Monday, February 19

Drop Your Life!

24-Hour "Law & Order" marathon on - what else? - TNT. Today.

If you're lucky you'll tune in at a good time and eat up a nice slice of Briscoe/McCoy pie with some Logan or Green on the side. I'd steer clear of anything involving the name "Southerlyn," of course. How bad an actress do you have to be to make the viewer pine away for the "dynamism" the show possesses before and after your tenure? "Law & Order" is a lot of things, but dynamic it ain't.

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My Hour

For the first time in my life, I was able to at last begin the battle against the inner demons that have plagued me as long as I can recall, because they conveniently manifested themselves as three-dimensional, wholly real objects that are bound by the rules of this universe. Though upon first glance they appeared whimsically metaphorical, the Television Set I managed to manipulate (at last!) to my will was no doubt the physical representation of the uncertainty I feel about myself and my future: the course appears to be ever-changing, yet the changes are deeply unrewarding and I find so much of what is laid in front of me stagnant and banal. Without question the Sofa I conquered is meant to be my own past. Heartbreakingly ordinary, it was the kind of Sofa (childhood!) one would pretend didn't happen if weren't for the sheer necessity of the object/concept in and of itself.

I'm not trying to say I've even begun to repair any damage that's been caused to my deeply fragile psyche over the past 22 years. I only spent an hour at it, to begin with; I can and will say with certainty, however, that I will return to the battle before the day is done. Once something this spiritual has begun, it's up to nature to decide when it stops.

Dear McDonalds,

Commercial catchphrases are rare beasts, like panda bears or attractive red-headed men. The best catchphrases are the kind that you don't have to think about, like "Bud-weis-er" or "Whassup?!?" See? Simple, to the point. Not too many words or syllables to deal with. So, it's with a heavy heart I say: "Looks like somebody forgot snacktime!" is never going to make it into the pop-culture lexicon. VH1 will never devote a 2-minute segment to it, the words will not grace the pages of "Us Weekly" under a picture of a too-skinny Keira Knightly, and hell, even Michael Scott won't make a wry post-ironic throwaway gag with it in "The Office." It's straight-up retarded, and that chicken wrap looks like nasty leftovers, anyway.



Friday, February 16


So my hard drive totally died. I think I'll be able to get a newused one later today (for free 'cause I'm cute), but until then...I don't know what. Fuck technology. Read a book.


Wednesday, February 14

Trashley's Valentines! Simon Cowell!

America needs Simon Cowell.

Sadly, you and I were raised in a society that teaches children they can achieve anything in the world if they believe they can. Actually trying may or may not come into this. Every kid is destined to be a singer, a baseball player, the President, or an astronaut because if they dream hard enough for it, it's going to come true.

Bullshit. There's nothing wrong with having ambitions, but to try to make it all the way through life holding onto the delusions of a seven-year-old because your friends, family, and quality children's programming lied and said you were good enough is totally unacceptable to me and the rest of the rational, mediocre world.

Those who hunger for fame deserve the hardest fall, and I couldn't be happier Simon is around to save us from ourselves. Everyone needs a verbal bitch-slap from reality every now and then, and Mr. Cowell does his absolute best to be as honest and straightforward as possible.

Those who try to fight back often accuse Simon of loving himself more than anything: not true. Simon Cowell loves money above all, and he knows what kind of performer will earn it for him. His self-awareness of his own shallow nature is what allows him to be so disdainful of people who pretend they're above the system (on an extraordinalry popular televised talent show). They tell themselves they don't NEED him to reaffirm their belief that they're great. They KNOW they are, which is why I guess they waited in line for hours for the chance to be judged. But the damage has been done. The dream is shattered. We, as a nation, are better for it.

I'll probably never get over his questionable hair or taste in music, but those things don't matter. Simon says exactly what I'm thinking (in a nice British voice), and that's why he's my Valentine. I love those that are most like me.

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Trashley's Valentines! Awards Season!

My only abstract concept Valentine (unless you count John Waters), Awards Season is the early part of every year when statues get polished, out-of-touch voters get righteous, actresses get bulimic, and E! gets hard.

Does anyone still pretend innovation and talent is rewarded? The Grammys were on a few days ago, and the only parts of it I remember were Red Hot Chili Peppers winning Best Rock Album (I guess) and the Dixie Chicks winning a ton of shit because of a sentence the lead singer said in London like, three years ago.

It's really not a big deal to me that the television, movies, and music I love aren't given any kind of recognition for the genuinely good work they produce - would I make Awards Season a Valentine if it was? No, the great thing about these shows is you can always count on celebrities to display the best of their worst. You want self-important political statements? Gorgeous gowns and jewels the rich don't have to pay for? Poorly-scripted bumper dialogue read in a stilted, self-conscious manner? Drunken veterans who don't care? Memorial montages? Oh man, Awards Season presents these treasures with pleasure.

Take in the pre-show. Drink during the ceremony. Bemoan your local affiliate's attempt at coverage. Read the blogs the next day. Buy the magazines the next week. Take in your fill, because it's all you're going to have for the rest of the year.

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Trashley's Valentines! Jeremy Kyle!

Heartbreakingly, most of you won't know who Jeremy Kyle is, and YouTube has no examples of his God-given talents as mediator, voice of reason, and judgemental bastard. I've tried to describe the style of his talk show many times, but can't quite find the right comparisons - the closest I've been able to come is he has guests the caliber of Ricki Lake (double V-Day shout-out!), yet he possesses the attitude of Dr. Phil.

But with Jeremy, there's something more. The setup of his show features a different topic for every segment between commercials, which should (in theory) revolutionize the genre of daytime talk trash. In the space of an hour, you can be confronted by pathetic teen runaways, men who dispute paternity claims, and desperate alcoholic grandmothers crying out for help.

I'm totally in awe of the way he handles his guests. Casually lounging on the steps of the stage, he'll try to have a serious one-on-one with these about their problems before raising his voice and leaping to (usually valid!) conclusions. Most people who host these kinds of shows attempt to show solidarity with the people they have on the show. Maury and Sally Jessy are pleased as punch to act a fool, but not Jeremy. He knows they're trash(!), and makes no bones about judging them.

Jeremy Kyle is a smug bastard. Jeremy Kyle is a little bit handsome. Jeremy Kyle is the king of stating the obvious to the most retarded people in the north of England, and for all these reasons, I love him.

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Trashley's Valentines! John Waters!

And speaking of camp...I mean, how could you think I wouldn't be influenced by John Waters? My favorite movie when I was 11 was Serial Mom, and his is certianly the kind of trash I've learned to appreciate more as I've grown older. He is who he is and he does what he does. He can make Ricki Lake and Baltimore seem kind of cool. He can make Johnny Depp star with Traci Lords & Ricki Lake. He could probably make me do anything he wanted (eat dog poo?) if he asked really nicely.

John Waters encourages you to smoke. And that's just brilliant.

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Trashley's Valentines! Jennifer Tilly!

Jennifer Tilly doesn't receive nearly the amount of respect she deserves. In addition to being a total bombshell born in the 1950s, she's the only Academy Award nominee I can think of who can out-trash Gina Gershon - and that bitch was in Showgirls.

Trash is not a pejorative, of course. Trash means embracing the camp and taking no prisoners. Trash is Bound. Trash is Bride of Chucky. Trash is making cheesy adult films and simultaneously having a successful career doing voiceovers for children's movies. Trash is deciding you're rich enough and really enjoy poker, so, fuck it, you're going to lay off acting and play semi-professionally.

Jennifer will always have my love and be my Valentine, because I respect who she is, what she does, and her beautiful, beautiful breasts.

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Trashley's Valentines! Robbie Williams!

My love of Robbie Williams is not about his looks. It's not about his music, either. It's about his tenacity, and his single minded pursuit of a dream: America.

If he's known to Americans at all, it's a casual acquaintance. Oh, he's that former boybander who wrote the Jessica Simpson song. He made that weird video where he rips off his skin. He's yet another celebrity to battle with addictions in and out of the public eye. (In fact, he just went back to rehab - on his 33rd birthday.)

Robbie Williams is more popular in parts of Europe than I care to acknowledge, but his acute awareness that the United States just doesn't give a fuck has pushed him to try to break over in the States for damn near ten years. Ten years.

You'd think he'd have learned by now that we don't take to kindly to Europop over here, no matter how mainstream the music actually is. Americans currently want their British music to come over in ballads (Coldplay, James Blunt), rock (Franz Ferdinand, Arctic Monkeys) or NOT AT ALL. But Robbie won't have it. He's going to coke himself up for the next 20 years because he just wants us to listen, and I think it's time we finally gave him a chance.

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Monday, February 12

I Wonder...

Has there been a film starring a black comedian relased in the past few years that doesn't feature a fatsuit, whiteface, or CGI midgets?

First person to name one gets a very special prize!*

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Hey Locals!

Perez Hilton (of all sources) says The Backstreet Boys are recording a new album in Nashville. Why am I only just learning of this? Guess I'll have to head to Graham Central Station and party with the boys. Is that place still even open? Should I have been reading All The Rage? I'm so full of conflicting emotions right now!

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I Was Wondering...

Whatever happened to Monica Lewinsky? Does she date? Would she vote for Hillary? Does she work, or have various book deals and TV appearances set her up for life?

Well, it turns out she went to London and earned a Master's Degree. God, good for her.

Were we ever so innocent?

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What Else I'm Watching

I can only make so much time for Stop Everything Televison: I've allowed myself "House," "Lost," most of "American Idol," and healthy doses of "Dr. Phil" (to keep the judgement senses tingling!) as the shows I can't miss for 2007. Of course, there are plenty of shows I enjoy and won't make the time for, and yet others I absolutely hate and will use as mere background noise. Here's a mini-review of the lesser crap I've enjoyed recently.

The Real Housewives of Orange County: Oh Lord, we get it. Really really rich people are shallow and dumb. They don't deserve the things they've been given (by their husbands) or my respect. Of course, I'll watch it. Profoundly sad people make me laugh. And speaking of the profoundly sad...

Lockup/Lockdown/Prison Sucks: I don't actually know the name of this show, but it's some sort of prison expose/reality type of show where MSNBC profiles different prisons and prisoners, and how sometimes criminals are crazy motherfuckers who need to be kept in cages, while others are sometimes genuinely nice people who seem to have made some really bad (usually drug-related) decisions.

How It's Made: Toilet paper is complicated! Here's how my love for these kinds of programs began:

You know! For kids!

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Friday, February 9

I'm Hungry

Thursday, February 8

But What's the Spinal Surgery a Metaphor For?

So, "Lost" came back last night, and I wasn't as disappointed as I thought I was going to be. Some distance from the first six episodes allowed me to see how crappy they were, and I now have semi-high hopes about the show once again.

There are some spoiler-y things below, so don't read it if you haven't seen it. Loser.

Okay, I don't actually have THAT much to say other than I don't know how I feel about a TV show refrencing both A Clockwork Orange and Mean Girls in the same episode: Kubrick and Lohan, together at last. Is the ugly boyfriend going to get sick everytime he listens to shitty music now? Stay away from Charlie, dude!

I also don't give that much of a damn about The Others, and am totally ready for the show to put its focus back on the original islanders. I think they may have gotten too out-of-control with all their mysteries and are scrambling to find a way to tie them all togehter again. Oh, they were doing research on fertility? I could have told you that shit when they kidnapped Claire two years ago.

Anyway. Hot Desmond next week, and hopefully some Sayid. Jack's not dead yet, though yet another totally unimporant character is.

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She's So Outrageous!

Who had Anna Nicole Smith in their 2007 Death Pool? If you did, you just earned some cash.

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Sunday, February 4


Is Michael Imperioli hot?


Friday, February 2

Fashion! Newsreels!

Working strange hours with little to do but play online can result in fantastic finds on YouTube. My new obsession is newsreels, and here are a couple from the 1960s that focus on fashion; and, for some reason, "The Avengers."

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Thursday, February 1

I'd Prefer a Double-Decker Taco

I think we all know I have a tiny, pin-prick sized soft spot in my heart for Mr. Kevin Federline. I'm not sure why it's there, but I cannot deny it. I'm looking forward to seeing his Super Bowl ad, and I think Taco Bell is, too:

Dear Mr. Federline,
First off, congratulations on your upcoming Super Bowl
ad. We heard it's generating a lot of talk, particularly about working in the fast food industry.
We know you respect those who work in our business. In fact, last year you said in an interview, "My kids are going to have to learn what areal job is, what life is. You don't have it easy with me. Period. My kids are going to work at Taco Bell."
We're flattered, but obviously they're too young to work for us. So here's our offer to you: Come work for us, just for a one hour shift.We'll get you a uniform, a custom name tag and show you what a great place Taco Bell is to work. We'll even reward customers who visit that restaurant with an order of our new Carne Asada Steak Grilled Taquitos for free.
We encourage you to continue to "Think Outside the Bun" and hope you accept our tasty offer.

Greg Creed
President Taco Bell Corp.

I had always assumed Taco Bell was a great place to work, because in high school, that's where all the drug dealers found temporary legal income. I really, really hope he takes the man up on this offer.

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Cartoon Network Makes Boston Earn It

We live in a strange, sometimes scary world. Everyone is always told to be "diligent," and "on alert," but when we can't even trust people from the moon...well, that's a world I don't want to live in.

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