If you don’t know about these already, I haven’t been doing my job. And for that, I am sorry. I find these to be HILARIOUS. Here is the seventh installment of Auto-Tune the News. Hopefully you find it half as funny as I do. Oh, and below is the sixth installment, which is by far my favorite (Sarah Palin makes an appearance). The rest can be viewed here!
[Posted by Kathleen]
Yesterday, I flew home to Denver from DC’s National Airport. Things were looking up, at first: my dad had a voucher for a free flight, so I got to splurge and get a direct flight home (this was HUGE); I had managed to pack for 10 days into a carry on (ladies, I’ll give you a moment to let this sink in. 10 DAYS!!!); and I got to the airport on time, with a smooth trip to security, and with magazines, a Weeds DVD, and a Chuck Klosterman book to occupy myself.
I was pretty thrilled about all of this, but I should have known that it was just a tease. I settled into my seat in the waiting area, inexplicably surrounded by only Chinese people, and munched on some snacks. Then, I casually — innocently — turned to verify my flight time, and it had been bumped back a full three-and-a-half hours from 5:26 p.m. to 9:01 p.m. Now, I’ve had my fair share of flight problems. Except when compared to the people who plunged into the Atlantic Ocean a few weeks ago, you might say that I have some pretty damn bad luck when it comes to flying. And here’s the thing: typically, I stay calm. I sort of like airports, and I like being able to be by myself and read magazines and people-watch guiltlessly. For some reason, however, this flight delay REALLY pissed me off. My BBM fest with my sister indicates this:
Me: Of course things couldn’t go too smoothly…My flight has just been delayed by 3.5 hours
Me: Mother fucker
Me: I’m so pissed right now
Maddy: What?? Are you serious. Is there another flight you can get on??
Me: I don’t know…I can go check but I don’t know how this stuff works since I used dad’s voucher
Maddy: I would go ask and just see that is ridiculous. Why? Is it bad weather?
Me: Not even a little bit
Maddy: It must be from wherever the flight is coming from
Maddy: I would go ask
Me: I WANT TO KILL SOMEONE [Ed. note: Ah, first-world problems]
More chatting, more chatting, and then I take melodrama to a whole new level:
Me: Ha yeah I just want to cry because this is probably the first direct flight I’ve taken in 5 years and I packed so well and of course something has to go wrong
Me: [Four letter word I’m embarrassed to publish]
Me: Maybe I will move to Denver and never travel outside of driving distance for the rest of my life
Me: And now Sarah Palin is on the cover of Time magazine on the TV in front of me
Me: I might explode [Ed. note: At this point I had considered typing something about wanting to bomb the airport, but I figured that the C.I.A. or the F.B.I. or whatever probably, somehow, monitors text messages for mentions of bombing airports]
And later…
Me: Oh snap I’m boozing. I forgot I can drink legally
The rest of our conversation continues similarly. My flight did that fun thing where it got delayed ten minutes at a time until it was at 9:45 p.m., and by that time, I was calmed down, watching Weeds standing up and doing minor yoga poses. I also ate the largest, most delicious sandwich of my life. Thank you, Potbelly (and Camille).
Things ended up being oookay, and around 9:45 they moved our gate and were RUSHING us to line up and have our boarding passes, like, totally ready, and out, and also definitely don’t use your cell phone or talk because we are getting on this plane NOW. We’re all eager and ready, and then they drop the bomb: “By the way, we are waiting on this one flight attendant, and if she doesn’t show, your flight will be canceled. But don’t worry! You guys have been great!”
This is when minor anarchy breaks out and people start getting really pissed. There’s that classic loudly chatty lady who’s all “What is this, the twilight zone??” and everyone chuckles appreciatively. I find myself surrounded by drunk adults (and I was sober — Weeds and Chuck K. won out over wine, oddly enough). I felt strangely awkward around these drunk adults. Being around drunk people my age while sober is one thing, but drunk adults? I felt like I was observing a different species. There was flirting (gasp!) among people with spouses, drunk businessmen, and a really obnoxious lady who seemed to fancy herself a modern day version of Kathy Bates in Titanic. I observed and smiled and laughed and made sympathetic comments where appropriate.
Luckily, we did end up boarding, and that rogue flight attendant was found. They didn’t let us get too calm, though; they hurried us on the plane, saying, “Seriously people, if you don’t sit down in the next six minutes, our pilots will become illegal.” Um, awesome.
Aaaand then I passed out for four hours and woke up, alive, in Denver. Good story, right?
The thing about miserable flying stories is that they’re a lot like wacky dream stories. Chuck Klosterman (it should be clear by now that I’m totally and completely in love with him, or at least his writing) talks about the strange truth about dream stories in Killing Yourself to Live. Every single one of your friends has a bizarre, or hilarious, or terrifying, or physic dream story at some point, and they always want to share it with you. The problem is that most dream stories are only truly interesting to the person who dreamed them. But when someone says, “Oh man, let me tell you about this insane dream I had last night,” you can’t stop them. You have to listen, and be amazed, and maybe counter with your own only-interesting-to-you dream story.
It’s the same with flying stories. Everyone has miserable flying stories, because airlines these days (with a few notable exceptions) suck. And you guys didn’t really care to hear that whole story, but I told you anyway. This is what happens when you have a blog, and three hours to kill, and a glass of wine. You’re welcome!
P.S. Last night, I had this crazy dream…my teeth fell out, and I had to fight Michael Jackson for the insurance check to get them replaced, and…yeah. You get the point.
UPDATE: The comments indicate that I am sooo not alone in my hatred of United. Loyal reader Beth F shared this wonderful video, which puts our collective anger to music:
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under adventures, blogging, crushes, pop culture, thoughts, travel
I love indie films (and indie anything, really — for the Fourth of July, iTunes gave away 20 free indie songs and by God, it felt like Christmas!), but I am a little bit self-conscious of the fact that everyone loves indie films. Remember when Garden State first came out and it was like THE movie to be obsessed with? I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t listen to that soundtrack on repeat for most of the beginning of college. I’m thinking back about it, and pretty much every song gives me some sort of overwhelming feeling of nostaliga. “New Slang”? Laying out on a boat off the coast of Italy and just cold lovin’ my life. “I Just Don’t Think I’ll Ever Get Over You”? Emo nights falling asleep with my iPod (in, yep, a bunk bed) sophomore year of college. “Let Go”? Away messages before drunken college nights. I’d often make my AIM away message “drink up baby doll,” and I’m embarrassed because now I know that the lyrics are actually “drink up baby down.” What does that even mean, anyway?!
The point is, I like indie films and the music in indie films and the people in indie films. (John Krasinski, Zach Braff…I’m looking at you.) But I also love this video. It’s spot on:
Thanks to Miss Susannah for the tip!
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under crushes, humor, movies, music, pop culture
She looks like a brunette Ashley Tisdale. Right?
Kevin Jonas, the “Ike Hanson” of the Jonas Brothers, is engaged. His fiancee is 22-year-old Danielle Deleasa. The two met while their families were vacationing in the Bahamas, and according to People:
When Deleasa, a former hairdresser, first met Jonas two years ago, she admits, “I didn’t know who the Jonas Brothers were.” It was Kevin who eagerly pursued her after meeting her and then spotting her walking on the beach with a flower in her hair.
How romantic. She is a former hairdresser? I suppose her job now is being Kevin Jonas’ fiancee and fighting off tweens.
“She said yes, yes, yes like 500 times super fast in a row,” the oldest of the Jonas Brothers tells PEOPLE exclusively.
Oh. Emm. Gee.
Kevin Jonas is just 21. At least he’ll be able to drink at his wedding? Are there pregnancy whispers yet?
[Posted by Kathleen]
Filed under babies, blogging, celebrities, crushes, definitely not politics, family, music, news, pop culture, random, sex, thoughts, weddings
Guys, this is totally my jam:
It’s a challenge for me to not associate Phantom Planet with The O.C., which probably says something about my musical knowledge/taste, but I lurve this song. I’m going to totally dance around my bedroom to it all summer long.
Speaking of dancing, last night Kathleen and assorted other friends of ours went to the Red Sox/Nationals game, and at the end of the game Miss Potter, my roommate, hooked us up with access to a suite. Excitement about moving from the nosebleeds to a suite (Suite 1, no less), prompted some celebratory awkward dancing. (To replicate, be gangly, then wave limbs around wildly.) See, Kathleen’s Connecticut-loving boyfriend — let’s call him Miguel — and I are both wonderfully awkward dancers. I say wonderfully because when you’re an awkward dancer, you just have to embrace and love the awkwardness, or it just gets worse. Kathleen (poor thing) was blessed with actual coordination, so Miguel and I made a pact that if we ever find an Awkward Dance Contest for Couples, we will totally enter. And totally win. Our confidence is so enormous that Miguel makes this bold claim: “I could enter an Awkward Dance Contest for Couples and win, alone.” Bring it on.
In related news, remember the time Kathleen and I reviewed the 2008 All-Star game? (Here, read it again!) J.D. Drew was at bat at some point last night, and Kathleen was all, “Hey Mal, remember the time we wrote about the All-Star game and we like loved J.D.?” And I was all, “[Awkward laugh] Yeah…I mean, actually, no, I don’t remember that at all.” Kathleen proceeded to make fun of me and said that we both had huge crushes on J.D. Drew and we were both a little ashamed (and mocked by Miguel), because J.D. Drew looks like this:
Which isn’t to say Mr. Drew is unattractive, but I mean, he is a bearded ginger, and I think I would have remembered having a huge crush on a bearded ginger. Turns out, this was the boy we were talking about in said All-Star post:
This means, of course, that Kathleen was wrong! Huzzah! I may have the long-term memory of a housefly, but I’ll take the little victories where I can find them.
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under adventures, crushes, music, sports
I’m pretty late to joining the Kings of Leon bandwagon, but I’m totally in the front seat now. They are AMAZING. I recently read the Rolling Stone cover article about them (excerpts here), and I think they have a such an intriguing story. All related, came from a weird intensely religious background, got into music pretty late in the game, get drunk and get rowdy on a regular basis and aren’t afraid to admit it, etc. etc. Plus there’s a lot of beardage going on, and Caleb’s voice is freaking phenomenal.
One of the girls I stayed with this weekend, Ashley, has been a major Kings of Leon fan since the beginning, so we spent a solid chunk of time this weekend dancing around, drinking Coronas, and blasting their music. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to spend most of my summer continuing that trend.
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under adventures, crushes, music, pop culture, YouTube
Kathleen must be given credit for finding this wonderful link to 25 of Nickelodeon’s Best Original Songs, but she didn’t post about it yet, so I win! Mwhaha.
I thoroughly enjoyed purusing these videos yesterday, because watching Nickelodeon took up about 50% of my childhood. The other 50% was spent eating some form of fast food almost every night. (My mom used to work late as a nurse and was horrified to discover, a decade later, that chicken fingers and french fries made up a substantial protion of her daughters’ diets. Thanks, Daddy!)
My sister and I love to try to remember all of the Nickelodeon shows that we were obsessed with, and this Top 25 Songs list helps with that. I mean, Doug is a given. But shows like My Brother and Me? Totally forgot about it! Clarissa Explains It All? Amazing. (Don’t pretend you didn’t have the biggest crush ever on Sam. It made me wish I lived on the second floor just so that my best guy friend could have a ladder and sneak into my room whenever he wanted.) And I’m not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that I still know all the words to the Salute Your Shorts theme songs. I could have used a few references to Wild ‘n’ Crazy Kids or Guts, but I’ll take what I can get with this brilliant piece of You Tube-y nostaglia.
These days, I feel pretty bad for the kids who weren’t allowed to watch as much teevee as I was. What happens if “Nickelodeon Shows” is a Kings category? What if people start talking about how weird it was that Alex Mack turned into silver goo, and you don’t get the reference? How humiliating. (If you are one of those kids, please do yourself a favor and memorize the songs from the Top 25 list. Then you can probably fake your way through most of the references.)
So, to get all big picture for a second…it’s sort of strange to think that I spent so much time watching the teevee and eating horrific fast food, and ended up turning out okay. Of course, I played outside a ton, and I’m sure my mom snuck some vegetables in my diet when my dad wasn’t looking, but if a kid exposed to all that trash and poison managed to get through college and has turned out reasonably healthy and normal, do parents these days really need to be obsessing over Baby Einstein and organic milk and French lessons? I wrote a few speeches on this in college, and now I’m sort of obsessed with this topic. There’s certainly a lot to think about, there. (If you want to read a legitimate article about this, not just the ramblings of an unmarried, childless 20-something, check out this NY Times Magazine article.)
But since I’m (erm, hopefully!) many years away from worrying about this stuff fer real, let’s all just join together and appreciate the awesomeness that was Nickelodeon in the ’90s:
And speaking of le television, if you need a new show to get addicted to this summer, and you’re four years behind the times like I am, please start watching Weeds. You won’t regret it.
KILLER UPDATE: From a Gchat conversation with my friend Rachel, because I know you love getting inside looks at my deep, deep Gchat convos. (Background: Rachel and her friend Meghan are frm South Orange, NJ):
Rachel: here’s a tidbit u will enjoy
they filmed pete and pete in south orange
me: no way!
Rachel: and used meghan’s house for hair and makeup etc
me: NO FUCKING WAY!
Rachel: not the whole thing of the show just parts
me: THAT IS THE COOLEST THING IVE HEARD ALL DAY
It doesn’t take much to get me riled up on a Monday morning, I guess.
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under adventures, crushes, family, food, music, pop culture, TV
Here’s a cute clip that’s been going around the Interwebs lately. What I love about it is how Sesame Street defines marriage as two people who hug and kiss, live together, love each other and are best friends. [Insert Bert and Ernie joke here. Ha!] Does that scare you, NOM? The Sesame Street definition is simple, and probably the best one I’ve ever heard. We are never too old to learn lessons from Sesame Street. Thank you, Jesse and Grover! (PS- How adorable is Jesse?!)
[Posted by Kathleen]
Despite the fact that I write for a blog that often focuses wacky celebrity gossip, and despite the fact that I’m a young person with plenty of access to and knowledge of technology, I often entirely miss major pieces of pop culture news. As in, some things on “I Love 2009” will be totally new to me. A few recent cases in point: I’m just starting to know the words to “Just Dance” — don’t talk to me about “Poker Face,” because I don’t know that I’ve heard it. I also don’t understand some basic Facebook commands. Yesterday, whilst Facebooking stalking (that I know), I clicked some button that was apparently the wrong button to get where I wanted to go. And I was flat out mocked by my companions, including my sister, who told me that she was ashamed to be related to me.
I’m not super concerned about things like this. I know that Lady GaGa wears weird apparatuses (apparati?) on her head, and I know how to use Facebook to find out which of my middle school friends are knocked up. That’s about all I need. But I have been hearing an awful lot about this movie called Up. In the past 24 hours or so, a bunch of people have been talking about it, and it’s gotten to the point where I can’t pretend to understand the references anymore. (Comments like “Oh, ha ha, yeah, the dog with the talking collar” or “Right, houses tied to balloons, genius” only work for so long.)
Being the modern day Nancy Drew that I am, I YouTubed that shiz, and here’s what I found:
Now, while that preview is cute, it doesn’t exactly make me want to leave work early, pick up some Red Vines, and run to the nearest theater to see the movie. I do have faith in Pixar, though (like Google and Mac, they seem to never screw up), and comments on Rotten Tomatoes are astonishingly good. And if the movie can make me cry within the first 15 minutes, as one Rotten Tomatoes commenter said Up did for her, you know I’ll be an easy sell.
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under adventures, blogging, celebrities, crushes, dance, fashion, movies, pop culture
I have a tendency to get emotionally invested in a competition very, very quickly. I can ask my dad who to root for in a college football game, and by the end I’m crying when the quarterback runs over to hug his mother. I can be watching Dancing With the Stars in French and by the end I’m giddy (and also probably crying) because the cute girl I liked won. I can also not see a single episode of American Idol but still, inexplicably, watch and care about the finale.
I forced my poor friend Jill to watch the singing part of the finale with me two nights ago. (In my slight defense, she DVR-ed it so we fast-forwarded through the cheesy parts or any moment where Ryan Seacrest talked.) Now that Adam guy has a set of pipes, and I was totally impressed by him, despite the creeptastic trench coat and smoke. But Kris Allen won me over. It’s a well-publicized fact that my favorite genre of music is Boys Playing Guitars, and he fits the bill perfectly. He’s just so earnest! And he plays instruments! And he has a cute wife! And anyone else think he sounds a lot like Adam Levine when he’s singing? He also gets an adorable smashed and crooked face when he sings — like John Mayer, but more endearing.
The point is, I teared up any time they showed Kris’s adorable family, then I realized that I would actually buy his CD (as long as “No Boundaries” isn’t on it, good GOD), so I was compelled to vote for him. That’s right, I totally texted in my vote. And he won! HOORAH!
I didn’t watch the results part of the finale, but this picture, courtesy of the NYT, is perfect:
Here’s hoping he doesn’t get famous and starting banging random groupies.
[Posted by Mallory]
Filed under celebrities, crushes, definitely not politics, music, pop culture, TV
six words to change the world. 