May 12, 2010

So it’s Wednesday. I hope you’re happy. If you’re here in lovely New York City, you’ll know that it’s raining outside. Why would anybody who is NOT in NYC be reading this? I wonder. But then I also remember that Birdsong International Kitty enterprises, LLC, 69420 is a WORLDWIDE phenomenon. Speaking of weather and not being in NYC, I miss Mickey Pussy so hard. I love it when she updates her Special Blog, called Seriously You’re The Worst, with tales of her fabulous life out in Los Angeles. Slash I want to come visit. Slash and never leave.

Anyway TODAY’S THEMES ARE RAIN and then also WHATEVER  ELSE I FEEL LIKE: Read the rest of this entry »


RIP Corey Haim Hump Day Grab Bag

March 10, 2010

By Tatyana

It’s strange. I recently made an off-handed comment about how the music industry has lost more greats than the motion picture industry, and then snarkily suggested that the motion picture industry kill off some of their greats. Then lo and behold, 2 days later Corey Haim bites the dust. First of all, I’m not necessarily saying Corey Haim is a great. He is an… all right? (RIP Corey Haim). Second of all, this is not the first time that I’ve accidentally willed a celebrity to die. I have been known to randomly mention actors the day before they keel. This guy knows what I’m talking about.

The response on the internet is, as usual, incredibly profound.

I would be lying if I said I knew much about Corey Haim. My childhood was devoid of the pop culture that informs most of the party jokes of my peers, as I was only allowed to watch a handful of movies–usually based on books featuring scrappy, but well-mannered Victorian girls– or retrospectively terrifying PBS shows.


Sometimes, if I was lucky, my grandma would encourage me to write letters to Barbara Bush about how much I loved to read.

Something else Barbara Bush and I have in common.

It was only recently that I even watched the Lost Boys for the first time!

Obviously, it’s always very sad for anyone who loses a Corey too soon, and RIP Corey Haim. But this whole thing really got me thinking about the teen pop culture of the generation just before ours, or maybe that of our older brothers or sisters, and how now all of those celebrities are old. Remember the John Hughes tribute at the Oscars? Maybe you didn’t catch it because the Botoxed skin of the Brat Pack was reflecting the diamond broadcasts a little too brightly. How terrifying was that? Anyway, that was a bit of a nail in the coffin for the genre of sentimental 1980s movies. Sorry about your feelings, Ally Sheedy. Sorry about your face, Molly Ringwald.

So RIP Corey Haim, and RIP all of us eventually. Nobody’s forever young. Except of course for these guys.

Over-the-Hump Day Grab Bag!

February 25, 2010

by Chantal

Where do comedians come from? Maybe they come from the fact that Daddy Drank.
Oh, and So Did Mommy. “Believe me, just believe me the way you believed me when I sang.” Contemporary hot messes need to Learn Their History!
I have a question: Does knowing that at four years old, Molly Shannon was the sole survivor of a car crash that killed her mother and sister Change Your Perception Of Her Comedy?
Maybe it’s just me but when I hear Sarah Silverman say that she was a “frequent bedwetter” with trust issues, my first thought is, Who Touched You? 
Where do comedians go? I know you’re fighting a fear of rejection and you hate the way eyes feel upon you but Comedians, Please Stop Speedballing.
No, Seriously, Never Speedball. You will always die, you cannot win at speedball. It is not a game you play, IT’S A GAME THAT PLAYS YOU.
On a lighter note, I would just like to thank the severely depressed angel who posted The Entire Series of Cheers on the Internet. Sam and Diane give me hope that you CAN meet the man of your dreams at a bar. Runner-up for Incredibly Lonely People I’d Like To Thank is the person who posted The Entire First Season Of Caroline In The City on the internet. As it turns out even my light notes are heavy.
In case you forgot or in case you remembered that the person writing this post isn’t white and in case you wished all my links didn’t feature white people so prominently, I will hammer this home now. I Am Not White and I like imagining that I just took some power away from someone who was judging me. That last phrase references what I am now calling my “racially-specific schizophrenia kernels” because I don’t know what else to call those thoughts. I saw Reggie Watts recently and I didn’t know if I wanted him to hit on me or sample me.
This brings me to my next query: Where’s the article on Hip-Hop and Sci-Fi Tropes? No seriously, I’m sure it exists, just find it and provide me with a link please?
Yea so, I’m Still Not White and this mix of black 90s television + therapy, man you guys, it’s pure Chantal Nip. At times like this (and also, whenever I hang out with Tommy and we play the game that dominates my friendships, a game I like to call Feelings Detectives, Or, How Do We Cure Your Eating Disorder If It Was A Fundamental Way You Bonded With Your Mom? my consciousness just runs around in circles until it crashes into the wall.
Happy Thursday and Meet Me At The Cat Cafe.

White Out!

September 25, 2009

by Chantal

This Saturday is the season premiere of Saturday Night Live, and I’m not sure what to feel. I have a strange relationship with SNL, for reasons I will come to, but I do think that watching it is a good way to get used to certain inevitable feelings that arise when you’re watching comedy, specifically live comedy. Because alot of SNL isn’t funny. There will be stretches of 10, 15, 20 minutes where, in a group of viewers, no one laughs at all, where a room just sits, waiting for real laughter to break through all that control. And in those moments, aspects of individual personalities reveal themselves. Someone in the room will give a fake titter after a long lack, to try and ease the room. Someone in the room will say, with authority, “That’s funny” without laughing, because comedy is like sadness: you can have the feeling without the tears. Someone in the room will try to anticipate the laughter of others because they just don’t get it but fear their non-laughter would somehow turn against them. Someone in the room will laugh at everything, because it’s just one of those nights. And someone on the floor will laugh at something completely different because they are really, really high and just noticed that the two people onscreen do not get along in real life. I could isolate reactions all day, it’s part of what my brain does, and it’s one of my own reactions to social situations.

But this is part of the problem with SNL for me. I never really lose that ‘reaction isolator’ part of my brain when watching it, because for the most part, it’s not consistently funny enough to turn that off. So if it’s like stand-up at all, it’s like a Five Buck Yucks kind of deal, where you pay a flat fee to see several different comedians who you’ve usually never heard of. And some of ’em are really, really bad. (When you see a comedian actually say, “That’s one of those jokes you’ll get later on,” it produces this sympathy-disgust beast that teaches me so much about myself for a second because I’m like “I am not gonna laugh until you are funnier I am not gonna laugh until you are funnier I am not gonna laugh” and it may not be an ethical reaction but it also really may be.) Other sketches though, are such straight-up game-changers that it makes comedy feel purposive, essential, and political if for no other reason than the fact that giggles can be hard to come by. Maybe this is what certain viewers felt when they watched Eddie Murphy sing “Kill the White People” on SNL in the early eighties.

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Two Girls, One Twilight. Cont’d.

August 11, 2009

By Michelle and Tatyana and StephEnie Meyer

seriously this is the whole movie. them staring at each other and not kissing.

This is part two of our Twilight talk. I don’t think we covered anything new, but hey whats birdsong without 16 yr old boner jokes? Exactly. We last left off with me wondering why vampires are always so rich. And Tatyana wondering why they always wear blouses.  It’s cuz they’re Italian, doi.

Tatyana: DUDE, the Cullens’ richness is explained in the first book which you did not read (ahem, poser, ahem). Yes, it does have to do with Alice’s abilities to predict the stock market. How fucking boring is that?! I can’t help but picture a vampire on the floor of the NYSE all “Buy! Sell! Buy!” and like fumbling around with her Blackberry cause she doesn’t know how to use it cause she was born in, oh I don’t know, 1807. Seriously my boss who was born in the 1950s still can’t figure out how to load a stapler.

Anywayyyy, I agree with you 100 percent about these dullards who call themselves vampires in the Twilight SAGA. Is that what they think a teen girl’s deepest fantasies look like? Dude, gimme the True Blood vampire ANY DAY. He’s so… TROUBLED.

Michelle: Ugh. I’m so busted. Ok fine, I didn’t read the first book, I bought the second one while drunk! But I did watch the movie. And if New Moon was any indication of whats to be expected in Twilight then I dodged a fucking sad face teen sob god this girl can mope for like 27 chapters bullet. So good to know I was right about that stock market thing.  I can only imagine Carlisle at home in his jammies on E*Trade tho. “Esme, honey, do you want stock in Goldman Sachs or not?!”

Also anyone watch the teen choice awards last night?! Ladies? (My roommate had it on, I swear. I only caught glimpses while walking to the kitchen for my second Coors) First of all, who are all these asshole 12 yr old LA kids dressed up like adults? Second of all, when will Miley get a DUI already? Thirdly, holy god Jacob Black Lautner Taylor Thomas, fuck me in the eyeballs. Yr vest was sooooo tight fitting over yr werewolf muscles.

All this vampire talk Tya, I kinda feel like two teenage Corey’s in that movie you haven’t seen yet.  How many Lost Boys references can I make before the world implodes? Lets go for gold.

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July 29, 2009

by Chantal

Mary Bronstein’s YEAST is an emotional horror film. People who study film might have access to more precise language. But I like emotional horror. I like this film because it’s about toxicity among women. Three women locked into habits of relating, feeling, thinking. Limping dead friendship around. Mary Bronstein understands relationality. She knows that negativistic, resistant people are often attracted to passive, dependent people. She knows the opposite is true. ‘You can tell me what to do,’ says one. ‘You listen,’ says the other. Not in the film do they say these things but this dynamic is what their relationship enacts. Laura said something beautiful the other night when we watched this. She said, ‘Sometimes I think I don’t know anything as well as I know what it’s like to have friendships with women.’ I’m horribly mis-quoting but the sentiment was very deep. So many of us have intense kinds of knowledge just from being on the bottom or being big or whatever. Some people are interpersonal geniuses. I think Mary Bronstein is, I think she knows.

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Shorty got Lo Lo Lo Lo Lo Lo Lo (Ko)

June 9, 2009

By Michelle
Also, a contest!!!!!

srsly, we don't live here why? oh thats right, rampant racism and homophobia...

Alright kids, we all know that Sparks is now defunct. It no longer contains caffeine cuz some lady in the Midwest decided mixing alcohol and energy drink was dangerous. I think she confused the word ‘dangerous’ with ‘fucking genius.’ To quote the amazing Tommy Pico re: new un-caffeinated Sparks “You might as well be drinking Smirnoff Ice.” Ouch.

So on Friday night, when my after-work exhaustion started to kick in, my friend Diego and I decided to hit the bodega for some, dare I say it, Low. Sugar. Red… Bull. I know, I know. But I was tired and just wanted something, anything to ensure that I would not wake up on a strangers couch at 1am while everyone else was at a bar having the most amazing fun ever and likely popping bottles with Jay-Z. As we’re buying our Red Bull and Coors Light (Taste the Rockies motherfucker!) we came across these huge orange cans in the booze section. I don’t remember the exact conversation but I think it went something like this:
Me: Whoa, new Sparks?
Diego: Holy shit, let’s try it!
Me: I hope it makes me vom!
Diego: Let’s split one just in case. (Diego’s really smart.)

This is what we look like to other people.

My compatriot and I then embarked on an amazing journey with our newfound Four Loko (with a K people).  It’s 11% alcohol with Caffeine, Taurine, and Guarana all crammed in a fucking 24 oz. tall boy can! It’s like Sparks on steroids! It also kind of tastes like ass, but what delicious alcoholic beverage that makes you insane doesn’t? We wandered back to the party with our pride and joy and proceeded to chug it, pass it around, and pretty much vibe on all the shared psychotic disorder we were experiencing. “THIS IS AMAZING, THIS IS AMAZING” was all I had to say. 

May I now direct the reader’s attention to the Four website.  Prepare yourself for psychadelic colors, links to Myspace, Facebook, and Youtube (how relevant!) aaaaand girls holding watermelons over their naked boobs while referring to things as juicy and round…?  Ugh, nothing gold can stay.  Also, apparently this drink is huge among dudes who ride motocross, girls with bad hair and trucker hats, and epic date rape faced douchebags, but whatever. You can also submit photos of yrself and yr friends enjoying Four (while driving) and basically documenting the first half of the night, before you all end up on the fire escape putting the weed in the wrong end of the pipe and talking about what the offspring of a kitten and unicorn would look like (hint: adorable). I suggest you also check out last months “Photo of the Month.” Apparently that bro-down pic was ‘daring and titillating’ enough to win? Peshaw! I hereby challenge you all to make it into next months ‘Photo.’ A case of Four Loko waits for you in my closet (you have to share it with me)!

All in all, this shit is the jam. It gets you totally wasted and awake-crazed, but not all the bodegas carry it. We got it from the expensive place on Bedford and N 7th. Obvs we were in Williamsburg, maybe it wasn’t the Four making us dazed and wasted, maybe we were just drunk off our own hip-ness? Either way I give this a 4 outta 5 stars. Minus points for the sexist/douchey website that made me second guess my love for alcoholic energy drinks. Curses.