12 posts tagged “stuff & things!”

I realize as an heir apparent to the millenials generation--as as my bosses at work ever-so-gently (sarcasm) drilled into my head at a meeting in February--the youth are starting to change.  (thank you, MGMT).

Children + Drugs = Hilarious.

Location:

23rd street stop on the 1 train.

Me: On the train looking out

Mr. Me-Against-The-Music: plugged in.

Explanation:

Anyone in NYC has probably now, by this point, noticed that every so often there are these music ads for a CD with a big red box--usually they're associated with Target, side note--where you can actually plug in and listen to the album.  This is a totally rad idea.  Except, that usually they pick really, really terrible artists for it.

Scene:

Your narrator is sitting inside--tired and not yet awake for work--on the 1 train heading uptown.  The train stops at 23rd street to a man dancing UP ON THE WALL.

Turns out he was rocking out to..."Keeps Gettin' Better" by Christina Augilera.  (The current artist in the ads)...and he juuuust loved it.  Like, was really into it.  I guess he just felt like a superbitch, up to his own tricks, but it keeps getting better.

You actually couldn't see what the ad was, so anyone who didn't have the chance to glimpse a side view would've just thought this was a man getting his freak on a wall in the subway.

...Thank you, New York City, and all just-gotta-dancers everywhere.

All little girls remember the scene from "Beauty & The Beast" where she is introduced to the Beast's mecca of a library.  It literally holds every book ever written in the history of time.  There's more leather in there than PETA could shake a stick at (though I'm sure they'd try).

Now, it might not have every book ever written in history, but...it does have a SPUTNIK!

Meet...Jay Walker's library:






all images courtesy of Wired Magazine Online.

THIS IS LIKE CANDY LAND FOR ADULTS.  IT LOOKS LIKE A MAGICAL MYSTICAL LAND OF READING AND BOOKS AND HISTORY AND SCIENCE.  I CAN FEEL MY IMAGINATION RUNNING WILD...ALREADY.  And i'm not even there (yet?)!  Words can't even describe how jealous I am of this place existing and it not being mine.

And get this...Wired Magazine continues to blow my mind and stroke my English Major's salivating ego with such nuggets as these:

Nothing quite prepares you for the culture shock of Jay Walker's library. You exit the austere parlor of his New England home and pass through a hallway into the bibliographic equivalent of a Disney ride. Stuffed with landmark tomes and eye-grabbing historical objects—on the walls, on tables, standing on the floor—the room occupies about 3,600 square feet on three mazelike levels. Is that a Sputnik? (Yes.) Hey, those books appear to be bound in rubies. (They are.) That edition of Chaucer ... is it a Kelmscott? (Natch.) Gee, that chandelier looks like the one in the James Bond flick Die Another Day. (Because it is.) No matter where you turn in this ziggurat, another treasure beckons you—a 1665 Bills of Mortality chronicle of London (you can track plague fatalities by week), the instruction manual for the Saturn V rocket (which launched the Apollo 11 capsule to the moon), a framed napkin from 1943 on which Franklin D. Roosevelt outlined his plan to win World War II. In no time, your mind is stretched like hot taffy.

Who wants in?

Michelle Collins over at BWE.tv has shown me that escaping can not only be tricky, but absolutely adorable.

Beyond basic procrastination, the internet has many useless, hilarious-yet-apt things going on inside.  Call it the "not-so-seedy" underbelly.

I bring you the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator.  Yes, that's right.  Because bitch has the weirdest kids names this side of George Forman I-XXII (I lost count).  So, clearly, an internet name generator was necessary.

Sarah_palin_02

My name would be Axe Diesel Palin.

Some friends of mine would also be the following:

-Bowl Antler Palin

-Barrel McRaven Palin

-Halter Grasshopper Palin

& my personal favorite...Sack Panther Palin.

Thank you, Internet.

The hilarious ladies over at Yabia! have posted a totally rad video about advertising birth control to women.  While I am not usually very feministy, I think the video (from Current TV) is totally appropriate and true. 

Because women don't take birth control for the "Look, Ma!  No Babies!" aspect, it is clearly all about our periods.  And moodiness.  Because all women are hormonal and unable to operate when bleeding.  Obvi.

For More, click here.

Thank you, China.  And to accompany this miracle of science...I bring you really bad lego puns, by me.

Just Lego of the mic, Madge!  Why so serious?

And then Posh said "You are such a bloody blockhead!  GIRL POWER, etc."

This one's just too easy.  And also, far too classily dressed for it to be Wineho.  Where's there crack pipe and the dirty ballet flats?  This is also clearly an overweight Lego--Amy probably weighs an 1/8th of that.  Try again, Lego.

Submit your own awkward & rad lego punz in the comments!

Images courtesy of ONTD via The Sun

I know I am one of approximately eleventy billion college graduates hot on the heels of graduation, ready to grab life by its metaphorical horns and move on out.  And half of those college grads are moving to New York City.

I, too, am moving to this big, bustling, overpriced metropolis this summer.  And let me tell you, the search has already begun, and subsequently has started to drive me to some interesting observations.

As a twentysomething girl moving to "The Big City," I know I am supposed to dream of "The Good Life" as portrayed by Samantha, Miranda, Charlotte, and Carrie.  I know I'm supposed to dream of these quaint apartments on the Upper West Side, Manolo Blahniks, and a myriad of men to tuck into my bed.  I'm just not into it.  I mention living in the city and most of the elders in my family ask whether or not I want to live like those Sex and The City girls.  I shudder.  I am the opposite of that, I would say.

Unfortunately, my alternative has its own stigma: Brooklyn.

I admit it, I do want to live in Brooklyn.  I also admit that this carries with it the overly-saturated stereotypes of the Hipster lifestyle.  Living off of mommy and daddy's money and grammy and grampy's trust fund finances that they set up for you while looking meticulously blasé and apathetic on your way to art class and then the local dive bar.  I'm just not into that scene, either.  Sure, I listen to music some may consider hipster-esque, but I'm also attempting a job in the music industry; so as a young hopeful I just crave listening to all music in general--especially that which is new and exciting.

But Brooklyn--perhaps more apt just the Williamsburg and Greenpoint areas themselves, but those that do not know of these areas just see it all as one thing--is so laden with this stigma that I cringe to even tell people that I intend to live there.  Also, did I mention that it's expensive as fuck?  I don't know how I'm going to manage on 30G's a year.  Really.  I'll probably have to sacrifice food there for awhile, but perhaps then I'll really fit in.  Fuck.

Then there's also the less-than-nice areas of Brooklyn: Bushwick, East Williamsburg, Bed-Stuy, Flatbush.  All not the nicest.  And people always seem to find negative things to say, about all of them.  I just know that the rest of Brooklyn is probably not in my price range, and therefore not in my near future. Did I mention that the Real World is moving in, too?  If I want to get in there before EVERYTHING explodes in price, I should probably do that soon.

But seriously, the Real World: Brooklyn?  Why don't they just do the Real World: Camden, NJ then.  Just as random.  I'd think by now they'd do a Real World: DC, but maybe the political bigwigs are scared they'd get caught on camera with their pants around their ankles.  Zing!  I love political sex scandals.

What I'm trying to get at is there's this external struggle being placed on my own neurosis by the stigmas of New York.  So where do I live?  What do I do?  In the next few weeks I'll find out--maybe I'll end up in Harlem?--but it's weird that these stupid preconceptions bother me.  Mostly just because people bring them up--this isn't something I stew on, on the regular.  I suppose I should first worry about getting a job (oh let's not get started on that).  I suppose I should worry about finding roommates (in the works).  I suppose I should worry about Darfur and the energy crisis and my credit card bill.  But, for now I sit here and consider the up's and down's of this trivial shit, because it's 11:30 at night on a Friday and I should most definitely be out hanging with friends instead of blathering on a blog.

I realize it has been awhile.  I had decided long ago to give up any sort of affair with the interblogging realm of what-have-you.  It was a fad, a farce.  I was kidding myself thinking I could possibly keep up with a daily, witty anecdote of my highly uneventful life and the thoughts i procure in it.

...Then I graduated college.  And had absolutely nothing better to do with my life in general as a rule.  I spend my days guessing what new suspender-tie-shirt combination Larry King will come up with next, my nights (and subsequent mornings) wondering why I am still awake and 'why don't I just do something about it?' (thanks mom.)  So after two-ish years of hiatus from my attempts at internet engaging hilarity, I am back to shamelessly attempt some sort of funnies to bring to you, my adoring public.  Which means me, myself, and I.  This is fine.

But, I do have a bone to pick with Hilary Clinton's stylist, and the invention of the multi-colored pantsuit in general. 

...Really?  I understand that she is a female in an undoubtedly male-dominated field, and she needs to stand strong.  I am a woman but I am powerful!  I have proverbial balls (or maybe real ones; jury's still out)!  I am cut throat!  I don't wear skirts because I am running at a fever pitch and must cover my legs for modesty's sake!  I don't cry crocodile tears (debatable)!  And she also has to look feminine.  Pink!  Yellow!  Teal!  Now Clinton Kelly and Stacy London I am not, I do know that if you're running for president, and you need to be taken seriously....you do not want to place attention on your birthing hips.  This, is what her pantsuits (too long jackets!  tapered pants!  PLEATS!) do to you.  Now, being the educated young woman that I am, I could come at you with the issues I have on her campaign tactics, her skewed numbers, and her shady politics, but instead I will brood on the superficial.  Because.

Hey, at least we know she could probably throw a baseball better than Mariah Carey can.