Cheap Entertainment

Okay, so I've been M.I.A. lately from my blog and from the internet in general (word of advice... don't drop your laptop on the ground), but I've finally got my mac back. And Damn! it feels good. Not having a computer to suck up all my time, I had to find other ways of keeping myself entertained so below is a breakdown of everything I've read, listened to, watched and done over the last two months.

TELEVISION

Currently without cable, I get three channels, NBC, PBS and FOX. So, weirdly, I've kind of gotten into "Prison Break." But, my latest thing, is downloading t.v. shows like the current season of "The Hills" and "Gossip Girl" which I LOVE. It makes me miss "The O.C." a little less. Watching episodes while I'm curled up on my couch with Dudley asleep next to me is my new favorite thing.

MOVIES

I've never been very good about posting reviews of the movies I get from netflix so here's a list of what I recently liked and didn't like.

1. Broken English- directed by Zoe Cassavetes (yes, THAT family) and starring Parker Posey about this 30-something woman who keeps meeting the wrong guys while all her friends are settling down (oh, that sounds kind of familar). One night she meets this effervescent Frenchman named Julien who woos her despite her cynicism about relationships and the obvious baggage she's carrying around. Melvil Poupaud plays Julien, and he's the cutest thing in his straw fedora, white tee and dark jacket. In fact, I loved him so much, I rented...

2. Time to Leave- Francois Ozon (one of my favorites, he also did Under the Sand and Swimming Pool) directed this film about a gay guy who finds out he has a month to live and pretty much cuts ties with everyone in his life except his grandmother (played by the sublime Jeanne Moreau). The ending is beautifully sad.

3. Starter for Ten- A cute British movie set in the new wave 80's about this guy who loves trivia and ends up on the "Quiz" team at his university while falling for the wrong girl before ending up with the right girl.

4. The Puffy Chair- A low budget film about this brother who finds an exact replica of a puffy chair his dad used to have on ebay, and he sets off on this road trip with his girlfriend and slacker brother to pick it up. A friend of mine says its his favorite romantic comedy which actually says a lot about him considering what ends up happening at the end.

5. The Child- A very disturbing Belgium film about two homeless kids who have a baby and what happens when the young father decides to sell the baby for a few bucks.

6. Entourage, Big Love and Weeds- Love them! If you haven't seen these shows, what are you waiting for?

7. Lucky You, Year of the Dog, Evening, In the Land of Women- Didn't care for any of these films. Don't waste your time.

MUSIC

Jeez. Where do I even start. Music is the soundtrack of my life so I'm always listening to something, but here's the stuff I'm loving right now.

1. The Shout Out Louds... when I first heard this, I seriously thought it was Robert Smith doing a Cure side project while taking prozac.
2. New Young Pony Club... just really fun. Favorite track: "Ice Cream."
3. Spoon... not sure what's going on with the album's title, but it's really good.
4. Editors... kind of figured this was a one album sort of band, but their follow-up is just as good.
5. Band of Horses... since this band recently moved back to Chucktown, I figured I'd give it a go, and, hey, it's pretty awesome.
6. Rilo Kiley... Nobody sings about the seedy underbelly of L.A. as pretty as Jenny Lewis.

BOOKS

I've been reading a lot of non-fiction lately.

1. Jon Katz... um, pretty much everything.
2. Various elephant books... I've decided to go to Africa to be a volunteer at a sanctuary for orphaned elephants.
3. A Long Time Gone... brutal memoir of a boy soldier in Africa.
4. Privilige and Scandal... another memoir but this time of a frivolous 18th century aristocrat.
5. Heart Made of Water... a journalist's chronicle of staying put through Hurricane Katrina and its surreal aftermath.

Helloooooo.....

Wow. I didn't realize how long it's been since I last posted on my blog. August. That's just pathetic. Is anyone even still checking? Probably not. Sigh...

A Question for the Peanut Gallery

So, help me out with this one. When is a date not a date? Here are the facts. The other night I asked this guy I kind of know to see a movie (he had a car!), but I didn't consider it a date until another guy said it definitely was. He did pick me up at my place. We went out for drinks before, and he actually paid for mine but only because our tab was on his card. I tried to find out what I owed him, but he said not to worry about it. Okay, then we went to the movie. I paid for my own ticket. After he took me home. Hmm... I did have trouble deciding what to wear because I wasn't sure if I should dress like I was going to the movie with a friend or on a date. So??? Was this a date in disguise or just two almost, kind of friends hanging out?

See This Movie

For a couple months now, I've been hearing about this small Irish film called "Once." It was being hailed as one of the best rock and roll movies of all time which I thought was a serious claim to make. Well last night I finally had a chance to see this movie and can say that the hype is well-deserved. "Once" is simply fantastic. The nameless characters (listed in the final credits as "Guy" and "Girl") are so affecting as they draw you into their seemingly ordinary world of an Irish street busker and a Czech street vendor. The male lead is the singer of the Irish band "The Frames," and he wrote most of the music which is definitely a highlight of the film. Songs appear throughout the movie in places such as a music store, a city bus (one of the most entertaining scenes where the "Guy" sings about being a "broken-hearted Hoover fixer sucker guy"), on the street at night and in various apartments. The best song is when the "Girl" runs out late one night to get some batteries for a cd player and sings "If You Want Me," new lyrics she's just written to some music he'd given her. Over the course of a week, these two people write music together and fall in love, but the romance is just modern enough that things don't happen in the expected way. Taking out a loan and recruiting some street musicians as a backing band, the "Guy" records a demo which he plans to take to London to get a recording deal. The film ends ambiguously because we never learn if he's successful, but at that point, it doesn't really matter. What matters is the music that was created in collaboration with the "Girl" and the connection they had. If you haven't seen "Once," you need to. It's completely unpretentious in a world full of pretense.

Pink Backlash

Okay. I'm ditching the pink.

Hipster is the New Yuppie

Wow. I can write in pink now. Cool. Okay, today's topic has to do with Hipsters. It's come up a couple times in conversations recently with everyone denying being a hipster but pointing out someone who is. I got to thinking... what if Hipster was the new Yuppie. Back in the gloriously-greedy 80's, we all knew who the yuppies were, but you never heard anybody refer to themselves as a yuppie. Hipster, like yuppie, is a slur. It's said sneeringly. With contempt. So imagine my shock when a friend casually called me a Hipster which, of course, I vehemently denied. Ok, yes, I work at Urban Outfitters, but we all know that place is full of wannabe Hipsters which is so much worse. Anyway, I've made a list of why I'm not a Hipster just so there's no confusion.

1. I don't read 'zines.
2. I don't drink Red Bull or Rip It.
3. I don't wear skinny jeans or Chucks.
4. I'm not on MySpace.
5. I'm not an acolyte of Bukowski, Palahniuk or Vonnegut.
6. I don't have any tattoos.
7. Or piercings.
8. Or have an ironic new-wave haircut.
9. I don't shop at American Apparel.
10. I don't really like the White Stripes.

Hope that clears things up.

Farewell Beantown

Well it's time once again to say farewell to Boston. In two hours I leave for Logan Airport on my way back to Charleston, SC after being here for a week. It's been fun. Highlights include...

1. Taking the ferry out to the Harbour Islands (Georges was my favorite) on a gorgeous day and having an amazing view of the entire Boston skyline from the water.

2. My great friend Kerry coming up from Westerly, RI and whiling away a couple hours in the MFA, one of my favorite museums ever. Except we never did find that little Egyptian head that's supposed to be so incredible. We did on the other hand see a necklace made of crack vials and syringes. Nice.

3. Poker Night at Dan's. "Pass the Trash" is the bomb. I also had 4 large gin & tonics without feeling a thing, so either my tolerance for alcohol has reached unprecedented levels or Dan serves the weakest gin & tonics in the history of bartending. Brian, on the other hand, needed some help getting home.

4. The Police show at Fenway Park on Saturday night. It was AMAZING as you can read for yourself in the posting down below. I have to give a major shout-out to my brother who scored the most fricking great tickets I've ever had. Six rows back on the field. I'm still in shock.

5. Mt. Auburn Cemetery. Incredibly I'd never been before, but it's got the most unbelievable view of Boston from its tower. A full 360 degrees. Plus a hit parade of 19th- early 20th century luminaries... B.F. Skinner, Buckminster Fuller, Mary Baker Edy, Longfellow, Isabella Stewart Gardner, Winslow Homer. The list goes on. And, I saw a coyote.

6. Tullio's in Quincy, my absolute favorite restaurant in the metro area. If you go, get the Penne with Grilled Chicken. You won't be disappointed.

7. Newport. Went to go surfing, but the waves were tiny. Like they've been all week. Luckily, there's so much else to do in Newport.

THINGS I DIDN'T GET TO DO:

1. Have a burrito at Anna's Taqueria... now that really is a bummer.
2. Go surfing... see above.
3. Spend more time with friends
4. Climb Mt. Washington... this is my Everest. One of these days...
5. Tanglewood... I had to get my culture elsewhere.

My Happy Song

I'm not sure when it started, but lately there's been one song that I consider my "happy song." This song just makes me smile. It puts me in a good mood, and when I close my eyes, I can imagine myself in a Coke commercial circa 1978, holding hands with strangers on a hill and singing about teaching the world to sing in perfect harmony. Here's my list...

1. "Treehouse"- I'm From Barcelona *
2. "I Feel It All"- Feist
3. "Dashboard"- Modest Mouse
4. "Young Folks"- Peter, Bjorn and John
5. "Energy"- Apples in Stereo
6. "Sleeping Lessons"- The Shins
7. "The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song"- The Flaming Lips
8. "Massive Nights"- The Hold Steady
9. "Don Gon Do It"- The Rapture
10. "Blankest Year"- Nada Surf
11. "Kaboom!"- Ursula 1000
12. "Lightning Blue Eyes"- Secret Machines

* Current Favorite

Final Thoughts on a Scandel-Plagued Tour

It seems incredible to me that this year's Tour could provide bigger shocks than the 2006 Tour de France. Last year, before the race had even begun, the top two riders were thrown out because their names were linked to the blood doping scandal that had come out of Spain. Since then Jan Ullrich, who was the most gifted natural rider the sport had ever seen, has retired, his entire career a tragic series of missed opportunities and tactical blunders. Ivan Basso, the Golden Boy from two years ago and the man who was supposed to succeed Lance Armstrong, is facing a 2-year ban and was let go of the Discovery Team. Then there's Floyd Landis who "won" the 2006 Tour de France only to test positive for a banned substance and, a year later, is still caught up in legal battles to keep his Tour victory. This year was supposed to be a fresh start. The organization that governs professional cycling was supposed to be cracking down, and the teams themselves were supposed to implement their own anti-doping measures. So, with all the heightened awareness, how is that Alexandre Vinokourov, the race favorite, and Michael Rasmussen, the race leader, both got bounced during the race because of doping? Some people say that kicking the Astana and Cofidis teams out of the race and removing Rasmussen while he was in the Yellow Jersey somehow cleans up the sport because it sends a "zero tolerance" message to the riders. Others say that cycling is polluted with doping, and there's always going to be questions about whether a rider is "clean" (just like the ones that have dogged Lance Armstrong despite repeated blood-doping tests that were always negative). I fall somewhere in the middle. This year's Tour was great, despite the scandals, because it was about the next generation of riders. Alberto Contador is 24 years old. He could be the next great Tour de France winner, in the tradition of Eddy Merkyxx and Miguel Indurain. Tom Boonen is another young guy who's in top form and is dominating the sprints. He's incredible to watch. Fabien Cancellara is the time trial world champion, and his win in this year's Prologue was astonishing. The list goes on. However, my feeling is that the only way to really clean up the sport is to impose ever harsher penalties on the riders who continue to break the rules. I'm talking about a lifetime ban. Riders might not consider EPO worth the risk of losing their livelihoods which could eventually lead to a clean Tour. What happens next year is anybody's guess, but I'm hopeful. The Tour de France is a beautiful event, made even more magical when you know these incredible athletes are performing on their own and without the help of performance-enhancing drugs. I'd like to know that the man who ultimately stands on the podium in Paris wearing the Yellow Jersey got there because he really was better than everyone else, something that we'll probably never know about Barry Bonds as he breaks Hank Aaron's home run record.

Police @ Fenway 7/28/07

It's now the day after the Police show at Fenway, and I still don't have adequate words for the concert. Ever since I found out there was going to be a reunion tour back in the spring, I've been waiting for the show, and you'd think with that kind of hightened expectation, the actual concert would be a bit of a let-down. Au contraire. It was easily one of the best shows I've ever seen (Pink Floyd at Foxboro for the Division Bell tour edges them out slightly), and I think the venue definitely added to the magic. The first big surprise of the night was where we sat. I was not in charge of getting tickets so I had no idea where we'd end up. Turns out it was on the field. Six rows back. It was the best seat I've ever had by far. Looking back, there was a sea of people in the stands, and the perspective must be what it feels like for a Red Sox player during a game. The band opened with "Message in a Bottle" which immediately ramped up the crowd, and all the major hits were played... "King of Pain," "Synchronicity 2," "Can't Stand Losing You," "Every Breath You Take" and "Roxanne." But they also played lesser known songs off their albums which I figured might be a nod to the fact that the Police has a long history with Boston, something that Sting mentioned during the show. Songs like "Invisible Sun," "The Bed's Too Big Without You," and "Walking in Your Footsteps." One of my favorite Police songs is "So Lonely," and they played a fantastic version of it during the finale. Also at the end, a photo montage of the band in the early days flashed across three jumbo screens, and it was kind of cool to see the way it had been and what it is now. This was a once in a lifetime show, and it was awesome to be a part of it.

I do have to give a shout-out to the two knuckleheads "sitting" next to us during the show. If the concert had been any less great, they might've ruined the whole night for me. While the Police were onstage, on tour for the first time in 20 years!, these two guys kept leaving for more beer. I think they went back and forth 10 times. Obviously already drunk, one of them dropped his brand new iPhone and spilled beer all over his chair... and that was just during the first song. They were total assholes who didn't deserve to be there and who should've just stayed at the beer concession stand because, clearly, they were at Fenway Saturday for the beer not the band. Un-fricking-believable.

Viva le Tour de France!

The single greatest sporting event in the world is underway, ladies and gentlemen. For three solid weeks, 200 riders will endure grueling conditions through the heart of France until one of them gets to stand on the podium on the Champs-Elysees as the overall leader. It's a compelling race that combines physical ability with mental toughness and tactical maneuvering. There's drama, tragedy, scandal, pain, moments of sublime individual achievement and, of course, the "agony of defeat." One man wins overall, but he can't win without his team's support and sacrifice. So here's a basic primer for all you Tour neophytes...

1. The Prologue- A short time-trial at the beginning of the Tour. Some men specialize in this distance, and this year's winner, Fabian Cancellara, was incredibly dominant. An American, George Hincapie, was 3rd.

2. The Yellow Jersey- The overall race leader gets to wear the yellow jersey. It will usually change hands several times during the early stages of the Tour. There's strategy involved too with giving it away. If the leader wants his team to rest up before a difficult stage, he might let another rider win the yellow jersey so that another team has to ride hard to defend it.

3. The Peloton- The main body of riders.

4. A Breakaway- During a stage, some riders may break away from the Peloton with the hope of putting enough time between them and the Peloton to make it to the finish line so that one of them can win an individual stage. Sometimes it works, but the Peloton is capable of catching most breakaways, especially if the team with the yellow jersey decides it's too dangerous to allow one of the riders in the breakaway that much time in the overall standings.

5. Sprinters- These guys like it rough. When the Peloton comes barreling towards the finish line, it's like a stampede, but that's when the sprinters burst through tiny gaps between the riders to emerge ahead of the pack to take the finish. It's a crazy thing to watch, and if one rider bumps another, the whole Peloton can go down. Those crashes at the end are always the worst to watch. Riders to watch... Robbie McEwan and Tom Boonen.

6. EPO- The banned substance of choice among riders.

7. Polka Dot Jersey- The climber with the most points through the mountain stages gets to wear the polka dot jersey.

8. Time Trials- There are usually a couple time trials during the Tour. In addition to the Prologue which is an individual effort, there are typically two others as well as a team time trial. They can be kind of tense to watch because sometimes the outcome of the entire Tour depends on someone's time. Jan Ullrich used to be poetry in motion during the ITT. The team time trial is a little different because the entire team has to ride together, and the clock doesn't stop until the 8th rider crosses the finish line.

Worst Job Ever

The summer before my sophomore year in college, I got a job at a frozen pie factory called Rich's in Saugatuck, MI. The previous two summers I had worked at a couple restaurants where my family summered on Lake Michigan. The first went bankrupt; the second I abruptly quit and spent the rest of August on the beach before I went back to school. This new job sucked, and I kind of had that figured out on the first day. We had to wear all white... white shirt, white pants, white shoes and white hard hat over a hair net. It was an assembly line where the dough was formed over metal dishes, the fruit was measured out and dumped in, another layer of dough added and smoothed down. The work was utterly monotonous and soul crushing. Because I was in college, I was also a bit of a pariah since, I'm guessing, very few of the other people working there ever went. I mean, how else would you end up in a frozen pie factory? My second day, I was on the line after the fruit was dumped in the pie shells when I noticed one of the metal dishes didn't have a pie shell so I went to pull the tin out. Only the next section on the line was a round metal disk that came down and smoothed the fruit out, and the tip of my thumb was crushed between the two pieces of metal. This is the gross part. Immediately after it happened, I quickly stepped away from the line and ripped off my plastic glove. Just thinking about that kind of makes me queasy. The secretary had to take me to the hospital where the doctor removed the bit of nail that was still hanging on and stitched my thumb up. The very next day I went back to work, but because I was injured, I had to do something relatively easy. For the next month and a half, I stood beside a conveyer belt, looking for bits of dirt in the dough to remove. I've never had a Rich's frozen pie and never will. Because, somewhere, out there was a pie with a piece of my nail in it. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my Worst Job Ever.

43 Things

A while ago, I came across an article about this website called 43 Things, and I was really intrigued. The premise is that, in a person's lifetime, it's possible to achieve a certain number of goals. Some can be silly, some serious, some truly life-changing. After I read the article, though, I promptly forgot about wanting to check out 43 Things... until today. So I signed up, and right now I'm trying to come up with my list of 43 attainable goals. #1 on my list- Ride a Mechanical Bull. Yee-Ha!

This One's for the Guys, So Pay Attention

I've come out of semi-retirement to write this post. Listen up...

If you see a woman walking alone late at night, chances are that she won't appreciate some red-neck asshole yelling, "Nice ass!" out the window of a rusted-out pickup truck. Just leave her alone. Same thing with a woman struggling with a heavy tote bag and several plastic bags of groceries in the Harris Teeter parking lot. Don't pull up in your 80's-era Corolla and hollar, "Hey, sweetheart, want a ride?" Even if her arm feels like it's about to fall off, she's not going to take you up on the offer unless she wants to be robbed at gunpoint, raped in the back of the car and have her body dumped on the side of the road. Which she doesn't, so leave her alone. Ditto when you see a woman out running. I mean, did you learn nothing from your mothers? Respecting a woman sometimes means keeping your mouth shut. And if you have a hard time resisting the urge to wolf-whistle at a woman, imagine for a moment your sister, mother or daughter having to put up with the same abuse. It's not fun. It's not flattering.

Word.

A Photo Montage of My Trip to Mexico

If You Love My Bloody Valentine, Read This Book

I'm halfway into a book called, "Perfect from Now On: How Indie Rock Saved My Life," and it's amazing. Like someone shined a light on my musical journey through indie rock and wrote a book about it. The writer grew up in Grand Rapids, Michigan (about an hour from where I spent my formative years) and, as a kid, listened to bands like Duran Duran, Journey and Sammy Hagar-era Van Halen. Then one day a cooler friend of his played U2's "War," and his life changed forever. The book is a virtual Who's Who of every single fantastic band you ever loved... The Smiths, Joy Division, The Pixies, Dinosaur, jr., The Stone Roses, etc... The writing is funny, poignant and sometimes makes you cringe because that person dancing in front of the mirror to "Everybody Wang Chung tonight," was YOU. The best bits about this book, though, are the copious footnotes and the appendix at the back which has tons of lists that are guaranteed to cause mayhem among indie-rock circles. Read it. You'll love it. Trust me.

Permanant Marker

I've never been a fan of pencils. Not even in elementary school. In fact, I was probably the only 2nd grader who had arguments with the teacher about writing with a pen. I guess pencils just weren't permanant enough for me. I didn't like the idea that anything I wrote with a pencil could be erased so easily. So it might seem strange that I've taken a very strong stance against tattoos. Now in the interest of full disclosure, I did flirt with the idea of a tattoo for several years. I knew what I wanted (a quill), where I wanted it (on the curve of my right hip) and why I wanted one (to dedicate myself to a life of creative writing). There was a certain weekend in the summer of 1997 when I was fully committed to driving down to Newport, Rhode Island (tattoo joints were illegal in Massachusetts... damn puritans!) to get permanantly inked. But around this time, when everyone from suburban kids in Peoria to 60-year old grandmothers decided tattoos were cool, I came to the conclusion that they weren't. At least not anymore. I have a cut-off date. If you got a tattoo prior to 1990, then it's cool. After? Not cool. You see, tattoos used to be about nonconformity. Living on the fringe. Not being part of the mainstream. It was about not giving a damn and individualism. Except it wasn't just the tattoo. It was the philosophy, the politics, the fierce resistance to everything mass-produced, mass-marketed and mass-regurgitated. Today, getting a tattoo is no different than having your ears pierced and just as common. Which is why I'm abstaining.

A Big Jerk

Having a newspaper column means that sometimes I get emails from people who respond to a particular column of mine. It's flatering that someone will read words I've written and be galvanized to actually sit down and write me an email so I've always written back a friendly reply. Recently a woman from Boston contacted me, and I wrote back enthusiastically because I used to live there. Since my editor is interested in any reader feedback I receive, I forward all these emails to her, usually with a line or two from me. In this particular case, I wrote, "Another fan. Ha. Ha." Unfortunately, I was distracted by a phone call, and instead of forwarding it to my editor, I accidentally hit the REPLY button and then SEND. It was one of those moments where you wish there was a 30 second window to retrieve an email before the other person receives it. I felt like a big jerk but especially when I opened the terse email she sent a day later that said I should keep better track of my reply messages. What could I say? She was right. Something that was meant to be funny took on an entirely different tone. From her perspective, it sounded like I was making fun of her when, in fact, the mockery was totally self-directed. I'm not so full of self-importance to belive that I actually have "fans." My first instinct was to write back an apology and explain the mistake, but, really, it just sounded like an excuse for bad behavior. Besides, I'm just self-flagellating enough to consider her poor opinion of me my just desserts. But, just in case "BostonTheresa" is reading this, I'm really very sorry, and you're right... I am a jerk.

Last Night's Show

It's been explained to me that most cool bands don't come to Charleston, SC because it's off the beaten path. Apparently, tour buses roll down 95 and hit all the major cities on the East Coast, and then veer off towards Atlanta. Which is why I bought tickets immediately when I found out the Cold War Kids would be swinging through Chucktown for a show at the Village Tavern. It was fantastic. This band's got a really unique sound... indie rock with a bluesy kick. The lead singer pounds out jangly tunes on the piano, and the bass is aggressive. My favorite moment of the night came when members of the Toyko Police Club (who opened) came onstage with buckets, sauce pans and even an empty wine bottle to help out on a truly raucous version of "St. John." It was incendiary. The VT was packed with Southern hipsters who grooved to the tunes while Marlboros dangled from their lips. I was standing at the back of the room, and two songs in, all I could see was the guy's shoulder blades who was standing in front of me, but then this truly cool girl invited me up on the bench where she was standing, and for the rest of the show I had full audio and visual. If this is the last band I see for a while, then I'm okay with that. And if you haven't discovered the Cold War Kids yet, what the eff?

Music by Numbers

If you have iTunes, you need to check out a cool feature called "Play Count." It reveals a lot about what you listen to, and sometimes it's kind of surprising. Like I've played "Lucky Man" by the Verve 305 times. This is a song that I really love, but I didn't realize how often I listen to it. Or "God Killed the Queen" by Louis XIV which I've listened to 207 times! I remember being obsessed with this song for a couple weeks two years ago. I've listened to "Bohemian Like You" by The Dandy Warhols 189 times which kind of makes sense because every time I go on a road trip, it's on the rotation. "No Fiction" by the Charlatans UK, 187 times. This song is without question one of my favorite songs of all time. It's great to just kind of groove to. I've played "Na Na Na Naa" by The Kaiser Chiefs 132 times. "Island in the Sun" by Weezer 129 times. What's just as interesting are the songs that I hardly listen to at all by some of my favorite artists like "The Kick Inside" by Kate Bush which, apparently, I've only listened to 5 times and "Heal" by Catherine Wheel which has only been played 4 times. What I've learned, is that there are certain songs have resonate with me in such a fundamental way that they've become part of the soundtrack to my life while others might make guest appearances now and then but gradually fade into oblivion.

The Stranger Among Us

On a recent Saturday, at 4:30 am, I got a phone call from someone who had learned that the guy she'd been dating for 7 years had gotten married last summer. It was incredible! I was almost tempted to disbelieve it, but there was so much heartbroken certainty in her voice that it was obviously true. This was a guy that I knew. He'd spent Holidays with my family, and a group of us had gone on vacation together. The irony is that I thought he had a problem with committment because he seemed incapable of moving the relationship forward. Instead, he had a problem with honesty. People in relationships fall in love with other people all the time. It's complicated. It's messy. But it happens. What doesn't happen, most of the time, is the person lying for months, years? about his feelings for the unsuspecting girlfriend. I suppose this particular situation was aided by the fact that it was a long-distance relationship which meant that he could see his new girlfriend in the open and my friend would never find out. But she did. And now she's having to question every single thing that happened while they were together. Even things that might have been the truth are suspect. I feel nothing but contempt for this man. He's a coward, and since I believe in Karma, I know that at some point in the future, he will hurt as badly as my friend is hurting now. Why is it, that the people we end up hurting the most are the ones we're supposed to care about the most? I think it's pretty evident that this guy only cared for himself.

Trivia Taken Seriously

Recently, I just started this new column called "Head2Head Trivia," and so far, it's been a real eye-opener. I didn't realize how seriously some people took this stuff. Case in point... not ten minutes ago I read an email from someone who objected to my trivia question about Gilligan's first name (the answer, apparently incorrect, is Willie). This person proceeded to regale me with minute details about the fact that Gilligan NEVER had a first name used on the show and then, the coup de grace, he called me "Poopy Pants" Bradford. I am not even kidding. What I want to know is how this person has the time to sit down and write me an email for no other purpose than to call me... that. It's completely absurd. My second column appeared in the paper today, and I can't wait to see what other lunatics will be emailing me about Shakespeare. And for all you people who don't have access to the "Preview," here's a small taste...

1. Which play is thought to have a curse on it?
2. Who says the word "love" more... Romeo or Juliet?
3. What play has the shortest scene?
4. Which play is performed more than any other?
5. Keanu Reeves was in the film adaptation of which Shakespeare play?

The Drop-Back Rule

How do people not know this rule? It's one part common sense, two parts common courtesy. When you're walking on the sidewalk with a friend, a couple buddies or a whole freaking pack, and someone is walking towards you, what do you do? Drop back to allow the individual some space on the sidewalk to get past. But, incredibly, a lot of people don't know this very important rule. Too many times, I've had to step off the sidewalk or had to squeeze past, brushing/bumping shoulders or had to literally step into some foliage while the other people hogged the sidewalk. Even when I'm out for a run, people don't seem to want to move out of the way, and that's when it gets fun because I will totally body-check someone if they don't give me room to run past. So, if you're one of those people who simply didn't realize that there was a Drop Back Rule or you're willfully ignoring it, do everyone a favor and adopt it. The world is a big place, but sidewalks aren't.

Breaking News

So, walking down my street this morning, I had a sneaking suspicion that a movie is being shot just a few doors up from where I live. What would make me think this, you ask? Well, for starters, there's tons of people standing around, talking on cell phones and working on laptops. Cables and wires everywhere. Trucks and trailers lined up along the street. Parking spots blocked off with "Charleston Police Dept" barricades. And, when I was walking past one of the trailers, I saw a pair of Ugg boots perched on the top step, proof positive that a celebrity is around because everybody knows they wear Uggs. Well, except for Pamela Anderson because she apparently was only made aware that the boots are made from sheepskin. There's a certain kind of irony in her saying, "I'll go naked before I wear fur" for PETA while sporting a pair of Uggs, but I've gotten sidetracked. I'm going to find out what's going on. But if it's an actual movie being filmed on my street, how cool is that? Stay tuned.

Don't Let Me Down

The other day someone was supposed to help me build a bookcase. If you're familar with the situation, you'd know that I bought the wood over a year ago, and it's been sitting on my veranda ever since, much to my annoyance. Originally someone else was supposed to help me build it. Never happened. So, deciding to take matters into my own hands, I casually asked this person for some power tools that I could borrow and build the damn thing myself. Instead, he offered to help. After playing phone tag for a week, he finally said he could do it on Thursday which happened to be my day off. I never heard from him. The point to this rambling story is this. People are constantly letting me down. Maybe I care too much. Maybe I expect too much from others. Is the solution to simply not have expectations at all because that way you can't be disappointed? Should I expect that the people in my life will inevitably let me down so that I can be prepared when it happens? The saying is, "No man is an island," but maybe if I were and completely self-sufficient, I wouldn't need to rely on other people so therefore wouldn't be disappointed. It's definitely something to consider.

Mea Culpa

To all 2 of you who actually read this blog, I feel an apology is needed. I've been M.I.A. for the past week, and I have no good excuse except that I'm completely obsessed with a little thing called Yelp. I feel like I've been running around with something younger and racier behind my blog's back, and I know I need to stop because eventually I'm going to get caught, but I just can't. Not yet. So, accept this apology and know that I will come back. Soon.

A Peek Inside My Bag

Some people can leave their apartment with everything they need in one pocket... usually keys, money, ID. That's great, but I'm not one of them. I'm what you'd call a "Pack Rat," but in my defense, everything has a purpose. When I head out, it's pretty much for the day so I need to pack accordingly. We'll start with the bag itself which is a tote bag. I like roomy ones with long enough handles that can go over the shoulder. Obviously, I got it at Urban. The heaviest thing in my bag is my laptop. This is probably the one thing I never leave home without. It goes everywhere with me since I'm always using my spare time to check my email, post something on my blog, work on my columns, spend time on Craigslist and Yelp, look up airfare to various places, etc... The next thing in there is my Kate Spade daily planner which I've had now for about 4 years. I'd be lost without it, and if that makes me completely anal, then I'm fine with that. As long as I have my planner. My cell phone, keys, and little scraps of paper hang out in the side pockets. I carry a notebook that's stuffed with pages ripped out of magazines of things like cool websites to check out, DIY projects for my apartment, tips on buying a used car, how to throw a wine-tasting party, that sort of thing. My wallet which actually has money in it because I went to the bank yesterday. Bikini bottoms... don't ask. Several Le Pen pens... the only kind I use. Lip balm which is one of my obsessions. A Netflix envelope that needs to be mailed. Bottled water. The cord to plug in my computer when the battery dies on me which happens all the time. Hand cream because my hands are really dry. A sunglass case but not the sunglasses because they're propped on my head right now. Gum. Spare change in the bottom of the bag. And that's it.

Any Takers?

So the offical lineup for Bonnaroo 2007 was announced last Wednesday, and I'm not kidding when I say that it's every single band you've ever loved in the past year and wanted to see live. Bands like... The Hold Steady, Hot Chip, Cold War Kids, The White Stripes, Wilco (okay one sucky band has to be included... Ha! Ha! Brian), Flaming Lips, Franz Ferdinand, The Decemberists, Kings of Leon, Wolfmother, The Black Keys... I could go on. Bonnaroo used to be a hippy-dippy kind of festival where people with dreads and tie-dye grooved to jam bands, but it's not like that anymore. I think an argument could be made for it being the coolest festival in the U.S. now. It's 3 days in the middle of this farm in no-where Tennessee. Doesn't that sound like the best time ever?

New Music

This is what I'm listening to now...

1. "Wincing the Night Away" by the Shins
2. "Alright, Still" by Lily Allen
3. "New Magnetic Wonder" by Apples in Stereo
4. "Weekend in the City" by Bloc Party

My Yelp Reviews

Look Out Jimmy Page

I am the proud owner of a brand new used acoustic guitar! I'm going to practice every day so that when Robert Plant needs me to step in for Jimmy Page, I'll be ready.

It's a Southern Thing

What is it with Southerners and money? Having lived below the Mason-Dixon line for about a year now, I've had time to study a perculiar quirk of the Southern species. They count out exact change. Every time. Now, if a purchase of mine comes to $1.02, well then I'm going to dig through my bag for the two pennies. But, a Southerner doesn't just root around for pennies. Oh no. If the change is .84 they'll still search for it and spend 10 minutes doing so. Doesn't matter if five people are in line behind them. They'll look. Maybe it's the smaller town that allows more elbow room for finding exact change. I come from a place where if you tried to dig out that .84, you'd definitely hear angry rumblings behind you. In a big city, you slap down a Lincoln and be grateful for the change. Southerns are also all about the Benjamins. I've never seen so many $50's and $100's in circulation. And it's a deliberate thing too. If you go to the bank to cash a check or withdraw money, they'll give you $20's so people are specifically asking for the bigger bills. I will admit to a certain thrill of knowing that there's a crisp $100 bill in my wallet (not that this has happened in a really long time), but when it comes to money, I'm modest. You won't see me tossing a Ullyses S. Grant on the counter to pay for a newspaper. That's just ridiculous.

It's Not Kelly Slater, But...

After the flurry of comments left about yesterday's entry, I'm kind of inclinded to keep posting photos of half-naked surf gods. Hopefully I won't alienate anyone by writing about a book I just finished reading. It's by the lead singer of Franz Ferdinand and is a collection of columns he wrote for a U.K. newspaper about his food adventures while on tour with his band. Having worked in a variety of restaurants, he turns his culinary experience and a truly experimental attitude towards food into witty, insightful essays about life on the road and the food that he encouters along the way. Things like pufferfish in Japan which will kill you if not properly prepared and bull's balls in Spain which, I have to admit, made me a little squeamish when I was reading that particular entry. The book is kind of a back stage pass to what life is like when the band plays their final encore on stage and how they fill their time until the next show in the next town. A fast fun read.

Surfing 101

This is Kelly Slater. He's the greatest surfer of all time. Not, incidentally, a character on "Saved by the Bell." And (ahem) what he looks like has nothing to do with my admiration for his incredible talent. Okay, then. Class dismissed.

If I Ruled the World

If I ruled the world, there'd be no movie sequels.
If I ruled the world, abusing an animal would be punishable by death.
If I ruled the world, nobody would have to work during the Tour de France in July.
If I ruled the world, Bob Marley's song, "Get Up, Stand Up" would be the National Anthem.
If I ruled the world, short people would always be in the front row.
If I ruled the world, "The Simpsons" would be cancelled, and "Arrested Development" would be resurrected.
If I ruled the world, the World Series, the Stanley Cup and the NBA Finals would only be 1 game.
If I ruled the world, Global Warming would be an environmental catastrophe, not a political issue.
If I ruled the world, I'd be on the Bestseller List.
If I ruled the world, Kelly Slater would be my personal surfing instructor.

Going... Going... Gone

Last night I deleted someone from my life. It wasn't that hard. Press a button on a cell phone, and you can electronically erase someone from its memory. Same thing with an email address. Too bad it can't work that way with my head. It's true that friends come and go in a person's life, but when you've been friends with someone for years, you kind of expect the relationship to always be there. And when it just disappears without explanation, that hurts. There's an entire section in bookstores dedicated to helping people get through the pain of breaking up with a boyfriend or coping with divorce, but try to find a book that gets you through the loss of a friend. Sorry, but you're basically on your own for that. It wasn't easy, deleting this person. In fact, I put it off for a long time because I wanted to believe that our friendship was still there, but what I was clinging to was the memory of a once-strong friendship that had faded over the years. The truth is, people change. They grow apart. And keeping a cell phone number can't always disguise the fact that the friend you want to hang on to has slowly become a stranger.

The Envelope Please...

This past year, I've seen some pretty good movies/documentaries. My favorites include "Marie Antoinette" (the soundtrack is so kickin' by the way), "An Inconvenient Truth," "Little Miss Sunshine" and "The US vs. John Lennon" (the subject of an earlier post). The Oscar nominations were recently announced, and I've thought long and hard about who I think will win (as opposed to who should win... there's a big difference). So here's how I think it'll go down on Oscar Night.

Best Picture- Babel
Best Director- Martin Scorsese
Best Actor- Peter O'Toole
Best Actress- Helen Mirren
Best Supporting Actor- Eddie Murphy
Best Supporting Actress- Abagail Breslin
Best Foreign Film- Pan's Labyrinth

Um... I'm notoriously wrong about these kinds of things so don't expect any sort of money back guarantee.

Calgon Take Me Away

Rain today. It's falling out of the grey sky in sheets of wet. The palmetto trees sway in the wind, dead branches falling to the ground with a soggy "swoosh." My umbrella bends from a strong gust, and rain sneaks underneath to spit in my face. Stepping off the curb into an ankle deep puddle, I swear as the moisture seeps into my socks and make squelching noises on my cold walk home.

Footnote: This amazing photo was taken by me (yes, I know how talented I am) a year ago on the island of Eleuthera in the Bahamas.

Do Do Do Do, De Da Da Da

For weeks, rumors had been swirling that The Police would be reuniting in 2007 which is the 30th anniversary of the song, "Roxanne." Well, ladies and gentlemen, we are one step closer to that actually happening. It's just been announced that the legendary 80's band will be performing at the Grammy Awards on February 11th and that a confirmation of an upcoming reunion tour is also expected. I'm not sure how to convey the depth of my excitement in a blog so you'll just have to imagine me jumping up and down right now while I type this. There are certain bands/musicians that I wish I could've seen in concert (Bob Marley, The Clash, Led Zeppelin and Thelonious Monk), and The Police have always been in my top five. If this reunion tour happens, I could get my wish.

Rocking a Pair of Green Suede Boots

One of my biggest fashion disasters in high school was a pair of green suede boots. It was towards the end of my love affair with all things Esprit, and I had seen this super popular girl at my old school wearing them at a basketball game once. I was 16 and going to the mall in South Bend (IN) was Nirvana to me. Mom and I were browsing in the shoe department at L.S. Ayers when I saw them. Green. Suede. Esprit. It's amazing how desperately you can want something that 10 seconds ago you didn't even know existed. I was convinced that I couldn't live without these boots and waited in giddy impatience while the sales associate went to find my size. He came back with two boxes, apologizing for not having an 8 1/2 and bringing an 8 and a 9. Despite being a true 8 1/2, I saw this as only a minor setback. The 9 was way too big, my toes lost in a warehouse of empty space at the end of the boot. Pulling on the 8, I was inwardly dismayed. They pinched. Walking in them was uncomfortable, but I turned to my mom and declared they felt great. I loved them and would wear them everyday. One Friday, a few weeks later, I visited my old school and got to spend the day with friends. I was wearing a Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt tucked into a pair of Guess jeans. I strutted my stuff through the old hallways, past the cute boys and the popular girls in my green suede boots, with one sound repeating itself in my head, "Ow, ow, ow (damn it!) ow, ow, ow...."

Anyway Wanna Do My Groceries?

Here's my grocery list...

1. Cucumber
2. String Cheese
3. Vitamin Water (Raspberry Apple is my favorite)
4. Yoplait Yogurt
5. Hummus
6. Pinto Beans (for my 3rd attempt at making a burrito)
7. Method Hand Wash (environmentally friendly)
8. Yellow and Orange pepper (1 each)
9. Rye bread
10. Green grapes

Thanks. I really appreciate it.

Beating Up on a Dead Guy... Nice.

Am I the only one who's sick of Steve Irwin yet? Everytime I turn on the Animal Planet (favorite shows: "Growing Up..." and "Animal Cops"), there's another airing of the Special dedicated to his work and legacy or the last film he made with one of the Cousteaus before he died. He's on the cover of People Magazine's Yearbook of 2006, and there's a book (and probably more than one) coming out about his life. His wife has made the rounds on all the talk shows, and his daughter, Bindi, is apparently going to carry on the Irwin name as a naturalist and television personality. She's eleven, by the way. Here's my beef. Steve Irwin was reckless with his life and would do anything for a good photo op. Anyone remember the scene with the baby and the crocodile? Michael Jackson was villified for pulling a similar stunt, yet this guy is practically being nominated for sainthood. I also objected to the way he interacted with wild animals, disrupting them in their natural habitat and causing undue stress on them instead of observing from a safe distance. His programs were less about the animals and more about his theatrics and getting the "money shot." He was like the circus guy who sticks his head in a lion's mouth for a crowd reaction. Cheap thrills. Yes he died in a freak accident. It's sad. But tragic? I don't think so. So, people, it's time to let Steve Irwin go. Just like Tupac and Kurt Cobain. RIP.

Luck Be a Lady

Luck. Some people have it. Some don't. I've known individuals who seem to float through life, untouched by the tragedy, disappointment, setbacks and heartache that tarnish the rest of our lives. To my eternal regret, I am not one of those people. Sometimes it seems like I'm the unluckiest person of all time. In this past month alone, I've crashed my bike, didn't get a job I really wanted, found out an article I submitted to a magazine wasn't accepted and had to cancel plans for a trip I'd been planning on taking. In fact, I've decided that January has been declared, "Stomp on Rebekah Month." It feels like a giant hand is pressing down on me, and I can't seem to get out from under it. Somehow, though, when things look really grim and I can't see my way through the disaster I happen to be caught up in, things just kind of work out. And maybe that's my kind of luck. It's not quite the same thing as winning the lottery, but I'll take it.

Music to Download Now

These are the songs that are playing in a continuous loop on my iPod...

1. "Naked Sun" by ... And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead
2. "9 Crimes" by Damien Rice
3. "Nothing's Gonna Change Your Mind" by Badly Drawn Boy
4. "When I Wake" by The Changes
5. "When You Thought You'd Never Stand Out" by Copeland
6. "Golden Days" by The Damnwells
7. "The Fatalist" by Robbers on High Street

Give Peace a Chance

So yesterday was the first Saturday I didn't have to work in AGES, and it was really nice. I had lunch (Cru Cafe... their 4 cheese macaroni is out of this world) with an old friend who was in town for a wedding, did some window shopping, took a nap with Dudley and went to the Terrace where the documentary, "The US vs. John Lennon" had just opened the night before. It was fantastic and totally relevant to the political situation we find ourselves in today. The Beatles were coming to an end, and Lennon had found a freedom to say and do whatever he wanted through his relationship with Yoko Ono. Increasingly, he was compelled to speak out against the Vietnam War, both in interviews and in his music. The documentary deals with how Lennon was targeted by J. Edgar Hoover and the FBI because of his anti-war sentiment, but despite having his phones tapped and the threat of deportation, Lennon never lost sight of his goal which was an end to the War. The documentary gives an insightful look at this turbulent time through interviews with Walter Kronkite, Ron Kovic, Carl Bernstein, Angela Davis, Gore Vidal, Bobby Seale, Noam Chomsky, George McGovern, John Sinclair (the funniest segment in the film), Yoko Ono and many others who not only lived the 60's and early 70's but were on the front lines of a revolution that was happening in this country. The parallels to today are obvious.

This One's for You, Brian

A recent post included several "shout-outs" to some of my friends. Well, it seems like a few people felt left out and requested shout-outs of their own (for future reference... you can't ASK for a shout-out. It has to be freely given, but whatever). So here you go, Brian. Your very own special mention. Oh, and that cute girl in the middle? That's my great friend, Kerry. Miss you.

Are You Experienced?

If Jaywalking is a skill then I should have a black belt in it. Living in Boston, I could get from Downtown Crossing to Copley Square without ever having to stop for traffic, a 15 minute trek that traversed several busy streets, including Tremont, Charles and Boylston. There's an art to it that comes with experience. You weave between cars, gauging how fast a vehicle is approaching and instinctively sensing when to check forward momentum for a fraction of a second before slipping through the stream of traffic. Jaywalking requires a steeliness when it's time to step into the path of an oncoming car with mere moments to spare in reaching the safety of the opposite curb before it zips past, trailing an invisible plume of exhaust. The unspoken rule of Jaywalking is to never run, just keep to a smooth steady pace that doesn't impede the driver. Ordinary pedestrians can only stare in awe when a skilled Jaywalker boldly walks into the road while they hover uncertainly on the corner like wildebeest facing a river full of crocodiles. Some drivers can't handle Jaywalkers. They see someone stepping out with seconds to slip on by, and their nerve breaks. The car lurches to an abrupt stop. A car horn squawks in angry protest. Hands make rude, impatient gestures. And as you glide around the vehicle, you glance at the driver in vague contempt because you know you had clearance and his theatrics are ridiculous. If cities are considered Urban Jungles, then Jaywalking is a survival skill. Once you master it, crossing the street will never be the same.

My Peanut Joke

Here's my favorite joke ever. Feel free to add your own.

Two peanuts were walking down the street. One was assaulted.

Now that's funny.

Landmarks on the Body

If the body is a map, then I guess a person's scars could be considered landmarks or points of interest. Regardless what they're called, a network of scars is like a thumbprint. Something utterly unique that identifies this person as me. The first scar I remember getting was from when I was in Girl Scouts, and my mom was the troop leader. During one of our meetings, we were getting a primer in the use of a pocket knife, and my mom distinctly told us to be careful. Not five minutes later, I'd cut myself on the pad of my left middle finger. I don't remember how it happened, but it might've had something to do with me trying to be rebellious because I think I'd already figured out that being a Girl Scout wasn't cool. The next year, I quit. The scar above my lip is from the summer I went rollerskating with two of my cousins. Up to that point, I could probably count the number of times I'd actually gone skating on one hand so why we strapped on our skates and headed for the "hills" I will never know. What I do know is that halfway down a really steep hill where the pavement was "grooved" to slow down cars, I realized I had no idea how to stop and ended up using my face as a break. I left the hospital with 13 stitches. I have a faint scar on my right inner wrist that could be mistaken for a misguided attempt on my life, but even though I was in high school at the time, I didn't try to slit my wrist... at least not on purpose. It happened after a football game, and I was a cheerleader who needed to get my stuff out of a locker, but the gate to the school was locked so I climbed the fence. On my way over the top, I snagged my wrist on a curved metal barb. A year ago I, unwittingly, got caught in a cat fight (Dudley kicks ass by the way), and one of the cats ripped open the skin on my right thumb. My knee-jerk reaction was to call my parents who told me to go to the hospital, but instead I went out to dinner with a friend. It's a big scar so I definitely could've used stitches. There are two scars on my upper left arm, and I tell people who ask that they are bullet wounds. They aren't. They're places where I had moles removed by an overzealous doctor. Finally, the scar on my left knee is so new it's still pink. It's from when I crashed my bike a few weeks ago. The point in revealing all this? Well now if you encounter a doppelganger who pesists in telling you she's me, you'll know to check for the landmarks on her body that prove otherwise. Brilliant.

A Look Back

I've recently been informed by a good friend who is also an experienced blogger (Hi Brad!) that it's a tradition to write a review of the past year on or around January 1st. I'm about a week late, but what the heck. Looking back on the year that was 2006, I have to say it was an amazing time for me. 2006 was my first full year in Charleston, and I've never regretted my decision to move down here. In fact, I'm convinced now more than ever that leaving Boston was absolutely the best thing for me although I DO miss Anna's Taqueria, the T (can you believe it?), walking along the Charles, The Garment District and that weird little store on Newbury Street with the gargoyles. Charleston's been incredibly good to me though. I've made some super cool friends (Shout Outs to: Eliza! Brad! Rani! Kevin! Jacob! Zhareen! Jacob #2! Chris! and Michael!), and as soon as I fix up my apartment, it'll be the best pad I've ever had. Dudley taught me that everything I ever knew about cats did not apply to him. I discovered places in Charleston to love... Raval, 52.5, the top of the Bridge with its panoramic view of downtown, Sullivan's Island, the quiet little park off of Broad, Fast & French, Pet Helpers and walking down my street at dusk. I was given an incredible opportunity to write a regular column in the "Oldest Newspaper in the South," which in turn gave me the confidence to contact other publications about writing for them. I was able to see my family more than I thought. I traveled. I climbed a mountain (see picture). 2006 wasn't all hearts and flowers though. I had (minor) surgery, treated someone to a shopping spree around Charleston to the tune of $2800 and lost the person I considered to be my best friend for reasons I still don't know. 2007 has a lot to live up to, but I'm looking forward to seeing what the year will bring. Life is an adventure. The fun part is seeing where it takes us next.

My Biggest Fear

There are a few things that scare the bejesus out of me... spiders, flying cockroaches, horror movies, myself in the mirror at 7:00 am. But my biggest fear is of settling and taking the easy way out. It's something I've struggled against since college and discovered I wanted to be a writer which, let's face is, is not exactly the most secure way of making a living unless you're Danielle Steel or James Patterson (the male version of Danielle Steel). Sometimes having a dream that few other people understand can be really discouraging not to mention lonely, and the temptation is always there to give up or give in. I know people in my life who have done just that. There's a guy I used to admire who was a dreamer. He talked about the Peace Corps. Of going to grad school and being a teacher. Of getting into the music industry. Instead he's an accountant which, don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking if that's your dream, but it was never his. This guy is also in a relationship that's "okay" where "things are fine" and he's "comfortable." What about being madly, crazy in love where you can't imagine your life without this person and want to spend the next 60 years by her side? He's only 27, and he's already settled into a life that he never really wanted for himself. I look at him and feel sad. Because that guy is a midlife crisis just waiting to happen and because he's never had the guts to tell people what he really wants. Dreams don't always come true, but they definitely don't happen if you never even try.

Introducing Dudley

Music I'm Currently Obsessed With

Lately it seems there's been a virtual avalanche of really great music coming out, and like any good glutton, I've been gorging myself. Here's a list of the music I've been listening to lately...

1. The Cold War Kids "Robbers & Cowards"- Indie Rock with a bluesy kick.
2. French Kicks "Two Thousand"- Melds bits of classic pop, new wave & electronica.
3. "Monsieur Gainsbourg Revisited"- a compilation of Serge Gainsbourg's music from Cat Power, Franz Ferdinand et al.
4. The Shins "Chutes Too Narrow"- I allowed my viseral hatred of "New Slang" to blind me to the genius that is The Shins.
5. The Hold Steady "Boys & Girls in America"- The song "Massive Nights" is the greatest ode to high school.
6. M. Ward "Post War"- California minstrel with a Dust Bowl era sound.
7. Cat Power "The Greatest"- A lightning leap forward musically in an homage to Southern soul.
8. Sean Lennon "Friendly Fire"- A beautiful album about betrayal, jealousy and unrequited love.
9. Editors "The Back Room"- Fans of Interpol will love this. The sound is raw & frantic.
10. The Secret Machines "Ten Silver Drops"- I saw them live in Charleston at the Music Farm, and they seriously rocked.

My Crowning Achievement in Photography