffering from severe burnout.

The good news is, at least some of the original tracks are still intact. Check out "Oh My God" on her MySpace before it's too late.

Look, the pah-ty's ov-ah.

So, out of nothing short of sheer boredom this morning, I'm watching Totally 80s on VH1 Classic this morning. Such wonderful moments as Hagar doing am incredibly lame live performance in St. Louis, a live video of "Don't Stop Believin'" shot in -- from what I can tell -- Japan (all the audience members were seated while Perry implores the audience for some sort of placation, and receives none ... brilliant), even "Please Don't Go Girl" by none other than my fave 5 of 1989, NKOTB.

And then, New Edition. Quite possibly the best of all the 80s-90s boy bands, and "If It Isn't Love" is one of the best pop gems the group had to offer. The video started with quick shot to a bespectacled fella in dark, over-sized sunglasses and a voice over that I couldn't quite place; until they shoot his mug again. No, that wasn't ... it couldn't be ... another shot to the band ... then another shot to the sunshaded-mysterio.

Oh, yep. It is. I knew that look on him was familiar. I did, after all, just watch Ray for the first time a couple of months ago.

Ladies and gentlemen, for your morning enjoyment, I present to you; Jamie Foxx, some random Asian girl (presumably the choreographer?) and New Edition.



Oh, Bobby, times were much simpler then.

An (In)famous Icon

He’s a tall, angular figure, and with his mop-topped head hunched forward, his arms bent sharply at the elbows and his hands bobbing and swimming awkwardly in front of his waist, he looks like a man rifling through a filing cabinet while waiting desperately to use the toilet. There is nothing smooth, rhythmic or graceful about his dancing. It seems to exist in its own world, completely divorced from the music inspiring it. --David Peisner, Blender



This month’s issue of Blender*, as it turns out, has a feature on St. Louis’s very own Beatle Bob. The reason? The slated-for-2008-release on a documentary film about the man.

I had no idea.

In the teaser (above), everyone one of the interviewees when describing Bob describe him as though they would a retarded son or disabled brother, with the adoration only one would have for someone severely damaged; save for Jello Biafara, who almost seems to envy his way of life. (How very punk of him.) It’s as though these people only like him because they pity him; well, that, and the myth that with his appearance comes fame.

I was just surprised to see that he had such national acclaim.

I am disappointed that the teaser didn’t touch much of the subject matter of the film; which, while it is largely about Bob’s super-fandom, it’s also the shrouded enigma that is the person himself. Who he is, what he does, where he lives. It all seems to be a long strand of lies; and while most speculate it’s due to some sort of psychological disorder, no one knows for sure.

It’s bizarre to me that someone so phony can get by based on ... charm? pity? ... alone; little to no questions asked; or even with questions asked and faux-answers given, and yet still be so highly regarded by so many.

The feature in Blender shed far more light, basically making him out to be a bold-faced, though somehow excusable, pathological liar and thief. Even Lisa (Andris, the former manager of the Hi-Pointe), gets in on the action in defending his shenanigans; something I recall her doing even back in the days of the Beatle Bob v. Baton Bob Non Prophet sketch.

I just don’t get it. He’s an annoying jerk who hinders the music experience for anyone nearby at a show; I remember the first time I saw him, Superdrag in 2000 at the Galaxy, I was amused. The first time I really got annoyed and even angry with him, though, was when I saw the Decemberists in the Duck Room back in 2006. It was an art-nerrrd show and a lot of the younger, super-fans of the group were sitting on the floor in front of the stage as the band began to play (they opened with "Shanty for the Artethusia," if memory serves correctly); less than half the song in, guess who apparates down in stage center, doing his voodoo/card-shuffle jig. It was distracting, and not at all in the spirit of the performance; which, if you know the Decemberists, you know is more cerebral and theatrical than anything.

Even now I feel like I’m giving him more credit by just discussing, thinking, or even reading about him. I guess that’s just it; he’s an intriguing figure, love him or hate him. But I definitely know that I find myself wanting to see this movie now.


*This guy’s blog puts it perfectly in describing what Blender is ... it is total pap, but just sort of randomly started showing up in Brian’s mailbox one day somehow; and how can you cancel a subscription you never subscribed to?

Friday Afternoon Challenge

The idea started when I was listening to my albums today while working. It occurs to me that the fine art of the Side Two, Track One has been lost in the digital shuffle; starting with CDs and now certainly in the iTunes download-as-you-like world. But when you stop and think about it, some of the best -- and certainly my favorite -- songs come somewhere mid-way through the album. Yes. Side Two, Track One is the unsung hero of the music world. So here is my afternoon tribute to Side Two, Track One; based entirely only on albums in my possession.

1. "Every Breath You Take" - The Police, Syncronicity

I think I can speak for everyone when I say this is the world's favorite song about the fine art of stalking.

2. "God Only Knows" - The Beach Boys, Pet Sounds

Those boys' lyrics sure are as sweet as their harmonies.

3. "Red Eyed and Blue" - Wilco, Being There

Just a great song about the misery that comes with being drug-obsessed sell outs ... and it launches straight into the next song, which is a very hopeful, fun singalong.

4. "Passionate Kisses" - Lucinda Williams, Lucinda Williams

Before she sold the rights to whats-her-face to make the song a multi-platinum single, my favorite southern fried singer/songwriter recorded her own version of the song on this release. I like it; it's straight-forward, and a really, honest sweet love song.

5. "Don't Get Me Wrong" - The Pretenders, Get Close

This is just an infectious, dance-y delicious pop song.

6. "Moonchild" - Cibo Matto, Stereo-type A

Easily my favorite song on this album, it's silky-smooth R&B as sung by two adorable Japanese funk/soul/rap/trip/hop rockers. They are badass.

7. "Beat It" - Michael Jackson, Thriller

Ahh, the glory days of when MJ was still black. It's one of his greatest hits, and definitely was one of my favorite videos of his; but I dare you to hear this song and not have Yankovic's version plaguing your brain for the rest of the day. Eh, Brian?

8. "Janie Jones" - The Clash, The Clash

This is my favorite Clash song. End of story.

9. "Uptown Girl" - Billy Joel, An Innocent Man

I love the Joel, and this song is a nice nod of his to the "fairer days" of the 50s. At least, stylistically speaking.

10. "Ripple" - The Grateful Dead, American Beauty

I save this for 10 because I know the GIGANTIC ration of shit I'm going to get from loads of people ... but I chose it only because A) it's legitimately a great Side Two, Track One and B) it's involvement in the series finale of Freaks and Geeks. And yeah, I like it. So sue me. I can't like one Dead song?!

Now it's your turn, here are the rules (yes, of course there are rules):

1. Go to your vinyl collection (vinyl only will do, no cheating by using your CDs).

2. They must be original release LPs. I.e. No "Greatest Hits" or other compilations.

3. Pick out your 10 favorite Side Two, Track Ones.

4. Post your answers in a comment to this blog.

Ohhh. I get it now.

Maybe it was my brothers’ repeated subjection to Chocolate and Cheese to my unwilling ears when I was the tender age of 13, or the repeated subjection to the entire catalog by guy friends’ acoustic sing-alongs in college, but I’d always chalked Ween up to be a vaguely amusing, misogynistic, very much weird band … and very much a “guy” thing. No matter how much I was “one of the guys,” Ween’s music has always made me feel completely alienated; it was something I wasn’t allowed to be a part of. So I never bothered, and of course, grew resentful.

Over the past 6 months, Brian’s done his best to influence me otherwise, but I still generally agreed with a friend’s comment that it was “circus music” and, generally, irrelevant. So when he asked if I wanted to go to their show, I almost declined. In fact, I think I did at first but then eventually agreed. After all, I knew some of their songs and had watched a portion of a live DVD of theirs and it didn’t seem like it would be too terribly painful an evening.

Turns out, I was right. And then some. Here’s what I learned, that every fan already knew, last night …


Ween is depraved. Those guys are total sickos, but in a good way. Their music is hilarious, honest, unrepentant, and highly entertaining.

Ween is funny. Dean and Gene aren’t comedians who make music. They’re musicians with fantastic senses of humor. There’s no air of the Dane Cook school of “Look-At-How-Ridiculously-Funny-I-Am!!!” desperation to their lyrics. Surely they realize how amusing they are, but it’s obvious that they’re not specifically trying to engage in the comedian/musician buffoonery like, say, the Conchords do. While the Conchords are hysterically entertaining, Ween is definitely not a “joke” band. There’s no gimmick here; and every time I caught myself giggling at their lyrics or onstage antics, it was a genuine outburst.

Ween shows are total sausagefests. “There sure are a lot of dudes in here,” I remark to Brian as we’re waiting in line in the Halo Bar. Claire later even remarked how many “smelly” boys there were; most looked like they’d just rolled out of bed, smoked up some doob, then threw on the nearest T, jeans and hoodie and headed out the door. After seeing so many of them go insane over a rock show – including my own, non-smelly, boy – I understand how and why so many guys relate to this music; whereas before I never even tried. I’d always taken a lot of their lyrics (“Piss Up a Rope” is an excellent example) as an affront to my feminine nature; but I get it now that guys have their own ways of grappling with their heartbreaks. Combatative and misogynistic as some of the lyrics are, they’re still far more inventive, fun, and entertaining than most of the bullshit “protest” feminazi crap I listened to when I was younger and, as a result, don't even relate to now that I've gotten a grip on reality.

Ween gives good guitar face. I’m convinced. Dean Ween’s could rival, and win, over Nigel Tufnel’s any day.

Ween is eclectic. Duh, even I knew that going in; and I even hate using that word to describe them, but I’ve never seen a broader range of styles in one show by one band, ever. I even found myself digging the noodly guitar, key and drum solos.

Ween is incredibly talented. The technical skill level of the entire band was mesmerizing. Last night was a showcase of probably the best group of musicians I’ve seen perform together, ever.

Ween makes me feel like a total poseur. But not in a negative way; instead of feeling like an outsider, I totally felt like I was “that girl” … the one who goes with her boyfriend, just to be a date. The way the crowd wildly responded to every last song in the set, I really found myself wishing that I was more familiar with their music. It was certainly better than, say, any Ani show I’d ever been to … I’d rather hear a guy shouting about wanting his girl be his “cock professor” than being utterly disgusted by hearing about how some whiny bitches’ “cunt is built like a wound that won’t heal.” Thank you.


I love a good rock show, and last night truly was an astounding specimen; probably the best all year. I sang, I boogied, I shouted for more.

What a retardedly fun night.

Making good on at least one promise to myself.

Kazakh craze
The saw much-anticipated, duly-hyped I might add, Borat movie this weekend.

What the critics are saying is absolutely true:
1) It is, arguably, the funniest film of all time.
2) Be prepared to laugh like you haven't in a looooooong time.
3) For a "joke" film, it has moments of near tear-jerking profundity.

I laughed so hard at points that I literally thought my sides would seize and suffocate me; a pleasure I haven't experienced since I saw Patton perform with the Comedians of Comedy in Chicago this past April. I also thought that I would start crying, especially at the end, when the reality of the typical American’s ignorance and bigotry really hits home.

Speaking of; trailer alert! My Borat viewing featured a trailer for the Reno 911! film that I didn't even know was in the works; also starring, amongst the rest of the State/Reno/Viva Variety day players, Mr. Patton Oswalt. It's slated for release in February 2007.

Oh yeah. It promises to be awesome.

Sleepy Science
I've been quite the moviegoer as of late; about three weeks ago I made it out with friends to see film writer/director extraordinaire Michel Gondry's latest masterpiece, The Science of Sleep. Aside from being brilliantly written and directed in Gondry's true dream-sequence style, it starred the man who the mere mention of his name summons near-orgasmic responses in men and women alike; Gael Garcia Bernal.

Yum.

*Ahem*

As I was saying.

While the plotline was somewhat hard to follow due to the fact that Gondry made no attempt at distinguishing the main character's dream life from real life (assuming, of course, that the two were mutually exclusive), the imagery -- as always in his films, videos, and commercials -- was jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

I also loved the fact that the dialogue in the film was conducted in Spanish, French, and English -- sometimes all at once. It just was yet another endearing quirk with which Gondry's works are always so well-saturated. Although, I had to agree with Beth, I would not have liked to have been in charge of the subtitling of the film.

Future Travels and Goings-on
My week-long visit to Seattle is fast-approaching; plane leaves November 19th! I'm also planning on Chicago visits between Thanksgiving and Christmas and also New Year's Eve weekend to celebrate the incoming of my 27th year with Dee-ah-nah.

And, quite possibly, a Dallas trip early next year will be in order to visit my bloggy cohort?

Regardless, reports will be sure to follow. Stay tuned!

Note to Self: Future Husband Must Be Willing To Relocate to NYC

The trip to NYC was wonderful, yet strange. At a loss for words right now, but the thought that keeps running through my ticker is that I'm never more myself than when I go to NY. In this city of millions, I get more of a sense of my individuality unlike I've never experienced. Someone please move there with me soon. That's what I'm going to wish for tonight. I'm posting some highlights below:

On The Ave. Hotel
This is my 5th trip to NY and I'd never stayed on the Upper West Side before. A little bit of a hike to the 72nd street 1 train, but it was definately worth it. And with a nice welcome note from the plasma television, this hotel was a treat.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart
The show was great, the 2 1/2 hour wait in the pouring rain was not. We did everything we could to stay dry and pass the time, including "sitting" up against the wall, wishing for a rob corddry skit, texting Mindy about the hot gays in front of us in line, wondering why no one else was as grouchy as me. But I have to say Jon certainly made up for it. He is such a handsome man, much more so than the "squirmish jew vibe" he claims to give off on TV. Shawn Wayans was the guest, promoting his latest box office bomb, Little Man. (why does Hollywood keep greenlighting Wayans bros. scripts?-----FUCK!!!!!!!!!) and Ed Helms had a story on a straight man that was appalled at the gay neighborhood he moved into in San Francisco. Side Note: Ed Helms is a closet pimp. While his story was running, he was standing in the studio stage left watching it on the monitor in jeans and a t-shirt sans glasses and helmet hair.....aka..totally cute.

The Magnolia Bakery
Ok, ok, I know going to "the" Magnolia Bakery is kinda dorky, cliche, and not cool, nor funny anymore, but I couldn't help it! They really do have the bomb frosting. I would have bought a baker's dozen and shipped them straight to my stomach, but it was scorching outside and heat mixed with lots of sugar= equals pukey pie. Amanda and I sat in the park across the street from the bakery and macked on our delicioso cupcakes. Some sprinkles fell off, but not to worry the pigeons helped us with the mess.

What's for Breakfast at Cosi's?
We unexpectedly came across Cosi's on our way to the subway on Thursday morning. Holy shit! It was like a vision! "Yes, sir can I have a plain squagel with cream cheese and a tall vanilla latte?"

If I thought that Wesley Willis died, I was wrong. His ghost has inhabited a crazy man on 14th street. Someone get this man a drum machine and a casio. After every sentence, he makes a "cccrrrr" sound like he's changing the channels in his noggin. He also believes that Harrison Ford and the guy from "the transporter" should do a movie together.

I gotta wrap this up, but before I do, I gotta make a couple recommendations:

Pick up Corinne Bailey Rae's new album. I bought it recently, not because she's VH1's newest buzz musician, but because Teitur co-wrote a song on the album called, "Choux Pastry Heart", and anything Teitur touches is amazing and beautiful. Her lyrics are everything that I've been realizing lately and could not come at a better time. I like her because you can't put her into a category and that, to me, says a lot.

"Long Way Down" by Nick Hornby. No reason. It's just a good read. Go buy it because I said. Word.


Think Worldly.

Mooovies

While I used to frequent movie theatres often, it seems there's never time anymore. It's not a lack of interest or funds, there's just always something more pressing to attend to -- such as watching Cardinals games from the comfort of my sofa -- and invariably I'll miss the theatrical release.

Then the DVD release. Then maybe, if I remember, I'll catch it on IFC or one of the Encores (the only movie channels included in our satellite plan).

But no more. This year I resolve to make it out to see at least one of the following (in order of importance):

A Scanner Darkly
X-Men: The Last Stand
Superman Returns
The Borat Movie
Strangers with Candy

Darkly
While Linklater's pretention and ego is normally too huge to fit a box of popcorn -- let alone an audience -- into a movie theatre, I must admit that my interest in all things "end of the world" is piqued. Plus, the film's rotoscoping animation style in of itself is enough to get me off the sofa...after all, it was is so captivating that I even sat through all of Waking Life at the Tivoli.

X-Men and Superman
I'm of the firm opinion that it's only worth seeing "Action" genred films on the big screen, with the big sound. Until I can set that up at home, regardless of how campy (i.e. Sky Captain, Harry Potter films), I'll always be willing to spring for the theatre.

Borat and Strangers
Regardless of how horrible these may turn out to be (The Onion's AV Club reviewer gave Strangers what-for), they feature some of my favorite comedians, so it's worth the risk to me.

Conversely, a movie I specifically intend to not see -- and I'm sure Fraction Jackson here is with me -- is this piece of shit. I was reminded that this disaster was in the works this weekend thanks to G4's promos for its Kevin Smith Icons feature, which was "brought to you by..." this film. Then I finally caught its nauseating trailer last night during the Cards game.

Kev, I used to love you...but I don't even know you anymore.

Welcome! ....to my lazy Sunday

Welcome to the first post for "Standing on 14th Street, Tales from a Velour Recliner! So glad you found us in our miniscule corner of the net. Hopefully this will be the start of something great! I got the job of commencing the first writing and I've been completely clueless as to what to write about. When I went to college, my first english professor always liked to drill the idea that you should "write what you know". But what if you only know pop culture minutiae? (Which as we all know is similar to having what the French call "shit for brains") On this blog, Janelle and I hope to unravel the greatest mysteries behind life's biggest questions.......just kidding..........but we do hope to make you giggle, chuckle, chortle, shriek, snort, guffaw, howl, beam, and convulse with laughter. (sometimes)



My lazy sunday:

CLEVER ADVERTISING
Apparently there is an untapped goldmine at the local Sonic
Where do I apply? ooops...just kidding...they were talking about the shakes being rich...not the actual employees. If you want to break it down shake-wise, the employees earn($) about 1 1/2 shakes per hour. Shake it! Shake it!

THE BEST MALL EVER
I will never find a better mall than Firewheel Town Center
I actually loathe most malls, but not Firewheel. An outdoor mall, they have inconspicuous bose speakers weaving in and out of the plants, trees and lampposts. And they blast the best music. No Carpenters or Josh Groban here, they rock to the sounds of Radiohead, The Shins, and Neil Young. I like coming there stictly for the good time I have walking around listening to the music. I like to think that it makes the shoppers smarter, better people. Arming a society with good music-choosing ability instead of guns would cut down on so much unnecessary hate crimes!

MY NEW SHOES
So I turned down several opportunities to go "hang out" this weekend (which is code for "miller time"). I used my lame excuse, "I have to save $ for my trip to new york, guys! Sorry! But have a good time!" ....and while I had the best intentions, I was going insane by 11:30am Saturday morning. I convinced myself that I deserved a new pair of shoes since I would be doing so much walking in NYC. Nevermind the fact that I have a new pair of Adidas Running shoes, and killer blue and brown Kangaroos. I swayed myself saying "well........the adidas are for the gym and the kangas won't match most of my outfits." So, without any further adieu.....let me introduce my new friend, Rocket Dog. I was going for a rugged, Pee Wee Herman-style shoe. These are my first pair of Rocket Dogs and let me tell you, we are quickly becoming the talk of the town. Hail, Hail Rocket Dog!!!!!

THE SIGN THAT CURDLES MY MILK
I pass this sign everyday and yet today I felt such contempt. When I first moved to Dallas, I used to avoid this highway completely. Not because it's a tollway and I'm cheap, but because a highway that is named after someone that is still alive is just disgusting. Not to mention czar-like. Why couldn't it be named after a good citizen of Texas....like Larry Hagman?

Even on my most boringest day, I can still "write what I know". It's never that hard. I will be travelling to my home in a pastlife (NYC) on Wed and I'm sure that I will have lots to tell, as I don't plan on being bored in NYC. I'm going to live out my lifelong dream of singing on the subway for money. ....photos to follow.....

Love life in the new week ahead!