What a 180 I've pulled from this time last week. In the last two days, I have switched residences, gained employment and been able to buy myself a stable full of new clothes in a 48-hour period. All things I simply never could have predicted would be happening by now at the start of the month.
Start with the new place. Aviana graciously helped me move a full cab's worth of my crap to my new digs, which continue to impress and excite me with each passing moment. The fact that my bedroom is legitimately bigger than my dorm is one detail I can never outlook, but having a TV with digital cable, a living room, fully functioning kitchen and a bathroom shared with three people as opposed to 30 are all definite plusses too. And I can finally drink booze in my own room again! To celebrate, I washed down my inagural meal on Friday with a Dos Equis from the Mexican joint down the street.
The rest of Friday was of course spent sharing the incredible news of my sudden employment with friends and family, all of whom were impressed if insanely jealous. Most notably Jason, who was searching for all sorts of vices I could develop from having a well-paying job in New York City.
"Well...you're going to become a drunk because of all the booze you can afford now!" was one.
To which I replied, "But see, I've weaned myself off of alcohol this fall because I wasn't able to afford it for so long, so I really don't see that happening. Plus I've learned that nasty hangovers are sooo not worth it past the age of 22."
"Well, you realize they own you now. Don't be surprised if you have to work on a weekend burning midnight oil!"
"Oh yeah, Jonah mentioned I might have to fly out to like L.A. or San Francisco for a conference some weekend. Which would, you know, suuuck..."
Bragging aside, he was still very proud for me (as I'm sure all my friends are deep down beneath their raging envy) and reassured me that I got the job due to my hard work and journalism skill, etc. etc. And that's the most satisfying part — I came in through the back door as an intern, worked my ass off and got a full-time spot after 2.5 months not because I knew someone or was so-and-so's kid but because I was legitimately qualified and had a demonstrated ability to do the job.
The celebration continued into work at Kidding Around yesterday (which I've decided to not quit till after Christmas, unless it looks like my Christmas visit will be limited to five days or less due to both jobs, in which case it's adios Susan and Uma). I got to leave early, though, because it was time for SATURDAY NIGHT FRIGGIN LIVE!!!!
The event I'd been looking forward to since winning the tickets back in September had finally arrived, and it was nearly overshadowed by my tremendous news from earlier in the week. Luckily Lorne Michaels and Co. pulled out all the stops to ensure that the show stood out in a competitively awesome week.
For starters, being in Studio 8H was a tremendous experience. Seeing all the sets and hearing Lenny Pickett & The Saturday Night Live band play in-person conjured so much nostalgia for me of watching the late-80s, early-90s casts on Comedy Central during my high school days, particularly during the Christmas marathons.
Secondly, it's hard not to feel claustrophobic with the way everything's crammed into such a tight space. Watching the sets change frenetically is stressful enough for me to watch from the audience -- I can't even walk down the marble stairs of my new apartment building without fear of tripping and cracking my skull. Imagine trying to run across the soundstage to your next skit as giant walls are being moved all around you and chairs are being rolled out from every direction.
Then there's the fact that every seat in the house is a good one, just at different times. The skits are held in all corners of the studio, so while your view of the opening monologue may be obscured by, say, a spotlight (as I was), you could also have a front-row seat for a humorous sketch in a Brazilian night club -- or, best of all, TONY mothafuckin' BENNETT! That's right, he was the surprise guest during a "Tony Bennett Show" skit where Alec was doing a dead-on impression and decided to bring out his favorite impersonator, who just happened to be the real guy. Mr. Bennett is in my list of Top 3 People I Need to See Before They Die, along with Eartha Kitt and Woody Allen. Not only did I see him live with Alec Baldwin, I also got to take in a duet between him and Xtina. Seeing him sing "with my top hat and my white tie and my tails" gave me goosebumps. I nearly cried when it was over I was so overjoyed.
Steve Martin (!!!) was also there for a really funny sketch about how Alec was one show away from tying his hosting record. The dress rehearsal was much more natural and funny, but the live taping also had Martin Short and Paul McCartney (!!!), so I missed out on at least one awesome thing, I suppose.
And if you haven't already, go to NBC.com and check out the skit with Amy Poehler as Britney Spears. They may not have coined the phrase, but it was the first time I heard the expression "panty crickets" and I was nearly comatose from laughter.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Friday, November 10, 2006
This is the happiest I've ever been
Let it never be said that dreams don't come true.
In a startling turn of events, I am suddenly moving into a new, huge apartment on the very same day I've been offered a full-time, well-paid job working a newbeat I couldn't be more excited about. I start Monday and am excited, scared and overwhelmed all in one, but confident I have the support of a talented, friendly staff who can occasionally slow down from their machine-like reporting tendencies to help their new baby brother out.
Drinks on me, bitches!
In a startling turn of events, I am suddenly moving into a new, huge apartment on the very same day I've been offered a full-time, well-paid job working a newbeat I couldn't be more excited about. I start Monday and am excited, scared and overwhelmed all in one, but confident I have the support of a talented, friendly staff who can occasionally slow down from their machine-like reporting tendencies to help their new baby brother out.
Drinks on me, bitches!
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
You say it's your birthday...well it's my birthday too
Turning 23 has never been so newsy.
No sooner had I returned from covering the ad:tech conference for 10 grueling hours did all the news start pouring in.
A text from Jason: "[H]ow exciting to share this day with the coronation of Kevin Fed-ex!"
I knew it was coming, but not this soon!!! Halle-lu-jah!
And then, via phone from Pritha (my Internet was down in the dorms): "Strickland and Brown won! Democrats took the house!"
I, like many of my journalist friends, should and would have loved to be parked in front of a TV watching poll results all evening if it weren't for 1.) my lack of TV and 2.) the need to see Borat on Student Tuesday at the Village East for my birthday.
And boy am I happy I made that decision. There is nothing like watching a totally non-PC comedy that a Tiffin crowd wouldn't even know what to do approach with a packed amphitheater full of New York hipsters. They even cheered at the opening credits. The movie was, of course, dead-on in its satire and screamingly funny, if not squirmingly gross at times (seriously...that naked fight scene did NOT need to go on for half as long as it did.) And Pamela Anderson is officially 1,000 times cooler by her mere participation in her big scene.
So then there was today's announcement that Rumsfeld was stepping down. Could my birthday be too good to be true? So much justice prevailed in a 24-hour period I began to feel rather powerful. I need to turn 23 more often!
But the amazing part of my birthday week is that the awesomeness has only just begun. Tomorrow night, for example, I will be attending a Billboard awards ceremony where they will be honoring none other than ELTON JOHN. To even be in the same room as him is a huge deal, regardless of any interview possibilties (which I doubt will even happen.) However, he is being awarded the Live Legend Award for his accomplishments in concert tours, so they jump at any and all opportunities to enhance media coverage. So we shall see...
Most amazing of all, on Friday, I am MOVING!!! It's happening a month early (much to the detriment of my current funds, but the Bank of Mom & Dad have handily stepped in for a short-term loan), but I needed to get out. And once I saw this apartment, I knew I would be dumber than Reese Witherspoon to give up something so beautiful.
Let's start with the bedroom, which in and of itself is bigger than my dorm alone. It comes equipped with queen-size bed (I wanted to jump on it right away), an entertainment center with TV AND a two-seater leather couch that folds out into a bed. Too good to be true? Keep reading...
The rent is $200 LESS than what I'm paying to live in a hole-in-the-wall dorm (which, admittedly, is a heavily inflated price to begin with), the space is smack dab in the middle of Washington Heights (by Columbia Med School) and my four roommates all seem very agreeable. There's even a cat named Grey Charles (it's a she, and she was born without eyeballs...poor sweetie!)
So after spending all of Friday basking in the glow of being a real New Yorker with a real apartment, I will toil at the store for 10 hours before heading over to Studio 8H in Rockefeller Center.
That's right, I am going to a dress rehearsal of Saturday Night Live.
I won the tickets months ago now and never fully realized that the date was the weekend after my birthday, which is why I'm all the more excited about this week. I wanted to keep the host and musical guest a surprise, but after Joey told me the musical guest was a former Mickey Mouse Clubber I had to know. And even better than Justin Timberlake: it's X-Tina!!!
Let it be known to any and all people sitting within a five-foot radius of me on Saturday: you are subject to bruised eyes, noses or other body parts as a result of my excessive finger-waving.
No sooner had I returned from covering the ad:tech conference for 10 grueling hours did all the news start pouring in.
A text from Jason: "[H]ow exciting to share this day with the coronation of Kevin Fed-ex!"
I knew it was coming, but not this soon!!! Halle-lu-jah!
And then, via phone from Pritha (my Internet was down in the dorms): "Strickland and Brown won! Democrats took the house!"
I, like many of my journalist friends, should and would have loved to be parked in front of a TV watching poll results all evening if it weren't for 1.) my lack of TV and 2.) the need to see Borat on Student Tuesday at the Village East for my birthday.
And boy am I happy I made that decision. There is nothing like watching a totally non-PC comedy that a Tiffin crowd wouldn't even know what to do approach with a packed amphitheater full of New York hipsters. They even cheered at the opening credits. The movie was, of course, dead-on in its satire and screamingly funny, if not squirmingly gross at times (seriously...that naked fight scene did NOT need to go on for half as long as it did.) And Pamela Anderson is officially 1,000 times cooler by her mere participation in her big scene.
So then there was today's announcement that Rumsfeld was stepping down. Could my birthday be too good to be true? So much justice prevailed in a 24-hour period I began to feel rather powerful. I need to turn 23 more often!
But the amazing part of my birthday week is that the awesomeness has only just begun. Tomorrow night, for example, I will be attending a Billboard awards ceremony where they will be honoring none other than ELTON JOHN. To even be in the same room as him is a huge deal, regardless of any interview possibilties (which I doubt will even happen.) However, he is being awarded the Live Legend Award for his accomplishments in concert tours, so they jump at any and all opportunities to enhance media coverage. So we shall see...
Most amazing of all, on Friday, I am MOVING!!! It's happening a month early (much to the detriment of my current funds, but the Bank of Mom & Dad have handily stepped in for a short-term loan), but I needed to get out. And once I saw this apartment, I knew I would be dumber than Reese Witherspoon to give up something so beautiful.
Let's start with the bedroom, which in and of itself is bigger than my dorm alone. It comes equipped with queen-size bed (I wanted to jump on it right away), an entertainment center with TV AND a two-seater leather couch that folds out into a bed. Too good to be true? Keep reading...
The rent is $200 LESS than what I'm paying to live in a hole-in-the-wall dorm (which, admittedly, is a heavily inflated price to begin with), the space is smack dab in the middle of Washington Heights (by Columbia Med School) and my four roommates all seem very agreeable. There's even a cat named Grey Charles (it's a she, and she was born without eyeballs...poor sweetie!)
So after spending all of Friday basking in the glow of being a real New Yorker with a real apartment, I will toil at the store for 10 hours before heading over to Studio 8H in Rockefeller Center.
That's right, I am going to a dress rehearsal of Saturday Night Live.
I won the tickets months ago now and never fully realized that the date was the weekend after my birthday, which is why I'm all the more excited about this week. I wanted to keep the host and musical guest a surprise, but after Joey told me the musical guest was a former Mickey Mouse Clubber I had to know. And even better than Justin Timberlake: it's X-Tina!!!
Let it be known to any and all people sitting within a five-foot radius of me on Saturday: you are subject to bruised eyes, noses or other body parts as a result of my excessive finger-waving.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
We're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy
After days of resisting the urge to prematurely unleash our costumes on the general public, Amy and I finally got introduce New York to J.F. Gay and Jackie Ho. Halloween in New York City had finally arrived.
Even though we completely pulled off my original concept of being a warped version of iconic figures, we paled in comparison to the elaborately costumed demons, sluts and board game characters we encountered at the Village parade. Unfazed, I roamed around the various floats and crowds with Amy as she shot any and all interesting costumes that passed by, and what a spectacle that was. The best costumes were the ones that made me go, "How'd they do that?" This is the most sterling example of that:
But after two hours or so of non-stop shooting and crowd-shoving, Amy and I were tuckered out and needed a breather. So we grabbed burgers at the Broome Street Bar and parted ways shortly thereafter because she'd been on autopilot since 7 AM, running errands at work. But the night was still unbearably young — the clock had just struck 10. It was time to meet up with Joey for the gay portion of the evening.
I head over to Chelsea to meet up with him at his friend Steve's apartment. Steve is in fact the 50 (60?)-something friend of Joey's aunt, a retired Broadway actress I have yet to meet but seems absolutely fabulous; the ultimate gay aunt to have around in New York City. To say that Steve was a character is an understatement — he's not just a character, he's a whole friggin' movie.
Witness his remarkably put-together Elvis costume, the vintage drag Judy outfit he found for Joey and his immaculate, horn-clad living room.
Steve is one of few remaindres of the dying breed of gay men (literally — his husband is tragically due to die of cancer any day now...so so sad) from the late 70s heyday who summered in the city and partied at Studio 54 and had crazy, coked-out nights in Hollywood with Halston, Raquel Welch and Truman Capote. He tells stories in such a theatric, Robin Williams-in-Birdcage way that I wouldn't have believed him if he didn't have the photo album (all Polaroids, no less) to prove it. He even dished on one of his celebrity conquests. I won't name names, but let's just say he has a rather key role in a film often associated with midnight showings around Halloween...
So anyway, Steve accompanied me, Joey and Sean out to Avalon in the West Village. The trip there was probably the most fun I had all night. While my Jackie Ho/J.F. Gay combo might have had low impact to the paraders, the cumulative sight of seeing me, Joey as Judy and a middle-aged queen dressed as Elvis was a huge hit with random passers by (nearly all of whom seemed to be tourists, in fact) who stopped to ask us for pictures. Never have I posed for so many strangers' cameras before. Now I know how the real JFK must have felt...
After Steve finagled our way on to the guest list at Avalon (where he and his husband naturally once performed a show back when the venue was still a church.."they had to desanctify it, darling"), he offered us up to the club kids for the rest of the night because "I'm 50 years old [crickets], I don't like sweaty clubs and my husband's about to die any hour. Be safe, kids."
A hilarious yet melancholy note to start an evening of debaucherous dancing, but there was a dramatic shift in tone as soon as we entered the main floor and saw this spectacle:
She's not in this picture, but Amanda Lepore was there, grinding upon a rocking horse to the beat of some truly skanky house music. I said to myself, "You know it's a New York Halloween when you end up at the same club as Amanda Lepore." It's easy to think that this could be the modern equivalent of a Studio 54 or Michael Alig Party Monster bash, or at least a direct replication of all the parties I dreamed of attending during my teenage years after seeing them in the pages of Interview and Paper.
It was an incredible night, definitely one for the memory books. I observed much more than I participated, which was the bulk of why I enjoyed myself so much. I could've been one of the numerous glitter-caked boys in briefs and angel wings at Avalon, but instead I danced my minimal cares away in a dead woman's shirt (thanks Grandma Mitten!) while twirling a truly flamboyant ascot around on my finger. Isn't Halloween grand?
Even though we completely pulled off my original concept of being a warped version of iconic figures, we paled in comparison to the elaborately costumed demons, sluts and board game characters we encountered at the Village parade. Unfazed, I roamed around the various floats and crowds with Amy as she shot any and all interesting costumes that passed by, and what a spectacle that was. The best costumes were the ones that made me go, "How'd they do that?" This is the most sterling example of that:
But after two hours or so of non-stop shooting and crowd-shoving, Amy and I were tuckered out and needed a breather. So we grabbed burgers at the Broome Street Bar and parted ways shortly thereafter because she'd been on autopilot since 7 AM, running errands at work. But the night was still unbearably young — the clock had just struck 10. It was time to meet up with Joey for the gay portion of the evening.
I head over to Chelsea to meet up with him at his friend Steve's apartment. Steve is in fact the 50 (60?)-something friend of Joey's aunt, a retired Broadway actress I have yet to meet but seems absolutely fabulous; the ultimate gay aunt to have around in New York City. To say that Steve was a character is an understatement — he's not just a character, he's a whole friggin' movie.
Witness his remarkably put-together Elvis costume, the vintage drag Judy outfit he found for Joey and his immaculate, horn-clad living room.
Steve is one of few remaindres of the dying breed of gay men (literally — his husband is tragically due to die of cancer any day now...so so sad) from the late 70s heyday who summered in the city and partied at Studio 54 and had crazy, coked-out nights in Hollywood with Halston, Raquel Welch and Truman Capote. He tells stories in such a theatric, Robin Williams-in-Birdcage way that I wouldn't have believed him if he didn't have the photo album (all Polaroids, no less) to prove it. He even dished on one of his celebrity conquests. I won't name names, but let's just say he has a rather key role in a film often associated with midnight showings around Halloween...
So anyway, Steve accompanied me, Joey and Sean out to Avalon in the West Village. The trip there was probably the most fun I had all night. While my Jackie Ho/J.F. Gay combo might have had low impact to the paraders, the cumulative sight of seeing me, Joey as Judy and a middle-aged queen dressed as Elvis was a huge hit with random passers by (nearly all of whom seemed to be tourists, in fact) who stopped to ask us for pictures. Never have I posed for so many strangers' cameras before. Now I know how the real JFK must have felt...
After Steve finagled our way on to the guest list at Avalon (where he and his husband naturally once performed a show back when the venue was still a church.."they had to desanctify it, darling"), he offered us up to the club kids for the rest of the night because "I'm 50 years old [crickets], I don't like sweaty clubs and my husband's about to die any hour. Be safe, kids."
A hilarious yet melancholy note to start an evening of debaucherous dancing, but there was a dramatic shift in tone as soon as we entered the main floor and saw this spectacle:
She's not in this picture, but Amanda Lepore was there, grinding upon a rocking horse to the beat of some truly skanky house music. I said to myself, "You know it's a New York Halloween when you end up at the same club as Amanda Lepore." It's easy to think that this could be the modern equivalent of a Studio 54 or Michael Alig Party Monster bash, or at least a direct replication of all the parties I dreamed of attending during my teenage years after seeing them in the pages of Interview and Paper.
It was an incredible night, definitely one for the memory books. I observed much more than I participated, which was the bulk of why I enjoyed myself so much. I could've been one of the numerous glitter-caked boys in briefs and angel wings at Avalon, but instead I danced my minimal cares away in a dead woman's shirt (thanks Grandma Mitten!) while twirling a truly flamboyant ascot around on my finger. Isn't Halloween grand?
Monday, October 30, 2006
Correction
So, Ohio Andrew and New York Andrew can both find a bit of solace from this e-mail I got from the Gawker guy today:
hey, sorry we got cut off -- was there anything else you needed to know?
He didn't hang up on me after all. I do recall the connection being a bit iffy, so I suppose I'm not surprised by this late-blooming excuse. It was just a bit ironic for that to happen just as I got to talking about lawsuits following a litany of his curt, miffed responses to my questions.
So, he's off the hook for now. But just wait Google, YouTube and Digg...I defy you to hang up on me!
hey, sorry we got cut off -- was there anything else you needed to know?
He didn't hang up on me after all. I do recall the connection being a bit iffy, so I suppose I'm not surprised by this late-blooming excuse. It was just a bit ironic for that to happen just as I got to talking about lawsuits following a litany of his curt, miffed responses to my questions.
So, he's off the hook for now. But just wait Google, YouTube and Digg...I defy you to hang up on me!
Friday, October 27, 2006
Hey, j-j-jaded
The truly unique events of the past 24 hours could be described from two perspectives: the jaded, seen-it-all New Yorker or the wide-eyed, dumbfounded Midwesterner that I very much still am despite all efforts to the contrary. Therefore, I shall write from both P.O.V.s for today's blog post.
1.) The concert
New York Andrew: So, this flack totally calls my office phone on Wednesday and tells me Ken recommended he talk to me about this party Paste Magazine is putting on at the Knitting Factory and that Beck may be there. I say, cool, whatever, I like Beck and all. It'd be neat to see him at a venue that small, but no worries if he didn't. I got tickets to that sweet Daily Show concert with Mountain Goats and Clem Snide at Irving Plaza next month that would make up for it. So, I mean, I go and hit up the open bar with Amy, check out Hem's opening set and jump up and down a little bit for Beck. I mean, he played "Devil's Haircut" and some cuts off the new album, so it was pretty good, I guess. But it's not like it was Patti Smith at the fuckin' CBGB's closing show or anything. And blah blah, James Iha was there and Ben Kweller walked right by me. I interviewed him once no big woop..
Ohio Andrew: Holy shit, I saw a secret Beck show!!! And it was legitimately secret -- Brooklyn Vegan, Rolling Stone, NO ONE knew about it beforehand! Even Paste was surprised -- they were told Beck was going to play a half-hour acoustic set and he ended up playing an hour-long, funkdafied electric set!! It was tremendous — he opened with "Black Tambourine" (one of the best possible songs in his oeuvre to open with) and after just three songs started taking requests. I screamed out "Devil's Haircut," knowing it would be incredible to hear in such a small venue, and what does he do? He plays it!!! The famous riff sounded wayyy better blaring from such small speakers. The main room is the size of my old living room at Sunnybrook! In-fuckin-credible. He also played "Girl," "E-Pro" and of course "Where It's At," plus half the new album, which I bought immediately afterward. Easily one of the best shows I've ever seen, let alone this year. I wanted to hug the editors of Paste on my way out. And oh my God I saw James Iha!!!! Regardless that he doens't do anything these days except go to shows, he's still a Smashing Pumpkin.
2. The good interview
New York Andrew: So this morning I went over to Trump Tower to cover this game show taping for AOL's "Gold Rush," which was being guest-hosted by Donald Trump. I mean, whatever, it's New York, I was bound to cover him sooner or later. So he asks the contestants a few questions that involve his name, me and this other reporter laugh a little bit, the publicist invites us backstage to do our interviews, I tell him I'm from AdAge, he pats me on the back and answers a few questions really diplomatically. Nothing big, definitely no great quotes. If he wasn't Donald Trump it wouldn't have been even half as big a deal as any other interview I do with Important People. And I totally should've tugged his hairpiece.
Ohio Andrew: You know you're a New York journalist when you interview Donald Trump at Trump Tower! It was pretty friggin' cool...me and two other reporters (one from MeidaPost, the other from some agency, I dunno) took turns asking The Donald a few questions, and I started. He patted me on the back when I told him I was from AdAge and evne tailored his repsonse to my question to AdAge by playing up the corporate sponsorships. It was pretty sweet. He even ended the interview by saying he doens't have time to spend on the Internet because he's "too busy trying to make money." He had bad breath, though. All the money in the world can't cure halitosis, I suppose.
3. The bad interview
New York Andrew: So I volunteered to do this new-media mogul feature Ken pitched but no one took. I mean it's not like I had all that much going on after getting two stories for the book in the can, anyway, so I figured it was the least I could do. Ken sends me a list of people he'd like me to contact, and the first ones I try are Facebook, who blow me off by saying Mark Zuckerberg "isn't really doing interviews right now." I figure, whatever, I can get someone way cooler for this piece anyway. So I e-mail the publisher of Gawker to see if he'd be interested in speaking to me, he agrees to talk under the condition I don't ask him about his temporary partnership with Yahoo that fizzled out last year. I don't, but I ask him a few other questions he presumably gets asked freuqently because — why the fuck not? I have him on the phone, so who wouldn't ask the same questions like when he might sell his web site if it means I could be the reporter who finally gets the scoop? Eventually, once I get around to asking him about potential lawsuits, I realize I'm talking to a dead line. He hung up on me. Whatever — I still got MySpace, Flickr and Digg, among many many others, to pursue...Who needs Gawker?
Ohio Andrew: The bastard hung up on me!!! I don't care how many times you've been asked a question by the media (which, honestly, can't be *that* many...it's not like it's Carly Simon and I'm asking her who "You're So Vain" is about), you don't hang up on a reporter who just wants to get a few quotes for a story that isn't about you, anyway. Ugggghhhh...Ken told me to make sure to include in the article that he hung up on me, which I most certainly will. What's funny is I had read this article in Slate (http://www.slate.com/id/2145413/) *before* speaking with him, and I was still feeling fairly confident about my chances of having a pretty breezy interview. That's a definite no.
But no matter, I have been very schooled since yesterday in many ways of New York culture: what to expect at a "secret show," how to interview The Donald and what not to ask a notoriously difficult source. If only I were being tested on this for Technical Writing this weekend, I'd for sure be looking at an A come Monday...
1.) The concert
New York Andrew: So, this flack totally calls my office phone on Wednesday and tells me Ken recommended he talk to me about this party Paste Magazine is putting on at the Knitting Factory and that Beck may be there. I say, cool, whatever, I like Beck and all. It'd be neat to see him at a venue that small, but no worries if he didn't. I got tickets to that sweet Daily Show concert with Mountain Goats and Clem Snide at Irving Plaza next month that would make up for it. So, I mean, I go and hit up the open bar with Amy, check out Hem's opening set and jump up and down a little bit for Beck. I mean, he played "Devil's Haircut" and some cuts off the new album, so it was pretty good, I guess. But it's not like it was Patti Smith at the fuckin' CBGB's closing show or anything. And blah blah, James Iha was there and Ben Kweller walked right by me. I interviewed him once no big woop..
Ohio Andrew: Holy shit, I saw a secret Beck show!!! And it was legitimately secret -- Brooklyn Vegan, Rolling Stone, NO ONE knew about it beforehand! Even Paste was surprised -- they were told Beck was going to play a half-hour acoustic set and he ended up playing an hour-long, funkdafied electric set!! It was tremendous — he opened with "Black Tambourine" (one of the best possible songs in his oeuvre to open with) and after just three songs started taking requests. I screamed out "Devil's Haircut," knowing it would be incredible to hear in such a small venue, and what does he do? He plays it!!! The famous riff sounded wayyy better blaring from such small speakers. The main room is the size of my old living room at Sunnybrook! In-fuckin-credible. He also played "Girl," "E-Pro" and of course "Where It's At," plus half the new album, which I bought immediately afterward. Easily one of the best shows I've ever seen, let alone this year. I wanted to hug the editors of Paste on my way out. And oh my God I saw James Iha!!!! Regardless that he doens't do anything these days except go to shows, he's still a Smashing Pumpkin.
2. The good interview
New York Andrew: So this morning I went over to Trump Tower to cover this game show taping for AOL's "Gold Rush," which was being guest-hosted by Donald Trump. I mean, whatever, it's New York, I was bound to cover him sooner or later. So he asks the contestants a few questions that involve his name, me and this other reporter laugh a little bit, the publicist invites us backstage to do our interviews, I tell him I'm from AdAge, he pats me on the back and answers a few questions really diplomatically. Nothing big, definitely no great quotes. If he wasn't Donald Trump it wouldn't have been even half as big a deal as any other interview I do with Important People. And I totally should've tugged his hairpiece.
Ohio Andrew: You know you're a New York journalist when you interview Donald Trump at Trump Tower! It was pretty friggin' cool...me and two other reporters (one from MeidaPost, the other from some agency, I dunno) took turns asking The Donald a few questions, and I started. He patted me on the back when I told him I was from AdAge and evne tailored his repsonse to my question to AdAge by playing up the corporate sponsorships. It was pretty sweet. He even ended the interview by saying he doens't have time to spend on the Internet because he's "too busy trying to make money." He had bad breath, though. All the money in the world can't cure halitosis, I suppose.
3. The bad interview
New York Andrew: So I volunteered to do this new-media mogul feature Ken pitched but no one took. I mean it's not like I had all that much going on after getting two stories for the book in the can, anyway, so I figured it was the least I could do. Ken sends me a list of people he'd like me to contact, and the first ones I try are Facebook, who blow me off by saying Mark Zuckerberg "isn't really doing interviews right now." I figure, whatever, I can get someone way cooler for this piece anyway. So I e-mail the publisher of Gawker to see if he'd be interested in speaking to me, he agrees to talk under the condition I don't ask him about his temporary partnership with Yahoo that fizzled out last year. I don't, but I ask him a few other questions he presumably gets asked freuqently because — why the fuck not? I have him on the phone, so who wouldn't ask the same questions like when he might sell his web site if it means I could be the reporter who finally gets the scoop? Eventually, once I get around to asking him about potential lawsuits, I realize I'm talking to a dead line. He hung up on me. Whatever — I still got MySpace, Flickr and Digg, among many many others, to pursue...Who needs Gawker?
Ohio Andrew: The bastard hung up on me!!! I don't care how many times you've been asked a question by the media (which, honestly, can't be *that* many...it's not like it's Carly Simon and I'm asking her who "You're So Vain" is about), you don't hang up on a reporter who just wants to get a few quotes for a story that isn't about you, anyway. Ugggghhhh...Ken told me to make sure to include in the article that he hung up on me, which I most certainly will. What's funny is I had read this article in Slate (http://www.slate.com/id/2145413/) *before* speaking with him, and I was still feeling fairly confident about my chances of having a pretty breezy interview. That's a definite no.
But no matter, I have been very schooled since yesterday in many ways of New York culture: what to expect at a "secret show," how to interview The Donald and what not to ask a notoriously difficult source. If only I were being tested on this for Technical Writing this weekend, I'd for sure be looking at an A come Monday...
Saturday, October 21, 2006
I got to admit it's gettin' better, gettin' better all the time...
There have been many days these past two months (most, in fact) where I have to literally stop and wonder if my life is real. Today was definitely one of them.
In perhaps one of the most successful weeks in the history of employment, I received two job offers in two days. One was from Kidding Around, the toy store I interviewed at last month but didn't get because I wasn't available enough. The other...well, I'll hold off on posting here until the details have all been ironed out, but once they are it'll be HUGE and my excitement will no longer be contained (it barely is now haha.)
So today was my first day at the toy store and it was quite the surreal one. First of all, any chances of it being similar to my summer at Mr. Fun's last year were immediately vanquished when I showed up to work and FIVE other people were there. To work at a store roughly the same size as Mr. Fun's, mind you. But then again, Mr. Fun's was in a plaza between a Fashion Bug and a Rite Aid in Kent, and Kidding Around is in a nice part of Chelsea frequented by rich people, rich children and celebrities. Lots of them, judging by stories my co-workers were telling me today.
"Yeah, Harrison Ford comes in a lot, Calista Flockhart will sometimes come too," my boss' son said. "Molly Shannon always brings her daughter when she comes, Brooke Sheilds was just in the other day and said she liked my window decoration. Susan Sarandon actually used to be a regular and her daugher even worked here for a little bit."
"Really?" I said, my long-dormat starfucker hormones suddenly stimulated. "Before she became an actress?"
"Yeah, it was for like a year or so. She and my sister are actually pretty good friends."
I was impressed by all these tales, but I hardly expected to have one of my own to tell that day. Until...
It's 2:30, I'm reorganizing the princess hats or the magic wands or something in the costume section when all of a sudden I hear a woman's voice call, "Levon! Come look at this!"
I think, "Levon?! There must be a celebrity in our midst because who names their k--"
And that's when I saw her, looking impeccable in a white pea coat, the very epitome of what you always think a gorgeous actress would look like on her day off.
There, walking toward me, was Uma Thurman.
As Jason said, it was like a really rare wildlife sighting. Like seeing a gazelle/leopard cross-breed and not knowing whether or not to grab for the nearest camera or just stare in awe for a few moments.
I chose the latter, but from a distance. As soon as I saw her, a sudden shock went through me of both recognition and embarrassment (only for not being equally fabulous..despite wearing a nice sweater and my new ass-tastic jeans, I could not hold a candle to La Thurman) and retreated nearby to the trains. As for Uma, she made no effort to remain incognito (aside from a rather dorky ski lodge hat she later donned halfway through her half-hour stay), and conversed playfully and quite loudly with her adorable blonde son, who she called "Levi."
I kept myself occupied for the most part, but I picked up on bits of pieces of her numerous cell phone convesations (including a very touching one with her daugher Mya) and realized how utterly surreal it is to see a celebrity just being a normal mom. Especially one who killed tons of bitches in two Quentin Tarantino movies just a few years back. (She was also in "My Super Ex-Girlfriend" this summer, which a cursory glance at my ticket stubs reminded me today. What a waste of celluloid that was.)
After a good 25 minutes of successfully staying out of Lady Uma's way, I finally had a reason to intrude. There were some stray toys on the ground near where she was perusing games and I went to reorganize them.
This is where the wildlife comparison comes back into play, because it was like disturbing the (very glamorous) lioness and her cub. Seeing me kneel down, Uma walks over, waves her hand apologetically and says sweetly, "Oh, sorry, I'll take care of those. I don't wanna make you do that."
"OK, no worries," I said with a sheepish smile as my internal voice shouts "YOU JUST EXCHANGED WORDS WITH BEATRIX KIDDO!!!")
And that was that. No autograph hounding, no shameless kudos for one of her many fabulous performances (even though I really wanted to tell her how much I loved "Prime"), not even a ham-fisted attempt to suck up to her kid and ask him what toys he was looking for. I just walked away and let that be that.
It took me a hot minute to calm down after my moment of recognition from who is without question the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in person. I would have just sat and basked in my day of incredulity, but alas, I had another pretty lady to go see. Specifically, Esquire's Sexiest Woman Alive Scarlett Johansson (a prediction I made back in JULY, thank you!) in The Prestige. First The Illusionist, now this -- why haven't there been more magician-related thrillers up till now?!? Both of which happen to be excellent, The Prestige in particular. And a bit spooky — I was a lil' nervous Christian Bale was going to send his creepy doppelganger after me to spy on my journalism tricks or something.
Speaking of which, it's going to take magic for me to get through the next two months (and probably longer) of working EVERY SINGLE DAY of the week now, with Kidding Around on weekends. The way I look at it is this: both jobs don't (have to) last past 7, which is more than ample nightlife time, and therefore more time spent making money to blow on said nights.
It's a win-win, if you ask me. Even Uma would agree.
In perhaps one of the most successful weeks in the history of employment, I received two job offers in two days. One was from Kidding Around, the toy store I interviewed at last month but didn't get because I wasn't available enough. The other...well, I'll hold off on posting here until the details have all been ironed out, but once they are it'll be HUGE and my excitement will no longer be contained (it barely is now haha.)
So today was my first day at the toy store and it was quite the surreal one. First of all, any chances of it being similar to my summer at Mr. Fun's last year were immediately vanquished when I showed up to work and FIVE other people were there. To work at a store roughly the same size as Mr. Fun's, mind you. But then again, Mr. Fun's was in a plaza between a Fashion Bug and a Rite Aid in Kent, and Kidding Around is in a nice part of Chelsea frequented by rich people, rich children and celebrities. Lots of them, judging by stories my co-workers were telling me today.
"Yeah, Harrison Ford comes in a lot, Calista Flockhart will sometimes come too," my boss' son said. "Molly Shannon always brings her daughter when she comes, Brooke Sheilds was just in the other day and said she liked my window decoration. Susan Sarandon actually used to be a regular and her daugher even worked here for a little bit."
"Really?" I said, my long-dormat starfucker hormones suddenly stimulated. "Before she became an actress?"
"Yeah, it was for like a year or so. She and my sister are actually pretty good friends."
I was impressed by all these tales, but I hardly expected to have one of my own to tell that day. Until...
It's 2:30, I'm reorganizing the princess hats or the magic wands or something in the costume section when all of a sudden I hear a woman's voice call, "Levon! Come look at this!"
I think, "Levon?! There must be a celebrity in our midst because who names their k--"
And that's when I saw her, looking impeccable in a white pea coat, the very epitome of what you always think a gorgeous actress would look like on her day off.
There, walking toward me, was Uma Thurman.
As Jason said, it was like a really rare wildlife sighting. Like seeing a gazelle/leopard cross-breed and not knowing whether or not to grab for the nearest camera or just stare in awe for a few moments.
I chose the latter, but from a distance. As soon as I saw her, a sudden shock went through me of both recognition and embarrassment (only for not being equally fabulous..despite wearing a nice sweater and my new ass-tastic jeans, I could not hold a candle to La Thurman) and retreated nearby to the trains. As for Uma, she made no effort to remain incognito (aside from a rather dorky ski lodge hat she later donned halfway through her half-hour stay), and conversed playfully and quite loudly with her adorable blonde son, who she called "Levi."
I kept myself occupied for the most part, but I picked up on bits of pieces of her numerous cell phone convesations (including a very touching one with her daugher Mya) and realized how utterly surreal it is to see a celebrity just being a normal mom. Especially one who killed tons of bitches in two Quentin Tarantino movies just a few years back. (She was also in "My Super Ex-Girlfriend" this summer, which a cursory glance at my ticket stubs reminded me today. What a waste of celluloid that was.)
After a good 25 minutes of successfully staying out of Lady Uma's way, I finally had a reason to intrude. There were some stray toys on the ground near where she was perusing games and I went to reorganize them.
This is where the wildlife comparison comes back into play, because it was like disturbing the (very glamorous) lioness and her cub. Seeing me kneel down, Uma walks over, waves her hand apologetically and says sweetly, "Oh, sorry, I'll take care of those. I don't wanna make you do that."
"OK, no worries," I said with a sheepish smile as my internal voice shouts "YOU JUST EXCHANGED WORDS WITH BEATRIX KIDDO!!!")
And that was that. No autograph hounding, no shameless kudos for one of her many fabulous performances (even though I really wanted to tell her how much I loved "Prime"), not even a ham-fisted attempt to suck up to her kid and ask him what toys he was looking for. I just walked away and let that be that.
It took me a hot minute to calm down after my moment of recognition from who is without question the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in person. I would have just sat and basked in my day of incredulity, but alas, I had another pretty lady to go see. Specifically, Esquire's Sexiest Woman Alive Scarlett Johansson (a prediction I made back in JULY, thank you!) in The Prestige. First The Illusionist, now this -- why haven't there been more magician-related thrillers up till now?!? Both of which happen to be excellent, The Prestige in particular. And a bit spooky — I was a lil' nervous Christian Bale was going to send his creepy doppelganger after me to spy on my journalism tricks or something.
Speaking of which, it's going to take magic for me to get through the next two months (and probably longer) of working EVERY SINGLE DAY of the week now, with Kidding Around on weekends. The way I look at it is this: both jobs don't (have to) last past 7, which is more than ample nightlife time, and therefore more time spent making money to blow on said nights.
It's a win-win, if you ask me. Even Uma would agree.
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