Depart for the Beer Garden with $20
Buy A Beer. With tip -$6
Find a bunch of money on floor
Give two ladies -$5 each
Buy roommate mayonnaise and bread -$6 and change
arrive home with $27, a beer mug and a pocket full of change.
not bad.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
Done and Done!
As you may or may not know, on Friday I was laid off. That's right, this glorious, long awaited day of no longer being employed by Broadway.om has finally arrived. 4 out of 5 people in my department were called into a meeting and told we were no longer needed. The 5th person in our department was spared because of his socially-inept productivity. He was told to go hide in someone's office while shit went down.
Some great things about being laid off:
1. I get a severance.
2. It makes me sound very adult.
3. I no longer work at Broadway.com
It really has been a wonderful, fulfilling and exciting 2 1/2 years at broadway.com; it makes me glad to know that I made some sort of difference and really had a positive effect on a great company. That was sarcasm...in case it didn't read. My favorite part of the whole event, though, was when I was leaving the office. I was waiting for the elevator and who should walk out of his office? Jerome, one of the "suits" whose decision it was to deem me unnecessary. (I'm not sure I can accurately label him a suit, though, since he wears sneakers) He walks out of his office, sees Nairoby and I waiting at the elevator carrying bags of our belongings and then awkwardly turns back around to go back into his office. Pussy.
As sucky as it is to lose your job, I hear that Oprah says, "When you are fired, say thank you!" And I shall do that. This is a great thing. If my life were a musical, this would the power ballad moment. This is the 'Wizard and I' from Wicked, or 'Astonishing' from Little Women, perhaps even 'Somethings Coming' from West Side Story.
I can now spend my days doing important things, like watching the movie Rent and wondering how something that could have been so good turned out so bad. Or watching Rachel Ray and wondering why the audience applauds whenever she makes up a word. Lots of wondering.
But seriously, anyone know of any job openings??
Some great things about being laid off:
1. I get a severance.
2. It makes me sound very adult.
3. I no longer work at Broadway.com
It really has been a wonderful, fulfilling and exciting 2 1/2 years at broadway.com; it makes me glad to know that I made some sort of difference and really had a positive effect on a great company. That was sarcasm...in case it didn't read. My favorite part of the whole event, though, was when I was leaving the office. I was waiting for the elevator and who should walk out of his office? Jerome, one of the "suits" whose decision it was to deem me unnecessary. (I'm not sure I can accurately label him a suit, though, since he wears sneakers) He walks out of his office, sees Nairoby and I waiting at the elevator carrying bags of our belongings and then awkwardly turns back around to go back into his office. Pussy.
As sucky as it is to lose your job, I hear that Oprah says, "When you are fired, say thank you!" And I shall do that. This is a great thing. If my life were a musical, this would the power ballad moment. This is the 'Wizard and I' from Wicked, or 'Astonishing' from Little Women, perhaps even 'Somethings Coming' from West Side Story.
I can now spend my days doing important things, like watching the movie Rent and wondering how something that could have been so good turned out so bad. Or watching Rachel Ray and wondering why the audience applauds whenever she makes up a word. Lots of wondering.
But seriously, anyone know of any job openings??
Friday, June 15, 2007
I try...
So last night I was waiting for the N train at the 28th street stop at about 12:30 or so. Thursday night is apparently the night that the 28th street stop gets a shower because everyone waiting had to huddle at one end while 2 people were going up and down with power washers blasting the layers of grime away.
This is the second time I've been privy to seeing the 28th street stop get its weekly douche and both times it's the same woman manning the power hose. She is probably in her late fifties/early sixties and had a long blondish-brown weave. She seemed tired, and working solely to get the job done so she could go home. Or move on to the next station. It then dawned on me that this is her job! Okay, I guess that's by no means some major revelation, but thinking about it I realized that every Thursday night at about midnight she hauls all this douching gear out and proceeds to clean the entire subway station. What is dirtier than a subway station? Maybe subway station bathroom? She probably has to clean that too. And that is what she does. Everyday. She probably knows the nooks and crannies of each station she cleans; there are some stations that are easier to clean than others; she probably counts down the hours until she is off--it's a repetitive, boring job. Just like mine. Kind of...
I wanted to give her some recognition, some compliment that made it known I appreciate the hard work she's doing. We all need to feel appreciated, right? Right. The train came, so she paused her washing and I made my way down towards her. As I walked towards the train I said to her politely, "Thank you."
She didn't hear me. I could have just given up and gotten on the train, but I thought, "No. I will thank her for her work!"
I moved a little closer, not really knowing what to say.
"The floors look great..."
That's the best I could come up with; like some over privileged white woman thanking her Mexican cleaning lady.
I topped it off by giving her a "thumbs up." Yes. When I feel awkward and don't know what to say, I instinctively give the "thumbs up." It's a habit I need to work on.
She responded by giving me a look that said, "get on the damn train." I murmured "Thank you" as I quickly got on the train hoping no one witnessed the uncomfortable encounter.
Go look at the 28th Street stop on the uptown NWR though. It is very clean.
This is the second time I've been privy to seeing the 28th street stop get its weekly douche and both times it's the same woman manning the power hose. She is probably in her late fifties/early sixties and had a long blondish-brown weave. She seemed tired, and working solely to get the job done so she could go home. Or move on to the next station. It then dawned on me that this is her job! Okay, I guess that's by no means some major revelation, but thinking about it I realized that every Thursday night at about midnight she hauls all this douching gear out and proceeds to clean the entire subway station. What is dirtier than a subway station? Maybe subway station bathroom? She probably has to clean that too. And that is what she does. Everyday. She probably knows the nooks and crannies of each station she cleans; there are some stations that are easier to clean than others; she probably counts down the hours until she is off--it's a repetitive, boring job. Just like mine. Kind of...
I wanted to give her some recognition, some compliment that made it known I appreciate the hard work she's doing. We all need to feel appreciated, right? Right. The train came, so she paused her washing and I made my way down towards her. As I walked towards the train I said to her politely, "Thank you."
She didn't hear me. I could have just given up and gotten on the train, but I thought, "No. I will thank her for her work!"
I moved a little closer, not really knowing what to say.
"The floors look great..."
That's the best I could come up with; like some over privileged white woman thanking her Mexican cleaning lady.
I topped it off by giving her a "thumbs up." Yes. When I feel awkward and don't know what to say, I instinctively give the "thumbs up." It's a habit I need to work on.
She responded by giving me a look that said, "get on the damn train." I murmured "Thank you" as I quickly got on the train hoping no one witnessed the uncomfortable encounter.
Go look at the 28th Street stop on the uptown NWR though. It is very clean.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Friday, June 08, 2007
Best Of Totesblog
December 3, 2006
A short scene inspired by my journey from the 125th street subway station to my apartment last night:
EXT. Harlem
It is night, about 11:00pm. Corey walks home listening to his ipod nano; Jamie Cullum's All at Sea plays. He walks up to an intersection and waits for the walk signal. Random Man (or prostitute?) enters, he is mid-late twenties and Puerto Rican or possibly Mexican. He stands looking at Corey. Corey pretends not to notice him.
Random Man(or prostitute?): Hey.
Corey pretends not to hear and continues to listen to music.
Random Man (or prostitute?): walking closer Excuse me.
Corey takes out one earphone as to listen to what this innocent looking man is saying.
Random Man (or prostitute?): Where's Madison?
Corey: Oh, that's a ways away, but if you walk that way you'll eventually run into it.
The Random Man (or prostitute?) looks confused and stumbles for words. His eyes start to become shifty. Corey takes notice and increases the awareness of his surroundings as to make sure he is not the target of a multi-thug sting operation.
Corey: Where do you need to be?
More shifty eyes and confusion
Corey: Madison is that way, so you'll hit it if you just keep walking.
Random Man (or prostitute?): Where are you going?
Corey: uhh... I'm walking south--Madison is east; that way.
Random Man (or prostitute?): Can I go with you?
Corey: What?!
Random Man (or prostitute?): Can I go home with you?
Corey: laughing in his face Sorry.
Corey quickly walks away.
---ALT ENDING---
Random Man (or prostitute?): Can I go home with you?
Corey takes in his question and looks into his sad eyes which are crying out for the warm, matronly embrace of a friend or lover.
Corey: Sure. Lets get you into some warm clothes--do you like hot cocoa?
Random Man (or prostitute?): Do I?! Thanks Mister!
Cut To:
INT. Corey's apartment
The apartment is alive and bustling with the excitement of the quickly approaching holiday. Although meager, their Christmas tree is decorated with lights, ornaments and other accoutrements of holiday cheer. Presents lay strewn underneath the tree and Christmas music is playing in the background. The roommates are singing and drinking hot cocoa and eggnog. Corey Enters.
Corey: Greetings!!
Roommates: Merry Christmas Corey!
Corey: And a Merry Christmas to you too! I have a surprise!
Jon: Is it a gift for us?
Corey: Well yes, in a way.
Brian: Were you able to get the extra fat goose for Christmas dinner? The one that's hanging in the butcher's window?
Corey: (laughing) Not this year, Brian. It's a different sort of gift.
Courtney: Well what is it?
Corey: His name is Julio. I ran into him on the street and he asked if he could come home with me.
Roommates: How is this a gift for us?
Corey: Well, I think he might be homeless.
Jon: You mean, he doesn't have a home?
Corey: Yes, Jon. That or he's a prostitute, I'm not quite sure. Either way he looked sad, confused and possibly on drugs, so I invited him back to spend the 3 weeks leading up to Christmas with us.
Courtney: I don't know...Is he nice?
Corey: Well yes he is, Courtney. He didn't talk much on the walk here, but he seems very pleasant. What better way to bring in the Christmas holiday by inviting a stranger in and welcoming him to our home with open arms. What do ya say?
Roomates: YAY!!
Corey: Come on in Julio!
Julio Enters. The roommates shower him with gifts, cookies, eggnog and hot cocoa as they all sing along in joyous harmony with the David Bowie, Bing Crosby version of Little Drummer Boy. A claymation snowman narrator enters in front and begins speaking to the camera.
Snowman Narrator: Corey and his roommates learned the true meaning of Christmas that year. After Julio sold their belongings for drug money and raped their innocence, they were left with nothing more than their Christmas spirit shattered beneath the tree. There were no more presents, no more carols, no more cups of eggnog spiked with delicious optimism. All that remained was the hope that next Christmas would be a better one, one in which they learned from the mistakes of Christmas past. Have a happy Christmas children!
Commentary: I love snowman narrators!!!!!
A short scene inspired by my journey from the 125th street subway station to my apartment last night:
EXT. Harlem
It is night, about 11:00pm. Corey walks home listening to his ipod nano; Jamie Cullum's All at Sea plays. He walks up to an intersection and waits for the walk signal. Random Man (or prostitute?) enters, he is mid-late twenties and Puerto Rican or possibly Mexican. He stands looking at Corey. Corey pretends not to notice him.
Random Man(or prostitute?): Hey.
Corey pretends not to hear and continues to listen to music.
Random Man (or prostitute?): walking closer Excuse me.
Corey takes out one earphone as to listen to what this innocent looking man is saying.
Random Man (or prostitute?): Where's Madison?
Corey: Oh, that's a ways away, but if you walk that way you'll eventually run into it.
The Random Man (or prostitute?) looks confused and stumbles for words. His eyes start to become shifty. Corey takes notice and increases the awareness of his surroundings as to make sure he is not the target of a multi-thug sting operation.
Corey: Where do you need to be?
More shifty eyes and confusion
Corey: Madison is that way, so you'll hit it if you just keep walking.
Random Man (or prostitute?): Where are you going?
Corey: uhh... I'm walking south--Madison is east; that way.
Random Man (or prostitute?): Can I go with you?
Corey: What?!
Random Man (or prostitute?): Can I go home with you?
Corey: laughing in his face Sorry.
Corey quickly walks away.
---ALT ENDING---
Random Man (or prostitute?): Can I go home with you?
Corey takes in his question and looks into his sad eyes which are crying out for the warm, matronly embrace of a friend or lover.
Corey: Sure. Lets get you into some warm clothes--do you like hot cocoa?
Random Man (or prostitute?): Do I?! Thanks Mister!
Cut To:
INT. Corey's apartment
The apartment is alive and bustling with the excitement of the quickly approaching holiday. Although meager, their Christmas tree is decorated with lights, ornaments and other accoutrements of holiday cheer. Presents lay strewn underneath the tree and Christmas music is playing in the background. The roommates are singing and drinking hot cocoa and eggnog. Corey Enters.
Corey: Greetings!!
Roommates: Merry Christmas Corey!
Corey: And a Merry Christmas to you too! I have a surprise!
Jon: Is it a gift for us?
Corey: Well yes, in a way.
Brian: Were you able to get the extra fat goose for Christmas dinner? The one that's hanging in the butcher's window?
Corey: (laughing) Not this year, Brian. It's a different sort of gift.
Courtney: Well what is it?
Corey: His name is Julio. I ran into him on the street and he asked if he could come home with me.
Roommates: How is this a gift for us?
Corey: Well, I think he might be homeless.
Jon: You mean, he doesn't have a home?
Corey: Yes, Jon. That or he's a prostitute, I'm not quite sure. Either way he looked sad, confused and possibly on drugs, so I invited him back to spend the 3 weeks leading up to Christmas with us.
Courtney: I don't know...Is he nice?
Corey: Well yes he is, Courtney. He didn't talk much on the walk here, but he seems very pleasant. What better way to bring in the Christmas holiday by inviting a stranger in and welcoming him to our home with open arms. What do ya say?
Roomates: YAY!!
Corey: Come on in Julio!
Julio Enters. The roommates shower him with gifts, cookies, eggnog and hot cocoa as they all sing along in joyous harmony with the David Bowie, Bing Crosby version of Little Drummer Boy. A claymation snowman narrator enters in front and begins speaking to the camera.
Snowman Narrator: Corey and his roommates learned the true meaning of Christmas that year. After Julio sold their belongings for drug money and raped their innocence, they were left with nothing more than their Christmas spirit shattered beneath the tree. There were no more presents, no more carols, no more cups of eggnog spiked with delicious optimism. All that remained was the hope that next Christmas would be a better one, one in which they learned from the mistakes of Christmas past. Have a happy Christmas children!
Commentary: I love snowman narrators!!!!!
Thursday, June 07, 2007
July 13, 2006
We Love Wasting Time
indulge me as a try to entertain myself here at work. Today is Thursday. Only Thursday?!?! are you kidding me? ugh. I still have to get through friday till I make it to the weekend? Oh, Father Time, you fickle, maniacal beast, you. Why do you forsake us? Who are you, really? In search for answers to these questions, here are some depictions of this so called "father":
Yes folks, here he is: Father Time. and he's carrying a SICKLE?! He's gonna fuck you up! What's that in his other hand, a motorcycle helmet? So what this depiction is telling me, is the force that controls the past, present and future is actually a drunken, old timey, serial-killer, biker with grizzly hair. kick ass.
Well this one makes me feel better. In this rendering, artist brian o'conner portrays father time as a rapist, eerily carrying a drunkenly passed out Mother Nature over his shoulder. I don't know about you, but i suspect foul play--look at her hanging lifelessly off his naked back. I know what you're thinking, and I have an answer that will make you smile: YES you CAN buy this painting!! For only $3,500 you can hang this picture above your bed serving as a constant reminder of the delicate balance (abduction) between nature and time.
And finally, I hand you this: An interpretation from Michael, a 4th grader in Mr. Leatty's class. Great work Michael. How ever did you come up with the idea to draw Father Time as a googley headed man with a beard, wearing a robe? Oh, and he's standing on a grandfather clock--wow, that's really clever and original, Michael. And, wait--are those more grandfather clocks floating mysteriously in the air around him? And, no...wait, yes!!! You drew colorful squares at the base of each of those floating clocks!!! How whimsical!!! Michael!!!! Your creativity is astounding! And just in case we didn't get your subtlety, you gave us "father time" sloppily crammed in at the top. douche.
I know what you're thinking. and, yes, i did do a google image search of father time. So? you're just jealous cuz you didn't think of it yourself! And so what if i have to make fun of a 4th grader's art assignment in order to feel good about myself. You're just jealous cuz you don't have a boring ass job making $20,000 a year w/ no benefits.
sigh.
Well i hope you feel you didn't waste too much of your time today perusing these random pictures of a fictional figure. It served my purpose though--its now 5:04 and I only have an hour and a half left of work.
an hour and a half...hmmm...
ok, bear with me. here's a picture of Mother Nature:
Oh boy. Fuck global warming--this bitch is why the weather has been screwy. one more drink and I think she's ready for that father time to carry her home...
And thus concludes my blog entry about Father Time and Mother Nature. Wow. We've hit a new low....i hope you enjoy it as much as i do.
Commentary: I feel like i must have been wasted when writing this--however i was not. if i was wasted, i would not have been bored enough to write it. it probably would be misspelled too. But let's be honest, doing a google image search of father time is a good waste of time, yeah? i stand by it.
We Love Wasting Time
indulge me as a try to entertain myself here at work. Today is Thursday. Only Thursday?!?! are you kidding me? ugh. I still have to get through friday till I make it to the weekend? Oh, Father Time, you fickle, maniacal beast, you. Why do you forsake us? Who are you, really? In search for answers to these questions, here are some depictions of this so called "father":
Yes folks, here he is: Father Time. and he's carrying a SICKLE?! He's gonna fuck you up! What's that in his other hand, a motorcycle helmet? So what this depiction is telling me, is the force that controls the past, present and future is actually a drunken, old timey, serial-killer, biker with grizzly hair. kick ass.
Well this one makes me feel better. In this rendering, artist brian o'conner portrays father time as a rapist, eerily carrying a drunkenly passed out Mother Nature over his shoulder. I don't know about you, but i suspect foul play--look at her hanging lifelessly off his naked back. I know what you're thinking, and I have an answer that will make you smile: YES you CAN buy this painting!! For only $3,500 you can hang this picture above your bed serving as a constant reminder of the delicate balance (abduction) between nature and time.And finally, I hand you this: An interpretation from Michael, a 4th grader in Mr. Leatty's class. Great work Michael. How ever did you come up with the idea to draw Father Time as a googley headed man with a beard, wearing a robe? Oh, and he's standing on a grandfather clock--wow, that's really clever and original, Michael. And, wait--are those more grandfather clocks floating mysteriously in the air around him? And, no...wait, yes!!! You drew colorful squares at the base of each of those floating clocks!!! How whimsical!!! Michael!!!! Your creativity is astounding! And just in case we didn't get your subtlety, you gave us "father time" sloppily crammed in at the top. douche.
I know what you're thinking. and, yes, i did do a google image search of father time. So? you're just jealous cuz you didn't think of it yourself! And so what if i have to make fun of a 4th grader's art assignment in order to feel good about myself. You're just jealous cuz you don't have a boring ass job making $20,000 a year w/ no benefits.
sigh.
Well i hope you feel you didn't waste too much of your time today perusing these random pictures of a fictional figure. It served my purpose though--its now 5:04 and I only have an hour and a half left of work.
an hour and a half...hmmm...
ok, bear with me. here's a picture of Mother Nature:
Oh boy. Fuck global warming--this bitch is why the weather has been screwy. one more drink and I think she's ready for that father time to carry her home...
And thus concludes my blog entry about Father Time and Mother Nature. Wow. We've hit a new low....i hope you enjoy it as much as i do.
Commentary: I feel like i must have been wasted when writing this--however i was not. if i was wasted, i would not have been bored enough to write it. it probably would be misspelled too. But let's be honest, doing a google image search of father time is a good waste of time, yeah? i stand by it.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Best of Totesblog
September 19, 2006
Is This Racist??
When I was in elementary school, all the 5th graders went to a place called Nature's Classroom. "Nature's Classroom is a unique educational experience for students and their teachers, offering the very best in environmental education." Translation: you leave school and go to sleepover camp for 5 days, dissect things and play games in the woods. It was pretty rad if you ask me.
Now I haven't thought about Nature's Classroom in the longest time. Until this weekend that is. I was at my friend Kate's cabin in Moosup, CT when my memory was sparked. It was dark, and a group of us were blindly making our way through the the woods back towards the cabin, desperately trying not to sprain an ankle or run into a barbed wire fence of some sort. I made an off-color comment to my friend Mike along the lines of, "wow, this must have been what it was like to be a slave in the underground railroad" and all of a sudden my memory was sparked: the Nature's Classroom people made us play a game called RUNAWAY SLAVE.
I shit you not. Did anybody experience this? Any Hebron Ave Elementary School alumni out there?
I had completely forgotten about this peculiar activity until that moment, but oh, how the memories came flooding back. The counselors at this "educational retreat" split all of us up into small groups, "families" if you will, told us that we had just escaped and were running to freedom and sent us off into the woods to hide. These counselors, probably in their early twenties, were the "bounty hunters" and came after us. It was kind of like Hide and Seek, except when a Bounty Hunter found you, you could stand still and be "invisible" to them--the theory behind this was since we were pretending that our skin matched the blackness of the night, we were able blend in seamlessly...As long as we didn't move and kept our eyes closed. The other details are semi-fuzzy. I remember some sort of jail, and there must have been a home base of sorts--a Harriet Tubman house or Mason Dixon line--not really sure. I also vaguely remember the bounty hunters carrying big sticks.
I can't tell if a bunch of very white, very middle class 5th graders running through the woods pretending to be slaves is ridiculous or ridiculously awesome. I mean, they didn't put us in black face or anything, and to my recollection no one dropped the N-bomb. There was some definite role playing though. When a bounty hunter captured you, they were not friendly. Oh no. They played their role the best they legally could: making you crawl on the frozen ground, or stand silently in the jail until you were rescued. It was loads of fun. I'm fairly certain we convinced them to let us play it again at the end of the week.
I took a little trip back to Nature's Classroom via the internet and whilst tooling around I was surprised at a) how out of date the pictures are and b) how they now call this wonderful game The Underground Railroad. Is this their attempt at being more PC? Now, its possible this was the name of the game all along. Maybe I'm merely projecting the more inappropriate title upon my memory in order to create a more interesting blog entry, but I really don't think so. I'm pretty sure they called it Runaway Slave.
Commentary: I don't know if there is much else to comment about this. Nature's Classroom is run by a bunch of biggots. But i failed to mention that i got to dissect a bird when i was there. that was pretty cool.
Is This Racist??
When I was in elementary school, all the 5th graders went to a place called Nature's Classroom. "Nature's Classroom is a unique educational experience for students and their teachers, offering the very best in environmental education." Translation: you leave school and go to sleepover camp for 5 days, dissect things and play games in the woods. It was pretty rad if you ask me.
Now I haven't thought about Nature's Classroom in the longest time. Until this weekend that is. I was at my friend Kate's cabin in Moosup, CT when my memory was sparked. It was dark, and a group of us were blindly making our way through the the woods back towards the cabin, desperately trying not to sprain an ankle or run into a barbed wire fence of some sort. I made an off-color comment to my friend Mike along the lines of, "wow, this must have been what it was like to be a slave in the underground railroad" and all of a sudden my memory was sparked: the Nature's Classroom people made us play a game called RUNAWAY SLAVE.
I shit you not. Did anybody experience this? Any Hebron Ave Elementary School alumni out there?
I had completely forgotten about this peculiar activity until that moment, but oh, how the memories came flooding back. The counselors at this "educational retreat" split all of us up into small groups, "families" if you will, told us that we had just escaped and were running to freedom and sent us off into the woods to hide. These counselors, probably in their early twenties, were the "bounty hunters" and came after us. It was kind of like Hide and Seek, except when a Bounty Hunter found you, you could stand still and be "invisible" to them--the theory behind this was since we were pretending that our skin matched the blackness of the night, we were able blend in seamlessly...As long as we didn't move and kept our eyes closed. The other details are semi-fuzzy. I remember some sort of jail, and there must have been a home base of sorts--a Harriet Tubman house or Mason Dixon line--not really sure. I also vaguely remember the bounty hunters carrying big sticks.
I can't tell if a bunch of very white, very middle class 5th graders running through the woods pretending to be slaves is ridiculous or ridiculously awesome. I mean, they didn't put us in black face or anything, and to my recollection no one dropped the N-bomb. There was some definite role playing though. When a bounty hunter captured you, they were not friendly. Oh no. They played their role the best they legally could: making you crawl on the frozen ground, or stand silently in the jail until you were rescued. It was loads of fun. I'm fairly certain we convinced them to let us play it again at the end of the week.
I took a little trip back to Nature's Classroom via the internet and whilst tooling around I was surprised at a) how out of date the pictures are and b) how they now call this wonderful game The Underground Railroad. Is this their attempt at being more PC? Now, its possible this was the name of the game all along. Maybe I'm merely projecting the more inappropriate title upon my memory in order to create a more interesting blog entry, but I really don't think so. I'm pretty sure they called it Runaway Slave.
Bravo to Nature's Classroom for bringing suburban white kids one step closer to understanding the struggle and history of the African American slave.
Commentary: I don't know if there is much else to comment about this. Nature's Classroom is run by a bunch of biggots. But i failed to mention that i got to dissect a bird when i was there. that was pretty cool.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Best Of Totesblog
So in the midst of maintaining my rigorous schedule of stuff that I do, I completely missed the One Year anniversary of Umm...i didn't know i was starting a blog!
My recognition of this momentous occasion is only a tad belated as umm...i didn't know i was starting a blog was birthed from my creative womb on May 22nd, 2006. I'm only a couple weeks late.
Anyway, in honor of this event, I shall post the Best Of Totesblog. Each day of the week will be a new entry from the archives with some special commentary.
The first Best Of clip comes from the infancy of the archives and is one of my all-time favorites. The fourth post ever, this entry set the tone for humiliating people which has since become a long lasting tradition of this blog. Enjoy.
May 26, 2006
Defying Heterosexuality
ugh. damn you blogger. I wrote a hilarious post...Which to the dismay of me and my readers (all two of them--what up mom and her friend from work!) was erased. So I'll have to rewrite it...it WON'T be as funny though. Really. The other one was insanely funny. I peed twice while writing it.
ANYWAY. In an attempt to find something as embarrassing as the two queens singing wicked in a parking lot--I scoured youtube for something equally tingly (tingly is a word my friend Lindsey introduced me to describing that feeling you get when you're super embarrassed for someone else.) After some time, and some excellent possibilities, I settled on this monstrosity. Granted, it's not AS funny as our two friends who give gays and musical theater a bad name, this is still pretty priceless. I think I blew my comedy wad by posting the other video first, but whatever. This guy (or is it a girl, I'm not really sure) is AMAZING.
Now what gets me in this video, isn't the fact that he (or she?) is so into it he (or she?) actually believes they're on stage at the Gershwin. It's the fact that he (or she?) is SO into it, he (or she?) took the time to pick out a dress in his (her?) mom's closet, find a black wig from the Halloween box in the attic, rummage through all the make up in the house so he (she?) could cover his (her?) face in green eye shadow, and then paint pointy eyebrows (seriously, that's at least a 45 minute make up job). And that was just pre-production. He/She THEN spent at least an hour setting up the camera and making sure the lighting was good. rigging the stereo and cuing the CD to the right spot, followed by a couple good hours of filming. The post production then consisted of choosing the best shots and EDITING them together and synching up the sound. Now that is crazy as it is, but this guy/girl is a professional. for him/her, the plain video will not suffice. No. He/she needs computerized credits introducing him. her.
I am not one to judge. I did some pretty lame things as a kid (including, but not limited to: turning my sun room into a theater by rigging a curtain using fishing line, bed sheets, and duct tape; and dancing to Janet Jackson in my driveway as my mom secretly watched from my bedroom window.) BUT in no way would I EVER videotape this and post it for the whole world to see! C'mon dude, show some class! This is shit you do in the privacy of your own home, when no one is there. if you DO make a video of it, you destroy it. Clearly. ugh. When will these kids learn.
in the meantime I can't really complain, its giving me great fodder for my blog.
Special Commentary: I originally wanted to post the other video of the 2 dudes singing wicked in a parking lot, but apparently they took that off Youtube. This'll have to do. Some of you may remember that the person in this video actually left a comment on this original post. He (not a she) was honored that I found his video, and is very proud of the fact that he had the passion to lip sync and post it to the world. yay for him. We should locate all his videos that he's made (there have been many) and post them to as many blogs as possible; get his work out there!
My recognition of this momentous occasion is only a tad belated as umm...i didn't know i was starting a blog was birthed from my creative womb on May 22nd, 2006. I'm only a couple weeks late.
Anyway, in honor of this event, I shall post the Best Of Totesblog. Each day of the week will be a new entry from the archives with some special commentary.
The first Best Of clip comes from the infancy of the archives and is one of my all-time favorites. The fourth post ever, this entry set the tone for humiliating people which has since become a long lasting tradition of this blog. Enjoy.
May 26, 2006
Defying Heterosexuality
ugh. damn you blogger. I wrote a hilarious post...Which to the dismay of me and my readers (all two of them--what up mom and her friend from work!) was erased. So I'll have to rewrite it...it WON'T be as funny though. Really. The other one was insanely funny. I peed twice while writing it.
ANYWAY. In an attempt to find something as embarrassing as the two queens singing wicked in a parking lot--I scoured youtube for something equally tingly (tingly is a word my friend Lindsey introduced me to describing that feeling you get when you're super embarrassed for someone else.) After some time, and some excellent possibilities, I settled on this monstrosity. Granted, it's not AS funny as our two friends who give gays and musical theater a bad name, this is still pretty priceless. I think I blew my comedy wad by posting the other video first, but whatever. This guy (or is it a girl, I'm not really sure) is AMAZING.
Now what gets me in this video, isn't the fact that he (or she?) is so into it he (or she?) actually believes they're on stage at the Gershwin. It's the fact that he (or she?) is SO into it, he (or she?) took the time to pick out a dress in his (her?) mom's closet, find a black wig from the Halloween box in the attic, rummage through all the make up in the house so he (she?) could cover his (her?) face in green eye shadow, and then paint pointy eyebrows (seriously, that's at least a 45 minute make up job). And that was just pre-production. He/She THEN spent at least an hour setting up the camera and making sure the lighting was good. rigging the stereo and cuing the CD to the right spot, followed by a couple good hours of filming. The post production then consisted of choosing the best shots and EDITING them together and synching up the sound. Now that is crazy as it is, but this guy/girl is a professional. for him/her, the plain video will not suffice. No. He/she needs computerized credits introducing him. her.
I am not one to judge. I did some pretty lame things as a kid (including, but not limited to: turning my sun room into a theater by rigging a curtain using fishing line, bed sheets, and duct tape; and dancing to Janet Jackson in my driveway as my mom secretly watched from my bedroom window.) BUT in no way would I EVER videotape this and post it for the whole world to see! C'mon dude, show some class! This is shit you do in the privacy of your own home, when no one is there. if you DO make a video of it, you destroy it. Clearly. ugh. When will these kids learn.
in the meantime I can't really complain, its giving me great fodder for my blog.
Special Commentary: I originally wanted to post the other video of the 2 dudes singing wicked in a parking lot, but apparently they took that off Youtube. This'll have to do. Some of you may remember that the person in this video actually left a comment on this original post. He (not a she) was honored that I found his video, and is very proud of the fact that he had the passion to lip sync and post it to the world. yay for him. We should locate all his videos that he's made (there have been many) and post them to as many blogs as possible; get his work out there!
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