During my morning news perusal, I came across a story on the HuffPo about Tiger Woods. First of all, I am SO OVER the Tiger Woods story, but this headline caught my eye: Tiger Woods Parties at Nickelback Concert in Orlando.
Which made me actually exclaim out loud, “does that man have a publicist?!”
Tiger, here’s a little free advice. If you want to rehab your image and not look like a huge d-bag, going to a Nickelback concert is not the way to go about it. It’s like Jon Gosselin wearing Ed Hardy and trying to rock a faux-hawk. You. Look. Bad.
Take your kids to a Wiggles concert. Move back to your hometown to “rediscover your roots”. Open up a golf course specifically for underprivileged children.
But please, Tiger, stay away from Nickelback. It’s for your own good. Trust me.
Today is a very important day. It marks the 24th year that one of my favorite people in the word has been alive. I mean, 24, gross, but there’s a lot for Walsh to celebrate: surviving college, having me in her life, the work of The Postal Service…
Back in the day, when Walsh and I were mild freakshows who managed to find each other (and other delightful freakshows) in the halls of our freshman dorm, we ADORED that song. It was borderline unhealthy. And I’m not saying we sang duets and alternated who was the girl and who was the boy, but we totally sang duets and alternated who was the girl and who was the boy. Sometimes it really amazes me that I have friends.
Then I remember that Walsh makes things like this in her free time…
…and I understand why it all works. So here’s to you, Walsh. I’m glad you were born, glad you were adopted, and DAMN thankful that you saw past my side ponytail so that we could get to where we are today. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
I’m a big fan of the Genius feature on iTunes, and I’m also a big fan of the country music. For those of you still left without modern technology, Genius is basically like Pandora (is that like using the word to define the word?), but using your own music. You can select a song and the Apple Gods magically find other songs of a similar genre, and voila, a playlist! It’s a great trick, and normally makes me some kickass playlists. But on this country kind of day, I selected a Darius Rucker song as my starting point, and things got a little weird. Here’s the playlist iTunes made for me:
Click to make it bigger.
For those of you who don’t know, Darius Rucker is a country singer these days, and before that he was the lead singer of Hootie & the Blowfish. Still, somehow, iTunes confused my buddy Darius for a mediocre R&B singer from the ’90s/early 2000s. Which is both disappointing and totally racist. Just saying. If this were Pandora, the explanation would have been “To start things off, we’ll play a song that exemplifies the musical style of Darius Rucker, which features…aw shit, never mind, this is just a list of other black dudes singing, with some J.Lo thrown in for good measure.”
But on the bright side, now you guys get a taste of some of the embarrassing music that I never listen to but keep on my iTunes because one day I just might want to have a middle school dance theme party, and that would require a soundtrack filled with Monica and TLC. I’m a girl who likes to be prepared.
In other news, I’m about to head to relive my college days with my little sister, who just turned 21. Wish me luck, and let’s hope I don’t slip into a post-college depression and begin sobbing every other drink. That might ruin the mood.
[Ed. Note: This is SWTCTW’s 800th post! Cwazy! Thanks for sticking with us for this long.]
The Ben Folds and a Piano concert on Friday was awesome, and I have a new crush: his opening act, Zach Williams:
Beard? Check. Flannel? Check. Guitar? Check. Adorable wife and daughter whom he talked about lots? Sigh, check.
Because Mr. Williams is not yet supa-famous, we were able to chat with him after the concert. That gave me the opportunity to say really creepy things like, “There are so many things that are great about you, and one of them is your beard. Never get rid of it.” (Don’t worry, I followed that up by Facebook friending him and sending him a message. Yes, I fully expect him to be celebrating his first Stalker Fan. And yes, I did have too many Dark ‘n’ Stormies at dinner.) Here’s a taste (and I’m not entirely sure why he’s lying on the floor, but hey, art!):
Here’s another one of my favorites. And here’s the one he wrote about his daughter. So effing cute.
Ben Folds, of course, was amazing as well, and ended the show with a phenomenal rendition of “Bitches Ain’t Shit.” But the crowning moment of his set was when he played “Levi Johnston’s Blues.” If you didn’t love ol’ Ben before (ahem, MATT), you will now:
There is so much good music in my life these days, and that makes me absurdly happy. I have Ben Folds and Zach Williams tonight, and Phoenix, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, and Jakob Dylan and Neko Case on the agenda in coming weeks. I’m a lucky girl.
I was doing work in the Starbucks on my campus earlier today, and they were playing all sorts of lovely songs. Said songs were being played WAY too loud for a coffee shop — they would have been better off in a bar setting — but that encouraged me to pay even more attention to them. My ears really perked up when a I heard a nice lady voice covering my favorite Beatles song, “I’ve Just Seen a Face.” (And, for full disclosure, I don’t really LOVE the Beatles — I know, sorry — but I tend to love covers of their songs. Which means I Am Sam and Across the Universe were awesome for me.) While I’m all for keeping to the integrity of the song in covers, this nice lady singer had changed the pronouns to the boy ones, which was fun, because hey, I like boys! Unfortunately, I’ve been searching for this particular cover on the Interwebs and can’t find it anywhere, so you’ll have to settle for my original favorite cover of the song, by Tyler Hilton. (I first heard this version on American Dreams, which was inexplicably cancelled mid-season right as Sam and Meg were starting to fall in love. Not that I’m still bitter.):
Interestingly, I haven’t the faintest idea who Nick and Daniele are, but I enjoyed that all the same.
You guys have heard of Chatroulette by now, right? I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been too scared/weirded out to try it, but it’s a fascinating concept. From what I understand, you just video chat with random strangers for as long as you want, and talk to, er, exhibitionists, about every other time. One day, I may be brave enough to try it and report back, but for now, enjoy this little number:
Guys, I’ve had so many thoughts in my head that I’ve wanted to tell you about, but instead of telling them to you, I watch Super Size Me (ten years after the rest of the country) and fall asleep. Sorry about that. The good news is that Google Holidays keep me on track. They taunt me, saying “YOU CAN’T IGNORE ME. YOU MUST BLOG ABOUT ME.” And I oblige, because I’m not one to mess with the Google.
Google Holiday: Happy St. Patrick’s Day. As you might have suspected, Google is honoring America’s favorite excuse to day drink and wear green hats that look like beer steins. (Hypothetically speaking, of course.) Since I celebrated my St. Patty’s Day approximately three years ago up in Hoboken — and since I have “school” and “a job” — I’m taking it easy today, just cold wearing green pants and going about my day as usual.
What I was Googling: tostitos salsa ingredients. I’ve surely mentioned here before that I love salsa. If DC legalizes marriage between a human and a condiment, I’m running down to the city court with a jumbo-sized jar of Tostitos Chunky Salsa Medium. Not that I’m picky. I love almost every salsa I’ve ever tasted, and though I eat it in frightening quanties (like, say, half a jar on a pair of scrambled eggs. Did I just admit that publicly?), I figure there are worst things I could be addicted to. Like heroin, or McDonald’s. (Am I right, Morgan Spurlock?!)
But then I read this article in the NYT, and it made me feel all inauthentic for loving mass-produced American brands just as much as I love the salsa from the amazing hole-in-the-wall taco place around the corner from work (where I’m eating lunch today, HUZZAH!). This opening section, in particular, bothered me:
“Everybody here thinks they know what Mexican food is,” said Nicholas Cox, the chef at La Esquina in NoLIta. “Especially if they’re from Texas or California.” (Ed. note: Ha! So true.)
Salsa, in particular, has emerged as Mexico’s most misunderstood culinary export. In Paris, Mexican restaurants make it with minced cornichon pickles and ketchup; in Japan, with green shishito peppers and Kewpie mayonnaise; in American factories, with corn syrup and red bell peppers.
In the spirit of all things Morgan Spurlock and Food, Inc., does my salsa have CORN SYRUP in it?! If it did, I’m not sure that I would really care and/or change anything about my salsa habits, but I became determined to find out the truth. And damn, Tostitos makes it a challenge to find out what’s in their salsa. I pored over their website, Googled like a mad woman, read a few blogs, and finally discovered that Tostitos Chunky Medium Salsa is nothing but tomato puree, diced tomatoes in tomato juice, jalapeno peppers, onions, vinegar, salt, garlic powder, and natural flavor. (Thanks to Off Her Cork for answering that one for me.) And while natural flavor might be a leetle sketchy, this makes me feel okay about the fact that I ate crackers dipped in salsa for dinner last night. Or, at least, as okay as I could be with that level of pathetic-ness.
I guess what I’m trying to say here is HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY! Pound some Guinnesses and listen to this song on repeat, because it’s the best:
During my morning news perusal, I came across a story on the HuffPo about Tiger Woods. First of all, I am SO OVER the Tiger Woods story, but this headline caught my eye: Tiger Woods Parties at Nickelback Concert in Orlando.
six words to change the world. 