The Jury's Still Out...

on how I feel about The White Tie Affair.

The brief few months I spent in North Carolina were lonely, lonely months. I spent most of them in my room. Alone. With nothing to do and no one to talk to.

So I watched eons of movies and television shows.

...Unfortunately one of them was "The Hills."

I'll admit it. I've been watching "The Hills" since it began. For some reason...I can't stop watching it. Sure, it isn't as juicy as it used to be. Sure, it's predictable. Sure, sure, sure.

But it's a mess...and I can't look away. (I did watch the first two episodes of 'The City' tonight and I must admit...I like it.)

This past season the show had various 'celebrities' on it...from Lady Gaga to the White Tie Affair...an "up and coming band" from California.

On the show, I absolutely loved their music. It was catchy, it was fun.

And I couldn't find it online anywhere.

So over the weekend, imagine my surprise when I found their CD "Walk This Way" at Target in the 'Red Zone' area for new artists.

Needless to say, I snatched it up, thinking I was going to absolutely love it.

What I feel, after listening to the entire CD and watching their two music videos for "Allow Me to Introduce Myself...Mr. Right" and "Candle (Sick and Tired)"...I don't know. I don't really feel the love. But I'm not totally hating it either.

The two singles off the record are great. I'll admit it. The rest of the CD clashes in a way that just confuses me. There are so many ideas and sounds that the band's trying to pursue that it just gets messy. They go from being totally original to being a knock off love child of The Killers and Maroon 5. I just can't get into it for some reason.

And then I made the mistake of watching those two videos on YouTube. "Allow Me to Introduce Myself" seriously is just a massive orgy where the guys could get chicks to make out on camera and act like they're hot stuff. Totally lame...

Not to mention, the singer's face kind of terrifies me. It doesn't move. It's stoic.

"Candle" is supposed to be a loosely based sequel to "Allow Me to Introduce Myself" and it's just pointless.

I watched them, listened to the music again and instead of being totally pumped up about it, was a bit let down.

The jury's out on how I feel about the White Tie Affair. Like I said, I don't hate them...but I certainly think I could live without the entire CD.

Fin.

Mashup Madness

So I'll admit it. I peruse the Internet on a daily basis to find interesting music. My recent obsession has been mashups of popular songs. Some of the ones on YouTube are absolutely wretched. I don't really think it's too creative to take one song and put it to the beat of another. That's not 'mashing' anything up. The only thing it does is create an audio train wreck that's painful as hell to listen to.

A great mashup combines great songs in a flawless manner. A great mashup sounds like it could actually be on the radio. A great mashup features songs that tempo-wise go great together. A great mashup can make you fall in love with a bunch of songs all over again. Even better...a great mashup can make a terrible song sound good (ex. Leona Lewis' "Bleeding Love"...I absolutely abhor that stupid song...I'm convinced it's about having a period. Blech). It's all in the mastermind of the creator. I love it. Love it.

Now my intention was to post a mashup mix of the best stuff I've found online (thus far) but since my brother thought it was more important to update his TomTom on the home computer in the home he no longer lives in and since that will take like two friggen hours...I've decided to give you links to some of the best stuff I've found online. Best of all...they're all available for download!

Without further ado...the best 5 mashups that I've found online.

Note: They all feature the Legendary Miss Britney Spears...you can't tell me you're surprised

5. Circus! Numb! Encore!
Britney Spears ("Circus") vs. Linkin Park ("Numb") vs. Jay-Z ("Encore")

Download HERE.
This may not really be considered a true 'mashup' which is why it comes in at number five. I mean...it does mix songs...but it takes about half the song for it to actually happen.

4. Kiss Britney's Boyfriend
Britney Spears ("Piece of Me") vs. Chris Brown ft. T-Pain ("Kiss Kiss") vs. Flo Rida ft. T-Pain ("Low") vs. Ashlee Simpson ("Boyfriend")

Download HERE.

3. No More Gas
Ne-Yo ("Closer") vs. Estelle ft. Kanye West ("American Boy"), Rihanna ("Disturbia"), Madonna ft. Justin Timberlake & Timbaland ("4 Minutes"), Britney Spears ("Gimme More"), Lupe Fiasco & Matthew Santos ("Superstar"), Kardinal Offishal & Akon ("Dangerous"), Pussycat Dolls ("When I Grow Up"), Danity Kane ("Damaged"), Leona Lewis ("Bleeding Love"), Flo Rida ft. T-Pain ("Low")

Download HERE.
This was a severe tie between DJ Earworm's "No More Gas" and "United States of Pop." The dealbreaker was the terrible section of "Girlfriend" in "USoP." It just didn't fit...and because of that..."No More Gas" won hands down.

2. Faint Toxic
Britney Spears ("Toxic") vs. Linkin Park ("Faint")

Download HERE.
This is genius. The video above was made by my BFFF Honkus -- of course, it's awesome. Plus...it's amazing how well these two songs just seem to mesh. It could really be considered a real mix. It's fucking fantastic!

...But not nearly as good as...

1. Break the Teen Spirit
Britney Spears ("Break the Ice") vs. Madonna ft. Justin Timberlake and Timbaland ("4 Minutes") vs. Nirvana ("Smells Like Teen Spirit")

Download HERE.
I love how two totally different styles -- grunge and pop -- can combine so incredibly well. It's almost scary. I can't get it out of my head...and I just can't quit listening to it.

Fin.

We'll Be Back Right After These Messages From Our Sponsor...

No blogs over the next few days. I'm on my way to Pittsburgh to reassemble the tripod of the Ladies of 1615.

More ridiculousness to come over the holiday.

Thanks. :)

This Year's Ultimate Top Fives of 2008

It's getting to be that time of the year...as December 31st approaches...I sit back and evaluate the year in pop culture. Usually it's in my head. But this year I've written it down.

So here you go...my ultimate list of top fives from the year. Top movies. Top albums. Top whatever I feel like topping.

Enjoy. :)

Top Five Movies of 2008
5. Zack and Miri Make a Porno

I haven't always been the biggest Kevin Smith fan...but this movie was amazing. Raunchy, funny, but totally sweet all at once. I heart Seth Rogan and Elizabeth Banks is totally awesome. Plus...it's a Pittsburgh movie and since I heart Pittsburgh, it's on my list.

4. Pineapple Express

Seriously...everything that Seth Rogan's acted in lately has been pretty great. Knocked Up. Superbad. Zack and Miri. 'Pineapple Express' just took the stoner comedy and spun it on its head. Plus, it had James Franco in a role I never thought I'd see him in. I have to say that it had some pretty epic lines about unicorns and Jesus too.

3. Penelope

This movie on paper looks like it could be one of the stupidest things I've ever watched. A pig girl. Fairy tales? What the hell. But in all seriousness...Penelope was different in all the right ways. Christina Ricci is incredible as always and James McAvoy (oh James McAvoy) played a dirty pretty boy perfectly. I loved that I couldn't tell where it was located (London? Half the people in it had American accents...where...where were they?!). I loved Penelope's bedroom. I just loved this movie.

2. Wanted

Oh James McAvoy. Some part of me loves it when they take graphic novels and transpose them to the screen. Wanted was amazing because it was about this group of assassins that everyone wanted to join after watching. Plus, its dialogue was witty and reminded me a hell of a lot of that in "Fight Club" (one of my top movies/books of all time). I typically hate Angelina Jolie...but I have to admit that even she was pretty great in this. Plus, James McAvoy with guns? Ah...

1. Forgetting Sarah Marshall

When I first went and saw this movie, I thought it was pretty awesome. Sure, it was a romantic comedy...but Jason Segel who wrote it and starred in it managed to shake up the genre. Vampire musicals. Nudity. Making fun of 'CSI.' Russell Brand. It was just one of those movies that stuck out and I totally love it.

Honorable Mentions
Cloverfield, Teeth, The Bank Job, The X-Files: I Want to Believe, The Dark Knight, The Strangers, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Top Five Television Shows of 2008
5. Nip/Tuck

After the train wreck that this show called Season 4 (that's what happens when you lose Ryan Murphy...thank God he came back), I was so super wary of Season 5 of Nip/Tuck. The change of scenery (Miami to LA) brought in a whole new set of characters and story lines. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Once again, I found myself amused, disgusted, and totally skeeved out...something Nip/Tuck hadn't done since season three of the show with the Carver. Season five finishes out this January...before the cast goes in to film the final season of the show. While I'm sad to know it'll be over, I'm happy that FX knows not to continue it with Ryan Murphy (who's signed on to finish his baby off).

4. How I Met Your Mother

I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I started watching this show before Britney did a cameo on it...but I will tell you that I kept watching it and went out and bought every season of it on DVD not because of Britney, but because of its brilliance. HIMYM is a show that I probably wouldn't have appreciated anyway until I'd turned 20. It's so relatable and humorous...plus the cast is fantastic.

3. CSI

CSI has been one of my favorite shows for years. When I was in high school, I wanted so badly to go into forensics...and I almost transferred schools in college to do just that. But since I decided I'm not so smart at science, I can live my fantasy out on this show. I know everyone's scared about Grissom leaving...but I have total faith in the writers that the show will stay true to what it started as. It's dark. It's dreary. I love it.

2. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

I cannot quit singing praises for this show...and it's all Mari's fault. It's just too damn funny...and socially unacceptable all at once. I have a pretty horribly bad sense of humor and this just fits it somehow. Thanks Mari for getting me hooked...and making my bank account a little lighter by buying it on DVD. :)

1. Dexter

I read Jeff Lindsay's 'Darkly Dreaming Dexter' before I watched the TV hit. Usually whenever they do something like this -- adapt a book into a show or movie -- I always have problems with the main characters. They're never portrayed right. The scenery is never how I pictured it. I don't think they get the mindset of the literary piece ever just right. Dexter does none of those things. Michael C. Hall IS Dexter and when I read Lindsay's last Dexter novel, it was so simple to just picture Hall as America's favorite serial killer. I love that this show had an alrite second season, but was able to pull out an excellent third season. It shows me that the writer's can see what they do and if it doesn't end up working, spin it on its head and fix it. Awesome.

Honorable Mentions
Fringe, House, Two and a Half Men, The Hills, Desperate Housewives, Gossip Girl, Ugly Betty

Top Five Albums of 2008
5. The Academy Is... : "Fast Times at Barrington High"

After TAI's "Santi" I was wary. "Santi" was an okay album, but after "Almost Here" being so epic for me...it just didn't add up. The guys redeemed themselves with this album...which is back to where the guys were both musically and lyrically.

4. Various Artists : "Twilight" Soundtrack

Billboard's numbers don't lie. The soundtrack is that good.

3. Lady Gaga : "The Fame"

The dancer in me just absolutely loves this album. It's so dance driven with awesome beats. Lady Gaga's voice is pretty great too. Sure, she has a weird ass name, but I like it anyway.

2. Ryan Adams and the Cardinals : "Cardinology"

It's Ryan Adams. At his best. Enough said.

1. Britney Spears : "Circus"

Honestly. Is anyone surprised by my choice? Didn't think so.

Honorable Mentions
Sheryl Crow's "Detours" and Alkaline Trio's "Agony and Irony"

Best Live Acts
5. Gym Class Heroes
4. The Academy Is...
3. Cobra Starship
2. Say Anything
1. Angels & Airwaves

My inner 13-year-old self was so excited to see Tom DeLonge's new band. It was incredible. Absolutely incredible.

Best Music Videos of 2008
There are only three here...because...well, I just couldn't think of five. So three you get.
3. Katy Perry - "Ur So Gay"


2. Rihanna - "Disturbia"


1. Britney Spears - "Circus"

Um...The Boys of 2008
5. Jason Segel

Forgetting Sarah Marshall. HIMYM. Totally hilarious and weird.

4. Ryan Adams

We've discussed this. Ryan Adams = Love.

3. Michael C. Hall

Fucking terrific actor.

2. James McAvoy

Last year, he would have topped this list following 'Atonement.' But hey. He's a definite close second to...

1. Robert Pattinson

He seriously sends my hormones into overdrive. Most of it's the fact that he's so humble and doesn't even realize how great his is. I love that in a guy. Plus, we all know about my thing for pretty dirty boys.

Honorable Mentions
Michael Cera, Seth Rogan, Bam Margera

Some extra visual stimulation...

New wallpaper I made tonite. Enjoy. :)

I'm going...Are you?

"All eyes on me in the center of the ring just like a circus."

Friday, March 27 at Mellon Arena in Pittsburgh, PA


"I feel the adrenaline moving through my veins.
Spotlight on me and I’m ready to break.
I’m like a performer...the dance floor is my stage.
Better be ready, hope that ya feel the same."

I could just vomit all over that douche bag Pete Wentz.

My daily lunch routine when I come home every day starts out the same. I sit at my computer and visit these three Web sites in this order:

-WWTDD.com - Best gossip blog ever.
-BreatheHeavy.com - Best Britney fan site ever.
-People.com - Most reliable celeb magazine ever.

Same order. Every day. I may throw in an e-mail or Facebook check every so often...but every day. Those three sites. That very order.

So today started out much the same. I read about Jamie Lynn Spears on WWTDD. I read about Britney's leaked "Circus" vid on BreatheHeavy (which is FANTASTIC by the way. The same guy who did "I'm a Slave 4 U" [My absolute FAVORITE Britney vid EVER] directed this one. It's definitely one of my top Brit vids.). Then I went to people.com.

And rite there...beneath the Kevin Federline (yech) tell-all was this headline: Pete Wentz: Baby Bronx Was 'A Happy Accident.'

Um. First of all...if your child was a "happy accident," then what do you consider his name to be? Bronx Mowgli. Are you for real? For real? That poor child has to grow up with that name. It's not like they could even give it a weird first name and a semi-normal middle name. No. That kid has no options. Bronx? Mowgli? I have always joked around that I'm going to name my firstborn the very first thought that pops into my head after giving birth (which means, my first child will probably be 'Holy Fuck My Vagina Hurts')...and after this clusterfuck of a name, it's official. I'm going to do just that. Because seriously. Holy Fuck My Vagina Hurts is 80,000 times better than Bronx Mowgli.

And then I went on to actually READ the article. Which only managed to piss me off even further.

After a soft lead in, followed by a quote from Pete stating the child was what he needed to put his "wild child in a cage," Wentz goes on to state that the child made him quit "experimenting" with prescription pills.

Ahem. Way back when, I was an avid Fall Out Boy fan. While I don't begrudge the other 3 members of the band whatsoever...it was Pete Wentz who turned me off of his band. I can listen to 'Take This To Your Grave' and 'From Under the Cork Tree' from time to time still, but I have to distance myself. There's new FOB and old FOB. It's the old FOB that I like to carry in my pocket for a rainy day (how emo is that?).

That long rant aside, I can now tell you, that in the 'old days,' Pete was hardcore straight edge. And now, all of a sudden, Pete is spouting off about how he "experiments" with anti-anxiety drugs...and Patrick Stump in the latest issue of Rolling Stone (with my girl Brit on the cover) admits that Pete's pretty much a hardcore drinker too.

What in the hell happened to this guy?

But the article gets so much more eye roll enducing.

"But the drug-overdose death of Heath Ledger in January was an eye-opener for the Fallout Boy bassist.
'Dude, after Heath Ledger,' he says, 'I was just like, Man, this is not going to end up good.'"

Are. You. Fucking. Serious.

Firstly, why the hell does one try to 'get high' or 'overdose' on Ativan? Unfortunately, Ativan is something that I have way too much former personal experience with. It's not something you take to have a 'good' time. It's a definate downer. One that makes you practically catatonic and knocks you out. You don't take it to 'have a good time.' You take it because emotionally, you just want to take the pain away. When you're high on Ativan, all you want to do is lay in bed. A good friend and I used to take a few too many and play Mario...which was ridiculous. You can't play Mario and be on a few too many Ativan. Eventually your concept of time gets too fucked up and you either jump in place repeatedly or run off cliffs.

If Ashlee has made his life 'so great' and everything for him is just so 'awesome' then why the Ativan? For real.

Anyway...

Secondly.

Heath Ledger. Did he really just try to get the sympathy vote by bringing up Heath Ledger?

Heath is beyond Pete so far in caliber that it's ridiculous.

The rest of the article goes on to talk about how everyone wants him and Ashlee to do a "Newlyweds 2" but how they won't do it and blah blah blah. Which honestly surprises me. Ashlee did a reality show to get people to buy her first CD (she should have done it after her terrible SNL stint to try to win over her fans with her crap pop music [which I unfortunately have on my iTunes and find myself listening to from time to time]). Pete likes whoring off media attention. I'm surprised the two of them haven't jumped at it. Or that Joe Simpson hasn't forced the two of them into it. I mean...why did they get married? Um...because she was pregnant? And God forbid people scorn them because she was 'unwed.'

I know that this is condescending. And I know that a lot of people don't see where my dislike comes from.

Which is this.

Pete Wentz...way back in the day...was a totally fucking awesome guy. He would have done anything for his fans. He was all about his music. He could write lyrics in ways that I hadn't ever heard before.

But in the past two years...he's jumped ship and landed himself aboard the Douche Bag Express.

He sold out everything he used to stand for. Straight edge? Gone. Down to earth guy? Gone. Only does things for the music? Gone. Non-rockstar "I'm a loser" pretty dirty boy persona? Totally gone.

Instead, he's an asshole. He tries to paint himself as anything but on his band's site...but let's get real.

The real Pete Wentz checked his awesome personality at the door years ago and traded in for a more marketable, more profitable Kanye West-esque model (of course, he just ADORES Kanye and his huge fucking ego).

I have to laugh at the guy he's become because it's just so ridiculous...I try to look and see some glimmer of who he used to be.

But then I run across bullshit like this and it only seems to cement my new opinion of Pete.

He's an asshole who doesn't really honestly care about the music or his fans anymore. Instead, he's happier to play Hollywood hotshot in the vainest of cities in the United States...instead of his beloved hometown of Chicago. If this ever was about the music, he lost it a long time ago.

And that is why I have no more respect for Mr. Peter Wentz.

The best editorial piece ever written...

I don't own this piece...I take no ownership to it...but I must share it. Below is the best personal essay that I have ever read in a magazine.

Playing the Ponies
Sloane Crosley
Originally Published in Radar Magazine (RIP), March 2008

Like most New Yorkers, I have given serious and generous thought to the state of my apartment should I get killed during the day. Say someone pushes me onto the subway tracks; or I get shot in a bodega (buying cigarettes, naturally); or a woman with a Bluetooth headset and a baby carriage wheels over my big toe, backing me into some scaffolding, which shakes loose a lead pipe, which lands on my skull. What then? Back in the apartment I never should have left, the bed has gone unmade and the dishes unwashed. The day I get accidentally blown up will in all likelihood be the day before laundry Sunday and the day after I decide to clean out my closet but got bored halfway through and opt to watch sitcoms in my prom dress instead. I have pictured my loved ones coming to my apartment to collect my things, and I have hoped that it would only look "lived-in" messy: bras drying on the shower curtain rod, muddy sneakers by the door. But that is never going to happen. My dust balls alone have manifest destiny that drives them far beyond the ruffle.

I like to think that these hypothetical loved ones would persist in their devotion to dead me no matter what. They would literally be blinded by grief, too upset putting sweaters in boxes to notice that I hadn't dry-cleaned them in a year. That is, until one of them found his or her way to my kitchen.

"Where are you going?" my father would ask.

"Packing up her bedroom's much too painful," my mother would tell him, choking back the tears. "I'm going to start on the kitchen."

This is the part I dread, the part where my mother would open the drawer beneath my sink and discover my stash of plastic toy ponies. There are about seven of them. Correction one's a Pegasus, blue with ice skates. The rest vary in size, texture, and realism. Some are covered in brown felt some have rhinestone eyes. Some come with their own grooming brushes others with the price stickers still on their haunches. If they arrived in plastic and cardboard packaging, they remain unopened, waiting patiently to appreciate like Star Wars figurines. Perhaps they are not the dirtiest of dirty secrets, but they're about as high as one can get on the oddity scale without a ringer like a bag full of toenail clippings.

I'm not exactly sure how the ponies happened, though I have an inkling, "Can I get you anything?" I'll ask, rising from a dinner table. "Coffee, tea, a pony?" People rarely laugh at this, especially if they've heard it before. "This party's supposed to be fun," a friend will tell me. "Really?" I'll respond. "Will there be pony rides?" It's a nervous tic and a cheap joke, cheapened further by the frequency with which I use it. For that same reason, it's hard to weed out of my speech--most of the time I don't even realize I'm saying it. There are little elements in a person's life, minor fibers that become unintentionally tangled without personality. Sometimes it's a patent phrase; sometimes it's a perfume; sometimes it's a wristwatch. For me, it is the constant referencing of ponies.

I don't even like ponies. If I made one of my throwaway equine requests and someone produced an actual pony, I would run very fast in the other direction. During a few summers at camp, I rode a chronically dehydrated mare named Brandy who would jolt down without notice to lick the grass outside the corral, sending me careening forward. I do, however, like ponies in the abstract. Who doesn't? It's like those movies with animated insects. Sure, the baby cockroach seems cute with CGI eyelashes, but how would you feel about 50 of her real-life counterparts living in your oven? And that's precisely the manner in which the ponies clomped their way into my regular speech abstractly. "I have something for you," a guy will say on our first date. “Is it a pony?” No. It’s usually a movie ticket or his cell phone number or a slobbery tongue kiss. But on our second date, if I ask again, I’m pretty sure I’m getting a pony.

And thus, the pony drawer came to be. It’s uncomfortable to admit, but almost every guy I have ever dated has unwittingly made a contribution to the stable. The retro pony from the ‘50s was from the most thoughtful guy I have ever known. The one with the glitter horseshoes was from a boy who would later turn out to be gay. The one with the rainbow haunches was from a pot dealer, and the one with the price tag stuck on its back was given to me by a narcissist who was so impressed with his gift he forgot to remove the sticker. Each one of them marks the beginning of a relationship.

I don’t mean to hint; it’s the flat-out demand: I. Want. A. Pony. I think what happens is that couples in young relationships are eager to build up a romantic repertoire of private jokes, especially in the city, where there’s not always a great “how we met” story behind every love affair. People meet at bars, through mutual friends, on dating sites, or because they work in the same industry. Just once a guy asked me out between two express stops on the N train. We were holding the same pole, and he said, “I know this sounds crazy, but would you like to go to a very public place and have a drink with me?” I looked into his seemingly non-psycho-killing, rent-paying, Sunday Times-subscribing eyes and said, “Yes. Yes, I would.” He never bought me a pony, but he didn’t have to.

If I subtract the overarching strangeness of being a grown woman with a toy collection, I like to think of the ponies as a tribute to my type—I date people to whom it would occur to do this. This is not such a bad thing. These are men who are creative and kind. They hold open doors and pour wine. If I joined a cult, I like to think they would come rescue me. No, the fulfilling of the request isn’t the problem. It’s the requesting that’s off. They don’t know yet that I make it all the time, and I don’t have the heart to tell them how whorish I am with my asking. For them it’s a deleted scene out of Good Will Hunting. For me, it’s Groundhog Day. They have no reason to believe they’re being unoriginal. Probably because they’re not I am. What am I asking when I ask for a pony but to be taken for more unique than I probably am?

The ponies, by accident, have come to represent the most overtly sentimental part of my life. Because all of these relationships have ended, they have ended more or less badly. No affair that begins with such an orchestrated overture can end on a simple note. So what I am left with are the plastic relics of those relationships.

After a breakup, I’ll conduct the normal breakup rituals: I’ll cut up photographs, erase voice mails, gather his dark concert T-shirts I once slept in and douse them with bleach before I use them to clean my bathtub. But not the ponies. When I go to throw them away, I feel like a mother about to slap her child for the first time, to cross a line she never intended to cross. She’s spitting mad. The arm flies up. And it never comes down. Yet I feel a pressure to do something with the ponies. Statistically speaking, my chances of getting smacked on the head with a lead pipe are increasing every time I lock the door behind me. Also, a drawer full of beady-eyed toys is insanely creepy. But what to do?

Actual love letters I shed in stages. I biannually clean out drawers of nonsensical items – receipts, loose AA batteries, rubber bands – and stumble a across a love note. Unable to throw it out, I stick it in another drawer, crammed at the bottom, until I clean that one out, too, and finally throw the thing away. A single romantic missive generally goes through a minimum of three locales before it gets tossed out for good. But the ponies are uncrammable. They are three-dimensional, bubblegum-scented, and impossible to hide, even from myself. Every time I open the drawer, it’s a trip down memory lane, which, if you don’t turn off at the right exit, merges straight into the Masochistic Nostalgia Highway. They are too embarrassing to leave out in the open, facing west like a collection of china elephants. They are too many to slide under the sofa. They are too plastic to wedge behind the radiator. I want to send them around the world like the Travelocity gnome and have them come back to me years from now, when I have an attic in which to shut them away. As if all this weren’t enough, there is that flash of my mother dressed in black, staring aghast into the open kitchen drawer. In a city that provides so many strange ways to be immortalized by the local tabloids, it is just as important to avoid humiliation in death as it is in life.

“What is it?” my father would shout, imagining all the things you never like to think of your father imagining: flavored condoms, pregnancy tests, a complete set of Third Reich collectors’ cards.

“Look!” my mother would howl, picking up Ranch Princess Pony (with matching bridle and real horseshoe charm necklace!) by her faux flaxen mane, just before she passed out.

My first thought is to go to the Salvation Army and donate the ponies to children, but the notion brings out the hippie in me: The ponies have bad karma. I wouldn’t just be giving some kid Stargazer (with glow-in-the-dark mane). I would be giving her manic-depressive Simon, who talked back to billboards and infomercials and kicked me in his sleep. I consider leaving the ponies in the trash for a homeless person to find and sell on the street, but I can’t risk seeing them on a table with used books and polyester scarves as I walk to the subway each morning. I think about burying them in the park, but have my doubts about their biodegradability. I think about burning them, melting them into a puddle of polyurethane, as their real-life counterparts were once melted for glue. I could sneak out to the reservoir after dark with a raft made of pool noodles and rubber bands and give them a Viking funeral.

While each subsequent idea is tilled from a progressively more unsophisticated plot, I know that I can’t simply throw the ponies out with the recycling. The ponies have their roots in me, not in the giver. They are my nervous habit, my odd little secret. While each one serves as a memory of a specific individual, each memory is filtered through the same brain: mine. The ponies are a part of me – the oddest and most potentially embarrassing part, but still – they deserve better than that. The keeping of love letters suddenly seems like a petty crime. I have the romantic equivalent of a body in the freezer.

So I put the ponies in a black plastic bag, grabbing them out of their drawer like a jewel thief who, for the sake of urgency, does not consider the preciousness of each object. I tie the bag in a knot, leave the apartment, and take them with me on the subway. I get on a sparsely populated car, drop them between my legs, and begin casually pushing them further under the seat with many heels. Then, just as casually, I forget to take them with me when I get up. I leave them there on the N train bound for Brooklyn.

Of course, the second the doors shut, I realize what I have done. Actually, that’s not true. The second the doors shut, I feel great. Sneaky and great and nostalgia-free.

The second after that, I realize what I have done. In my effort to liberate myself from the ponies, I have given some poor girl at the end of the subway car a solid reason to think she might not make it back to her apartment that night: a suspiciously abandoned, unmarked package on public transport. I wonder what must be racing through her mind as she sits motionless, unable to turn her gaze away from the lumpy plastic bag. I wonder if she flashes back to her apartment—to the dust, to the expired yogurt in the fridge, to the terrible DVDs that she won’t be able to explain were “a gift.” Perhaps she has her own Holy Grail of humiliation. Perhaps there’s a collection of porcelain bunnies in the medicine cabinet.

In any case, the ponies are gone. They are on their way to a borough where eventually they will hit the end of the line and cycle back into the heart of the city. Unless the bomb squad finds them first. They are finally out of my sight and not even an 8.5 on the Nostalgia Richter scale can summon them back. I created them and now I have uncreated them and there is nothing I can do about it. I breathe a sigh of resolute relief. From now on, I will make a conscious effort to remember – should I find myself face-to-face of pipe- to-skull with the end of my life – that the real proof that I have tried to love and that people have tried to love me back was never going to fit in a kitchen drawer.

Dirty Pretty Boys

So I know this may count as jumping on the bandwagon...but I went and saw "Twilight." I read the novels and they didn't change my life...but I really didn't think the movie was really that terrible...plus my inner-13 year old finds Robert Pattinson to be rather pretty.

Which got me thinking...I have a certain soft spot in my heart for dirty pretty boys.

I don't mean that I like them to smell as if they haven't bathed in years or months or weeks. I mean that I've always kind of had a thing for guys who look a little rough around the edges. Boys who may not be clean cut and perfect all the time. Boys with tolerable hygiene issues.

And my love for dirty pretty boys doesn't just contain 'famous' people.

It started in high school...with boys I was around every day.

Which brings me to my Top Five List of Dirty Pretty Boys.

Dirty Pretty Boys

5. Charlie Day

Who He Is: One fifth of the cast of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"


As pretty as I think Rob McElhenney is, he's not quite dirty enough. Charlie Day's character on 'It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia' is an entirely different story. He doesn't bathe. He's probably illiterate. But dammit, if he isn't awesome as hell. Charlie Day is genious playing him...and I have Mari to thank for showing me the way.

Dirty Thoughts:

Mac: I do not even understand the smell coming from your body dude.

Charlie: Oh my god dude relax. Dude I forgot to put on deodorant, OK?

Mac: I have never once, never once seen you wear deodorant Charlie, never once.

Charlie: Yeah well you never seen me once wash my testicles either but that doesn't mean I don't do it every Friday.

4. Ryan Dunn

Who He Is: Ryan Dunn is probably best known as Bam Margera's right hand man.


Whenever Bam would cook up a scheme, it was Dunn who put the plan into action. Unfortunately, this also got Dunn into quite a bit of trouble from time to time. Whenever there were skits that the rest of Bam's crew refused to do, the assignment always somehow got handed to Dunn (sticking a toy car up his ass in 'Jackass' anyone?).


Dirty Thoughts: "I'm about to hit some haggard backwoods crap."

3. Bam Margera

Who He Is: Jackass Extraordinaire. Creator of 'Viva La Bam' and co-creator of 'Jackass.'

Dunn may carry out Bam's dirty deeds, but he's been known to do his own amount of crazy shit. Bam seems down to earth and normal...well. As 'normal' as one could consider Margera. He refuses to move out of Pennsylvania and into the spotlight. He's also somewhat fucked in the head. For some reason, that works for me.


Dirty Thoughts: “Nothing is really "safe".”

2. Robert Pattinson

Who He Is: Edward Cullen in 'Twilight'


There's nothing I love more than a guy who's humble. Case in point: Robert Pattinson. Doesn't see his mass-market or indie film appeal. Doesn't think he can act. Relaxed. Goes with the flow. And he doesn't wash his hair. Where the hell do I find them?


Dirty Thoughts: Cue this up to around 5 minutes. 'Nough said.

1. Ryan Adams
Who He Is: Only my favorite singer/songwriter/artist/poet/writer/most favorite concert experience/socially awkward dirty guy ever.

Ryan Adams has been love to me for years now. He's so down to earth...and now that he's sober, he's so well spoken and generous. Adams' music speaks to me in so many ways. He may release a lot of music, but that to me shows that he just can't turn off his creativity. Ryan Adams IS love to me. For real. A balanced math equation. Ryan Adams = Love.
Dirty Thoughts: "I'm a little hungry, and I need some stimulus. I've already done all the dirty things I could do today: I had some sex, then I smoked a couple of cigarettes, I had coffee, and now I'm done. Don't rewind that! It's okay to say that people have sex in this world!"

Witty Icons

Breathe you out...

Found this survey from a site I searched on Google.

PERSONAL SURVEY

Did you have a happy childhood? I had an interesting childhood. I'd like to think it was happy...but it wasn't always. Sure...you're naive, but looking back on some things, it wasn't all sunshine. I can remember when my OCD started. I remember how I figured everyone must be like that...and then when I realized that wasn't the way things were...I was crushed. I fear I made an ass of myself and acted terribly horrid at times...but all together, I can't say my childhood was unhappy...so yeah. I guess it was alright.

When do you tell white lies? Tell us one. Only all the time. I feel like my life isn't interesting enough...so at times, I'll add more to a story to make it more interesting. I don't really do this as much with my friends, because you don't lie to friends. I find myself making up little things with my parents though. When I was living in North Carolina, I lied to a lot of people and told them I was doing better...when in actuality, I was doing worse. My OCD flared up along with my anxiety. Moving back to PA has grounded me again and made me much easier to deal with (I hope).

The most capable person in your country? The American public. If this election proved anything to me...it's that everyone has a voice. America belonged to the actual public again...not the politicians. It doesn't matter who you voted for or your beliefs. It was just really refreshing to see people so vocal about issues that they stood in the background about before. Things may be going to shit, but we all wanted change and the 2008 elections proved that to me by mere voter turnout.

Favourite novelist? This is where I should name some classic author like Dickinson or Hemingway...but while I like and admire the both of them...my favorite novelist is Megan McCafferty. Her first two novels "Sloppy Firsts" and "Second Helpings" changed my life. The voice of McCafferty's protagonist -- Jessica Darling -- was the first literary character that I could fully relate to 100%. She was sarcastic. She was honest. She was funny...she was me if I were a literary character. The 3rd and 4th books haven't been as awesome (I believe the fifth and final in the series will tie it all together and make me love each and every book), but they only mangaed to humble and make Jess much more human. It was the first time that I read a book and actually felt like every character was someone that I knew from my own life.

Proudest moment? Studying abroad in London. When I decided to study abroad, I was in a really dark place in my life. I saw studying abroad as the one way to pull myself out of my funk...and it worked. The girl who got on that plane and the girl who returned home four months later are two entirely different people. The old Julie was naive and said things she didn't think about. She let people walk all over her. She didn't accept the changes that were so obviously occuring in front of her eyes. The new Julie severed ties with things that were obviously holding her back. She solidified those relationships that meant the most to her. She stood up for herself and what she believed in. I love the new Julie. A lot of people may see it as bitchiness or nastiness...but I see it has honest. It's nice to not let people tramp all over me anymore.

Worst moment? (last week if necessary) The spring of 2006. This was one of the hardest times of my life. My friends were all leaving Point Park and I was in a really weird place. My grandpa who I'd been super close had just died. I was having problems with some really really close friends that I always thought would stick around. I was having severe issues with anemia. This was the semester that I decided to go to London.

Most hated song/music at the moment? Kanye West. Everyone else sees him as a "music genius." I just think he's a huge asshole.

The last piece of music you bought? I haven't bought anything lately. I have been listening to a lot of Girls Aloud, All Saints, and Britney lately though.

Were you good at school? I was in college. During High School, I worked...but not to my full capacity. I felt like at college, I had to make it count. I was paying for it. I was getting a degree. I didn't want to coast by. I wanted to know that my degree was well deserved.

The greatest influence on you? (parents, friends ...) My family and friends...as predictable as that sounds. My family has always been supporting...even in my darkest times. My friends have always understood me. They don't expect me to put on an act or act like someone that I'm not. They accept Julie for Julie...flaws and all. My friends are like my family.

Current bedside reading material? Emily Giffin's "Something Borrowed." I accidently found this novel...but I love it. Giffin's plots are different which is refreshing in an oversaturated literary market. Also...Chelsea Cain's "Heart Sick." It was praised by Chuck Palahniuk and Tess Gerritsen (two of my favorite authors) and is one of the first 'thriller' novels that has shocked me and kept me on my toes in a very long time.

Where will you go when you die? Death is something that scares the shit out of me. I will not elaborate on this question.

What do you admire most about yourself? My newfound confidence. For so long, I just buried my head in the sand and did what was expected of me. I let people take advantage of me. I think I'm much stronger now. Instead of listening to all the ways that I've wronged people, I've moved forward. The past is the past. I've learned from it. There's no need to reflect on it. I'm in a much more positive place. I've got a great support system and people who seem to really, honestly get me and my fucked up personality.

One of your main faults? Closing myself off. Whenever I get upset, instead of talking to the people who love me most and are the most willing to help...I crouch inside myself and hide. I need to let these people in...not block them out. That's a huge fault. I love and trust these people with my life...but I hate being their burden.

A small crime you once committed? (anything at all) Speeding on my 22nd birthday. It's only fitting that Honkus got to share this experience with me. It scared the shit out of me and made me feel like shit...expecially since I was jank ass broke at the time. Paying a $150 speeding ticket was not a part of the plan.

Music you would like played at your funeral? Anything by Ryan Adams. His music is just so refreshing and honest...something I've really tried to live myself by the past few years.

The bitch is back...

Britney Spears. Britney Spears. Britney fucking Spears.



Words cannot express how much I adore Britney Spears.

A connoisseur of all things pop culture...Britney Spears is the absolute icon. She dances. Her music is catchy as hell...and most of all, she's human.

When I was in high school, the individualist in me detested everything Brit stood for...but secretly, I'd lock myself in my bedroom and dance to her music as if there was no tomorrow. If N'Sync was the personification of the type of boy all fourteen-year-olds wanted to date...then Britney was the personification of what we all aspired to be. Say what you will...deny it. But know deep down that that statement's true.

Then when I got to college, I figured that hiding such idoltry was in vain, especially when she was putting herself out there to be ridiculed. I wore my Britney love on my sleeve...and ultimately, it led me to meeting my best friend, Honkus.

From that point on, I had a companion that loved Britney as much (if not much, much more) than I did. Having someone else there telling me that such an obsession was okay (even if it does go overboard sometimes) made the whole thing spiral even further. We watched her greatest hits DVD together. We cringed at the scary guy on the Onyx tour. We made music videos to her songs.

When Honkus left Point Park, our friendship stayed solid for entirely different reasons...but Britney has always been a part of the strong glue that holds our friendship together.

And then Britney started dating Kevin Federline. I'm convinced that things hadn't been happy in Brit's world for awhile...but the KFed days in Britney's life always seemed a little bizarre to me. Needless to say, words cannot express the joy I felt in November of 2006 when Brit announced she was divording Kevin Federline. The weeks that followed were a whirlwind. The girl seemed to be finally getting back on track. Sure, she was a few years older with a couple of kids...but it felt like we were growing up with her.

Then...when I was studying abroad in London during the spring of 2007, the unthinkable happened. Britney cracked. Shaving her head. In and out of rehab. Psych holds. Shady friends. Across the ocean, all I could wonder is 'What the hell is happening to my idols?' (At this time, Jenna Jameson...another one of my idols...was extremely skinny and terrifying looking. I commented on more than one occassion that she just needed to 'eat a sandwich.')

2007 in terms of Britney can only be described as shaky. Her personal life was in shambles...she lost her kids, she lost her freedom. But if this was the dark time of Miss Spears, then 'Blackout,' her first album released in years...was truly the diamond in the rough. While Britney refused to do publicity and wasn't well enough to tour, this album was strange. Her life was a wreck...but the album's tracks were incredible. For the first time ever, I could listen to an entire Britney CD without cringing at one cheesy track (half of 'Baby One More Time' anyone?). From "Piece of Me" to "Break the Ice," the album was completely unexpected from someone who clearly was going through something terribly personal.

Through all of this, Honkus and I stayed glued to the Britney fansites we read every day.

And it was during this dark period, that I grew from obsessing over Britney as an idol to actually thoroughly deeply respecting her as a human being. My own social awkwardness, anxiety and OCD were something that I'd seen as a downfall...something holding me back. Seeing Britney dealing with similar mental issues made me realize that it doesn't matter where you come from or what you have. The world's a hard place. The difference was that I could deal with my mental anguish in private and her's was recorded and documented for the world to see.

2008 rolled around and more guarded than ever...Britney's managed to turn things around for the better. "Womanizer" was released and put Britney back into the game for good.

Last nite, she performed on the Bambi Awards in Germany...and while the performance was better than last year's disastrous VMA appearance...she still seemed guarded and nervous. The performance worried me. Was she really ready for the comeback? Was she just doing this because it was expected of her? But today, she performed on France's "Star Academy"...and blew the performance straight out of the water. She was engaging...she was into it...she was the Britney that we haven't seen in years.



Unlike the end of the Bambi Awards performance, she looked genuinely happy at the end of the end of the performance.

And all I could do was smile at the end of it. Here's this idol I've had for years that I've stood up for and devoted a huge chunk of my life to...a girl who's not much older than me that's helped me cement the best friendship of my life and shown me that it's okay to go a bit crazy...it makes you more human. Flaws are part of life.

Her new album "Circus" drops on December 2. The tracks off of it are insane. They're catchy as hell and true to Brit's roots. Long gone are terrible songs like "Soda Pop" and "Dear Diary." Instead, they're replaced with catchy tracks like "Circus" and "Mannequin." Even the bonus tracks off the CD are infectious.

So needless to say...Britney's back. She may not be the crazy Britney we all knew and grew up with...but she's older and she still comes alive when she dances.

And as long as she's willing to take us along on this crazy roller coaster that she calls her life...I'm more than willing to hang on for the ride.

Current Obsessions

My current loves...

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia


This show is my humor to a T. Bad abortion jokes. Questionable music that sounds like whales raping each other. Charlie Day. It's fantastic.

How I Met Your Mother

I have such a gay boy crush on Neil Patrick Harris...and such a straight boy crush on Jason Segel. This show is genius too...especially this part from this episode of Season 3.

All Saints' "Rock Steady" Music Video

This video is pure genius. I don't know why...but it is.

Ryan Adams

I saw him live over a year ago...and two days later, he was on Letterman. This performance just made that concert experience thirty million times more awesome. I love his Misfits shirt...and the robots on his amps. I just love him.

Video on Trial

This program is only on in Canada...but I watch the episodes on YouTube. "Fergalicious" is the best of them, by far. Nikki Paine is my hero.

Ryan Murphy and Nip/Tuck

Nip/Tuck begins its final haul January 6th...and Ryan Murphy and his crew have done yet another amazing job on the promo. There are other promos that give away where we left off last season...but this one is just such classic Nip/Tuck.

The Legendary Miss Britney Spears

Documentary Sunday nite. New CD Tuesday (it's AWESOME). 'Nough said.

"Circus"

The best track off Brit's new CD...as of now. :)

Girls Aloud

The U.K.'s response to Danity Kane...and their music is 30,000 times better.

Other Loves

• Fringe (and Joshua Jackson)
• Megan McCafferty's writing
• The fact that Jenna Jameson is pregnant
• Fun jewelry with weapons on it
• Stephen King's latest collection of short stories
• WWTDD.com