ad hoc.

Finally, my prayers have been answered. Let’s call it a Christmas miracle. John has a blog!

Ok, this is creepy:

A new Nirvana documentary is in the making - one which will be narrated by Kurt Cobain himself. Film makers were in the singer’s home town of Aberdeen, Washington recently to start work on a documentary about Cobain.

However in a unique twist the singer himself will narrate the film, with producers using more than 25 hours of interview tapes recorded by journalist Michael Azerrad between December 1992 and March 1993.

Azerrad is most famous for his Nirvana biography ‘Come As You Are’, which is regarded as one of the most authoratitive books on the band.

“The film is based on a series of interviews that Michael Azerrad conducted with Kurt while researching the book. There are more than 25 hours of these audio interviews in all, none of which have been heard before by anyone,” director AJ Schnack told NME.COM.

“I worked with Michael to cull an approximately 95-minute audio track from these interviews. While I’m not sure that ‘narrated’ is exactly the right word, you will be listening in on conversations between Kurt and Michael, with Kurt telling his life story for that book. There are no additional interviews with other figures from Kurt’s life, just Kurt speaking, with an occasional question or comment from Michael.”

The other members of Nirvana are not involved with the currently untitled film, which is set to be screened at various film festivals next autumn.

Schnack added: “It pretty much covers his whole life leading-up to the interviews with the emphasis being more on him and his general take on things rather than on general band developments. We’re not using any archival footage at all. The music will focus on bands that influenced Kurt during the various stages of his life. It’s unclear what part, if any, Nirvana music may play in the finished film.”

And, as always, the New York Times is about 10 years behind on all things cool: The Net is a Boon For Indie labels.

More on the amazing ladies of the next season of The Bachelor. Wow, 10 points if you can tell them all apart. I’ll bet you ten bucks that the women of color do not make it past the second round.

Going to Federal Prison? Need some advice? Get a consultant.

More on my new boyfirend, Andy Samberg.

The RIAA is stoooopid.

Comet liquors in Adams Mo closes. Lots of memories there- I think? Is that where we got our wine before band practice?

Some media predictions for 2006.

There is a reworked version of the tralier for V is For Vendetta. Natalie, shut up. Why would you make a movie in which Clive Owen hides his face most of the time?

Today’s highlights: today I went with my mother to a hige fleamarket. You would not believe the amount of booths that sold clip on hair and scrunchies. I suddenly realized I was in dire need of one of those beaded strings that you put on the end of your glasses to you don’t lose them. I’ve been in Florida too long. Then for dinner we had chickn broth with rice, because earlier we were “bad” and had frozen yogurt. Help!

The least essential albums, according to the Onion.

How sweet does the new Douglas Coupland book, JPod, look. It comes out in May 2006.

Ethan Jarlewski and five co-workers are bureaucratically marooned in JPod, a no-escape architectural limbo on the fringes of a massive Vancouver video game design company. The six JPodders wage daily battle against the demands of a boneheaded marketing staff, who daily torture employees with idiotic changes to already idiotic games. Meanwhile, Ethan’s personal life is shaped (or twisted) by phenomena as disparate as Hollywood, marijuana grow-ops, people-smuggling, ballroom dancing, and the rise of China. JPod’s universe is amoral and shameless - and dizzyingly fast-paced. The characters are products of their era even as they’re creating it. Everybody in Ethan’s life inhabits a moral grey zone. Nobody is exempt, not even his seemingly straitlaced parents or Coupland himself. Full of word games, visual jokes, and sideways jabs, this book throws a sharp, pointed lawn dart into the heart of contemporary life.

So a couple of you had mentioned to me in the past week that you will be setting up a blog, or were thinking of it, so I thought I'd share some things that were helpful for me. Obvs, I'm no programmer or hacker or whatever you kids call it these days, but I'll try my best.

Obviously, I am partial to blogger. It's free, you can create multiple blogs, and it is easy to manipulate the html code to make it look however you want. If you know html code that is. If you are completely clueless, it is still easy to use and will set everything up for you, including a title and description and stuff. Xanga is good, and Typepad is good too, but I think you have to pay. If you use a myspace blog or livejournal, we will no longer be friends.

As far as pictures go, I know blogger allows you to upload stuff, but I prefer to use free image hosting services. THe one I use, imagshack, always resizes the picture to fit, and if you click on it, it will come up in another window in another size. Similar to this is tinypic and supload. You can either upload a picture from your computer or put in the url of a picture and it will transfer it.

I love to use blogrolling for all my links on the right side of the blog. THis is good if you have a lot of links you want to put up. It will give you one piece of code to put on your blog, and then you can manage the actual links from your account on the site. I actually use this because these are all sites I visit regularly and I can just come to my own blog instead of putting it in my favorites.

I use Sitemeter to track how how many people and who visits my site. THere are more detailed ones out there, but Sitemeter is free and easy to manage. Again, it generates a small piece of code to put on your blog and you can manage stuff from your account.

To upload music, that gets a little more complicated. I take the album and compress it using WinRar or Winzip, and then use a filehosting service. All of these have their pros and cons, but I won't get into that now. Mostly I use yousendit, Easy Share, Turbo Upload, Quick Dump.

Here are my DOs and DONTs of blogging.

1. Please update regularly. THe point of a blog to to update it frequently. Or else you can have a fucking Geocities site. If you think what you will post is uninteresting. You are wrong. Blogs were created on the very notion that people need to share the mundane aspects of their life to validate themselves. What, you think your life is so important and busy you don't have time to post? Please.

2. For pete's sake, don't start a pop culture blog. This is overdone and unecessary. Of course, mention pop culture stuff that is of interest to you, but no need to blog about Nick and Jessica or shit like that.

3. When linking to somewhere, please make sure it pops up in another browser. This is just etiquette. If it just goes to that site, I will forget about your site and probably find it a pain to keep hitting the back button. You can do this by inserting target="_blank" into the code. Just before the > in url.

4. Don't get fired from your job because of a blog you have. That is plain stupid. Try to keep your blog anonymous by not explicitly mentioning your name so when someone googles you, they won't find your blog.

I feel like these are the Fight Club rules of blogging. I hoped this helped, at least a lil bit.

I juust recently read I'm Not the New Me by Wendy McClure. She is a contributing writer to one of my favorite sites, Television Without Pity. A while a go, she started a weight loss website called Pound. I guess it was pretty popular and inspired a lot of other women. Now it has become more of a self-promotion and self-absorbed blog. (unlike this self-absorbed blog)She is obviously a funny person and a talented writer, but this memoir could have been so much better.

To get sucked into that whole weight loss community is like a cult. She takes her whole fame and progress in stride, like she writes about it and is known for it, but shrugs it off as dumb for people who compliment her about it. That's annoying. Clearly she maintains a website about it and wrote a book about it, so own it. Jeez. Although she does follow the weight watchers plan, and there is nothing wrong with that. Except when people become obsessed with it, constantly going on the message boards and constantly talking about point values and shit. Which she does.

Also, if you want to see the saddest/funniest thing, go to a WW meeting in central Connecticut. People think asking things like "Does an Appletini count as a fruit?" and then laughing hysterically makes them fucking hilarious.

Speaking of fucked up eating issues, today my parents decided that we wouldn't have dinner. Because we ate out for lunch. Yes, that's the reason. Eating out for a meal means "being bad". I had a fucking salad. Man, I don't need to pay a therapist to dtermine the source of my issues.

Deerfield Beach, Florida

I really, really need to move out of New England. I can't seem to grasp the concept of not living either in a major city or in the suburbs. I am not a beach person, but today I was salivating over all the condos along and near the coastline. I know this sounds like stating the obvious, but I have never lived in a place where it is warm all year. The concept that one can completely avoid snow, sub-zero temperatures, seasonal depression, avoiding icy roads, getting dark at 4:30, freezing your ears and dry air from heating systems is so fucking amazing I can't even deal. I think it just hit me today. I gotta move. (Not necessarily Florida. That would be redic).

Plus, I have seen very few Christmas decorations here. Either it is the abundance of Jews, or the fact that Xmas stuff looks dumb without snow.

Here is the Arctic Monkeys album, Whatever People Say What I Am, That is Wat I'm Not. This is the new "it" band. They are this year's Franz Ferdinand, and this month's Clap Your Hands Say Yea. I find them to be mediocre. Anyway, enjoy.

So, I woke up this morning to a Comedy Central promo for a movie or something called Grandma’s Boy. Anyway, I realized that Nick Swardson is hosting some Comedy Central thing. For those of you not in the know, he plays Terry, the rolling skating hustler in Reno 911. Seriously, they could make a spin-off show about Terry and his (mis)adventures at Tacos!Tacos!Tacos!Tacos! anytime, and I would die a happy person.

I’m still in Florida, obvs, and survived a day at the mall with my Grandmother. Today I am off to Ft. Lauderdale with my parents. We are trying out for MTV’s spring break, I guess.

In the meantime, check out Kitten War! - may the cutest kitten win.

Grundel Blumpkin (12:05:10 PM): it's me at the end of the brooklyn bridge getting my releif hot choc from the red cross…I asked if they had non-fat soy milk, they said no, and then I complained that the Katrina victims had non-fat soy milk.

thegetaway1448 (11:38:23 AM): ps i just got the Sims game, and i am going to base one off of you
thegetaway1448 (11:38:29 AM): do you want magical powers?
Grundel Blumpkin (11:40:33 AM): yes…magical powers that involve either eating nachos or creating nachos
thegetaway1448 (11:40:40 AM): ok
Grundel Blumpkin (11:40:44 AM): nacho related magical powers

So, still in Florda, obvs, things are going well. I still haven't gotten my package with all my clothes, so I've been dressing like Mary Kate Olsen everyday (big heavy sweater, hippy skirt, big beads) because it is the only outfit I own. I have been listening to podcasts like crazy, and some of you just got ipods as gifts, so here are some good ones that I reccomend.

Keith and the Girl- general talk from this stand-up comic from NY with his girlfriend who is a singer/member of a reggae band

Bands Under the Radar- pretty self explanatory. The website has all the songlists and stuff.

Ricky Gervais podcast- I just love this man and everything he creates.

NPR: pop culture- there is an influx of people who blog/podcast about pop culture, but this one actually looks at it critically and soci0logically

Diggnation some technology stuff

Morning Sedition some crazy liberal stuff from Air America

Sienna most inspirational to girls
The Press Association Monday December 26, 12:06 AM

Sienna most inspirational to girls
Sienna Miller has been voted the most inspirational celebrity of 2005 in a survey of teenage girls.

The actress earned the accolade after a year which saw her cope with betrayal by boyfriend Jude Law, who was caught cheating with his children's nanny.

She hid her heartbreak to continue with her stage role in West End play As You Like It.

And the 23-year-old Alfie star got her own back on Law by flirting with her ex Orlando Bloom and reportedly having a fling with 007 actor Daniel Craig.

The survey was carried out by Britain's biggest-selling teen magazine Sugar.

One reader said: "Sienna handled the Jude thing so well and she kept appearing on stage while her private life was all over the papers."

Sugar editor Annabel Brog said: "Sienna has had some terrible lows this year, but she's handled them with style, dignity and strength and our readers respect that.

"Hopefully this award means she'll be finishing the year on a high."

Singer Gwen Stefani was second, followed by Kerry Katona.

Fourth was Kylie Minogue, who is currently battling breast cancer.

What????A role model for that? COming before someone with breast cancer? I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I hate America.

See, I am not the only one obsessed with the Chronicles of Narnia rap. Now there are even t-shirts.

If you haven't seen Saturday Night Live's Chronicles of Narnia rap, then you don't have any friends. Or at least any friends with Internet access. The two-minute video, which debuted on SNL last Saturday before resurfacing as a much-forwarded "digital short," has accomplished what seemed impossible a week ago—making Saturday Night Live a cultural touchstone for the first time since Christopher Walken pleaded for "more cowbell." The popularity of the Narnia rap might augur a reawakening at SNL—in fact, there are already T-shirts that parrot the song's catchphrases. It's more significant, though, for what it says about the state of rap.

The video, officially titled "Lazy Sunday," depicts a day in the life of a pair of dorky New Yorkers. Andy Samberg (aka Samberg) calls up Chris Parnell (aka Parns) "just to see how he's doin'." Soon enough, they "mack on some cupcakes" from the West Village's Magnolia Bakery and debate which online map service will reveal the "dopest route" to an Upper West Side screening of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Then the chorus kicks in: "We love that Chronic—what?—cles of Narnia / Pass that Chronic—what?—cles of Narnia."

Some of the humor here derives from the fact that these whitebread guys—Samberg is wearing a John Muir T-shirt; Parnell looks like a 12-year-old accountant—are moonlighting in what's traditionally been a black medium. Sure, white rappers aren't a novelty anymore. But guys this white, rhyming about getting "taken to a dreamworld of magic"? It's the nerdy, white-boy version of Ice Cube's "It Was a Good Day."

This racial switcheroo is the schtick behind Parnell's "Weekend Update" rap routines, in which he pines for hotties like Kirsten Dunst and Britney Spears while bragging about gangsta gunplay. But these earlier bits are funny only because of the racial juxtaposition therein. (Sample lyric: "Yo it's a west-side hit, I got my Mack-10 lit / Britney get down, you don't wanna see this ****.") The Narnia rap doesn't use the MCs' extraordinary whiteness as a comedy crutch. Rather than invite easy laughs by reciting a tired checklist of ghetto stereotypes, Samberg and Parnell ditch the bling and Cristal to riff enthusiastically about the stuff they like—Magnolia Bakery's "bomb frostings." Instead of clichéd images of cars and yachts, there's a pop-up graphic of the phrase "Double True" in the iconic Google font. The most conspicuous consumption is that of Mr. Pibb. (The one rap convention that does get mocked, to no great effect, is gunplay. When they answer a movie trivia question "so fast it was scary," there's machine gun fire in the background.)

Rather than lampoon today's artists, Samberg and Parnell evoke old-school rap. The whole presentation—the lyrics, the flow, and the aesthetic—owes more to New York rappers from the '80s than to anything that's getting made today. The way they trade rhymes and enunciate the end of each line—"You can call us Aaron Burr / From the way we're droppin' HAM-IL-TONS"—recalls the delivery of 1980s artists like Run-DMC. The production values, New York street scenes, and silly similes call to mind early Beastie Boys tracks. Really, is "I've got mad hits like I was Rod Carew" any less ridiculous than "I love those cupcakes like McAdams loves Gosling"?

Of course, part of what Samberg and Parnell are sending up is nerdy white nostalgia for the Beasties' heyday. Still, it's notable that these moments of goofiness and whimsy are what make "Lazy Sunday" work as a rap song, not just a comedy sketch. It's hard to think of a Top 40 hip-hop track that's similarly playful. Eminem's subgenre of silly songs ("The Real Slim Shady," "Ass Like That") all feel calculated—the references to MTV ensure that his videos get a ton of airplay on MTV. Sure, Ludacris co-starred in a video with Mini-Me. But for the most part, whimsy gets buried. The highlight of 50 Cent's oeuvre, for instance, is a sidelong lyric from "21 Questions": "I love you like a fat kid loves cake."

People aren't forwarding this video because it's a parody of what's bad about rap; they're sending it around because it's an ode to what can be great about it. Instead of auguring a new day for SNL, maybe it points up what's missing in mainstream rap—an awareness that it's OK to be goofy. Who needs Biz Markie and Tone-Loc? We've got Samberg and Parns.

Also, some drama with the wickedly awesome Green Day mashup. Green Day's label gets really pissy. To play devil's advicate, they're right. When you sign to a major label, that is one of the consequences.

One of my favorite bands, Mates of State, caused some drama by switching labels )from Polyvinyl to Barsuk) and are releasing Bring It Back sometime in March. I don't know the exact date because ha ha, I already have a copy. Will post it soon.

Holy shit, CUTE OVERLOAD!

Some samples:

I know I'll be checking that for updates every day.

Ok, these are the last few things I am going to post about Brokeback Mountain, because I should just shut the fuck up and see it. But these are worth reading.

Even gay men wear mismatched demim : a review

Black Tables' year end write up:

PEOPLE WHO LAUGH AT BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN: I suppose you are the same people who laughed during Lost in Translation when the lounge singer came out of Bill Murray's shower singing "Midnight at the Oasis." You are they who didn't feel a pang of sympathy while that scene laid bare the totality of his alienation from self and family, the inevitable if quiet crash-landing at the end of his descent into self-degradation. You just thought that the red-headed lady with the corny song was funny, and deserving not only of a quiet chuckle, the restrained acknowledgment of tragicomedy, but of a hearty guffaw.

Now you think the sight of Michelle Williams having her heart abruptly torn out, her tenuous sense of hope utterly erased, her faith in love and family irreparably fractured is also HI-larious. When she opens the door, suspicious, lonely, confused, sidelined, but ultimately still hopeful, only to see her husband, who has become over four years an inescapable gravitational force of depression and self-pity, experiencing a single moment of joy, and only doing so in the act of betraying her, you think, "That is RICH!" And you laugh. A rolling wave of laughter that sounds like the live studio audience of Three's Company. What has come over you? Are you even human beings with human feelings? I understand anxiety, that people laugh at funerals, or when they are overwhelmed by the absurdity and unpredictability of life. But that comes later. That's catharsis time. Right now, you are not getting it, or not paying attention, or you are simply coarsened by the vapid entertainments with which we are inundated today. Maybe I'm a movie snob, but Chicken Little is two screens over, assholes.

So as the Old Testament dictates, it is tradition to go to the movies. Of course, I was the youngest one there by at least 40 years. Of course, they spoke with Japanese accents (why??? they don't have accents relative to each other) so none of the old people knew what was going on. The movie was suprisingly good, but of course not as amazing as the book. The plot seemed flimsy and stupid without the context of the book. And my feminist self kicked in, realizing that putting it in Western standars made it look worse- like her only way for happiness was getting her man (the Chairman). Also, when the time changed from when Chiyo was a little girl and faded into her older self, I couldn't help but think, omg! She turned Chinese! Sorry, people, Chinese and Japanese people do not look alike. I think all white people look alike more than all Asians look alike. And let's talk about how Ziyi Zhang was horrible miscast. She was too meek, had an annoying voice, and was not all that pretty. Sayuri is supposed to be fricking gorgeous. I actually think she should have switched roles with the woman who played Hatsumomo (also Chinese, go figure).

Then I skipped along to see King Kong and whoa, I was impressed. Peter Jackson sure knows how to make an action movie. It could have been another Godzilla, but the direction, artistic style, and choice to set in 1933 was awesome. It was good to see Jamie Bell, but what the hell happened to his character? He never made it back. And I thought they would tie up the storyline about where he came from (like he had already come from Skull Island). Jack Black, marry me. Naomi Watts, close your mouth. Oh and back up- why did the savage natives have to be very dark-skinned? And Anne was all upset about King Kong? How about the fact that the crew COMMITTED GENOCIDE of the population of the island? No one shed a tear over that.

So, here is some absolutely useless, irrelevant information I have been reading.

Free Williamsburg gives a good year end roundup. Here are the things I completely agree with.

Overrated Albums of the Year:

Antony & the Johnsons
I Am a Bird Now
[Secretly Canadian]
Five words: Tiny Tim was more talented.

The Hold Steady
Separation Sunday
[Frenchkiss]
Six Words: Frat Boy Rock for Indie Kids.

Wolf Parade
Apologies to the Queen Mary
[Sub Pop]
Seven Words: The Shelf Life of Unrefrigerated Vanilla Yogurt.

Worst Album of the Year:

Fiery Furnaces
Rehearsing My Choir
[Rough Trade]

Holy shit, experimental can be good. But this record sounds like it was mixed by someone who mastered in "Ironic Geek Noise Pop" at the Rhode Island School of Music Deconstruction. It's a prime example of an art school education gone wrong. A horrible, horrible, horrible record.

Holy shit, Andy Milonakis has a blog. Wtf happened to that show? DVD version? Helloooo???

Welcome back to Real Boy's Cozy Cabin Weblog. I've recently done tons of reflecting on my life and have come to the realization that my life is awesome. It's really hard being ranked number 1 in the new internet hit game Lord Of The Rings. Me and my friends play forever and forever and ever and forever. Don't tell on me but sometimes I play until 4am with my buddy boys and we drink redbull…SHHHHHHHHHHH. I'm the king of the game, my other friends Nick and Jay are n00bs and I can beat the heck out of them. Anyway enough about my fabulous life. I want to tell you about my birthday party, oh wait I'm still talking about my fabulous life, WOOOPSY, JKing. I'm going to have a computer themed bday party. So make sure to bring your motherboard costumes, you can take old computer motherboards and glue them onto jeans. Or if you are feeling crazy, use video and audio cards, you can get cheap ones at used computer part stores. Also we are going to judge people's costumes so make sure it's elite and rocks out. PEACE OUT PARTY PEOPLEEEEEE GET READY FOR AN IBM LAPTOP SHAPED CAKE. THE KEYS ARE MADE OUT OF SUGAR CUBES AND I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT I SPOILED THE BEST SURPRISE EVER. ITS GONNA BE SO GOOD.

The Scared of Santa Gallery. Classic.

Although it's already old news, some interesting pictures from the transit strike. In a sick, sick, selfish way, I wish I was around when it happened, just for the interesting factor. So sue me.

Yankee Pot Roast has some author paradies, a Christmas essay written in the style of Patrick Bateman, and Chuck Palahnuik mowing the lawn.

Why Jews love Christmas. Hmm.

Seriously, how many times do I need to tell you? If you haven't already, download and listen to Dean Gray's mashup of Green Day, American Edit.

Gawker does a survey of all the hipster party pic sites (i.e., Cobra Snake) and picks the best (i.e., worst).

123 reasons to love New York right now. Ok, this gets old; one of New Yorkers' favorite things to do is make lists like this to infer their superiority. However, I heartedly agree with some of them:

6. Because we only pretend to recycle.

14. Because you can live in the same place for 10 years and never have to see or meet your neighbors

30. Because we know Sex and the City is a crock of shit.

31. Because we know Friends is a crock of shit.

46. Because you can take a dump at the Apple Store.

57. Because everyone’s got a blog.

59. Because Bloomberg has that adorable bald spot.

60. Because it’s easy to stalk famous people.

63. Because Fresh Direct has every single product’s nutritional info on its website.

71. Because everybody knows the 1-800-Mattress song.

82. Because Dr. Zizmor is a celebrity.

105. Because even your intern has an intern.

115. Because used clothes cost more than new ones.

116. Because we’d rather be emaciated than healthy.

121. Because you can buy Vagisil at the bodega at 4 AM.

122. Because we keep Jersey at arm’s length.

Warped tour bands are starting to be announced, including Anti-Flag and Motion City Soundtrack. I really need to go this year, because I am officially twice the age of the average audience member.

So, I thought I was so smart and organized and sent a package ahead with my clothes and books so I wouldn’t have to pack it. Well, it still didn’t arrive today, and mail won’t be delivered until this Tuesday. I only have the clothes I was wearing on the plane. Which includes my yoga pants that I usually work for the gym and this crappy black tunic that has a bleach stain and a hole in the armpit. Hot! So my mother and I hauled ass to Target at 5pm on Christmas Eve to get me something to wear. Of course, on a tight schedule all I could pick up was one of those gauzy bohemian skirts and a t-shirt. So now I am dressed like a model for Seventeen magazine. Ah well. That was the big excitement for the day.

Then my grandmother came over and we had a BBQ, and complained about all the goyum and how we hate Christmas. Now my grandmother and I are watching Grumpy Old Men. Hilarity insues.

This area of Florida is so weird. It is just miles and miles of former swampland that was turned into housing developments with fancy names like Valencia Isles, Aberdeen Estates, Coral Lakes, etc. With these rown of identical clone houses that people cram with their Pottery Barn shit.

My parents are so fucking anororexic. Here is what my mother are today: half a cup of Kashi cereal with half a cup of fat free milk, a chicken leg, celery sticks, a turkey burger (no bun) and half a sweet potato. And 2 wheat thins, and then had a 5 minute monologue about the corn syrup in them. Everytime they are not looking, I grab something to stow in the guest room I am staying in because I can’t eat in front of them. I am counting down the hours til they go to sleep so I can finally eat.

Welcome to my life.

Tomorrow: to the movies with all the other Jews!

I made it! The most hellish, feared experience ever was not too bad. Although I freaked out at the aiport because I had no idea where to go and security practically through my laptop through the x-ray machine, I'll admit it wasn't that bad. Thanks for everyone's advice. During takeoff, I closed my eyes, listen to the Strokes, and did my deep breathing exercises. After that, I read, watched a little bit of CNN and played some trivia.

Wtf Delta Song? The safety introduction is this prerecorded track with a Latina woman, which a noticable accent who mixes in some Spanish words. Ok, it is nice to deviate from the typical white lady flight attendant, but please tell me why the fuck they felt the need to play salsa music in the background. And why she said "Ole!" after every sentence. I kid you not.

Then I get to sit next to the most vile woman I have ever met. She must be mid-40s, had her two spoiled tweens with her. This woman was of course wearing Armani jeans and had a Gucci purse, bleached hair, Louis Vuiton luggage, and thought she was 19. Even before the plain started, she was up, asking around for milk for her latte and openly flirting with the (obviously gay) flight attendent. The minute we landed, she grabbed her cell phone and loudly called her chauffer to tell him where to pick her up, and then abnoxiously said "Feliz Navidad!" at the end of the call. She was vile beyond belief.

Before I knew it I was in Ft. Lauderdale, where developers plant palm trees every few inches to remind you WHERE THE FUCK YOU ARE. Ok, I get it. Florida is warm.

Report from Day 1 with the fam:

driving from the airport, they apologized for having to drive through the "creepy" part of Florida. Translation: the non-Jew non-white areas of Florida.

We start driving through these various, gated, bougie communities, and I subtley comment about the message the gated communities send. My mom says it is to keep the "bad element" out. I nicely comment that the "bad element" would be made to feel unwelcome here. She comments that it's true, the "bad element" like to be among themselves, and I very politely retort that the "bad element" are forced to be that way, because of things like gated communities. Silence. Then my mother excitedly points out the Publix that she shops at.

100 bucks to anyone who can guess what the "bad element" refers to.

Anyway, I am here, crashing after coming off the meds I took this morning, and already kind of bored. Their house is like a spotless IKEA showroom, and when I entered, the first thing was that I got a lecture on not leaving crumbs anywhere.

And, of course, I can't eat anything in front of them, so I am gnawing on my arm until they go to sleep so I can eat comfortably.

Plus, the package I sent ahead with my clothes hasn't arrived, so I am now dressed on a pair of my Dad's sweatpants and my gym t-shirt.

Yay vacations!

So, it's basically a cyber-insult if you have a blog and you don't tell me. (AHEM Brian and Laila.)

Speaking of old RAs, I think it is rad that I still keep in touch quite regularly with several of them. One of them is married. Others actually now work as admissions counselors- hahaha, they've come over to the dark side of student affairs.

Tomorrow the kids leave campus for the semester. Thank gawd. Then I am off on a the planeride that I so dread. So, to keep me occupied for the trip, I have:
3 Ricky Gervais podcasts
2 Keith and the Girl podcasts
The new Strokes cd
An Under the Radar magazine
my knitting
plans to watch Sky High and Four Brothers (Garrett Hedlund, yum)
3 books
various snacks
a copy of In Style
plans to watch BBC America

Jeez, you'd think I was flying halfway across the world.

So, once again, my brother has to rub it in my face that he pseudo-works in the music industry, and one of the artists he represents is the Strokes. So he gets there annual Holiday card. It’s pretty rad.

Why is Nick wearing a Star of David? Why do I want to be in the middle of that pile?

Pitchfork delivers again… this time it's the worst releases of 2005.

I agree completely.

When I look back at all the absolute garbage released this year, it makes me wonder how we can remain so consistently optimistic about the state of music. But I realize I'm only saying that because I've just spent two days scraping out my brain's peripheral sludgebanks to pull 2005's worst releases and one-offs back from the brink of repression. Naturally, it gets bad every year, but was there something special about this one? To choose only 15 was an overwhelming task. Just consider what didn't make the cut: Goldie Lookin' Chain, the Bloodhound Gang, 50 Cent's "Candy Shop", Bo Bice, Louis XIV, Bowling for Soup, Juelz Santana's "There It Go (The Whistle Song)", Kelly Osbourne, CocoRosie, Panic! At the Disco, Ninja High School, Moby's Hotel, "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk", Audioslave, the Darkness, the Bravery, Liz Phair, the Mars Volta, and Neil Diamond's hysterically absurd "Hell Yeah". That's not even everything. That's not even close. But while some will take issue with the 15 selections ultimately chosen, I have no doubt that the shit's abominable.

Akon: "Lonely"
Poorly interpreting Rule #1 from the Kanye West Production Manual, Akon mistook Bobby Vinton's simpering 1964 hit "Mr. Lonely" for an old soul track. The result is a failure astonishing enough to actually deserve classification as "crack music." What's worse? How dipshits all over the world absolutely reveled in its wretched, gauzy hook, making it a certified international supersmash. I'll give that it pretty much invents children's hip-hop (Fred Penner, are you on this shit??), but only at the expense of all human dignity. Congrats, dude, you scored the most played-to-death song in Claire's Boutiques since "How Bizarre". See if you can lock that shit down with a Scunci tie-in.

Applied Communications: Uhhh Sort Of
Hey, what a talented kid Max Wood must be, or rich. Through the power of a widespread and aggressively hateable advertising campaign alone, he gained recognition and notoriety for his shamelessly inept second album, Uhhh Sort Of. Embodying every cliché of empty late-teen suburban self-loathing trust-fund hipster whining, he's not four minutes into the first track before he's already shit on pretty much everything in existence (including the sun!) like a fit-throwing 10 year-old whose mom just grounded him from Xbox. High school was bad enough. This is some Dante shit.

Black Eyed Peas: "My Humps"
The verdict is in, and the human race approves: "My Humps" is a worldwide hit! And it's all due to the power of democracy: It wasn't even planned as a single, but thanks to word-of-mouth, iTunes downloads, and inundations with requests at radio and MTV, the label finally caved and made it one. So, for the infinitesimal subfraction of you that have somehow managed to evade this omnipresent cultural crapsack, let me spoil the hook for you: "My hump! My hump! My hump!/ My hump! My hump! My hump!/ My hump! My hump! My hump!/ MY LOVELY LADY LUMPS!" For the rest of us, hearing this song for the first time was 2005's most sobering musical experience. Like "Who Let the Dogs Out" before it, "My Humps" is so monumentally vacuous, slapped together and tossed-off that it truly tests the definition of "song." It's actually more like listening to a five-minute commercial jingle– a point driven home by the miles upon miles of product placement that attempt to pass for its verses. The good news, of course, is that something responsible for this much misery could never go unpunished, and at the last minute, God got his revenge: What other pop singer in music history has ever unwittingly pissed her pants onstage?

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah: "Clap Your Hands!"
Some bands choose their most extreme, difficult, and uncharacteristic track as their album opener as both a paean to anticommercialism and a barrier to keep out…who? The impatient? Old people? It's a classic shitty underground rock pose, but not as shitty as bringing over Big Top Pee-Wee to shout down your listeners through a megaphone. If you never made it past this track, I can't really blame you. By the time it came screaming out my speakers, it was much too late: the wintry dream-pop of free mp3 "In This Home on Ice" had already locked its in my head and refused to come out. As inspiring as the album's actual songs were, this sucker still owes us an apology.

Cowboy Troy [ft. Big & Rich]: "I Play Chicken With the Train"
Following in the horseshit-encrusted bootsteps of last year's greatest musical atrocity (and inexplicable critical smash), Big & Rich, Cowboy Troy's "I Play Chicken With the Train" sucks the tongue out of C&W-style rap'n'roll's beef-eatin' cheeks to throw down like a homeboy for reals. Namedropping Tim McGraw, the CMAs, and yes, "skillz," country music's first black artist to crack the top 50 since possibly Charley Pride spits verse like a harried telemarketer, stumbling through the clunker triad: "All over the World Wide Web/ You'll see that CBT on that mp3/ Speak clearly what I say so you comprehend/ In the name of hick-hop radio tuned in/ Roaming like thunder on the scene/ It's kinda hard to describe if you know what I mean." And just like Game and 50, the chorus features a guest spot from country's #1 stuntaz: "I play chicken with the train/ Play chicken with the train train/ Uh huh huh uh huh huh." God, critics, you fuckin' assholes!

Daft Punk: "Technologic"
All heroes falter sooner or later, but most have the common sense not to send imitation Crazy Frogs to the mic to spout lists of 21st century home PC functions over production so phoned in it hangs up on you. With the glitter of their digi-disco masterstroke Discovery having finally settled, Daft Punk sounded their potential death knell with the brain-sucking inanity of a Hewlett Packard commercial singing the McDonald's Big Mac theme song. Like watching an ambulance crash into a garbage truck.

Eminem: "FACK"
For those that think this list is pussing out by not assigning a specific rank to each track, I'll give this the #1. Holy god. That there was a worse track than "My Humps" this year is the kind of thing that gets saved for history books. I actually had to pause it in the middle to get my bearings. Unfortunately, nothing I could possibly say about "FACK" would drive home my point like a lyric sample. Are you ready? Are you sure? Okay, careful now: "Ow I'm so fuckin' hot/ And you're so fuckin' hot/ Oh my god/ I wanna fackin' fack/ No, not fuck, I said fack/ F-a-c-k, f-a-c-k, fack, fack fack fackin' freak me!/ Ohh yeah, girl, see baby, they call me Mr. Freaky/ Let's call your sister, 3-way have some 3-some me so horny!/ And you're such a fuckin' babe I wanna go down on you, fuck, you shave!/ Ohh goddamn, here I go again!/ I'm gonna come, I am!" And finally, the chorus: "Owwww owwww owwwww (oh goddamn!)/ I'm gonna fuckin' come! (Oh shit!)/ Fuuck fuck fuyyuccck (fuck, I am!)/ I am, I'm going to come (I'm coming!)." Soooo…yeah.

Fiery Furnaces: Rehearsing My Choir / "Norwegian Wood"
Riding high on the acclaim for last year's Blueberry Boat and the poppier follow-up EP, the Fiery Furnaces lost themselves at the most crucial moment possible. Rather than solidifying their position as the kingpins of hyperprog, their prolificacy sent them careening, disastrously resulting in two duds so severe that even their most unswerving supporters couldn't deny that they were hugely detrimental to the band's momentum. The culprits: the gore-spattered abattoir that was their contribution to the Rubber Soul tribute album This Bird Has Flown, and the now-infamous Rehearsing My Choir, which faced every critic in its wake with the brutal proposition of having to lay the smackdown on the duo's poor old grandmother. Man. Let's just put this all behind us. 2006, guys, 2006.

M83: "Car Chase Terror!"
Why, near the end of M83's car-crash-obsessed Before the Dawn Heals Us must there be a genuine car crash? While the album is admittedly a bit too ambitious at times, reaching almost Vangelis-like levels of bombast, it otherwise follows 2003's Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts to its logical firework-spectacular conclusion. So this is doubly excruciating. Consisting mainly of dialogue between a mother and daughter, "Car Chase Terror!" relies almost exclusively on guest actress Kate Moran. Unfortunately, the only thing worse than the melodramatic scriptwriting is Moran's excruciating overacting, which not only fails to sell the intended dramatic effect, but seriously disrupts the album's flow– an integral element of a project this reliant on concept. The result is something like being punched in the face over and over again, the catastrophically unlistenable pretentious art-house equivalent of a sub-Wyclef hip-hop skit. Gut-wrenching!

Matisyahu
"Just your average Hasidic reggae rapper. Yeah, you heard me. This guy is a straight-up Hasidic Jew from New York who busts mad flow over dancehall and reggae beats. This is the future of music." –Sam Endicott, the Bravery in The Guardian

R. Kelly: "Sex Weed"
Some of your jaws are agape right now. An R. Kelly track on a worst-of-2005 list that's not "Trapped in the Closet"? But "Trapped in the Closet" was so spectacularly weird, and such a bizarre cultural oddity that, even if only as a curiosity, it was completely fascinating and engrossing. "Sex Weed"? Not so much. Stretching the metaphor to its breaking point and beyond, Kells sings, "Girl, you got that sex weed/ I just want to hit it all the time." Not only is this just dumb, but half of these supposed double-entendres are so desperately reaching, it frustrates to no end. "Just one look at you, I've got contact/ Can I get a pull of that/ Girl, your shit is the chronic/ 'Cause I can tell by the way you roll it up/ Make a playa wanna smoke it up." How is he gonna smoke it up? It doesn't even make sense!

Robert Pollard: Relaxation of the Asshole
I like that this is sometimes referred to as Robert Pollard's comedy album. I don't know, something great about that. But it's more funny peculiar: In releasing this beast of an LP, he proved with an almost vainglorious flourish that there is absolutely no scrap of recorded material capturing his essence that does not deserve to exist at least 500 times over in shops across the land. And as usual, his unflinchingly loyal fanbase proved that there's no scrap of recorded material capturing his essence that does not deserve to be purchased for at least $15. Not that it's the first release of its kind: The album, consisting entirely of onstage banter, is practically an homage to the late King's own Having Fun With Elvis Onstage. The problem: Neither dude is too hilarious stumbling around your living space. RIYL: Sounds of the Homeless.

Sun Kil Moon: "Tiny Cities Made of Ashes"
As far as 2005 projects with potential were concerned, this was an enormous letdown. Ex-Red House Painters frontman Mark Kozelek has been doing justice to the worst bands for some moons, so for him to tackle one of my all-time favorites seemed a fairly promising prospect. Oh, what a fool I was. It made me wonder: If I was like a maniac Yes or AC/DC fan, would I just think he was a huge asshole? Either way, this track was a slaughterhouse and poor Isaac Brock just had to sit back and take it like a dude. It's a long drive, indeed, and there's lols for miles.

White Stripes: "Who's a Big Baby?"
Second only to Load Records noise artist Prurient as the year's most punishing sensory assault, this little-known UK B-side to the White Stripes' "Blue Orchid" single unquestionably ranks as the greatest under-the-radar wtf moment of 2005. Likely recorded in the infantile throes of Hollywood-breakup agony, the song presumably finds Jack mocking former enchantress Renee Zellweger from beneath an impossibly wretched vocal filter, resulting in the kind of grotesque 80s horror creature taunt that'd send Sam Raimi into a jackyl-like gallop to the sound studio. As White lets out his most abominable, blood-curdling shriek of all– "LET'S GO SHOPPING!"– one can't help but recall the immortal words: "I'll swallow ya soul."

Weezer: "We Are All on Drugs"
OBVIOUSLY!!!

Earlier today I discovered Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping. Consumerism as entertainment is something I have been very conscious of lately. It's no secret that I enjoy purchasing items, but lately I have been questioning the impact and its intentions.

I love the over the top demonstrations and the simple way they explain the cause. Becoming aware of the effects of consumerism is something everyone can think about and it is really to alter behaviors just a little bit to make an impact.

I'm going to keep thinking about ways I can be more conscious of my own consumerism.

You can submit yourself for Time's Person of the Year.

Touch and Go, one of my favorite labels, is celebrating 25 years with reissues.

My new favoritest group: Youth Group from Austalia. Album coming soon.
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I am writing this from my brand-spanking new Gateway computer. Who knew an electronic piece of equipment could fill the burning pit of nothingness in my soul? The 17-inch screen is amazing. In fact, this blog only covers about a 4th of it.

I am so happy I kinda forgot I am going to be 30,000 feet in the air on Friday. Although, last night at about 4am, I sat upright in bed and thought, "HOW IN THE HELL DOES THE PLANE STAY IN THE AIR?"

Someone compiled the 33 best Canadian bands. Arcade Fire, Broken Social Scene…pretty fucking predictable.

The straight dude's guide to 'Brokeback'.

My mother told ne she wants to go see it when I am in Florida. She soooo loves the gays.

Barbie, beware. The iconic plastic doll is often mutilated at the hands of young girls, according to research published Monday by British academics.

"The girls we spoke to see Barbie torture as a legitimate play activity, and see the torture as a 'cool' activity," said Agnes Nairn, one of the University of Bath researchers. "The types of mutilation are varied and creative, and range from removing the hair to decapitation, burning, breaking and even microwaving."

Researchers from the university's marketing and psychology departments questioned 100 children about their attitudes to a range of products as part of a study on branding. They found Barbie provoked the strongest reaction, with youngsters reporting "rejection, hatred and violence," Nairn said.

"The meaning of 'Barbie' went beyond an expressed antipathy; actual physical violence and torture towards the doll was repeatedly reported, quite gleefully, across age, school and gender," she said.

While boys often expressed nostalgia and affection toward Action Man — the British equivalent of GI Joe — renouncing Barbie appeared to be a rite of passage for many girls, Nairn said.

"The most readily expressed reason for rejecting Barbie was that she was babyish, and girls saw her as representing their younger childhood out of which they felt they had now grown," she said.

Nairn said many girls saw Barbie as an inanimate object rather than a treasured toy.

"Whilst for an adult the delight the child felt in breaking, mutilating and torturing their dolls is deeply disturbing, from the child's point of view they were simply being imaginative in disposing of an excessive commodity in the same way as one might crush cans for recycling," she said.

Manufacturer Mattel, which sells 94 million Barbies a year worldwide, said the doll remained the "No. 1 fashion doll brand."

Mattel U.K. said that despite the findings of "this very small group of children, we know that there are millions of girls in the U.K. and across the world that love and enjoy playing with Barbie and will continue to do so in the future."

The only reason I continue living year to year is to read year-end lists. Along with the best singles, Pitchfork released its 50 best albums of the year. THis is the motherlode for music snobs like me. Many of my year end favorites are on there, and some are expected to be on there…it's kind of like the emporeror's new clothes- there are some albums that people think it is hip to listen to, but they actually suck, and no one will admit to it. Things like Boradcast, the Fiery Furnaces, the Silver Jews, Sun O)))), Clap YOur Hands Say Yeah, and Wolf Parade.

SUFJAN STEVENS AT #1???? Are you people deaf? Ok, ok, ok, so it is up to opinion I know, but I would think a #1 album would be something that transcends all genres, that would "convert" others into listening to something they wouldn't normally listen to (i.e., M.I.A.), but this album is one long jerf-off for this guy. And a big snooze-fest for me. I think people are too busy looking at a picture of him and not actually listening.