A friend of a friend from Berkeley came up with a most excellent and hilarious holiday game, to while away the hours you spend with your extended family this holiday season.
You can also go back and award yourself points for all those awkward and wonderful interactions you remember from this weekend, too.
I (mostly) successfully roasted my fourth turkey ever, except this year I couldn’t find the giblets and ended up leaving the bag in the bird. Hey, at least it was a papery bag. And that thar is my Christmas tree, which I also managed to put up this weekend. I am a holiday goddess of sorts.
I’ve been sitting on my hands since the beginning of the month waiting to revel with you in this bonus track from Julian Casablancas’ new solo album. Now that turkey day comes tomorrow, and after we are all thankful, the Christmas season officially begins — I feel ready to take this step with you and open the seasonal floodgates.
The thing with the head rotating forward and to the side! Oh, Chris Kattan.
And then Casablancas goes and makes it a bonus track on his new album, and makes it sound like early Strokes — which is a good thing that we sincerely, truly wish he would do more often.
It’s hard for me to pinpoint exactly how I found myself dancing in a music video about bacon and Obama — but I know when one gets an invitation to wear bacon-hued clothes and come prepared to dance on a Sunday afternoon, you best listen. Plus, I guess I’ve always wanted to be a girl in a hip-hop video, really ever since my days of watching In Living Color. So it’s kind of a no-brainer.
After the taping a few weekends ago, I was singing this song for days (“heat up the griddle cuz that bacon got sizzle!”). Oh, watch at your own risk.
Apparently a delightful new sub-genre of poetry is forming roots: the Hipster Haiku. In a traditional 5/7/5 metric scheme, one can skew the dark underbelly of indie youth culture with a pointed collection of words. Exhibits A, B, and C:
It remains so cold In the space between my Vans And footless leggings
Only blazer-clad Huddled like bees, our hands hold hand-rolled cigarettes
When the tattoos creep Past the sleeve line to knuckles, Time to quit retail.
Please note: an important distinction is to be drawn between the hipster haiku and the hipster sestina. Being more complex and dating back to the Renaissance poetry of Dante and Petrarch, the sestina is arguably even better (and my love of Vespas just made me laugh out loud at this bit of fantasticness):
I remember offering you a ride, Just to penetrate your thousand-mile stare. You were magnetic, so aloof and thin. When you climbed on the back of my Vespa, I loved how you put one arm loose Around my waist, instead of holding the safety bar.
I took you straight to my favorite bar, Even though you probably wanted a ride Home. I warned you, my standards are loose. I admitted I couldn’t help but stare. You were gracious, asked about my Vespa. I didn’t notice your patience wearing thin.
You had a pack of very French, very thin cigarettes, and the smoke hung over the bar like a cloud of dust in the wake of a Vespa. When you yawned, I finally gave you a ride home. Then I stood outside your window to stare. I couldn’t shake myself loose.
On an impulse, I pulled my scooter key loose From its chain, and slid its thin Promise under your door. I could imagine your stare, Your surprise. “Meet me at the bar tomorrow,” I scrawled, “and we can go for another ride.” The next day: no you. No Vespa.
So I had to buy this new, crappier Vespa. The law has allowed you to run loose, Claiming there are other scooters to ride, And the line between gift and theft is too thin. I should tell you that you’ve raised the bar— I see you now in every woman who commands my stare.
I watch you, thin and intense, ride Your Vespa toward what was once our bar. Your hair is loose. You avoid my stare.
BONUS: An anthem for Vespa riders (with my stab at lyrical translation in the comments); one of my favorites from my time studying abroad in Italy.
(“…In turn, the 44-year-old lead singer responded by serenading Thayil with a version of the group’s hit song “Black Hole Sun” in which he replaced the titular phrase with the word “Cinnabon”…)
Jesus said, “Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.”
One of the disciples asked, “What of the man who builds his house inside the house built on the rock? Surely his house will be even less damaged by water and wind. Is this what we should do?”
I missed this first time around a few months ago but thanks to Ashley for pointing it out again.
So what does make the perfect song? Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein have some ideas on the matter. And in my opinion, the real triumph here is that they filmed this whole bit without laughing: THE PERFECT SONG (originally posted on ThunderAnt.com)
Name: Heather Browne Location: Colorado, originally by way of California Giving context to the torrent since 2005.
"I love the relationship that anyone has with music: because there's something in us that is beyond the reach of words, something that eludes and defies our best attempts to spit it out. It's the best part of us, probably, the richest and strangest part..."
—Nick Hornby, Songbook
"Music has always been a matter of energy to me, a question of Fuel. Sentimental people call it Inspiration, but what they really mean is Fuel." —Hunter S. Thompson
Mp3s are for sampling purposes, kinda like when they give you the cheese cube at Costco, knowing that you'll often go home with having bought the whole 7 lb. spiced Brie log. They are left up for a limited time. If you LIKE the music, go and support these artists, buy their schwag, go to their concerts, purchase their CDs/records and tell all your friends. Rock on.
Name: Heather Browne
