Archive for July, 2008

Lebanese, Ma!

In college on Thursday night’s we would go to Sportsway Cafe and drink and there would be lip sync contests and fun and dancing and general college debauchery. And I’ll always remember the night we closed the bar when everyone at my table spontaneously busted out singing “Thank you for bein’ a friend”.

I wonder if Estelle Getty knows just how many 20 and 30-somethings have a Golden Girls reference as their Gmail message or Away message or blog title this week. The demographic that the show aimed for was obviously not 8 and 9-year-olds but I remember how Saturday nights were THE night to stay in, shower (you know, the one time a week that I showered), and watch Golden Girls and Empty Nest (and Amen and 227 – Maaaaary) with my parents. It wasn’t just what I had to watch because my parents were watching, it was what to watch because I loved it all. Of course I had no idea what half to jokes meant (Why was it so funny that, of all the girls, Rose was the one who used all her condoms up on the cruise ship? I didn’t understand that, but I sure did understand that whatever a condom was, it was especially funny that Rose filled hers up with water and threw them at people on the deck below. So many layers. Just like a cheesecake!) The show was racy and saucy and perfect and I’m sure that it’s one of the first threads that wove the relationships of  young gals and their gay best friends together, more than screechy Will and Grace episodes or any “Very Special Gay Kiss” episode of any other show. I’m still not 100% sure why the gays love it so, but for my first few years in New York, the show ran twice a night on Lifetime and when I was an intern here (back when I had interesting but unpaid jobs), it was lunchtime talk.

It’s almost like losing one of the Beatles – seriously, that’s what I thought about because I remember being really upset when George Harrison died, his death being the only Beatle death I actually remember. Maybe there’s no comparison, and maybe there’s no reason even to be sad because I don’t know any of these people personally, but I do know that last Friday night after coming home from a party, after a couple of beers and a champagne toast (because that’s all it takes these days to get me completely saucy – three whole drinks), all I wanted to do was watch the Golden Girls. To the point where the next day, Jeff was like “Why are all these Golden Girls episodes in the DVR?” and I couldn’t really explain it, I guess I just wanted to watch something I knew I would be entertained by.  Half of Sophia’s lines were delivered like they were from a vaudeville act, which is probably why it’s so funny to me – there is nothing better than that kind of humor, whether it’s Waldorf and Statler in  the Muppets balcony or old time comedians, it’s kind of the perfect humor, effortless and like it fits like pieces of a puzzle. When I had said creative internship, I actually got to meet the writer for the Muppets who was responsible for writing all the vaudeville type material and it was a highlight of my summer – not only to meet  someone responsible for the Muppets but also to meet someone who wrote those kinds of jokes.

The Golden Girls,  wasn’t glossy and perfect, an it was probably why I never grew up thinking women has to be gorgeous or unfunny or victims (also see this Teri Garr interview for more brilliant female comedy gold [Best line: “I have one foot in the grave and one on a banana peel”.]) If we could make our Gchat messages available to the world they would see that not everything has to be about Gossip Girls, sometimes storylines about the worst old-folks-home in Miami will do just fine.

Picture it, Sicily!

I don’t have Photoshop or Illustrator on my work computer so that’s what we can attribute this new (or one-time-only, who knows) blog feature to. It’s called something like “I’m thinking of an editorial cartoon but don’t really have any way to draw it so you can just imagine it!” It might or might not be funny.

So today, we mourn the passing of Estelle Getty, a.k.a. Sophia Petrillo, she of the Shady Pines. That’s a Golden Girls reference to all the straight men in the house. Estelle (who in all seriousness will be mourned, she was awesome) died today,  and her son released the following statement:

“She was loved throughout the world in six continents, and if they loved sitcoms in Antarctica she would have been loved on seven continents.”

So now, in your head, imagine a penguin in an Empty Nest t-shirt shrugging with a miffed expression.

That’s all.

Happy The Dark Knight Weekend, Everybody!

So of course the world knows that Batman opens this weekend, that it was Heath Ledger’s last role, that it has a star-studded cast, it’s dark, it’s epic, it’s in IMAX, yadda yadda yadda. But if it was a crappier movie with no drama or tragedy lurking in it’s Batcave, someone out there would have surely created this headline about Christian Bale, no?

From Bateman to Batman. Right??

From hardbody to hard, batty?

American Psycho references abound this week, thanks to Project Runway and my own gross puns. Have Bales of fun this weekend, y’all!

Put a gumband around it

I would hardly say I’m a rigid person…I just adhere to most rules of society and get, I don’t know, anxious and sweaty when others don’t. I am chronically early, polite to strangers, and try not to touch others on the subway (unless they really deserve an “unintentional” elbow to the kidney). (Can you even elbow someone in the kidney? I don’t know, I do just start to flail if I feel like my personal space is closing in though). Littering though, might be my biggest pet peeve. It’s like, the easiest thing NOT to do, and yet I think every single person in New York who buys a pack of cigarettes throws the cellophane wrapping on the ground, and everyone who gets a soda from the deli throws their straw wrapper on the ground, and sometimes when I’m walking behind someone who’s eating a sidewalk dog and they finish and then their napkin falls to the ground, I have to resist the urge to pick it up and say “Oh, here you go!” passive aggressively. I don’t ever pick up the napkin because I always know that, no, they didn’t drop it by accident, and if I try to give it back I might get a shiv to the kidney instead of a nice blunt elbow. Only in New York! Sigh.

Today on my way to meet Tracy for lunch at our old agua-ing hole, Pampano Taqueria, this gorgeously sunny 85-degree day, the first in many days that has not actually rained and washed away garbage and caca and doody from the streets, I stepped in a large pool of melted gum. Like, this chunk would have been in the Big League Chew All-Star game. I knew as soon as the light changed and I started to take one step closer to my tacos that I stepped in it, but I didn’t expect it to fully wrap around the bottom and top of my flip flop heel in an adorably sticky gum to shoe hug. So that made me hate people for a brief moment because seriously, why? There is a trash can on every single street corner in midtown. I thought that stuff was supposed to be ridiculously long lasting nowadays, what are people doing spitting it out? (I have worked in advertising too long.)

But honestly, of all the things to do in the world – littering? Why? Does it make you cool? One bad mother (Can you dig?)? Are you just lazy? Why! My one pair of Puma flip flops, a.ka. the best flip flops ever (they never chafe!) are scarred for the season and the lazy gum-spitter will never be held accountable. I’ll never come face to face with my tormenter – but that’s probably for the best because if there’s another thing I really can’t stand it’s people who crack their gum.