What's that you say? It's Christmas? Could've fooled me.

I just got back from spending my Christmas Eve at the movies with Stacy.

First of all, there is something very wrong with that sentence. Christmas Eve is meant to be spent eating Chinese food and watching the Muppet Christmas Carol in my parent's living room, next to the fireplace and the Christmas tree, not in a movie theatre. It is not meant to be spent in a Frank Theatres (I shit you not) watching a movie that should have been called "Inappropriate and the Makeshift Family Reunion" instead of "Margot at the Wedding".

Whoever gave this movie a decent review is a) deranged or b) too embarrassed to admit that, like the rest of the world, they just didn't get it.

What was it about?
Why was Jack Black crying?
Are the neighbors vampires?
Why doesn't that kid wear deodorant?
What made Nicole Kidman do this movie?

The world will never know.

Seriously, I don't think that I have ever before said at the end of a movie, "What the hell was that even about?"

No idea, folks. None. And now I'm sitting here in my home sweet Residence Inn by myself listening to the timer on the fake fireplace as I stare at the pathetic tabletop Christmas tree my mom decorated today.

The Top Three Reasons I Don't Want to Live in Philadelphia

Also known as the Top Three Headlines on the Local 11:00 News this evening:

• The Lojack Baby Jesus
  
• South Philly Starbucks Stabbing
• The Firehouse that Caught on Fire

Adina and Justin, I love you but good lord get me out of this city.

The Year of Lindsay: A Recap

Yes, I realize that the premise of this post is jacked from amazo.blogspot.com but I don't care. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery or whatever. I know/hope that Johnny Bombay will see it that way.

January:
It is declared the Year of Lindsay. Super Best Friend and I make resolutions to keep our resolutions for the year. By the end of the month our resolutions have been resolved. We declare ourselves the best resolution resolvers ever.

February:
I interview for a job doing web analytics at the NBA. I don't get the job. The weather is cold and clear on February 13 - New Boyfriend and I celebrate Valentine's Day on this day instead just in case. It wintry mixes in Boston on February 14 to the point that Boyfriend decides to work from home. He decides to brave the weather to hand deliver me flowers at my cube.

March:
St Patrick's Day at Aly's house on P Street. Felecia and I have both decided to apply to graduate school. We visit Seattle so she can look at University of Washington - she falls in love with the cherry blossoms and is sold on the West Coast.

April:
Clearly, this month didn't happen. All I remember about it is Easter Brunch at Tavern. Afterwards, I go home to watch an ANTM marathon on MTV. Oh right, and somewhere in here I decide that no matter what I am going to move to NYC.

May:
I am rejected from the only grad school I actually wanted to go to. I'm crushed but don't let anyone know this mostly because my pride gets in the way. I am uncertain about the move to NYC now but don't tell anyone.

June:
I throw a bridal shower/bachelorette party for Kristina in NY. At this party I learn that sometimes friendships from the past can't be rebuilt and resolve to stop any effort I may have planned on putting forth because at the end of the day, it's just not worth the pain.


July:
Attend a family reunion with Boyfriend and his family. It goes remarkably well which seems to spook him. He gets over it in about two days and we return to normal. I tell him I love him two weeks later.

August:
Kristina is married. I cry big fat tears at the wedding and give what I'm sure was a horrible Maid of Honor speech at the reception.

September:
Move to NYC. Get a new job. Move in with two strangers on the UES (go craigslist.com). Cry alot. Miss my friends in Boston and my friends in upstate. Cry some more and think that maybe this move is the biggest mistake I could have ever made. Lose 10 lbs from the stress.

October:
Start new job with the fancy new title and fancy new salary and a shitty little office with no windows. Still have a hard time. Instead, spend an evening having a nervous breakdown at John's apartment watching Diary of a Mad Black Woman and petting an adorable dog named Frank the Tank. Miss Boston even more. Lose 10 lbs more from the stress. Re-apply to graduate school.

November:
Turn 25. Assume that since I haven't heard back from NYU that I haven't gotten in. Again. Feel inadequate. Again.

December (so far):
Receive an e-mail from NYU admissions. I'm in. Still feel a little inadequate but am starting to get over it. Give a presentation in front of company bigwigs at my new job and make a lasting impression (a good one). Have an argument with my father about how he treats people and refuse to speak to him until he apologizes. Get ready for a silent Christmas in Philadelphia with my brother's girlfriend's family.

Religious Devotion

This has been a very interesting holiday season for me. For one, as you all know from my "This Christmas" post, I am being banished to a Residence Inn in a suburb of Philadelphia for Christmas. This trip sucks a little more each day and if you want to know more, tough shit, I don't want to talk about.

For two, this is the first Christmas season that I have found myself becoming an increasingly devout member of the Church. The Church of Marc by Marc Jacobs. Seriously guys, I love everything Marc by Marc Jacobs that I see to the point that I'm actually purchasing things and not simply salivating over them.

True, to date I have only bought one item. But what a gateway drug they've turned out to be (similar to the whole, "life after death, all your sins are forgiven" hoopla). I mean, just look at them! They're turquoise patent leather and chocolate ribbon, they're flat, and they're fabulous. Oh right, and they're comfortable enough for me to wear whenever I want.... like if I'm running around the East Village on a bar crawl Saturday night and need to run boring errands Sunday and want to feel a little bit fancy.
(thanks to Mindy Kaling for the tip. You know, just in case she ever reads this thing. Which she doesn't. Because she's famous and has better things to do.)

Like all good gateway drugs do, these shoes have given me a taste of something new. Something new and sassy and altogether fabulous... and expensive.

That's right, after the shoes arrived (one day after ordering, I might add) I started shopping around for other Marc by Marc Jacobs items. First on zappos.com, the original instigator, where I found a really amazing handbag that is large enough for all my important work stuff (shoes, wallet, iPod, cell phone, scarf, hat, brush, lipgloss, spare underwear and contact case in case I don't go home that night... alright, you've got me, I don't ever carry anything important to and from work) and also cute enough for all of my important nights out (during which it will hold exactly the same items listed as 'important work stuff'). Unfortunately, I can't afford this little beauty just yet seeing as it costs $451.00 and I have yet to acquire the Midas touch (King Midas that is, not the car repair Midas).

The last thing that I've found that I absolutely must have isn't even located at zappos.com... it's at Bloomingdales and would only ever fit in the biggest of the Big Brown Bags.

Seriously, how gorgeous is this coat? And how unaffordable at over $500. Thankfully I think I might be getting it as a Christmas present/peace offering from my parents for two reasons:

1) being so go with the flow about heading to Philadelphia for the holidays

2) all my winter coats make me look like a member of the chorus from Oliver Twist, complete with holes, missing buttons, and sizing issues.

No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service?

From the time I was a sophomore in high school to my senior year of college I was a faithful servant of Abercrombie & Fitch. Everything I owned - from my underwear to my winter coat to my perfume - came from that mecca of destroyed denim and tissue tees with retarded phrases .

In fairness, in those days I was impossibly small, preppy cool was all the rage, and A&F was the only store that seemed to understand that a size 2 could possibly be taller than 5'5". I say those days because that is the A&F of old, my friends.

Abercrombie today is all about the prepubescent sexuality... making skirts so short that they could double as a belt and shirts so tight that they barely fit over my bitty boobies.

Seriously, walking into that store just smells like teenage prostitutes and whiny brats. If the smells weren't bad enough, the store branding is visually X-rated as well. Seriously, pictures of teens wearing almost nothing (or nothing at all) are plastered all over the walls, silently judging you for not being a size 00. It's enough to drive a girl insane.

...clearly, it was enough to drive the gentlemen in the below video to take a (hilarious) stand by converging on the 5th Ave. Abercrombie & Fitch shirtless.

Amazing.

The Office - Real Life Style

San Diego reminds me of Boston with palm trees. It's even got it's very own green line-esque subway system that goes right past my hotel. Unfortunately, I don't get to see alot of any of this fair city because i am stuck inside the convention center at the hotel.

That's right, I'm at a tradeshow. My company has made me and the rest of us working the booth dress alike in idiot wear and hock useless product. I would hate it but it's just so ridiculous that I can't do anything but laugh. Seriously. We all look like tools. EVERY SINGLE FREAKING PERSON IN THE EXHIBIT HALL. (Don't worry, I'll post pictures later on this week).

I can deal with this until tomorrow... but that's about it.

This Christmas.

No, this post unfortunately does not pertain to the song... or the new holiday movie starring Chris Brown that's currently sweeping the nation.

Among other things that my brother did at Thanksgiving, including biting my arm to hoard the mashed potatoes, he also invited our family (me, Super Mom, Dad) down to Philadelphia to spend Christmas with him and his girlfriend. This was met with mixed results but we decided, hey, we'll go. After all, tis the season and all that crap.

WELL. As if going to a strange city (I've been to Philadelphia maybe 3 times in my life) and spending the holiday in a hotel 200 miles away from Kingston and my best friends wasn't enough, I've just found out that I will be spending this time with a family of strangers.

His girlfriend's family of strangers to be exact. These are people that I have NEVER so much as spoken to in my entire life. Now, if you know me, you know that I'm pretty outgoing and can be pretty go with the flow... but seriously guys? Leaving my hometown and my friends that I never see was already bad enough. A holiday with a strange family in a strange house in a strange city isn't a holiday.

It's hell.

Work

Yesterday afternoon I almost started to cry because I didn't want to come back to work today. Seriously, my eyes welled up a little bit.

I have determined that this is not normal and that it's high time something was done about it. After all, if I spend another year of my life this unhappy in my career I might just up and shoot myself.

Serious face.

So, dear reader, tell me: what should my new profession/industry be?

In the News: Health

"Former Justice Sandra Day O’Connor’s husband, suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, has a romance with another woman, and the former justice is thrilled — even visits with the new couple while they hold hands on the porch swing — because it is a relief to see her husband of 55 years so content."

The Final Birthday Post... until next year

I've been 25 for a week now. This statement alone SHOULD scare the living daylights out of me but for some reason, right now, I'm content. Good lord, I might even be happy where I am right now.

...that or I'm still full from my belated birthday dinner. Actually, get rid of the or, I'm definitely just still full and content from last night's dinner.

Back story: Boyfriend decided that he would make me dinner along with the traditional pretty, glittery thing:

This is not the actual necklace but it's close enough

Now, when he told me a week ago that a home cooked meal was part of this birthday deal I was sort of confused - see, boyfriend cooks all the time - and it's not mac-n-cheese cooking (well, sometimes it is but thats because mac-n-cheese is one of my favorite foods ever). It's usually something all healthy like salmon with mashed potatoes and asparagus.

Anyways, my confusion was thrown out the window last night when we met in Union Square. Belated birthday dinner was going to be something that I've never had and have always wanted to try but not for the amount of money it costs.

Oh, cheesy, gooey, goodness!

FONDUE! Sooooo good. I mean, I think I always knew that bits of bread, apple, and pear dipped melted cheese would be delicious but I never knew it would be THAT good. Whoa on the food coma later on in the night.

And whoa on the effort that the cheesy pot of heaven took. Seriously - the preparation alone included a special shopping trip to the fancy cheese store... where, apparently, the staff knows nothing about making fondue. One staff member did have a tip however: "don't make it for a date. Fondue doesn't really lead to your desired... after dinner activities because you're all gassy." Uhh, thanks man at the fancy cheese store.

After belated birthday dinner I got belated birthday massage while watching the Mythbusters Supersized Special (we're such nerds).

And then we had fondue sex.
(The man at the cheese store would have been so proud of Boyfriend.)

My upcoming birthday has led me to wax nostalgic on all the birthdays that have passed. There are so many of them (25!) and most have gone by historically as nothing days.

Most, not all.

On my seventh birthday, the Berlin Wall fell:

You Can Run...

Yesterday I went to this really awesome salon, Alice Hair, on 2nd and 70th. My stylist color corrected my hair perfectly, they use Bumble and Bumble products (my favorite), and they gave me wine. A trifecta of happiness, truly. While there a couple amusing things happened:

First, a very large woman walked in, blackberry in one hand, suitcase in the other and immediately started chatting about her weekend (her weekend that she spent working 20 hours!) and how she needed to get lipo. This lead to discussions about Care Bears and their tummys. Hilar.

Second, all the stylists are from Ireland and trash talk one another vs. oohing and aahing over the fabulousness of their customers. This delighted me to no end - I hate fake fawning. I love fake trash talk.

The funniest part of my story however is not that the large queen of plastic surgery or the Care Bear Stare. The funniest part of my night was when Hazel, my stylist, brought me my second glass of white and said, "Here you go, Kirsten."

...and I thought that my days of being mistaken for Kirsten Rat-Teeth Dunst were over. Woe is me. Ah well, at least my hair looks kick ass. Seriously.

Kick. Ass.

Turning Japanese? (I wish.)

This Friday I will officially be a quarter of a century old (25 years of age for all of you slow coaches out there). This monumentally frightening birthday has prompted me to scrutinize my appearance in a way I never knew possible every time I pass a reflective surface. Yesterday afternoon, after a particularly exhausting day of work, I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the elevator doors and gasped at what I saw.

Good lord, I looked positively haggard! ...and was that the start of a wrinkle near my eye?

This freak out prompted me to take a trip to the drugstore last night and practically buy its entire stock of anti-aging creams. I shit you not.

I have eye creams (plural).
I have day time cream.
I have night time cream.

You'd think this would be enough but nope. Later on this evening I will be heading to Sephora to pick up an A-List anti-aging arsenal.... because really, it's got to be better if it costs an arm and a leg right?

It's been confirmed - I officially suck at maintaining a blog. I'm working on getting better, I swear.

...another girl in my office just heard the Dropkick Murphy's version of "Tessie" coming from my office. She popped her head in and asked me, "What are you listening to? Is that Meatloaf?"

SERIOUSLY? Does this:



Sound anything like this:




...I miss Boston..

2007: The Year of Lindsay - 3/4 of the Way Done

So, last year I had a look back at 2006 once it was 3/4 of the way through. I'm doing this again, except 2007 is the year of Lindsay and I want to see how true I've stayed to that.

(+) Fell in love with a great guy who saw my darkest, most horrible days and still wanted me.
(+) Branched out friend-wise in Boston and really established a solid network of girlfriends for the first time in my post-academic life.
(+) Got a new job at a start-up.
(+) Was the Maid of Honor in Kristina's wedding.
(+) Was asked to be the Maid of Honor in another friend's wedding.

(+/-) Moved to NYC.

(-) Lost more friends to different coasts and continents.
(-) Realized how much I would miss Boston only after I left.
(-) Finding out that random roommates are not always the best idea and having to live with that for the next 6 months at least.
(-) Hearing that one of my only girlfriends in NYC is leaving in a year.
(-) Not getting into the grad school I wanted to on the first try.

2007 is pretty neck-and-neck so far... the rest of the year has the potential to be amazing or horrific. Stay tuned.

Who needs a big purple dinosaur when kids have Hip Hop Harry? Your new urban friend who teaches you about friendship, emotions, and... how important it is to drink water? Seriously?






Seriously.

PowerPoint and Daydreaming of Mac

I truly believe this to be true.

Currently I am creating pie chart after graph after pie chart in PowerPoint and I want to either cry or claw my own eyes out (I expect that the latter would result in the former, assuming that its possible with so much damage to my tear ducts - anyways).

Instead of doing either of the above, I'm chosing instead to initiate Option 3: Procrastination By Way of Blog.

Specifically, I am reading a ton of blogs on wired.com -- my favorites being Underwire (pop culure), Listening Post (music blog), and finally Cult of Mac (self explanatory).

So anyways, I'm reading through Cult of Mac, learning all about how the WWDC and how pissed off developers are at Mr. Jobs for not releasing an SDK and all I can think is, how awesome would it be to work at Apple in Product Marketing?

The answer? Super awesome.

I'm sure it's TONS of work and that it's long hours and blah blah blah, but whatever.

It's Apple.

Instead of working on boring software (no offense, tech company with great benefits and yadda yadda but your software is just not as sexy as Apple's hardware... or it's software for that matter) I could work on things like the iPhone, Safari beta for Windows, or the holy grail of products, the iPod.

Good thing for my current job working at Apple would require a move to the Silicon Valley - something that I'm just not down for right now. I like seasons. And I like being on the same coast as the majority of my friends and Boyfriend.

Maybe in a few years Apple and I will have a conversation. In the meantime, it's all dull software, all the time.

...back to the PowerPoint.

Cubicle Wars

So, whenever someone in my work group of friends is out of town on fun or business my Young Professional Colleagues and I routinely invade their cubicles, leaving random presents hanging up.

Examples of our cubicle wars include:

• Filling every drawer and cabinet with 50lbs of orange shredded paper
• Leaving a wrapped present from a store called Hubba Hubba.
• Hanging up a random poster that takes up the entire wall.
  
• Leaving a cheap talking frame permanently attached to a cube wall with a non-work appropriate recorded message.
• Hanging up a subway ad for drug addiction on the outer wall of the cubicle
  

Now, these, whilst funny, are no where near as great as the pranks we could be playing on one another. So, blog readers, I implore of you - what's a good prank to pull on someone's cube?

£400,000 Worth of Seizures

Apparently, the new logo for the 2012 Olympics in London is causing seizures when animated.

From The Daily Mail Online:
"As animated footage promoting the London 2012 Olympics is removed from its official website amid claims that it could trigger epileptic seizures, Sportsmail readers are giving the official 2012 logo the big thumbs-down.

Allegations have been made by the BBC that footage involving a diver plunging into a pool has already caused seizures.

The footage controversy follows widespread ridicule surrounding the 2012 logo. The bold, jagged £400,000 brand, which is a modern take on the Olympic colours, took a year to research, including consumer testing.

Organisers have hailed it as dynamic and vibrant, but other people have said it resembles a "toileting monkey" or a "broken swastika"."

A year of research and this is what they came up with? What sort of research did they do? Focus groups that consisted of 5-year olds and aging nazis?

FOR SHAME, LONDON, FOR SHAME.

Don't Neglect to Notice the Convenient "Give Online" Button

The day I graduated from Boston University, the Telefund office called me for an Alumni donation.

As in, I was in line to receive my diploma from Professor Berkovitz and my mobile was ringing off the hook with a summer work study student asking for my money, you know, now that I was an alumni and all. I politely told Little Miss No Tact that I was, in fact, not an alumni because I was still waiting in line to receive my diploma and that even if I had, you know, walked across the stage already I was still not going to give her any cash - my donations would be starting in 6 months in the form of massive student loans, checks payable to Boston University thankyouverymuch.

Of course, this hasn't stopped them from trying. Just today I recieved the below charming gem from a recent COM grad who seems to have taken a note out of the SMG book and sold his soul for a little cash.

From: "Boston University"
To: "Boston University Alumni"
Subject: A Message from a BU Student
Date: Mon, 4 Jun 2007 14:31:15 -0400 (EDT)


Excitement. Discoveries. Opportunities. My four years at Boston University were filled with these and much more. At BU, I grew from a shaky adolescent, unsure of what I wanted, into an informed adult ready to take on the world.

Many of the technological improvements, extracurricular activities, and educational opportunities that enriched my BU experience were made possible by contributions from generous alumni. Because of this, I decided to make my first contribution to BU, through the Class of 2007 Gift Program. Combined with the gifts of my classmates, my seemingly small donation will do much to improve my school. I see it as the start of me giving back to the place that has given me so much.

As a student supervisor in the Telefund office, I've called thousands of alumni and understand the various reasons people have for not giving, but I've also seen firsthand how current students have benefited from alumni support. I am writing to you now no longer as a student, but as a new member of the alumni community, and I want to encourage you to join me in giving back to BU. Even a small gift can go a long way.

Thank you for your support,





Brian Anthony Pitre
COM’ 07

Boston University Annual Giving| Boston, MA

www.bu.edu/annualfund

May Movies, also known as why i haven't blogged for a month.

So, I realize that I have been MIA for the entire month of May - longer if you don't count the How to Charm Me entry. So, why the absence?

I blame the cinema and boyfriend - they're like a Lindsay-stealing tag team of entertainment and fun that keeps me away from my keyboard. And, while I can't do a 'Worst and Best Of...' for boyfriend, I can do a 'Worst and Best of...' for movies I've seen this month.

28 Weeks Later: Possibly the worst sequel to an amazing movie ever made. Ever. Honestly, I hate horror movies but I loved 28 Days Later... and not just because I got to see Cillian Murphy take it all off (though that didn't hurt).

28 Days Later had a very clear plot line, characters I cared about, and, most of all, it had a very human vein running right down it's center. Yes, there was gore, but it was warranted to some extent.

28 Weeks Later had only one of the above elements and I'm sure you can guess which one. Did you guess gore? If you did it means you're not retarded.

This is an unnecessary and graphic gore-fest of a movie (for real. There was one scene that was so disgusting someone in the back of our theatre puked) with plot holes so large I could fly the new Boeing 787 Dreamliner through them.

Just like 28 Days Later we were left with questions --except this time they weren't philisophically based, they were psychologically based. As in, "Why in the world did Danny Boyle allow this to happen to his franchise?"

Hot Fuzz: This movie was just the breath of fresh air that boyfriend and I needed after being so completely stressed out from 28 Weeks Later (ok, so that was just me.)

Done by the same camp that brought us Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz is a great comedy that continuously pokes fun at all of those Bad Boys/Fast and the Furious type movies out there. You know the ones - your boyfriend drags you to them as revenge for forcing him to sit through the vocal stylings of Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore in Music & Lyrics the week before.

Anyways, if you like British comedy - dry, wry, and self-depricating - you'll love this movie. Honestly, I never laugh out loud at films and this one had me rolling in the aisles. The pairing of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost worked in Shaun and it works again in Hot Fuzz. God, I just love it so much I wish they'd get married or something.

Bonus points for the cameos by Martin Freeman (Tim in The Office and Arthur in Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy) and Bill Nighy (Billy Mack in Love, Actually and Shaun's stepfather in Shaun of the Dead).

Mega bonus points for incorporating "...by the power of Grayskull" into the script multiple times.

How to Charm Me

Take me to a rooftop garden for lunch.

In Response to the NY Times article: Young, Gifted, and Not Getting Into Harvard

For the past few years all that I've seen regarding collegiate admissions are flawless children; exceptionally privileged young Americans, raised in a white house with a picket fence and a two car garage. They attend private schools, overload on extracurriculars and AP courses, and stay up until the early hours researching Kant and Rousseau.

Though their wallets are more than adequate in size, theirs is a world that consists of a handful of possibilities: Harvard. Yale. Brown. Dartmouth. Georgetown. Cornell. A semester abroad at Oxford, perhaps, before the first job at Morgan Stanley and the daily commute made easier by the Audi S4 procured as a graduation gift.

On the outside, this looks like a great life. A charmed life, certainly; full of the Ivy League, summers spent on Martha's Vineyard, winter breaks snuggled up next to a fire in Aspen, starting salaries of $80k the day after graduation.

But what about on the inside?

The pressure that these exceptional students feel to succeed are pressures that never touched me in my solidly middle class family living in a lower class community. Of course, there was never a question of continuing my education after high school - but there was a question of where and for what.

State school for art or education?
The private institution for communications and english literature?

My parents supported whichever decision I made, regardless of their actual views on the subject. I never had to worry that by pursuing the arts I would be disappointing my parents and branding myself as the "free spirit" (re: disappointment) of the family.

For perhaps the first time I can see just how easy I have it.

Idle Hands.... (you know the rest)

-----Original Message-----
From: Seat Filler
Sent: Wednesday, April 25, 2007 4:22 PM
To: Chasing Ordinary
Subject:

does (Boyfriend), to your knowledge, have any difficult, high-volume or otherwise infuriating work to do this Friday?

-----Original Message-----
From: Chasing Ordinary
Sent: Wednesday, April 25, 2007 4:31 PM
To: Seat Filler
Subject: RE:

Not that I know of... Por que?

-----Original Message-----
From: Seat Filler
Sent: Wednesday, April 25, 2007 4:34 PM
To: Chasing Ordinary
Subject: RE:

I was thinking I might rearrange the letters on his keyboard to spell "ULOVEDICK" or something equally childish. But that would render his keyboard all but useless unless he's a complete touch typist.

Honestly, the ideal solution would be some sort of second keyboard so that in event he needed one that had not been mauled, he could use it. Though, I suppose since he has a laptop, this is kind of built-in.

-----Original Message-----
From: Chasing Ordinary
Sent: Wednesday, April 25, 2007 4:36 PM
To: Seat Filler
Subject: RE:

...are you really that bored?

-----Original Message-----
From: Seat Filler
Sent: Wednesday, April 25, 2007 4:42 PM
To: Chasing Ordinary
Subject: RE:

uh, obvi.

It's a Wednesday Music Round-up!

So, I know that I missed Music Review Monday and that I suck at life yadda yadda yadda but I have a good excuse seeing as Punk Rock Mama had eye surgery (yikes!) on Monday and I've been home helping take care.

That's no excuse however, and, since I've been home, I've been collecting lots of music tidbits just for you guys. For serious.

Up first is the video for Secondhand Serenade's Vulnerable.



Now, as we all know, I hate this dude.

He's what happens when the cliche tortured jock picks up an acoustic guitar and falls in love - bad music, poor lyrics, and, to be quite frank, an unattractive video with unattractive people looking at pictures and videos of their unattractive selves.

Next up... Cold War Kids.
What about them? They're on MTV! Say whaaat?!? The COLD WAR KIDS??? That band that plays The Middle East and no one knows about???

All of those Boston McHipsters are going to have to go cry into their Ezekiel Live Grain bread and soy butter.

(Ezekiel bread by the way is the weirdest shit ever. I've all for the granola crunchy way of life, but live grain bread? Are you serious? Go get some bakery bread.)


Rounding out the Greatest Week in Music Ever (not even close, really) is Hilary Duff and her new single, With Love.

Now, this may lose me tons of cool points but I don't care - after, 3 straight days of having this song played on repeat whilst shopping at Target for things that I don't need, it has drilled its way into the pleasurable part of my brain and made a little home there.

Yes, it's Hil Duff. It's not good. But it's catchy as shit and her new album will be fucking awesome to run to. Let the ridicule start now - I don't care. It's going on my iPod... with every other album she's put out.

What the fuck, Akon?

Seriously, what the fuck? This is some random girl that you yanked on stage to dry hump? For real, Akon? You don't get enough groupie ass, you've got to molest some poor fan?

Damn. Take a lesson from they dudes on the train in France two posts down.

They're entertaining while singing Phil Collins.
On a train.
Without dry-hump-raping a girl.

This one's for Adina

...two Wagamama's are opening up in the Boston area. These are the ultimate in UK Noodle shops. Check out the web menus at www.wagamama.com to increase your noodle lust.

Stumbling.

Some random dudes on a train in France singing (and breaking down) Phil Collins.

Music Review Monday

Artist: Kelly Clarkson
Album (single): Never Again
6 Words: Kelly, with Pat Benatar-esque vocals. Amazing.

Paraskavedekatriaphobia

I just don't get the fear of Friday the 13th. I really don't. The word itself is more scary than the actual day.

Furthermore (yes, that's right, FURTHERMORE) I don't understand how the fear materializes in people. I'm sure that there are some legitimate associations with the date that cause the phobia (death in the family, bad news, etc.) but theres no way that all the people who refused to get out of bed this morning due to a feeling of impending doom have had a poor experience to reinforce the fear.

Suck it up, selective agoraphobics, and come play in the sun.

Music Review... Wednesday?

Yes, today is Wednesday, not Monday. Yes, I traditionally do my music reviews on Monday. So sue me, I waited an extra two days.

But! I waited for a good reason.

Venue: Paradise Rock Club, Allston, MA
Artist: Peeping Tom (Mike Patton - Faith No More & Mr. Bungle and a motley crew of backup including a female beatboxer)
6 Words for Peeping Tom: Totally fucking sick performance.

Artist: Miho Hatori (Cibo Matto)
6 Words for Miho Hatori: Huge voice but I expected more.

Artist: Pigeon John (???)
6 Words for Pigeon John: KFed wishes he was this cool.

Desire.

If you love me at all you will get me tickets (First Ring Center, please) to the NYC Ballet's Premiere of Romeo + Juliet.

Seriously.
I have to go.
I just have to.

It's Shakespeare and it's ballet and it's New York City and I love it.

I really need to have more faith in Connecticut's ability to suck.

It's a well known fact that I hate the state of Connecticut.

The majority* of it's residents (both current and past) are stuck-up pricks with an undeserved air of superiority and entitlement surrounding them; the colleges and universities located in the state feed and feed off of this complex, creating living proof that a symbiotic relationship is not always a favorable one.

I can now add this to my list of reasons Connecticut should drop into the Atlantic; basically, instead of spending time and state funds on something important like, oh, I don't know, education or healthcare, Connecticut state representatives are instead wasting resources on making a song entitled 'Connecticut Fun' the official state punk rock song. The song, according to the Hartford Advocate is, "unabashedly pro-Connecticut, with lyrics imploring listeners to come out and enjoy punk music in the state."

Seriously, Connecticut? Seriously? You lose at life.

* Just an FYI, I don't hate EVERYONE from this abysmal shitbox of a state. I have family and friends who have, at one time or another, resided in Connecticut.

Tim Hortons vs. Dunkin Donuts: FIGHT!

I hate to admit it, but Tim Hortons, the Canadian version of Dunkin Donuts has classier marketing and advertising when put against it's afore mentioned American colleague.

For instance while we get :30 and :60 gems such as "Fritalian":



Canadians are getting sentimental and touching spots like this:


Honestly, doesn't that make you simultaneously reach for the Kleenex and call dad from your mobile phone?

Now, I'm not saying either one is superior to the other; I honestly think that both spots work for their respective audiences and convey the brand's personality well. All I'm saying is that i would much rather watch the Tim Hortons commercial... while drinking a cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee.

What can I say, Dunkin had me at hello. Actually, Dunkin had me at Fred the Baker in the 80s.

I'm a Brand Bully

My job title at my high-tech company is Market Analyst; this does not mean, as the name suggests, that I analyze tha market and come back with my findings. No, no, no. In fact, it doesn't really have any bearing on what I do on a daily basis and, if I had it my way, I would change my title to something more apt.

Something like, "Advertising and Brand Minder," or "Corporate Marketing's Biggest Annoyance". These more encompass the day to day headache that is fast becoming my professional life.

I find glaring disconnects between brand standards and work produced by our corporate studio.
I yell and kick and scream, doing my best to force them to incorporate their own rules into design.

... and all of this is done over the phone or email in two languages.

Music Review Monday

Artist: Bloc Party

Venue: Boston Orpheum

6 Words: Balcony Turbulence + Britrock = Buy tickets. Now.

Book Nerd

This past Sunday afternoon Most Attentive and I were forced to wait over 45 minutes for a table at what is fast becoming our favorite brunch spot in Brookline (this is most likely because we are unoriginal and our favorite brunch spot is also the world's favorite brunch spot). To kill time we did the same thing we've done in the past - sat at the Barnes & Noble next door reading to kill the time.

Of course, as soon as I walk into Barnes & Noble a section of my brain begins to wildly orgasm at the sight of all those virgin spines, so untouched, just ready to be broken (Yes. I love the written word in a slightly sexual way. So sue me.)... and, much like Veruca Salt, I want it now. But instead of a goose that lays golden eggs, I want a personal library that includes all my old tomes as well as the following new:

Title: Alice in Quantumland: An Allegory in Quantum Physics.
Why?: I know nothing about quantum physics except that it scares me. You know what I do know about? Alice in Wonderland. I think that if some dude has the ability to introduce me to quantum physics then more power to him.


Title: Frantic Transmissions to & from Los Angeles
Why?:Because I love her writing style and would read anything shes written. This includes a grocery list, an application form for a job at McDonalds, and a card to her brother's wife's sister in-law.


Title: Love is a Mixtape: Life and Loss, One Song at a Time
Why?: Really, guys? Really? Don't you know me at all? When I walk down the street, I'm mentally thumbing through my music collection, choosing the perfect song. I keep my important memories tied to songs; my personal history is remembered by lyrics and beats, not sounds and sensations.

Title: Why Beauty is Truth: The History of Symmetry
Why?: It's a book about math... through the lens of its historical and sociological background. I actually can't quite put my finger on why I want to read this book.



Title: Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs*
Why?: Again, do you really not know me at all? This is literally the Kix of literature: Kid tested, Mom approved -- it feels like it should be rotting your brain along with all those Devil Wears Prada-types when it's actually expanding your modern sociological intelligence.... this is at least what I like to tell myself.

Title: The Lucifer Effect: Understanding How Good People Turn Evil
Why?: Written by the same psychologist who conducted the Stanford Prison Experiment, this book explores how power can corrupt even the best of people. The experiment is used as a guide to explore the inherent human ability to abuse positions of power, deserved or handed over.

Music Review Monday

Artist: Joshua Radin
Album: We Were Here

6 Words: Sleepy, dreamy soundscapes. Rainy Sunday music.

Materialistic Yearnings

When I was a little girl my Nana would always tell me two things everytime she saw me.

1) Walk around with your nose stuck high in the air.

2) Marry for money, not love.

Now, I like to think that numero uno is her version of that famous Eleanor Roosevelt quote about inferiority complexes vs. the belief that one person is better than another.

Number two though? That's pretty cut and dry.

Unfortunately for Nana--fortunately for me-- I am not one of those women. If anything, I am the exact opposite. I don't ever wait for or expect Most Attentive to pay for me on dates (we usually split the bill or take turns paying) and I find the overwhelming majority of people who come from money to be disgusting human beings (see 'Another Reason to Hate CT' for more).

On the real tip though? Sometimes I wish that I was one of those golddiggin' whores that Kanye West and Jamie Foxx sing about; then I could trap me a rich old man and have him buy me pretty things...
Pretty things like this diamond ring from Tiffanys. I mean, just look at it! It's so shiny and it would look so adorable on my hand.

Goddamn me and my moral convictions.

GodTube - Broadcast Him

Listen guys, we all know that YouTube is an online vessel for sin and evil and fire and brimstone and pitchforks. I mean, they allow anything on there... stolen materials included (Sumner Redstone, I've got your back buddy. The G-o-d is not down with thievery).

Well, now there's a website for all you good Christians (ahem, like myself!) to share video footage of all the new, interesting, fun, and HOLY ways you praise his name. The site? GodTube.com.

The best video on the site has to be the one that totally proves, without a doubt, that evolution is totally not where its at. Creationism is flawless you guys. Don't believe me --check it out for yourselves:

Realizations

This morning was the first time since last Friday that I woke up and felt well rested.

It is also the first time I noticed that when I'm alone I don't sleep well anymore. This is a major shift from previous years when I couldn't sleep with someone else in bed.

Look at me people, I'm growing.

Worst Week Ever

Until this morning I didn't think that it was possible to have a Worst Week Ever until at least Friday afternoon. I really didn't. Surely by Wednesday the week can't be that bad yet, can it?

Monday, March 19
Most Attentive leaves for the ATL for the week. Then my permanent retainer (see image) breaks when I bite into an English muffin - this sucks because it means that I will need to not only find an orthodontist but will also need to make an appointment and go to the orthodontist - something I vowed I would never do again after the orthodontia nightmare that was ages 10 - 16.

The orthodontia break also serves as a reminder that I haven't been to the dentist in quite some time (quite some time for me is about 3 years too long). So, I make a dentist appointment for the same day. The outcome of 3 years of not taking care of my oral hygeine? A zillion cavities and a referral to an oral surgeon for a mandatory wisdom tooth extraction.

Topping it all off? Snow. I know what you're thinking - you live in Boston, get used to it.

Why don't you get used to freezing your tits off only a day after frolicking in 70 degree weather and then get back to me, ok? Yea, fuck you.

Tuesday, March 20
Orthodontist appointment at 10:00am. While my new doctor is infinitely better than my old orthodontist Dr. Rana (hi and fuck you, Dr. Rana!!) she's still no Mother Teresa when it comes to oral care.

I firmly believe that you have to have a screw loose upstairs to become an orthodontist. Seriously - $110 to have a torture device RE-BONDED to my bottom teeth by a sadist? Why not just complete the job and whip me or something?

Dental cleaning at 2:00pm. Not to be confused with the appointment on Monday; this is the one where they actual take the Instruments of Death and scrape the shit out of your teeth and gums. No matter how gentle the hygenist is, it's not gentle enough. At the same time I'm getting my teeth cleaned Most Attentive calls and leaves me a voicemail requesting a call back by 5:00pm. I call back, expecting something marginal, and am instead greeted with a "Hi, Linds, I just had an appendectomy."

Now, if you don't know me personally, there's no way you could know that I overreact about EVERYTHING. Have a hangnail? I'll get nervous about infection. Need emergency surgery? I hyperventilate.

Wednesday, March 21
Somehow through all the worrying I didn't get any sleep - shocker, I know. When I don't get any sleep it is a very distinct possibility that I will not be able to get up, even with my alarm screaming bloody murder. So - I overslept and rolled into the office building at 9:30 this morning. I will admit, I was pretty pleased with myself that I made it to work before 10:00am.

Little did I know the Mother of Bad Things was about to happen; on my way up to work I got caught in an elevator. This isn't really a big deal to alot of people - it's more of an inconvenience. To me? It's a nightmare realized.

I hate elevators. I hate everything about them. I have a fear of being stuck in an elevator and having it fall to the ground thus resulting in my own horrific demise. I also have an active imagination. Put those two together and you have a panic attack in an elevator. At 9:30am.

Awesome week so far, don't ya think?

Music Review Monday

Artist: The Shins
Album: Wincing the Night Away

6 words: Lush soundscapes without compromise. Thumbs up.
Show Review, Boston Orpheum: Amazing. 'New Slang' was haunting.

**N.B.: I know that by adding a Show Review I am violating the 6-word rule of Music Review Monday but, since it's my rule, I can break it. Deal.**

"3.14159! Cosine, secant, tangent, sine!"

For those of you who don't know, today is Pi Day --also known as the one day a year when geeks of the most incredible variety find it perfectly acceptable to run around celebrating that magical, infinite number with no discernable pattern or end.

I know. Believe me, I know. I don't get it either. But, if we BU alums are allowed to have Dan Goldin Day then the math freaks of the world shoud be allowed to have Pi Day.

If you have a one of these math-lovin' weirdos in your life (I have several --including my dad and Most Attentive) Wikihow has a few things you can do to help them celebrate their different-ness and let them know it's ok love a number in an un-natural way.

And, if you really love your math geek, you can start planning a trip to the math & science super genius mecca - also known as MIT - for next year's Pi Day.

In the meantime however, please feel free to satiate your nerd's need for mathy fun by playing him/her the Pi Song: The Remix by The Derivatives (set to 867-5309/Jenny by Tommy Tutone).

Music Review Monday

Album: Been to the Future
Artist: Joey Eppard

6 Words: Amazing guitarist. Amazing vocal range. Recommended.

I'm Vegetarian, Not Vegan.

Why the need to explain myself? So I don't go getting grouped in with these freaks from Berkeley that LawGeek recently found on Craigslist:

"Free Room to Lactating Person

We are offering a free room for a woman who is willing to provide breast milk for consumption to the household. We are an otherwise vegan house but have recently read A.O. Wilson's study of the benefits of human breast milk to all human beings of any age. This is not sexual. Neither appearance nor sexual preference are of any concern to us.

We are willing to accept one child into the house as well. We do not want to take breast milk away from a nursing child however. We also don't need gallons of breast milk but whatever you can muster; it is a nutritional supplement for members of the house who want to partake.

The room is 10'x 15' in a sunny house in Berkeley. There are 7 other people in the house and we live largely communally - shared food and house supplies. You must still pay for food, only rent is free. Reply to this posting and we will set up a time. Contact Dana."

Really, Dana? Really?

You want a lactating woman to move in with you so that you can drink her breast milk all because you read a "study" by some treehugger?

Are you going to cease/upgrade your soy intake for fear of your sexuality (hey, however you swing is your deal) after you read this article by Jim Rutz, Founder/Chairman of Open Church Ministries?

SERIOUSLY.

Music Review Monday

Album: Awake
Artist: Secondhand Serenade

6 Words: My ears are still bleeding.

Ugg-h, I'm such a hypocrite

Monday morning I was slip sliding my way to work when I stepped in a puddle of slush and gross and my feet got soaked. By the time I got to work and peeled back the soaking wet layers of brown leather and 65% MicroSupreme®, 15% Acrylic, 15% Nylon, 5% Spandex my toes were wet and blue.

Upon further inspection I noticed a gaping hole at the heel of one of the boots - clearly, this was not something that could be fixed with a healthy dose of waterproofing spray and duct tape.
(Actually, that totally would have worked but really, guys, really? I'm trying to be at least a little less white trash in The Year of Lindsay.)

New boots it was... and I knew just the pair. That's right - the boot that makes a girls dainty toes look like hooves. The official boot of BU sorority girls and the bane of my collegiate existence...

Uggs.

By crossing this threshold I was going to a very dark place in my life; one where I'm a hypocrite and a slave to the capitalist bastards who set trends that cost a decent chunk of my paycheck.

Now, almost a week later, all I have to say about this new place I call home is THANK GOD I HAVE THESE CLOUDS ON MY FEET TO CUSHION THE EVIL. Sure, I may look like a clydesdale in them and yes, I'm aware that they apparently went out of style in 2003 but seriously?

Whoa on the comfort and protection from the elements. Worth every penny.

Music Review Monday

Album: C'mon Miracle
Artist: Mirah

6 Words: Haunting vocals and lyrics. LOVE.

A Match Made in Vegetarian Heaven

I know that I'm not involved or anything, but seriously, I'm so happy about the pending nuptials between two of the best friend's every vegetarian has ever had: Whole Foods and Wild Oats.

That's right - rich Whole Foods has proposed to pauper Wild Oats, who obviously gleefully accepted.

I mean, who wouldn't want to be part of the Whole Foods family with their deliciously wonderful selection and mounds of money?

Wild Oats and Whole Foods will make it official in April (shotgun wedding, much?) and I think that I speak for most steady paycheck-earning, reformed hipster vegetarians when I express my love and happiness at this joyous union.

Another Reason to Hate CT

I hate Connecticut for many reasons. Most of thse reasons are people (Danskillz, Dave Matthews Biggest Fan, etc.).

Newly added to the list? Yale University - home of Rory Gilmore, some ugly bulldog mascot, and a bunch of pretty buildings. Oh right, and the best academics in the country or something.

Yale was also the very temporary home of Katydid and myself after a road trip lead us on a quest through New Haven for a greasy spoon serving up deliciousness.

Holy popped collars and pretension.

We could cut the snobbery with a knife. We could also have cut a snob with a knife... but I'm fairly certain that Mumsy and Daddy wouldn't appreciate their darling baby angel calling home from the ER after being accosted by common street people while 'slumming it' at Au Bon Pain... I digress.)

So there we are taking in our surroundings like tourists when some Old Money walks in, straight off the pages of the Ralph Lauren catalog. Old Money was chatting loudly with a friend about summering in New England whilst writing her a thesis on "Maine and it's many charming islands"*.

So swiftly dashed were the dreams I had conjured up of finding intelligent, normal students who were accepted on merit vs. last name. Replacing these dreams? An inherent understanding that Yale makes everyone at Harvard look like monks who are getting ready to take vows of poverty and manual labor.

*Seriously, how is that a thesis topic? What is this girl's degree going to be, an MRS in Leisure Studies with a concentration in Entitlement?

Music Review Monday

Album: Romeo + Juliet: Music from the Motion Picture
(10th Anniversary Edition)
Artist: Various Artists

Six Words: Amazing at 14. Amazing at 24.

Reason #548453

So, aside from the popcorn cart located on the 14th floor of my office (stop it, you know you're jealous), the super cute boys who work with me, and the fact that Christina and I can create our own super cube that blocks out all other cubes, my office is not that great.

This is mostly because the lighting makes me nauseaous and it's the same distance from my apartment to work as it is from one end of the Kalahari desert to the other.

Now, while the lighting can't be fixed (seriously, who likes fluorescent lights!? No one. Who likes work?! No one. See the correlation? I'm not crazy here people.) the trek across the city can. At least for me.

Bask in the glow of Reason #548453 Why My Company Kicks Your Company's Ass: We can work remotely.

That's right.
I work from home.
At the age of 24.

This doesn't mean that i'm hunched over a desk cursing at my laptop... oh no.

This means that I am sitting in my underwear in bed, listening to very loud music, and researching ad placements in various publications here and abroad. When I'm done I plan on making a delicious coma-inducing lunch of farfalle and butter and watching Scrubs.

Have fun trudging to work in the snow and crowds, suckers.

2007: Truly the Year of Lindsay

Last night Most Attentive and I were laying in bed after a pretty delicious dinner watching tv when a preview for the new episode of House came on.

Guess who's guest starring as a dying man in agonizing pain?

DAVE FUCKING MATTHEWS. ... a.k.a. the bane of my existence.

God, please let him die... in the episode. I'd never actually wish real death on anyone --in real life I wish Dave Fucking Matthews and every other evil mother fucker in the world nothing worse than a very bad hang nail.

...lucky for me, this isn't going to be real life. Let's go FLATLINE.

Note to self: Don't go into Marketing.

This note, of course, would be more effective were it 1997 and not 2007.

Why the sudden change of heart regarding career path, you might wonder? Well, aside from the hideously long hours, pathetically adequate pay, lack of positive world impact, and thankless efforts, I apparently now have to worry about being bound to a chair with duct tape and shot to death by a crazy person.

Seriously, people. I know that they weren't finding a cure for cancer and they probably were, in fact, not the best people (most marketing execs aren't - don't believe me? Rent Dogma.) but come on - does anyone really deserve to bite it in a conference room?

Side note: It figures that the only person to talk to the press was an art director. Seriously. Figures.

Music Review Monday: Fall Out Boy

Artist: Fall Out Boy
Album: Infinity On High

Six words: Jay-Z and FOB 2Gether 4-EVA. Wootradrock.

I enjoy art.

Today instead of doing work when I was supposed to (give me a break, I was on a conference call until 12:30 AM) I searched for new things to waste my hard earned money on. Do you know what I found?

kurthalsey.com

For me, visual complexity is only necessary when you're not talented enough to get your point across in a few strokes. Enter Kurt Halsey, this absolutely great artist who doesn't mess around with extremely complicated imagery.

Now, because I'm awesome (and also because I shop at Urban Outfitters - I have his "All Fades" tryptich hanging up in my bedroom) I already knew about Mr. Halsey and his work. What I did not know was just how much of his stuff was available.

Coming soon to a cubicle near you (if your cubicle is near mine): The Kurt Halsey wall calendar and a print. If you're lucky, maybe you can come hang out near me and bask in their glory.


Honestly, how fun and pretty is this image?

Music Review Monday: Six Words or Less

I'm starting a new Monday blog tradition - the 6 word music review. This week? Yoko Ono's "Yes I'm a Witch".



Somebody get her some glow sticks.

...he sleeps later than I do!

This weekend I spent the night at Most Attentive Boy On the Planet's apartment and holy Jesus and all his bastard children can Most Attentive sleep.

Freal, ya'll, he's Most Attentive Boy On the Planet by day and Dead to the World by night. Nothing will wake this boy up. Not even my super chipper self bouncing around the bed and generally acting like a child because I'm bored and need someone to constantly entertain me.

It's a good thing there's a tv in that bedroom.
___________________

In other news, Super Best Friend is now engaged. CONGRATULATIONS SUPER BEST FRIEND! I can't wait to see you and fawn over your ring like the fucking sap that I am.


No more living in sin (or under a tyranasaurus rex) for these two. LOVE THEM BOTH.

Why in God's name would he fear his shadow?

Punxsutawney Phil was apparently not frightened off by the sight of his own shadow this year, promising an early spring to the morons who believe a groundhog can predict the future.


People like these guys. Clearly, technology is not necessary when you have a famous rodent. I know I routinely ask the rats on Bay State Road for their help and advice and they're always more than willing.

Poor Phil, I'm amazed that he didn't run far and run fast from fear this year --not from his shadow or the crazy crowd mind you, but from this guy and his INSANE handlebar moustache.



Seriously, all of this would be enough to make me burrow into the ground and not come out. Clearly, however, Phil is not scurry-scurry scurred of anything. That rodent strolled out of his burrow this year, took one peek at the chaos surrounding him and brushed his shoulders off.

If only everyone could be such a suave superstar.

An Email Trail

From: Chasing Ordinary
Sent: Wednesday, January 31, 2007 5:26 PM
To: Thursday Night Drinking Club
Subject: Toasting TBS. Very Funny.

Boston has been shut down and in shambles all day. Cops, FBI, bomb squads everywhere blowing up suspicious devices.

Why?

Because TBS planted a viral marketing campaign around Boston and 10 other cities to promote Aqua Teen Hunger Force. The campaign? Battery operated light brites with the Mooninites giving the finger.

In honor of this great Wednesday + the weekend almost being here + most everyone being back in town + our propensity to drink, we're heading over to Tavern on the Square at the usual time.

_______________________________________

From: Caracas
Sent: Wednesday, January 31, 2007 5:45 PM
To: Chasing Ordinary
Subject: RE: Toasting TBS. Very Funny.

THIS WAS TRUE?!?!?!?!

AWESOME.

____________________________________________

From: Seat Filler
Sent: Thursday, February 01, 2007 10:13 AM
To: Thursday Night Drinking Club
Subject: RE: Toasting TBS. Very Funny.

No, no, this was a very bad thing. After all, our elected officials, who, of course, know what's best for us better than we do, say this was a very bad thing. The whole city was "on edge". People were "scared". "Relatives across the nation feared for their loved ones here in the City of Boston.".

And the media, who is, by the way, also smarter than we are, has made it a matter of record that "panic was the order of the day". After all, these were "sinister looking devices with wires and batteries." Wires AND batteries, people. I can't stress enough how serious that is.

Never mind that people had been posting pictures of these things on that newfangled Intertron for weeks. (I mean, really, who uses that anyway?) The MBTA official that started this all did the right thing in wasting a million dollars of police overtime all because he/she didn't recognize a roughly barely anthropromorphic character from a "failing show".

For shame, Chasing Ordinary. How dare you treat such a serious matter with glib lightheartedness. Why don't you move to New York, or Houston, or any of the other nine cities in which these ads were posted? There you can be with your own callous, over-educated, terrorist-loving kind.

Embarassed for all of us,

__________________________________________
From: Water Spitter
Sent: Thursday, February 01, 2007 10:16 AM
To: Thursday Night Drinking Club
Subject: RE: Toasting TBS. Very Funny.

Chasing Ordinary is defending them because from what I understand she's in marketing. Sounds to me like she's trying to stick up for her own. The only logical conclusion that we can gather from her email is that Chasing Ordinary is a terrorist.

Also, I'll be out tonight.........

_____________________________________________
From: I heart Atlanta
Sent: Thursday, February 01, 2007 10:23 AM
To: Thursday Night Drinking Club
Subject: RE: Toasting TBS. Very Funny.

Seat Filler for President!