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.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Kent get enough of you, baby
I'm afraid Mr. Thornton might have outblogged me before I've even begun to recap the insanity that was Friday night. However, I shall do my best to summarize my Kent comeback to the best of my wit's ability.
Upon arrival in the Tree City, I called up Jackie and surprised her with my early presence. She wasstill clad in her football gear from the Media Bowl and gave me a great big bear hug. It's always good to see your Facebook wife after two months of no contact. She and Carrie hopped in my car and I did something I haven't done since February: I knowingly furnished minors! Knowing full well, of course, that even if the cops did show up this time, however, I could get away Scott-free because I don't live on Sunnybrook Road no more. Let the head smashing begin, I say.
Next was a big reunion dinner at Taco Tanto's, which kicked off with Kelly jumping into my arms unexpectedly and the two of us tumbling onto the floor within eyeshot of Lindsay, Ryan and Jeff. My knee's better, by the way, Kelly!
Erin Roof was randomly there. We swapped big-city stories and I parted ways by offering up my sympathy for one last semester with the Robot.
Dinner in general was a very happy time. I had greatly missed everyone at that table ....even if I had just seen two of them just weeks prior in my new city .. and being back together at Taco Tanto's was a pleasant blast from the past. The pizzaritos are also just as amazing as I had remembered them, if not more so.
I also noticed that TIlly & The Wall were playing at the Grog Shop that night, EXACTLY like my last visit to Kent in June. For a few seconds I pondered driving to Cleveland to check it out, but those were the briefest seconds in the history of time.
Visited with Barb for a good hour or so, and shamelessly whipped out my Ad Age cover story. Apparently Fran Collins (!) brought it to her attention before I could even tell her I made the cover. Aww Fran, I knew I liked her...Barb and I dished New York, Ohio politics and graduation strategies (I have an even better one now!) over blueberry beer. Mmmm...
By the time I get to the old apartment the driveway is already full by 10 (a common occurence). So I set out on the familiarly terrifying trip that is the pitch-black walk from the neighbors with the shooting range back to the apartment. There was a fucking cat meowing the whole time that made me want to clobber the next moving thing with my 12 pack of Bud out of extreme fear, but luckily I never had a reason to.
I opened the door to the sounds of Le Tigre or The Rapture or something indie and pretentious and it was like being home again. A total time capsule trip. There was Ben and co. kicking things off with a game of Kings, Ryan and Lindsay cuddling on the couch, Gavin and Jackie beginning a night of on-and-off making out, with a few new twists added to the proceedings.
It was both sad and exciting to hear that the soiree was the first real dance party since my departure. Don't get me wrong, I was proud to usher in the return of the Sunnybrook Road dance-offs. But am I really that lively that parties just die in my absence? Ah, I am sunlight and the rest of you Stater partiers are just wilting perennials...
I made my first moves to the tune of "SexyBack," fittingly, with Carrie and Jackie as my dance partners. More dancing ensued, but just enough to entice other people to keep it going while I made the rounds of hugs and reunions. I was most excited to see Rachel, Meranda, Sean, Kali, Lindsay and Jeff again, with plenty of other little surprises thrown in. I even manged to entice Jessica Smiley, Katie Alberti, proofreader Amy and Brian Thornton to attend their very first Stater party!
There was a bit of apple bobbing, but the combination of the wetness and Gavin removing half the apples with his mouth kind of killed that. There's no topping last year's bob-a-thon anyway.
It was around this time that I realized the gay quotient at this party was the highest it's ever been. Perhaps the highest of all parties combined, in fact. Very, very impressive. I know I won't be back any time soon, but keep up the good work, ladies and gents!
By midnight I realized I was not drunk at all after three sporadilcally consumed beers and decided to make up for lost time. Worst decision EVER. Were New York not so expensive that I could actually afford to drink this fall, I would have remebered the cardinal rule in college binge drinking: "Beer before liquor, you couldn't be sicker." Truer words have never been slurred.
Oh I got drunk all right, but I paid for it big time. Almost instantly. No sooner had I downed a few rum and ciders did I feel a little funny and went running to the bushes outside (a Sunnybrook first for me, if you can believe it.) I can't even tell you how many times I had to do this because after the first one is when I don't remember anything. Apparently I said my good-byes to Lindsay covered in vomit and dirt with twigs in my hair. Classy. Where the fuck was a camera when this happened?!
I ended the night in Ben's pajamas (strangely, I do remember taking my clothes off in front of Ben and Kelly...weird) and without any blankets. But unconscious people don't get cold, so when I came to at 8:30 I just stole Kali's.
11:00 slowly rolled around, and Jackie and Ben emerged from their drunken hazes and we all slogged over to Wild Goat for a commemorative brunch and some much-needed nourishment. I couldn't even drive yet I was still fucked up. It took me the rest of the day to relieve my hangover. My dad even made Long Islands later that night and the mere mention of alcohol turned my insides a lil' bit.
All in all, my Kent return was a huge success. I saw everyone I could have possibly wanted to see (and nobody I didn't, best of all!), had the sloppiest attempt at a bathroom hookup ever and ended up making a drunken fool of myself.
It wouldn't be a Sunnybrook Road party if any of things hadn't happened.
Upon arrival in the Tree City, I called up Jackie and surprised her with my early presence. She wasstill clad in her football gear from the Media Bowl and gave me a great big bear hug. It's always good to see your Facebook wife after two months of no contact. She and Carrie hopped in my car and I did something I haven't done since February: I knowingly furnished minors! Knowing full well, of course, that even if the cops did show up this time, however, I could get away Scott-free because I don't live on Sunnybrook Road no more. Let the head smashing begin, I say.
Next was a big reunion dinner at Taco Tanto's, which kicked off with Kelly jumping into my arms unexpectedly and the two of us tumbling onto the floor within eyeshot of Lindsay, Ryan and Jeff. My knee's better, by the way, Kelly!
Erin Roof was randomly there. We swapped big-city stories and I parted ways by offering up my sympathy for one last semester with the Robot.
Dinner in general was a very happy time. I had greatly missed everyone at that table ....even if I had just seen two of them just weeks prior in my new city .. and being back together at Taco Tanto's was a pleasant blast from the past. The pizzaritos are also just as amazing as I had remembered them, if not more so.
I also noticed that TIlly & The Wall were playing at the Grog Shop that night, EXACTLY like my last visit to Kent in June. For a few seconds I pondered driving to Cleveland to check it out, but those were the briefest seconds in the history of time.
Visited with Barb for a good hour or so, and shamelessly whipped out my Ad Age cover story. Apparently Fran Collins (!) brought it to her attention before I could even tell her I made the cover. Aww Fran, I knew I liked her...Barb and I dished New York, Ohio politics and graduation strategies (I have an even better one now!) over blueberry beer. Mmmm...
By the time I get to the old apartment the driveway is already full by 10 (a common occurence). So I set out on the familiarly terrifying trip that is the pitch-black walk from the neighbors with the shooting range back to the apartment. There was a fucking cat meowing the whole time that made me want to clobber the next moving thing with my 12 pack of Bud out of extreme fear, but luckily I never had a reason to.
I opened the door to the sounds of Le Tigre or The Rapture or something indie and pretentious and it was like being home again. A total time capsule trip. There was Ben and co. kicking things off with a game of Kings, Ryan and Lindsay cuddling on the couch, Gavin and Jackie beginning a night of on-and-off making out, with a few new twists added to the proceedings.
It was both sad and exciting to hear that the soiree was the first real dance party since my departure. Don't get me wrong, I was proud to usher in the return of the Sunnybrook Road dance-offs. But am I really that lively that parties just die in my absence? Ah, I am sunlight and the rest of you Stater partiers are just wilting perennials...
I made my first moves to the tune of "SexyBack," fittingly, with Carrie and Jackie as my dance partners. More dancing ensued, but just enough to entice other people to keep it going while I made the rounds of hugs and reunions. I was most excited to see Rachel, Meranda, Sean, Kali, Lindsay and Jeff again, with plenty of other little surprises thrown in. I even manged to entice Jessica Smiley, Katie Alberti, proofreader Amy and Brian Thornton to attend their very first Stater party!
There was a bit of apple bobbing, but the combination of the wetness and Gavin removing half the apples with his mouth kind of killed that. There's no topping last year's bob-a-thon anyway.
It was around this time that I realized the gay quotient at this party was the highest it's ever been. Perhaps the highest of all parties combined, in fact. Very, very impressive. I know I won't be back any time soon, but keep up the good work, ladies and gents!
By midnight I realized I was not drunk at all after three sporadilcally consumed beers and decided to make up for lost time. Worst decision EVER. Were New York not so expensive that I could actually afford to drink this fall, I would have remebered the cardinal rule in college binge drinking: "Beer before liquor, you couldn't be sicker." Truer words have never been slurred.
Oh I got drunk all right, but I paid for it big time. Almost instantly. No sooner had I downed a few rum and ciders did I feel a little funny and went running to the bushes outside (a Sunnybrook first for me, if you can believe it.) I can't even tell you how many times I had to do this because after the first one is when I don't remember anything. Apparently I said my good-byes to Lindsay covered in vomit and dirt with twigs in my hair. Classy. Where the fuck was a camera when this happened?!
I ended the night in Ben's pajamas (strangely, I do remember taking my clothes off in front of Ben and Kelly...weird) and without any blankets. But unconscious people don't get cold, so when I came to at 8:30 I just stole Kali's.
11:00 slowly rolled around, and Jackie and Ben emerged from their drunken hazes and we all slogged over to Wild Goat for a commemorative brunch and some much-needed nourishment. I couldn't even drive yet I was still fucked up. It took me the rest of the day to relieve my hangover. My dad even made Long Islands later that night and the mere mention of alcohol turned my insides a lil' bit.
All in all, my Kent return was a huge success. I saw everyone I could have possibly wanted to see (and nobody I didn't, best of all!), had the sloppiest attempt at a bathroom hookup ever and ended up making a drunken fool of myself.
It wouldn't be a Sunnybrook Road party if any of things hadn't happened.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
What I've accomplished in 12 hours' worth of procrastination
While my Technical Writing essay is still not complete as of this writing, I sure learned a lot of other things today. Here's a sample:
--My IMDB browsing taught me that Jennifer Love Hewitt is huge in South Korea. While her romantic comedy "If Only" went straight-to-DVD here in the States, it set a box office record among South Koreans, who apparently can't get enough of the onetime Jennifer Love Fefferman (remember her guets spot on Boy Meets World?!?)
--The Kent College Dems attracted a crowd of 500 people to its Sherrod Brown event yesterday, including special celeb guests Adam Brody and Luke Perry. Upon seeing Luke Perry's attendance on Wednesday I instantly Facebooked Kali to inform her that it is her duty as politics reporter to make Monday's front page story "Luke Perry is gay" a la "Family Guy." If only it were Adam West running for Ohio Senate and not Sherrod Brown it would have been a near-perfect recreation!
--"The Departed" kicked the Texas Chainsaw killer's ass this weekend at the box office, and rightfully so. That movie was damn good. Any movie with Matt Damon in a starring role is always a must-see on my list (and not just for the obvious reasons — he really is a tremendous actor), and Jack Nicholson hammed it up just enough for me to still appreciate his performance. Best of all, perhaps, was Mark Wahlberg, who puts into place everyone who's on screen with him. Which is saying something given his boffo list of co-stars.
--My Chase account is freezing $200+ of my money, which is both a relief (I thought I really had spent all but $20 of my paycheck yesterday...see what not balancing my checkbook gets me?) and an extreme frustration. I'm gonna neeed money this coming week since events this weekend will prevent me from getting my paycheck on Friday.
--I need a sugar daddy. Joey found a rather nice one who has an in-fucking-credible apartment in Tribeca that overlooks the entire city, Hudson River and New Jersey. His living room is the most tremendous panoramic view I've seen of New York yet, and that's saying something. That's what dating a Wall Street banker will get you, though.
--Joey's creativity never ceases to surprise me. Tonight, in honor of the Flavor of Love recap episode, he made us all individual candy clocks out of Skittles, licorice, Jolly Ranchers and Eclipse gum. They really were so good you could eat them. Joey's bf also kept the martinis pouring, first a Malibu/pineapple mixture (delish), followed by a vodka/melon/cranberry hybrid that was part Cosmo/part autumn-tini. Abby summed it up when she said, "I feel just like Carrie now.":
All in all, a fabulous weekend, but none of the above events or writing this here entry is going to finish my essay. Rats. Back to the homework...
--My IMDB browsing taught me that Jennifer Love Hewitt is huge in South Korea. While her romantic comedy "If Only" went straight-to-DVD here in the States, it set a box office record among South Koreans, who apparently can't get enough of the onetime Jennifer Love Fefferman (remember her guets spot on Boy Meets World?!?)
--The Kent College Dems attracted a crowd of 500 people to its Sherrod Brown event yesterday, including special celeb guests Adam Brody and Luke Perry. Upon seeing Luke Perry's attendance on Wednesday I instantly Facebooked Kali to inform her that it is her duty as politics reporter to make Monday's front page story "Luke Perry is gay" a la "Family Guy." If only it were Adam West running for Ohio Senate and not Sherrod Brown it would have been a near-perfect recreation!
--"The Departed" kicked the Texas Chainsaw killer's ass this weekend at the box office, and rightfully so. That movie was damn good. Any movie with Matt Damon in a starring role is always a must-see on my list (and not just for the obvious reasons — he really is a tremendous actor), and Jack Nicholson hammed it up just enough for me to still appreciate his performance. Best of all, perhaps, was Mark Wahlberg, who puts into place everyone who's on screen with him. Which is saying something given his boffo list of co-stars.
--My Chase account is freezing $200+ of my money, which is both a relief (I thought I really had spent all but $20 of my paycheck yesterday...see what not balancing my checkbook gets me?) and an extreme frustration. I'm gonna neeed money this coming week since events this weekend will prevent me from getting my paycheck on Friday.
--I need a sugar daddy. Joey found a rather nice one who has an in-fucking-credible apartment in Tribeca that overlooks the entire city, Hudson River and New Jersey. His living room is the most tremendous panoramic view I've seen of New York yet, and that's saying something. That's what dating a Wall Street banker will get you, though.
--Joey's creativity never ceases to surprise me. Tonight, in honor of the Flavor of Love recap episode, he made us all individual candy clocks out of Skittles, licorice, Jolly Ranchers and Eclipse gum. They really were so good you could eat them. Joey's bf also kept the martinis pouring, first a Malibu/pineapple mixture (delish), followed by a vodka/melon/cranberry hybrid that was part Cosmo/part autumn-tini. Abby summed it up when she said, "I feel just like Carrie now.":
All in all, a fabulous weekend, but none of the above events or writing this here entry is going to finish my essay. Rats. Back to the homework...
Friday, October 06, 2006
The best things in life are $5
So how do I even begin to sum up the experience that was "The Dave Hill Explosion" at the UCB last night? Normally, I would just say, "two words: Sandra Bernhard." But I wouldn't want to do anything to discredit the awesomeness of Mr. Hill himself.
I could add two more words, "Rufus Wainwright," but he didn't really do anything to contribute to the overall greatness of the show. He was just there, and spotting him in the crowd put a big ol' smile on my face that didn't leave for the rest of the show, particularly because I was laughing so hard.
So let me go back a bit: the Dave Hill Explosion is a monthly improv talk show of sorts put on by one Dave Hill, a Daily Show-meets-Ali G. type with a kitchen cabinet of delicious web shorts on his official site (davehillonline.com) and an impeccable ability to book New York's finest and gayest as his celeb guests.
The theme song alone was worth the unspeakable bargain-priced admission ($5). He started out just speak-singing his name, then an electric guitar kicked in, which then prompted him to pogo across different parts of the stage and jerk his body into weird contortions at random moments.
Then, without warning, a bubble gan goes off, a chiuaua runs out on stage, Dave's shirt magically disappears and the music goes from shrieky electric guitars to "Hips Don't Lie." Genius, I tell you, genius!
To top things off, Little Michael Jackson then comes out to the sounds of "Beat It" and does a whole dance routine while Dave composes himself hilariously in the background. I was wondering if anyone else would find the humor in one of New York's oddest subway attractions, but leave it to Dave Hill to discover who's on N.Y. entertainment's short list (pun intended.)
The rest of the show continued in the opening's random footsteps, particularly throughout the entirety of Sandra Bernhard's appearance. The unflaggable star of stage and screen (which she rarely gets hired for these days -- shame on you, Hollywood!) was the very definition of off-the-cuff. She informed the audience that the zipper of her specially tailored suit would cost $2,200 to fix, made liberal use of the "n" word in reference to Star Jones (defending it by saying she came of age in Arizona...) and did a totally wild interpretive dance when Dave Hill improvised a song about her and her crazy life in showbiz.
The musical guest for the evening was Joan as Police Woman, who I saw two years ago when she opened for Rufus in Cleveland. Dave had a piano set up for her with a mirror facing her ("it was Rufus's idea!" she insisted) but it was too weird for her to go through with it. Joan was significantly less candid than Sandy, but just as fabulous. She's playing a show on Tuesday at Tonic that my new work buddy Dan the copy editor and I might check out...
All in all, last night's show was the epitome of what I love about this city and all its opportunities. I mean, where else do you find yourself -- as I did -- following Rufus Wainwright in a crocodile hat walking unaccompanied down the street for two blocks on the way to your subway stop? Lord knows that shit just doesn't happen in Ohio...
I could add two more words, "Rufus Wainwright," but he didn't really do anything to contribute to the overall greatness of the show. He was just there, and spotting him in the crowd put a big ol' smile on my face that didn't leave for the rest of the show, particularly because I was laughing so hard.
So let me go back a bit: the Dave Hill Explosion is a monthly improv talk show of sorts put on by one Dave Hill, a Daily Show-meets-Ali G. type with a kitchen cabinet of delicious web shorts on his official site (davehillonline.com) and an impeccable ability to book New York's finest and gayest as his celeb guests.
The theme song alone was worth the unspeakable bargain-priced admission ($5). He started out just speak-singing his name, then an electric guitar kicked in, which then prompted him to pogo across different parts of the stage and jerk his body into weird contortions at random moments.
Then, without warning, a bubble gan goes off, a chiuaua runs out on stage, Dave's shirt magically disappears and the music goes from shrieky electric guitars to "Hips Don't Lie." Genius, I tell you, genius!
To top things off, Little Michael Jackson then comes out to the sounds of "Beat It" and does a whole dance routine while Dave composes himself hilariously in the background. I was wondering if anyone else would find the humor in one of New York's oddest subway attractions, but leave it to Dave Hill to discover who's on N.Y. entertainment's short list (pun intended.)
The rest of the show continued in the opening's random footsteps, particularly throughout the entirety of Sandra Bernhard's appearance. The unflaggable star of stage and screen (which she rarely gets hired for these days -- shame on you, Hollywood!) was the very definition of off-the-cuff. She informed the audience that the zipper of her specially tailored suit would cost $2,200 to fix, made liberal use of the "n" word in reference to Star Jones (defending it by saying she came of age in Arizona...) and did a totally wild interpretive dance when Dave Hill improvised a song about her and her crazy life in showbiz.
The musical guest for the evening was Joan as Police Woman, who I saw two years ago when she opened for Rufus in Cleveland. Dave had a piano set up for her with a mirror facing her ("it was Rufus's idea!" she insisted) but it was too weird for her to go through with it. Joan was significantly less candid than Sandy, but just as fabulous. She's playing a show on Tuesday at Tonic that my new work buddy Dan the copy editor and I might check out...
All in all, last night's show was the epitome of what I love about this city and all its opportunities. I mean, where else do you find yourself -- as I did -- following Rufus Wainwright in a crocodile hat walking unaccompanied down the street for two blocks on the way to your subway stop? Lord knows that shit just doesn't happen in Ohio...
Monday, October 02, 2006
Poli-tickle me Homo
Since I'm technically at work right now, I really shouldn't be watching all 50 minutes of last night's Meet The Press debate between Mike DeWine and Sherrod Brown. However, there sure are some interesting things going down politically lately, huh?
This Sen. Foley thing is all kinds of creepy, not to mention sad from a gay perspective. Why do all the gay politicians gotta be corrupt about their sexuality? Don't get me wrong, I appreciated all the Jim McGreevey hoopla for all of its salaciousness, despite the bottom line that his affair with one of his advisers was despicable from both a political standpoint (giving someone you're crushing on job preference for something as pivotal as homeland security is a huuuge conflict of interest) and, of course, marital. Although his wife seemed creepily loyal and undeterred throughout the scandal and fallout.
Still, mad props are due to McGreevey for turning his negatives into a huge positive by being the first opnely gay U.S. governor and in a much happier, committed relationship on the cover of The Advocate. It's just sad to see the path it took for him to get to that point.
Mark Foley could have had the same chance to make a big statement for gay politicians, too...if he wasn't such a creepy, perverted Republican hypocrite. I applaud the press for pointing out the largest irony of his page-seduction scandal: that the touchstones of his political career were all about cracking down on child predators.
However, while Foley's foibles certainly don't do much to help the gay-marriage-as-divisive-issue problem, they could potentially bring light to the fact that homosexuality transcends political parties. The supposedly righteous Republicans gotta be blushing big time that someone on their team just blew their cover over the weekend. Should be interesting to see how this scandal affects voting habits over the next month for the midterm election. Which, interestingly enough, falls on my birthday this year.
I am adamant in my belief that my birthday will not be happy unless Strickland is crowned governor (and wins for Brown and Brunner would be great, too.) Turning 23 in New York will be great and all, but unless my home staters get their shit together, all will not be well in the 92nd St. Y on that day.
This Sen. Foley thing is all kinds of creepy, not to mention sad from a gay perspective. Why do all the gay politicians gotta be corrupt about their sexuality? Don't get me wrong, I appreciated all the Jim McGreevey hoopla for all of its salaciousness, despite the bottom line that his affair with one of his advisers was despicable from both a political standpoint (giving someone you're crushing on job preference for something as pivotal as homeland security is a huuuge conflict of interest) and, of course, marital. Although his wife seemed creepily loyal and undeterred throughout the scandal and fallout.
Still, mad props are due to McGreevey for turning his negatives into a huge positive by being the first opnely gay U.S. governor and in a much happier, committed relationship on the cover of The Advocate. It's just sad to see the path it took for him to get to that point.
Mark Foley could have had the same chance to make a big statement for gay politicians, too...if he wasn't such a creepy, perverted Republican hypocrite. I applaud the press for pointing out the largest irony of his page-seduction scandal: that the touchstones of his political career were all about cracking down on child predators.
However, while Foley's foibles certainly don't do much to help the gay-marriage-as-divisive-issue problem, they could potentially bring light to the fact that homosexuality transcends political parties. The supposedly righteous Republicans gotta be blushing big time that someone on their team just blew their cover over the weekend. Should be interesting to see how this scandal affects voting habits over the next month for the midterm election. Which, interestingly enough, falls on my birthday this year.
I am adamant in my belief that my birthday will not be happy unless Strickland is crowned governor (and wins for Brown and Brunner would be great, too.) Turning 23 in New York will be great and all, but unless my home staters get their shit together, all will not be well in the 92nd St. Y on that day.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Now it can be told
I crammed a month's worth of awesomeness into the last seven days. Here's a very cursory summary of all that transpired over the past three:
Friday: The last day of Advertising Week. I was both relieved and sad to watch it end. The whole thing was a bit of a spectacle, and it sure was nice to not worry about grabbing breakfast or lunch on my own if I was covering anything between the hours of 9 and 2. But my last two events helped me go out with a bang: a three-hour presentation of ad campaigns from high school students around the NYC area (impressive stuff by all, even if some blended into the others) and the Advertising Icons parade. The parade itself was fairly interesting (I mean, it was in Times Square after all), but seeing all the icons backstage at the Hard Rock with their heads off really sealed it for me. How many people can say they've spoken to a headless Chester the Cheetah, the AOL Running Man and the guy who plays Col. Sanders in a 5-minute period? Sooo weird...
My cover story ended up getting pushed back a week because the photo was, in the words of Susie the awesome photo editor, "too much 'Saved by the Bell' and not enough 'Rolling Stone.'" I agreed, even though I was a little bummed to wait an extra week for my cover debut. I was comforted by the fact, however, that I am now the second-ever intern to have a story run on the cover. And the first one has been employed by them ever since, which is certainly a good sign... I got wind of a work-related rumor on my way out, and though it made me very happy, I'm too superstitious to discuss it here.
Finished the night by taking Amy to dinner at Serendipity (only the famous frozen hot chocolate is worth their extravagant prices, and even that's really pushing it at $8.50) and grabbing a nice German beer at a bar by my place called Heidelberg. Made me think of, but not miss, Tiffin. Crashed on Amy's air mattress in her ginormous Brooklyn loft so I could explore Williamsburg with her.
Saturday: Had an incredible burger at Teddy's on Lorimer that filled me up the rest of the day and window-shopped around W-burg with Amy for a few hours. Loved the mix of industry and urban culture and decided I am totally singling that out when I start looking for apartments in the coming weeks (that's right, I'm sticking things out past December.) Had to take a bus and two trains back home because the L was down for the weekend for a "police investigation" and trucked over to the 1,2&3 Cinemas to see "The Queen" with Joey. The longest line I've ever witness for a movie — in Kent terms, it was like waiting all the way back at Giant Eagle to see "Scary Movie 4" or something. Luckily, it was worth the wait, and Helen Mirren was just as fabulous as the critics made her out to be. If not more so. Makes me want to watch footage of the real one now.
The best part of the weekend: rushing out of the movie to Times Square to return to Town Hall for another concert, which came up at the last-minute: SUFJAN STEVENS!!! Morgan Phillips randomly e-mailed me on Friday to say her friend Amy had an extra ticket to see him while she was in NY, which couldn't have been more vague. Who was this Amy person and what night was the show? (He played all weekend.) Nevertheless I arranged for Amy to have the ticket waiting for me at the box office, which I arrived at just in time to make the end of Sufjan's first song. And what a surreal thing to walk into. Sufjan and his 14-piece band (folkestra?) were all decked out in forest ranger-esque uniforms with eagle wings and feather headresses, with bright purple streamers framing a video screen that played footage of Sufjan and the band throughout the set. His songs sounded downright hymnal in a live setting, and Sufjan himself is way dreamier in person. I'll admit I imagined he was singing "To Be Alone With You" to me the whole time. Absolutely fantastic. Amy and I ended up hitting it off, too, and grabbed food and raspberry cocktails at Yaffa Cafe in St. Mark's.
Just when I thought my night was over, my drunk friend Kate calls me to say she's heading to a bar in midtown, specifically rigiht next to my work on 44th and 3rd, so I find myself hopping back on the subway to meet up with lovely self at a bar I didn't even know existed called Overlook. Met her two awesome friends, including one guy who may become the topic of a freelance story. Stay tuned on that one..
Sunday: Slept in till 1 and hung around the room doing laundry and reflecting on the amazing week till finally leaving the dorm to see UCB on a whim. Made the free ticket cutoff by 8 people and saw the best UCB show yet: Amy Poehler was finally there (YESSS!!!), in addition to Seth Myers, Dan Bakkedahl from "The Daily Show" again, this cute blonde dude from "Talladega Nights" and "30 Rock" and Paul Scheer, who stole the show. He's the bald-headed, gap-toothed dude from "Best Week Ever" who always says the most ridiculous things and makes them hysterical. Tonight was no exception.
All in all, a totally surreal week full of crazy occurrences (did I mention I totally interviewed Howie Mandel on Thursday and threw off his OCD?) that confirmed why I wanted to come here in the first place and why I should definitely not leave after Christmas. Hallelujah!
Friday: The last day of Advertising Week. I was both relieved and sad to watch it end. The whole thing was a bit of a spectacle, and it sure was nice to not worry about grabbing breakfast or lunch on my own if I was covering anything between the hours of 9 and 2. But my last two events helped me go out with a bang: a three-hour presentation of ad campaigns from high school students around the NYC area (impressive stuff by all, even if some blended into the others) and the Advertising Icons parade. The parade itself was fairly interesting (I mean, it was in Times Square after all), but seeing all the icons backstage at the Hard Rock with their heads off really sealed it for me. How many people can say they've spoken to a headless Chester the Cheetah, the AOL Running Man and the guy who plays Col. Sanders in a 5-minute period? Sooo weird...
My cover story ended up getting pushed back a week because the photo was, in the words of Susie the awesome photo editor, "too much 'Saved by the Bell' and not enough 'Rolling Stone.'" I agreed, even though I was a little bummed to wait an extra week for my cover debut. I was comforted by the fact, however, that I am now the second-ever intern to have a story run on the cover. And the first one has been employed by them ever since, which is certainly a good sign... I got wind of a work-related rumor on my way out, and though it made me very happy, I'm too superstitious to discuss it here.
Finished the night by taking Amy to dinner at Serendipity (only the famous frozen hot chocolate is worth their extravagant prices, and even that's really pushing it at $8.50) and grabbing a nice German beer at a bar by my place called Heidelberg. Made me think of, but not miss, Tiffin. Crashed on Amy's air mattress in her ginormous Brooklyn loft so I could explore Williamsburg with her.
Saturday: Had an incredible burger at Teddy's on Lorimer that filled me up the rest of the day and window-shopped around W-burg with Amy for a few hours. Loved the mix of industry and urban culture and decided I am totally singling that out when I start looking for apartments in the coming weeks (that's right, I'm sticking things out past December.) Had to take a bus and two trains back home because the L was down for the weekend for a "police investigation" and trucked over to the 1,2&3 Cinemas to see "The Queen" with Joey. The longest line I've ever witness for a movie — in Kent terms, it was like waiting all the way back at Giant Eagle to see "Scary Movie 4" or something. Luckily, it was worth the wait, and Helen Mirren was just as fabulous as the critics made her out to be. If not more so. Makes me want to watch footage of the real one now.
The best part of the weekend: rushing out of the movie to Times Square to return to Town Hall for another concert, which came up at the last-minute: SUFJAN STEVENS!!! Morgan Phillips randomly e-mailed me on Friday to say her friend Amy had an extra ticket to see him while she was in NY, which couldn't have been more vague. Who was this Amy person and what night was the show? (He played all weekend.) Nevertheless I arranged for Amy to have the ticket waiting for me at the box office, which I arrived at just in time to make the end of Sufjan's first song. And what a surreal thing to walk into. Sufjan and his 14-piece band (folkestra?) were all decked out in forest ranger-esque uniforms with eagle wings and feather headresses, with bright purple streamers framing a video screen that played footage of Sufjan and the band throughout the set. His songs sounded downright hymnal in a live setting, and Sufjan himself is way dreamier in person. I'll admit I imagined he was singing "To Be Alone With You" to me the whole time. Absolutely fantastic. Amy and I ended up hitting it off, too, and grabbed food and raspberry cocktails at Yaffa Cafe in St. Mark's.
Just when I thought my night was over, my drunk friend Kate calls me to say she's heading to a bar in midtown, specifically rigiht next to my work on 44th and 3rd, so I find myself hopping back on the subway to meet up with lovely self at a bar I didn't even know existed called Overlook. Met her two awesome friends, including one guy who may become the topic of a freelance story. Stay tuned on that one..
Sunday: Slept in till 1 and hung around the room doing laundry and reflecting on the amazing week till finally leaving the dorm to see UCB on a whim. Made the free ticket cutoff by 8 people and saw the best UCB show yet: Amy Poehler was finally there (YESSS!!!), in addition to Seth Myers, Dan Bakkedahl from "The Daily Show" again, this cute blonde dude from "Talladega Nights" and "30 Rock" and Paul Scheer, who stole the show. He's the bald-headed, gap-toothed dude from "Best Week Ever" who always says the most ridiculous things and makes them hysterical. Tonight was no exception.
All in all, a totally surreal week full of crazy occurrences (did I mention I totally interviewed Howie Mandel on Thursday and threw off his OCD?) that confirmed why I wanted to come here in the first place and why I should definitely not leave after Christmas. Hallelujah!
Thursday, September 28, 2006
T.F.I. Nearly Friday
Lord knows this week has been kind to me, but it's also drained so much energy out of me I'll probably need one big stinkin' nap before I do anything this weekend.
Today was among the more hectic of the last four days, beginning with my late arrival to the panel on the future of print media. With the exception of the sweet-ass short film festival I got to attend on Tuesday (complete with free well drinks afterward) it was my favorite Advertising Week event of the week. I'm going to miss getting paid to go to awesome venues across the city in Tribeca, Chelsea and Times Square and eat free food and listen to really important people talk about less than interesting things.
What I will not miss is the tremendous amount of work-related stress going to all of these has put me through. So far I've covered seven events, with two more to finish things off tomorrow. Add to that two MediaWorks stories and my long-awaited feature for next week's book and I will have written TWELVE articles this week. That's a dozen! And you can't even fry, hardboil or scramble them either for a sandwich later...
My diversity feature impressed the M.E. so much she decided to make it Monday's cover story, which is both very exciting and anti-clmactic. Sure, I'm proud of the reporting I did for the piece and definitely think it presents some new information, but it wasn't my idea, nor did I really shape much of the story itself on my own. It was all kinda strongarmed either by the features editor or my contacts at City Tech. Not a bad thing, necessarily, but I'm reserving my utmost pride for the cover story I write that's based on my own ideas and source gathering.
Having said that, apparently I'm the very second intern to have a story run on the cover. Who was the first? Well, now she edits the Digital section for us, so that would seem to bode well for my chance at employment, right? We'll see...
Luckily, I didn't even have to wait for the weekend to reward myself for my immense productivity this week. Regina Spektor took care of that with the show I just caught at Town Hall tonight. It's a no-brainer: she put on one of the best female shows you're likely to see this year.
There just aren't too many singers — male or female — who can completely capture an audience's attention and interest with nothing but vocals and a piano for 45 minutes straight. Playing a lot of new material, no less. But Regina's songs are all so cleverly humorous (one of the new ones was about keeping a statue of the baby Jesus in her closet and feeding it bread and water), melodically intricate and damn well sung it's impossible to find her anything less than captivating. By the time she brought out the band for the second half, it was on like Donkey Kong. And "Samson" was just as heartbreaking to see live as it is to listen to.
I end this still in one of the most optimisitc moods I've been in all year, let alone since arriving in New York. I could not be more content with my social or professional lives at the moment, and am considerably less worried about my academics even though they remain unresolved. I'm still working on the romantic part, but perhaps I'll have some luck at the "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" sreening with John Cameron Mitchell I'm plannin on attending Saturday night!
Today was among the more hectic of the last four days, beginning with my late arrival to the panel on the future of print media. With the exception of the sweet-ass short film festival I got to attend on Tuesday (complete with free well drinks afterward) it was my favorite Advertising Week event of the week. I'm going to miss getting paid to go to awesome venues across the city in Tribeca, Chelsea and Times Square and eat free food and listen to really important people talk about less than interesting things.
What I will not miss is the tremendous amount of work-related stress going to all of these has put me through. So far I've covered seven events, with two more to finish things off tomorrow. Add to that two MediaWorks stories and my long-awaited feature for next week's book and I will have written TWELVE articles this week. That's a dozen! And you can't even fry, hardboil or scramble them either for a sandwich later...
My diversity feature impressed the M.E. so much she decided to make it Monday's cover story, which is both very exciting and anti-clmactic. Sure, I'm proud of the reporting I did for the piece and definitely think it presents some new information, but it wasn't my idea, nor did I really shape much of the story itself on my own. It was all kinda strongarmed either by the features editor or my contacts at City Tech. Not a bad thing, necessarily, but I'm reserving my utmost pride for the cover story I write that's based on my own ideas and source gathering.
Having said that, apparently I'm the very second intern to have a story run on the cover. Who was the first? Well, now she edits the Digital section for us, so that would seem to bode well for my chance at employment, right? We'll see...
Luckily, I didn't even have to wait for the weekend to reward myself for my immense productivity this week. Regina Spektor took care of that with the show I just caught at Town Hall tonight. It's a no-brainer: she put on one of the best female shows you're likely to see this year.
There just aren't too many singers — male or female — who can completely capture an audience's attention and interest with nothing but vocals and a piano for 45 minutes straight. Playing a lot of new material, no less. But Regina's songs are all so cleverly humorous (one of the new ones was about keeping a statue of the baby Jesus in her closet and feeding it bread and water), melodically intricate and damn well sung it's impossible to find her anything less than captivating. By the time she brought out the band for the second half, it was on like Donkey Kong. And "Samson" was just as heartbreaking to see live as it is to listen to.
I end this still in one of the most optimisitc moods I've been in all year, let alone since arriving in New York. I could not be more content with my social or professional lives at the moment, and am considerably less worried about my academics even though they remain unresolved. I'm still working on the romantic part, but perhaps I'll have some luck at the "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" sreening with John Cameron Mitchell I'm plannin on attending Saturday night!
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Stoned in New Jersey
Well, my things-to-do-before-I-die list just got shorter. Tonight I saw the Rolling Stones. In New Jersey. That's two birds with one stone: see the Rolling Stones and go to New Jersey.
And let me tell you, it was worth it. Set list wise, the show was nothing to write home about. Opened with "It's Only Rock N Roll," played a bunch of obscure/newer stuff for the next hour then closed with a rousing if predictable stream of the biggest hits, ending with "Brown Sugar."
What made it worth the ticket price (which the delightful Amy Mitten comped as an early birthday present for me) is seeing Mick Jagger in person. Much is often made of his vitality at 63, but it's something that has to be seen to truly register. Watching him strut, shake and swagger for a full two hours 1.) wore me out 2.) impressed the hell out of me and 3.) kinda turned me on. If it weren't for his slightly weathered face and his singing voice that has turned into more of a howl than a croon (not that he was ever a Sinatra in his heyday, either) you'd swear he was a 20-something New York rocker. He had the multiple costume changes of clingy shirts and tight black pants to prove it.
Keith Richards, however, is also more ridiculous in person. (And by in person, as seen through binoculars on a Jumbo-Tron from the VERY LAST row in Giants Stadium. As in the very top, the summit, against the wall. Hey, I still enjoyed myself, even when I ducked the occasioinal low-flying plane.) He has so many deep-set wrinkles on his face it's as if someone folded his skin and glued it. You could lose change in those creases! He even sang on two songs, which was just as impressive vocally as it was incoherent lyrically. No one sings "No wuh luhv meee like yuh duh" the way Keith does. Can't wait for your PIrates cameo, by the way, dude!
All in all, it was a totally memorable, surreal experience, and my first time leaving the city (and state) since coming here five weeks ago today. Both hard and crazy to believe it's been that long already.
And tomorrow, the week of insanity continues. Two more Ad Week events (including one at 8:30, but with free breakfast and CEOs from Meredith, Hearst and Conde Nast — sweet!) and an interview with Howie Mandel at Toys R Us (how's that for a check-off on the ol' to-do list?) before another concert, Regina Spektor. I'm expecting that one to be completely opposite of the Stones, but every bit as awesome. And after THAT, Kate Bigam's supposed to be in town, making her the third hag to touch down in the city in one week. Oh, Advertising Week, you have so many more surprises left up your sleeve these next two days, don't you?
And let me tell you, it was worth it. Set list wise, the show was nothing to write home about. Opened with "It's Only Rock N Roll," played a bunch of obscure/newer stuff for the next hour then closed with a rousing if predictable stream of the biggest hits, ending with "Brown Sugar."
What made it worth the ticket price (which the delightful Amy Mitten comped as an early birthday present for me) is seeing Mick Jagger in person. Much is often made of his vitality at 63, but it's something that has to be seen to truly register. Watching him strut, shake and swagger for a full two hours 1.) wore me out 2.) impressed the hell out of me and 3.) kinda turned me on. If it weren't for his slightly weathered face and his singing voice that has turned into more of a howl than a croon (not that he was ever a Sinatra in his heyday, either) you'd swear he was a 20-something New York rocker. He had the multiple costume changes of clingy shirts and tight black pants to prove it.
Keith Richards, however, is also more ridiculous in person. (And by in person, as seen through binoculars on a Jumbo-Tron from the VERY LAST row in Giants Stadium. As in the very top, the summit, against the wall. Hey, I still enjoyed myself, even when I ducked the occasioinal low-flying plane.) He has so many deep-set wrinkles on his face it's as if someone folded his skin and glued it. You could lose change in those creases! He even sang on two songs, which was just as impressive vocally as it was incoherent lyrically. No one sings "No wuh luhv meee like yuh duh" the way Keith does. Can't wait for your PIrates cameo, by the way, dude!
All in all, it was a totally memorable, surreal experience, and my first time leaving the city (and state) since coming here five weeks ago today. Both hard and crazy to believe it's been that long already.
And tomorrow, the week of insanity continues. Two more Ad Week events (including one at 8:30, but with free breakfast and CEOs from Meredith, Hearst and Conde Nast — sweet!) and an interview with Howie Mandel at Toys R Us (how's that for a check-off on the ol' to-do list?) before another concert, Regina Spektor. I'm expecting that one to be completely opposite of the Stones, but every bit as awesome. And after THAT, Kate Bigam's supposed to be in town, making her the third hag to touch down in the city in one week. Oh, Advertising Week, you have so many more surprises left up your sleeve these next two days, don't you?
Monday, September 25, 2006
The "Yeah!" (almost) heard 'round the world
This weekend, many of my mini-New York dreams came true. A Friday stroll into the beautiful depths of Central Park (20 tiring blocks worth, in fact), a discovery of a truly rare CD in St. Mark's Place (Cat Power radio sessions circa 2000, complete with emotional breakdown within the first minute) and a Sunday visit to Serendipity (which was just how I pictured it would be from the movie appearance-wise, even though we didn't honor our reservation.)
But the best yet was being in the studio audience for "The Daily Show" today with Kelly and Logan (Joey missed making it by literally one minute — stupid ticket lady!) I've been watching that show for what I can't believe has been a decade now. Since the days of Craig Kilborn, the Beth Littleford interviews and correspondents like Brian Unger. Ah, those were the days...
The studio was much smaller than I pictured it, and even its current state is apparently impressive compared to years past. The 200-something capacity place has apparently doubled in size in the last year. Yikes! But small venue means intimate relationship with the performers — excuse me, journalists, who included Samantha Bee (my current fave correspondent), Dan Bakkedahl (who I also saw at UCB two weeks ago) and of course Jon Stewart, one of the foxiest men in news today, fake or otherwise.
As far as talk show experiences go, I can't imagine a more welcoming one. Dave Letterman, for example, never addresses his audience before, during or after the show, and I definitely can't see the ladies of "The View" taking time before their show to chat up their audience.
Jon Stewart, however, does a Q&A with the crowd before taping, which naturally turns into standup. A woman stood up and introduced herself as Elizabeth Swallow, which of course got a huge laugh. "I thought you could do something with it," she said to Jon. "I'm not even going there..." he said, waving his hands.
Another dude in the front row asked why JOn — a notorious germophobe — doesn't allow hugs from fans but welcomes handshakes.
"See, you think it's for my protection, but it's actually for yours," he said with perfect timing.
It was so crazy to see him in action. Even between takes or while footage was playing, he seemed both intently focused and ready to make an insanely witty comment at a moment's notice. He and Stephen Colbert even did some off-camera banter via satellite in between commercials that involved a ram's horn (he reprised it for tonight's show, in case you saw it.)
But if you saw "The Daily Show," you probably did not hear my contribution. After the first commerical break, Jon introduced Dan Bakkedahl's piece by saying, "And now for something completely different, a story about boys..." Anyone who's attended a show with me could tell you what the sound I made was called: the concert "Yeah!" It's deep, guttural and not unlike a frat boy at a football game. It was perfectly timed and, I thought, pretty darn loud.
But whether it was drowned out by the studio during taping or during our collective excitement as we watched the edited broadcast at 11, my "Yeah" was nowhere to be heard. But just knowing that I did it is satisfying enough. Besides, as Samantha Bee pointed out during her "live broadcast" from the Fox News headquarters, "I heard it with my eyes."
But the best yet was being in the studio audience for "The Daily Show" today with Kelly and Logan (Joey missed making it by literally one minute — stupid ticket lady!) I've been watching that show for what I can't believe has been a decade now. Since the days of Craig Kilborn, the Beth Littleford interviews and correspondents like Brian Unger. Ah, those were the days...
The studio was much smaller than I pictured it, and even its current state is apparently impressive compared to years past. The 200-something capacity place has apparently doubled in size in the last year. Yikes! But small venue means intimate relationship with the performers — excuse me, journalists, who included Samantha Bee (my current fave correspondent), Dan Bakkedahl (who I also saw at UCB two weeks ago) and of course Jon Stewart, one of the foxiest men in news today, fake or otherwise.
As far as talk show experiences go, I can't imagine a more welcoming one. Dave Letterman, for example, never addresses his audience before, during or after the show, and I definitely can't see the ladies of "The View" taking time before their show to chat up their audience.
Jon Stewart, however, does a Q&A with the crowd before taping, which naturally turns into standup. A woman stood up and introduced herself as Elizabeth Swallow, which of course got a huge laugh. "I thought you could do something with it," she said to Jon. "I'm not even going there..." he said, waving his hands.
Another dude in the front row asked why JOn — a notorious germophobe — doesn't allow hugs from fans but welcomes handshakes.
"See, you think it's for my protection, but it's actually for yours," he said with perfect timing.
It was so crazy to see him in action. Even between takes or while footage was playing, he seemed both intently focused and ready to make an insanely witty comment at a moment's notice. He and Stephen Colbert even did some off-camera banter via satellite in between commercials that involved a ram's horn (he reprised it for tonight's show, in case you saw it.)
But if you saw "The Daily Show," you probably did not hear my contribution. After the first commerical break, Jon introduced Dan Bakkedahl's piece by saying, "And now for something completely different, a story about boys..." Anyone who's attended a show with me could tell you what the sound I made was called: the concert "Yeah!" It's deep, guttural and not unlike a frat boy at a football game. It was perfectly timed and, I thought, pretty darn loud.
But whether it was drowned out by the studio during taping or during our collective excitement as we watched the edited broadcast at 11, my "Yeah" was nowhere to be heard. But just knowing that I did it is satisfying enough. Besides, as Samantha Bee pointed out during her "live broadcast" from the Fox News headquarters, "I heard it with my eyes."
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Yikes!
First of all, much love to everyone who's been reading and commenting on the blog this week. I finally have an audience!
Secondly, I've barely been able to keep up with updates because I've finally gotten big assignments to work on at AdAge. I'm currently waiting on sources to call me back for this big piece for the book on racism in the advertising industry (heady stuff, I know) and couldn't be more excited to actually be working on a story that invovles more than congratulating an ad exec on his new promotion or the unveiling of the new Elmo (although that was admittedly pretty funny.)
But things will get even crazier this weekend when Dana, Kelly and Logan all come to the city at once for a big NYC free-for-all I've dubbed Hagfest 2006. There are talks of museum visits, party hopping, karaoke and Amy Poehler all in store for the next three days, with a big finish at "The Daily Show" on Monday night.
Even crazier, however, is Advertising Week, which kicks off Monday and will be held at a variety of swanky locations across the city (Rainbow Room, Tribeca Cinemas, Museum of Television & Radio, etc.) I've always wanted to go to and now have a reason. But the event I'm most excited about covering above all is the Crativity No Spot Short Film Festival at the Chelsea Clearview. I have purposefully linked to the festival at the list of directors because there are at least two who are pretty damn sweet.
Add to the excitment and rush of Ad Week the Stones and Spektor concerts and it's pretty much going to be my most fabulous week in the city yet. Best of all, my eds want me to write a column for the book at the end of Ad Week from a consumer's point of view, summarizing whether or not the week was effective to anyone outside the industry. Coming from someone who just learned what it meant for an account to be placed into review two short weeks ago, I'd say they definitely picked the right person for the job.
Finally, I will end today's post with a link to a video that has provided me endless mirth and merriment this past week. Strangers With Candy fans, take note!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=BCMStcns-Qs
Secondly, I've barely been able to keep up with updates because I've finally gotten big assignments to work on at AdAge. I'm currently waiting on sources to call me back for this big piece for the book on racism in the advertising industry (heady stuff, I know) and couldn't be more excited to actually be working on a story that invovles more than congratulating an ad exec on his new promotion or the unveiling of the new Elmo (although that was admittedly pretty funny.)
But things will get even crazier this weekend when Dana, Kelly and Logan all come to the city at once for a big NYC free-for-all I've dubbed Hagfest 2006. There are talks of museum visits, party hopping, karaoke and Amy Poehler all in store for the next three days, with a big finish at "The Daily Show" on Monday night.
Even crazier, however, is Advertising Week, which kicks off Monday and will be held at a variety of swanky locations across the city (Rainbow Room, Tribeca Cinemas, Museum of Television & Radio, etc.) I've always wanted to go to and now have a reason. But the event I'm most excited about covering above all is the Crativity No Spot Short Film Festival at the Chelsea Clearview. I have purposefully linked to the festival at the list of directors because there are at least two who are pretty damn sweet.
Add to the excitment and rush of Ad Week the Stones and Spektor concerts and it's pretty much going to be my most fabulous week in the city yet. Best of all, my eds want me to write a column for the book at the end of Ad Week from a consumer's point of view, summarizing whether or not the week was effective to anyone outside the industry. Coming from someone who just learned what it meant for an account to be placed into review two short weeks ago, I'd say they definitely picked the right person for the job.
Finally, I will end today's post with a link to a video that has provided me endless mirth and merriment this past week. Strangers With Candy fans, take note!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=BCMStcns-Qs
Monday, September 18, 2006
I love tickets!
Especially when they're free. NBC just called to tell me I won two free tickets to see a dress rehearsal of SNL on Nov. 11, which is four days after my birthday. So Happy Early Birthday to me!
In fact, I've gotten a series of other birthday-related tickets lately. I realized early this month that all I'm really going to want at my age and in my financial and geographical situation is to see a couple concerts for my 23rd. So my mom went ahead and gave me free reign of $100 (an amount of money I sadly have not been able to spend all at once for weeks now) to use on concert tix of my liking.
So I put it toward the Regina Spektor show next week at Town Hall and the Goldfrapp show at Roseland next month, which is her only US date on the entire fall tour. After all the stupid convenience and shipping charges, I was only left with $20 or so, which I spent on the new Amy Millan (from Stars and Broken Social Scene) CD and haven't stopped listening to it since. The first five tracks are all insta-classics, particularly "Losin' You." She's playing two shows at Joe's Pub next month, so assuming I can hold onto $13 by then I can probably just show up and catch her there.
But that's not all the free tickets I have lined up. Kelly and Logan arrive this weekend for what is sure to be my most exciting three days in the city yet, and with them come free tix to "The Daily Show" next Monday. I can't imagine a cooler show for me to lose my studio audience virginity. I have no idea who the guest is, although apparently if we were there tonight it's Bill Clinton. But there's a dude in my building who interns there (we call him "Daily Show Dave") so he can give me the scoop.
Also, perhaps most exciting of all in the realm of free tickets, I'm seeing the Rollign Stones and Kanye next week!!! One of the many joys of a friendship with the fantastic Amy Mitten is the reckless abandon with which she spends her inheritance on cab fare, nice dinners and her friends. If any other friend had asked me if I wanted to see the Stones with them, it would have required months of planning and saving just to be able to afford the concert and make it there on time. With Amy, it was "Do you want to go?" and "We can totally get a car service to take us to Jersey." Granted, the seats are nosebleed, but it's Giants Stadium, where they're certain to have at least five Jumbo-trons, and it's the mothafuckin' Rolling Stones. They're perhaps the only classic rock band that is both still together and has all its importnat founding members still alive and kicking, a claim Pink Floyd, The Beatles The Who and Led Zeppelin cannot make.
But the free ticket that is the most significant to me in terms of fulfillment of a lifelong dream is the one I have reserved on Oct. 20. That is the day I will be sitting in the studio audience for a taping and after-show audition for "Who Wants to be a Millionaire," still hosted by the untouchable Meredith Veiera. Ever since my days of faking sick in kinergarten so I could go home early to watch "Price Is Right," "Name That Tune" and "Press Your Luck," I have always, always, ALWAYS wanted to be a contestant on a game show. And now that I'm piss poor, to win even $1,000 would be amazing, let alone on national television with my absolute favorite daytime talk show hostess.
New York City may be killing my wallet, but just like in life, the best things are free!
In fact, I've gotten a series of other birthday-related tickets lately. I realized early this month that all I'm really going to want at my age and in my financial and geographical situation is to see a couple concerts for my 23rd. So my mom went ahead and gave me free reign of $100 (an amount of money I sadly have not been able to spend all at once for weeks now) to use on concert tix of my liking.
So I put it toward the Regina Spektor show next week at Town Hall and the Goldfrapp show at Roseland next month, which is her only US date on the entire fall tour. After all the stupid convenience and shipping charges, I was only left with $20 or so, which I spent on the new Amy Millan (from Stars and Broken Social Scene) CD and haven't stopped listening to it since. The first five tracks are all insta-classics, particularly "Losin' You." She's playing two shows at Joe's Pub next month, so assuming I can hold onto $13 by then I can probably just show up and catch her there.
But that's not all the free tickets I have lined up. Kelly and Logan arrive this weekend for what is sure to be my most exciting three days in the city yet, and with them come free tix to "The Daily Show" next Monday. I can't imagine a cooler show for me to lose my studio audience virginity. I have no idea who the guest is, although apparently if we were there tonight it's Bill Clinton. But there's a dude in my building who interns there (we call him "Daily Show Dave") so he can give me the scoop.
Also, perhaps most exciting of all in the realm of free tickets, I'm seeing the Rollign Stones and Kanye next week!!! One of the many joys of a friendship with the fantastic Amy Mitten is the reckless abandon with which she spends her inheritance on cab fare, nice dinners and her friends. If any other friend had asked me if I wanted to see the Stones with them, it would have required months of planning and saving just to be able to afford the concert and make it there on time. With Amy, it was "Do you want to go?" and "We can totally get a car service to take us to Jersey." Granted, the seats are nosebleed, but it's Giants Stadium, where they're certain to have at least five Jumbo-trons, and it's the mothafuckin' Rolling Stones. They're perhaps the only classic rock band that is both still together and has all its importnat founding members still alive and kicking, a claim Pink Floyd, The Beatles The Who and Led Zeppelin cannot make.
But the free ticket that is the most significant to me in terms of fulfillment of a lifelong dream is the one I have reserved on Oct. 20. That is the day I will be sitting in the studio audience for a taping and after-show audition for "Who Wants to be a Millionaire," still hosted by the untouchable Meredith Veiera. Ever since my days of faking sick in kinergarten so I could go home early to watch "Price Is Right," "Name That Tune" and "Press Your Luck," I have always, always, ALWAYS wanted to be a contestant on a game show. And now that I'm piss poor, to win even $1,000 would be amazing, let alone on national television with my absolute favorite daytime talk show hostess.
New York City may be killing my wallet, but just like in life, the best things are free!
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
New career
Screw the part-time job hunt. This is my new calling. Consider it mine:
Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey®
Conducts Nationwide Search for Next Ringmaster
Selected Candidate to Tour America as
36th Ringmaster of The Greatest Show On Earth®
WHO: "Who?" is the big question as Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey conducts a nationwide search for a worthy candidate to don the Ringmaster top hat and join an elite group of only 36 individuals in the 137-year history of The Greatest Show On Earth to hold the Ringmaster title.
The ideal candidate will be that special individual with a commanding presence and a pop-star voice who is able to spark the imaginations and stir the passions of families across America. He will be a dynamic, charismatic and spontaneous comedic actor who is prepared to perform in more than 40 cities across the United States, introducing a myriad of entertaining acts, including death-defying Chinese acrobats, a tiger trainer with nerves of steel, comic dare-devil Bello Nock - named by TIME magazine as America's Best Clown - and the audience's favorite stars, the enchanting elephants.
WHAT: Feld Entertainment producers Kenneth Feld and Nicole Feld, Vice President of Talent and Production Tim Holst, and director of the 137th Edition Gabe Barre will hold auditions in New York City, searching for the perfect Ringmaster to say the immortal words, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, Children Of All Ages, Welcome to The Greatest Show On Earth!"
WHEN: Auditions will be open to males 18 years or older and at least 5' 10" tall. Auditions will be open to media and will be held on:
September 18, 2006 in New York City
10:00 AM - Press
10:30 AM - Auditions to Begin
WHERE: New York City
Ripley Grier Studio (Between 36th and 37th Street)
Studio 16T
520 8th Ave
Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey®
Conducts Nationwide Search for Next Ringmaster
Selected Candidate to Tour America as
36th Ringmaster of The Greatest Show On Earth®
WHO: "Who?" is the big question as Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey conducts a nationwide search for a worthy candidate to don the Ringmaster top hat and join an elite group of only 36 individuals in the 137-year history of The Greatest Show On Earth to hold the Ringmaster title.
The ideal candidate will be that special individual with a commanding presence and a pop-star voice who is able to spark the imaginations and stir the passions of families across America. He will be a dynamic, charismatic and spontaneous comedic actor who is prepared to perform in more than 40 cities across the United States, introducing a myriad of entertaining acts, including death-defying Chinese acrobats, a tiger trainer with nerves of steel, comic dare-devil Bello Nock - named by TIME magazine as America's Best Clown - and the audience's favorite stars, the enchanting elephants.
WHAT: Feld Entertainment producers Kenneth Feld and Nicole Feld, Vice President of Talent and Production Tim Holst, and director of the 137th Edition Gabe Barre will hold auditions in New York City, searching for the perfect Ringmaster to say the immortal words, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, Children Of All Ages, Welcome to The Greatest Show On Earth!"
WHEN: Auditions will be open to males 18 years or older and at least 5' 10" tall. Auditions will be open to media and will be held on:
September 18, 2006 in New York City
10:00 AM - Press
10:30 AM - Auditions to Begin
WHERE: New York City
Ripley Grier Studio (Between 36th and 37th Street)
Studio 16T
520 8th Ave
The many faces of Fergie Ferg
As a shameless fan of Kids Incorporated reruns on the Disney Channel during my younger days, I felt a certain sense of pride and ownership when Stacy Ferguson got a grown-up gig as the lead singer of Wild Orchid in the mid-90s (almost no one rememebrs them, but I'm not ashamed to say I still have two of their CD singles from all the way back in 1997).
That said, I couldn't have been more shocked when Stacy reappeared four years after Wild Orchid's demise as the newest Black Eyed Pea, all thugged out and looking incredibly Latina, neither of which were traits she possessed during her ultra-white bread days on Kids, Inc.
As if to remind me of how far she's come, someone went to the trouble of assembling a highlight reel of Stacy "Fergie" Ferguson's best Kids Inc. clips to tune of "My Humps."
http://youtube.com/watch?v=LIMhhrygGXQ
It doesn't always work editing-wise, but it sure is fun to see all those dance routines, uber-80s outfits and fake smoke again. Noticeably absent, however, is footage from the episode where she sang "You Can't Judge a Book By Its Cover" and danced with a frog. A gross oversight by the editor's part if ever there was one...
At any rate, I'm hoping a post like this finally gets me some comments on this mofo. Check out the video and let me know what you think! And if you were a Kids Inc. geek like me, too, and remember the days when Jennifer Love Hewitt was credited as Love Hewitt but strangely called "Robin" on the show, holla back!
That said, I couldn't have been more shocked when Stacy reappeared four years after Wild Orchid's demise as the newest Black Eyed Pea, all thugged out and looking incredibly Latina, neither of which were traits she possessed during her ultra-white bread days on Kids, Inc.
As if to remind me of how far she's come, someone went to the trouble of assembling a highlight reel of Stacy "Fergie" Ferguson's best Kids Inc. clips to tune of "My Humps."
http://youtube.com/watch?v=LIMhhrygGXQ
It doesn't always work editing-wise, but it sure is fun to see all those dance routines, uber-80s outfits and fake smoke again. Noticeably absent, however, is footage from the episode where she sang "You Can't Judge a Book By Its Cover" and danced with a frog. A gross oversight by the editor's part if ever there was one...
At any rate, I'm hoping a post like this finally gets me some comments on this mofo. Check out the video and let me know what you think! And if you were a Kids Inc. geek like me, too, and remember the days when Jennifer Love Hewitt was credited as Love Hewitt but strangely called "Robin" on the show, holla back!
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
The stars at night, are big and bright [clap clap clap clap] deep in the heart of Times Square
Today's "Dancing with the Stars" insane-a-thon was even more hysterical than it sounds on paper.
First of all, they weren't kidding when they said they'd have stars all across the city. I encountered them three times before I had even met up with the account manager at the Richard Rogers Theatre at noon. The stars were prepared to dance to pretty much anything -- cha cha, swing, even fiddle. As one of the street teamers scaremed out, "Dancing with the Stars, tonight at 8 on ABC! Be there or be square-danced!" I made sure to put it in my article today, too, for which I also made my photography debut due to web deadlines.
http://adage.com/mediaworks/article?article_id=111815
And, since this assignment was rife with puns, I could say I was shooting stars all morning.
What was even more awesome than the sight of stars dancing on top of a theatre, Hard Rock, double decker bus and with a fiddle player in a subway was being on the set of "Good Morning America." Right behind Diane Sawyer, who was impeccably blond and gorgeous in person despite her unfortunate leopard-print skirt.
It's so weird to watch newspeople off-camera (as the voyeuristic window of the GMA studio allows you to do), though. They were airing a totally bizarre cooking segment with Justin Timberlake where he baked a blueberry crunch cake with his grandma, but intercut the footage with clips from the "SexyBack" video. So one moment it was, "OK Grandma, let's put the cake in the oven," cut to: "Go 'head be gone with it." I half-expected him to say at one point, "Uh oh grandma, I think you have something on your blouse." [camera cuts away a la Janet Jackson at Super Bowl.]
So while they're showing all the Timber-cake footage, the anchors are distributing samples of their very own Grandma dessert, complete with Sawyer flittering around good-naturedly to make sure each member of the studio audience was pleased with their dessert. As fabulous Claire said, "She looks beautiful, but there's still something a bit treacly about her."
All in all, it was one zany morning, and one I should only hope to top as the season progresses. With today's job interview still ahead of me, I can at least hope for one more good story to come out of the day.
First of all, they weren't kidding when they said they'd have stars all across the city. I encountered them three times before I had even met up with the account manager at the Richard Rogers Theatre at noon. The stars were prepared to dance to pretty much anything -- cha cha, swing, even fiddle. As one of the street teamers scaremed out, "Dancing with the Stars, tonight at 8 on ABC! Be there or be square-danced!" I made sure to put it in my article today, too, for which I also made my photography debut due to web deadlines.
http://adage.com/mediaworks/article?article_id=111815
And, since this assignment was rife with puns, I could say I was shooting stars all morning.
What was even more awesome than the sight of stars dancing on top of a theatre, Hard Rock, double decker bus and with a fiddle player in a subway was being on the set of "Good Morning America." Right behind Diane Sawyer, who was impeccably blond and gorgeous in person despite her unfortunate leopard-print skirt.
It's so weird to watch newspeople off-camera (as the voyeuristic window of the GMA studio allows you to do), though. They were airing a totally bizarre cooking segment with Justin Timberlake where he baked a blueberry crunch cake with his grandma, but intercut the footage with clips from the "SexyBack" video. So one moment it was, "OK Grandma, let's put the cake in the oven," cut to: "Go 'head be gone with it." I half-expected him to say at one point, "Uh oh grandma, I think you have something on your blouse." [camera cuts away a la Janet Jackson at Super Bowl.]
So while they're showing all the Timber-cake footage, the anchors are distributing samples of their very own Grandma dessert, complete with Sawyer flittering around good-naturedly to make sure each member of the studio audience was pleased with their dessert. As fabulous Claire said, "She looks beautiful, but there's still something a bit treacly about her."
All in all, it was one zany morning, and one I should only hope to top as the season progresses. With today's job interview still ahead of me, I can at least hope for one more good story to come out of the day.
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