Annual Idol Fangrrrl: I LOVE YOU ADAM LAMBERT

Yes, it's that time of year again when all good Idol fangrrls write their fan letters. Obviously, obviously, this year's would be dedicated to yummy Adam Lambert. I'm particularly fond of the sonnet, and I've added some fan art. Janet Glasser, Scott Schirmer, this one's for you!

Dear Adam Lambert,

26 isn't too young! Just the other week I went out with a 24 year old and it was FINE! My last night out in Vegas involved a newly turned 21 year old! This week I got asked out by a 19 year old and almost said yes! Age is JUST A NUMBER. Think of all the knowledge I could lay down on you about the way the world really works! What's 9 years in the greater scope of things? Some days I could pass for twenty-six! And in another five years, you would be 31 and I would be 40 and it would almost be like you bagged yourself a cougar! Let's get naked!

love,
jocelyn



Adam Lambert Haiku #1
Your sexy shiny
hair- what is your product? Keep
it solid rock star.



Dear Adam Lambert,

Sure, I think you're probably gay. DOESN'T MATTER! I mean, and anyway, who said that the fact that somebody's done musical theater makes them gay? Clay Aiken is gay. And he's not even 1/10th as hot as you. And he's got fans who actually call themselves Claymates. And listen, even if you're gay, I can make compromises. I even have purple shiny hot pants that would probably fit you. And if I don't have a pair, I have lots of gay friends who do. I STILL LOVE YOU EVEN IF YOU'RE GAY. Let's get naked!

love,
jocelyn



Adam Lambert: A Sonnet without Iambic Pentameter (cause sonnets are hard to write, yo)
The lovely boy dances and sings
Across the stage of idols
My solitary heart grows newfound wings
Oh, my lover's foibles

But oh the distance brings me woes
The magic screen divides us
Though on the inside my soul knows
We share within each other's lust

Paula will not have you, she will not!
Her cougar ways no threat,
For I will consider your heart bought
As payment for my text vote debt

Patience, love! We shall run away to west L.A.,
And forever rock the day away.

Adam Lambert Fan Art

 

A Monday Media Fiver

Today, we will begin with classic literature and work our way down to American Idol. Start where it suits you best.

And for the record, I am only watching the Oscars because of the hotness that is Hugh, and also I just gained EVEN MORE love for Meryl Streep who basically just all but said on the red carpet, "I really didn't give a shit about what dress I was wearing tonight."

1. Heroes and Gender
I read this lovely, lovely section of American Pastoral this weekend.

"But to wish oneself into another glory, as a boy or a man, is an impossibility, untenable on psychological grounds if you are not a writer, and on aesthetic grounds if you are. To embrace your hero in his destruction, however -- to let your hero's life occur within you when everything is trying to diminish him, to imagine yourself into his bad luck, to implicate yourself not in his mindless ascendancy, when he is the fixed point of your adulation, but in the bewilderment of his tragic fall -- well, that's worth thinking about."

Well, yes, it is worth thinking about. And I don't pretend that this is a fully flushed thought, because I don't have time for fully flushed thoughts these days. But I do find it some precise writing that it is pointed out that this is a phenomenon specific to "a boy or a man", though I suspect largely that that is driven by the fact that Roth's book is quite specifically a book about a journey that could only be had by a man. But women, oh how different. We would almost prefer to embrace our heroes during their descent to the human level. Oprah gets fat and we love her all the more. Princess Diana is cheated upon and becomes twice our hero for surviving it. Michelle Obama appeals to us because she is both strong and weak (we love her stories of the struggle of being a wife of Obama). The most popular girl in school, no matter how great her perfections, is secretly hated until we see her fall. Isn't it odd? Women want our heroes when they are becoming closer to human. Men do not. I think the steroid explosion is an example of this. How quickly those indescretions are overlooked in order to keep the "hero" alive. Even in the heart of the exposure of just how badly he abused steroids, the male population (and I speak generally, not specifically please) followed his quest to be the all time home run leader as though it weren't happening. Men want heroes. Women want comrades. Why is that?

(editoral note: Dear Hugh Jackman - I'm not sure you entirely had me with your Oscar opening number until you bellowed "I'm WOLVERINE at the end of the song.")




2. Dollhouse = Yawn House
I've watched both episodes. I want to like it. I *really* want to like it. I don't want to hold it up against other Joss Whedon creations and say "Yep. Not as good."

I don't like it and it's not as good as "Buffy", "Angel" or "Firefly".

Here's the straight up thing. This is an action show with a heavy element of conspiracy (see: Terminator the Sarah Conner Chronicles. See Dark Angel. See The Pretender. See X-Files. See 24 (though without the sci-fi element). See a long, long list of shows). The fact is, there are people who write those types of shows much better than Joss Whedon. Should the guy be stuck writing ensemble cast, relationship-driven, clever dialogue sci-fi forever? No, of course not. But if he's going to come out of his box, it needs to be with something better than this if he doesn't want to hear the comparisons. Between cable and network, there are at least a dozen shows in action right now that do what he's trying to do, but better, and if this show didn't have a Joss Whedon tag on it, it wouldn't even be in consideration to get an order for the back set of episodes. I love Eliza Dushku too, but for her to carry the series, she'd have to have a character. A character that has no personality of her own is going to be hard to build a series around. What's the anchor there, you know? And I also just want to say that I said before even seeing episode one of this show that though I loved Dushku, I'm not sure a situation that required her to show acting RANGE would just not work.

Will I keep watching? For a while at least. Because it's Joss Whedon and I expect for this show to get good at any moment.

But while I'm at it - an episode about a person being used as human prey by a crazy hunter in the woods? Ice T has done the definitive version of that. Don't mess with it. Yours won't be better. Seriously. It's like trying to cover a Michael Jackson song, which Simon Cowell will tell you never to do.

(editoral note: I mean, I love Meryl Streep too, but did the Oscars need to be the Meryl Streep tribute show? Enough already.)

3. Speaking of Joss Whedon...
My bedtime DVD watching this month has been Buffy, Season 4. And I am reminded that there have been few hours of tv better than Hush. People always speak of seasons 3 and 5 of Buffy as being the superior seasons. Season 4 has its issues. It's a show trying to find itself again after losing Angel and Cordelia and leaving the structure of an adventure that happened within the universe of high school. It doesn't hold up as well as a full season cycle as well. But I think it has some of the best individual episodes. How talented to you have to be as a story teller, a director and a cast to make an hour of television with only 10 minutes of dialogue hold a viewer enraptured? And Wild at Heart, Something Blue and Super Star? Those are great episodes.

(editoral note: Yep. 9pm and I'm bored of the Oscars already. But I do REALLY miss the anual San Francisco Oscar party. Hi, guys.)

4. A Life Without Football ...
Is only being saved by college basketball. But I'm in my annual post-Super Bowl Funk. I actually turned my phone off for an entire weekend (hope all those texts weren't urgent!). And yes, it's really a "turning 35 funk," but we'll call it a post-Super Bowl funk. It's really both and we know it.

(editorial note: Steve Martin should guest star on Thirty Rock).

5. American Idol - But where are the hotties?
There's nobody for me to stalk yet. It's like the year of the nerd. And I'm usually hot for nerds, but not during Idol. Oh, okay, even during Idol (see Ellion Yamin). I'm still hoping though.

 

I Love My Cell Phone: A Sort of Catch-Up Five

1. Listen, I am who I am: So, this exchange happened regarding the upcoming trip to Mongolia.

Me to the Travel Agent
What will be the internet/text message availability situation? I know we'll be in the middle of nowhere much of the time, but I figured there would be times with internet access and I was curious about what the mobile phone network in the area is like.

Travel Agent to Me
As far as internet availability, the only place you can expect to access the internet will be in UB. It's possible that you will be able to use the internet in Kharkhorin, but this isn't a reliable connection. Cell phones will typically work in the gear camps when you stop for the night, but not while traveling between camps.

Pookie to Me Upon Reading the Above Exchange
OMG JOS YR CELL PHONE WON'T WORK BETWEEN VILLAGEZZZ WTF!!!

2. Battle of the Davids: Is ON. We all know that my love child Jason Castro is the album I want to buy, because I don't already own enough poor man's Jack Johnson, but I'm cheering Castro on. Artichoke scares me. He can't possibly be as wishy washy as he seems. It's like, if there were an Incredible Hulk in real life, that kid would be a good candidate. So weird that little one is.

3. It was 105 in Vegas Yesterday: I'm hot, the cats are hot, it's hot to run. This is how much I can't focus on writing: I'm writing about the weather.

4. I really do have so much to write about though ... this crazy story about hand jobs in a club in Vegas, a story about pottery night, I just can't focus.

5. So instead, a haiku:

Boys will make you sad
Repeating cycle every
time. I like my cats.

 

Dear Jason Castro: The Annual American Idol FanGrrrl Posting

Dear Jason Castro,

I love you. Your such an organic singer songwriter. It's like you sit down and think of how to caress your acoustic guitar in such a way the the words of the poem you're singing reverberate through the strings and your voice and straight into the fuzzy texture of my soul. It's like the fuzz of my soul is melding with the fuzz of your soul. God, not since the days of Cat Stevens in his purest form has somebody touched the core of people through the magic of acoustic music.

Please, Jason Castro, please, DO.NOT.GO.CRAZY.LIKE.CAT.STEVENS.

Just be an artist. We don't need your political views. Just your soothing voice and guitar.

Love,
jocelyn




A Haiku for Jason Castro
Dreadlocks and guitar
Next generation hippie
Modern day prophet



Dear Jason Castro,

Sure. You're twenty yeas old. Some people might say that that's age inappropriate for me, but you and I both know better. Because you're an old soul. I can tell that you're an old soul by the way that you feel it deeply when you sing. It's like Paula says, you're special and unique and you have an emotional connection with the audience...by which I mean me. I mean, you have an emotional and physical connection with me. Some might say that twenty is too young for me in my vibrant fertility and middle age, but you and I know better. Because your soul isn't young. It's timeless.

Love,
jocelyn



A Shakespearian Sonnet Not Using Iambic Pentameter for Jason Castro
I have fallen for a child
Jason Castro is his earth name
He is, like youth, wild
He is, like the youth, a cleansing rain

But he is like a dream
And I awake when Simon speaks
His visage evaporates like steam
Which through the cracks of my fantasy leaks

How? How to actualize him in my life?
How to make him full of nerves and blood?
How to make him take me as a wife?
How to control my emotions - for they are a flood?

Sweet Jason I will fully stalk you
Until you realize our love is true



Dear Jason Castro,

When you told that story about how you were on a date and you accidentally tried to eat your dreadlock, I was like "eat me!"

Love,
jocelyn



Dear Jason Castro,

You're from Columbia? Really? Are you a drug dealer? I mean, it's okay if you are. I love bad boys. I saw Blow AND Scarface. Wow. What if you were a bad boy and a dorm room guitarist (tm Don Lennon)? Then you would be like Johnny Depp in Blow combined with Dave Matthews and you would be perfect for my split personality. Wait, did I say that? I don't have a split personality. I'm very level. Will you please sing me a poem and then deal me some blow, please? No, I mean, don't take that the wrong way. I'm absolutely stable. I LOVE YOU!

love,
jocelyn

 

It's Been So Long: A Midweek Five That Is Really Lists Within Lists

1. Idol FanGrrrrl: I just wanted to let you know that I have selected the recipient of this year's Idol Crush posting. I'm just working out in my head how to do it since it's full of possibilities. Now, I know that nothing can ever compare to the Bo Bice fan posting of 2005. And truth be told my last two crush selections bowed out of the competition pretty early (and I think that this one may, too). No, it's not Archuletta, because I'm not insane. Praise poetry is being written right now for this year's recipient. Awesome.

2. A List of Times You Should Not Call Me: I used to LOVE March Madness. Like, you know, for all of my life. But that was before I went to work in sports gambling world. Now I have bags under my eyes literally every day in March. Bags.Under.My.Eyes. I have no idea even why I'm still working here other than inertia. But regardless, right now my work day starts at six and ends at six and there's still some work before I go to bed. And I love everybody, too, but I don't love when you complain that I don't answer my phone. So here's a list of times it's not kosher to call, and it's most of the time until the end of March:
Monday: All day. All night. Seriously.
Tuesday: Before Noon, Between 4pm and 6pm, after 10pm
Wednesday: Any time after 4pm
Thursday: Before Noon, Between 4pm and 6pm, after 10pm
Friday: All day. All night. Seriously.

Seriously. Do the math. That schedule shows you how much free time I've got during the week right now. And I have people in town EVERY WEEKEND THIS MONTH except for the last weekend during which I'll be in Denver. Which is awesome, don't get me wrong. But there's no sleep in my future. No sleep. That is all.

3. A List of Things Making Me Happy Right Now: But there are a lot of things making me happy right now!

a. Mimosa Shower and Bath Gel from Philosophy: Candy Woo bought me this for Christmas, and nothing is making me feel better at 5am when I'm suddenly getting ready for work instead of chilling with the cats than then scent of a prohibited morning mimosa. Yummy.



b. Red Bean Mochi: Is delicious and the perfect dessert for the dieter (that's me, because the current size of my ass is not something that's making me happy).

c. Chocolate Cherry Tea: Is the best thing ever created. EVER. Try some.

d. Grey Goose Pear and Cran: Has been my drink of choice for a while now. But I've been drinking more lately because I've been so stressed out. So that makes me happy.



e. Schulz & Peanuts: There are a whole bunch of people whom I think would enjoy reading this. Kind of the way I'm enjoying reading it. For an hour a day while soaking in a bathtub. TMI? Perhaps.

f. The Cave of Ordeals: This is a section in "Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess" where you have to battle through 50 floors of enemies. I've never beaten it yet. But I keep trying, every night before I go to bed.



g. The New Treadmills at the Gym: Are awesome. You can run a hill that's designed so that you meet the same resistance points as if you were running up part of Kilimanjaro. You can charge your iPhone while you're running. For that matter, you can plug your iPhone into the treadmill and see the iPhone display on screen.

h. Spring: Is here. I've had my windows open all week. It's been nice.

i. My Wish Box from K-Rock: Kari made and painted a wish box for me for my birthday. I'm having so much fun determining what to wish for.

4. A List of Thoughts About Sex and the City: Okay, so this week I finished watching the last episode of Sex and the City, which means I've now watched - straight through - all 94 episodes (because I wanted to be fully prepared for the movie). I have thoughts. If I weren't so busy and tired, these thoughts would probably be their own entry. But instead they are a list. A list within a list.

a. God, that show was good ... And I don't care what you all say about women not really being like that and nobody living that well in New York and that show making men disposable. Maybe that's not your life. But there's a lot of similarity to my life and to the life of a lot of women I know. And there's not a single episode of that show that I don't enjoy. Seriously. There's not a single episode that I watched while doing something else in the background because they're all that good. It may be my second favorite thing that was ever put on television (Northern Exposure is, of course, first).



b. But the problem was ... that I always hated Carrie. She's the least likable of the girls. She's so self-absorbed, so unrealistic, so selfish. So, just, I wouldn't want to hang out with her. Neurotic. I'm always relieved when I take those Sex and the City quizzes and I'm most like any of the girls but her. Sometimes it's hard to watch that show because you're just not cheering for her when it comes right down to it. And then, like I said, I was never, ever able to forgive her for letting go of Aiden. Only a very selfish woman does that.

c. But she redeems herself with ... her speech in the final episode, in the final 10 minutes, when she leaves Paris and The Russian and she gives him a speech about how she's somebody who's searching for love, for ridiculous love, for consuming love. And suddenly, you forgive her for all the times you wanted to hit her in the head with her Manolos because you realize she really does understand herself and who she is. Even if I don't like her, I then have to respect her for that kind of self awareness.

d. And in the end, I most felt connected to ... Miranda. Don't get me wrong. Charlotte is sweet and I love Samantha, but Miranda is really the one who changes the most and becomes the most complete person.

e. And speaking of the final episode ... Yeah, sure, there's the argument that maybe it maybe cleans things up too neatly, but that doesn't mean that I don't love it. I love the moment where Carrie gives her speech, I love the moment where Smith comes back and tells Samantha that he loves her. I love that episode of television.

f. My most favorite episode ... You know, I hate to say it. I do, and there are a ton of episodes that I really, really, really love, but my favorite episode has to be the one where Berger breaks up with Carrie on a post-it note. The entire episode is about them figuring out their relationship, and then he just quits, and the last scene is her throwing the flower vase he gave her across the room. And it's just perfectly real and perfectly done. It's my favorite: though I'm also quite fond of the episode where Charlotte and Trey break up and he comes back for the photo shoot, and the episode where Carrie and Aidan break up even though I can barely watch it without having a breakdown, and the episode where Carrie goes out with the twenty-something, the fireman episode, the Vince Vaughn episode and, particularly, the episode where Carrie and Aidan first move in together.

g. And the movie ... Well, I think it will be emotional. What I know for sure is that Miranda and Steve are dealing with infidelity and something has happened to Carrie (the movie takes place three years after the tv series left off) that fundamentally changes her. So much could possibly account for that.

5. A List of the Best Text Messages That I Received This Week
From Ferris:
Three Things Robin Thicke is fascinated with: his birthday, sexing up the girl, his birthday.



From Hott Scott:
On Beauty and the Geek one of the beauties didn't know if dinosaurs breathed fire or not. Awesome.

6. A List of the Best Conversations I Had Last Week: The topic was "relationships", as it usually is right after my birthday. Enjoy.

With Chicago Style:

Me
But you know, the thing is that I've pretty much figured out that I'm not the marrying type AT ALL. But who wants to be alone? So I'm trying to figure out a middle ground solution.

Him
Well, I'll be waiting for my middle ground invitation.

Me
Yeah, but you know what the problem with middle grounds is? Somebody always eventually wants to move off of the middle.

Him
You've been doing this too long.

With shamus?

Me
Blah, blah, blah, blah, internet sex, blah, blah, blah, blah, social disease, blah blah blah blah, appeals to my sense of distance, blah blah blah blah.

shamus?
But isn't that what's so perfect about sex on the internet? When you're done, there's the "off" switch that everybody's been looking for all along.

With RJ

Me
You know, I think that what I'm determining is that long distance relationships are pretty much perfect for me. I get all the emotional intimacy without having my space invaded, and they fit perfectly into my time schedule. Which is to say that they require very little actual time, or none at all outside of texts and emails and the occassional phone call which can be done while doing other things.

RJ
It's true. I think that sounds just about perfect for you. You may have finally figured it out.

With Hott Scott

Hott Scott
So now, every time I hear a Melissa Etheridge song, I think of you. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED?

Me
Isn't that what every girl wants?

With Big D

Me
I mean, I've really looked at it in the last six months, and I'm really starting to get okay with the idea that it just may not happen for me.

Big D
Yeah. Me too. I mean, I'm almost forty. I'm starting to think I'll never fall in love.

Me
But I'm okay with that. I mean, I know that I'd rather be alone than be in my sixties going through a divorce. Who wants that? I want to look back at sixty and say that it was all worth it. I'm kind of starting to think that the only way I can do that is if I do it on my own. I don't want to end up like they ended up.

Big D
I know what you mean. I'll see you in a week and we'll drink until we can't stand up. Then we'll believe again.

With Miss Erin and Miss Kat

Me
Well, the thing is, it may not happen for me -- the whole marriage and babies thing -- but it may not happen because of decisions that I personally made about what was important to me and how I wanted to live. But I'm standing here right now on the brink of realizing it may just not happen, and if you asked me if I'd change any of it, I wouldn't. I wouldn't have wanted to miss out on seeing and experiencing the things that I did.

Miss Erin
I feel exactly the same way.

Miss Kat
I just feel like, as women in this day and age, we really set ourselves up more times than not to not end up married with babies because we don't need to end up married with babies. And I'm not sure if that's better or worse, but I wouldn't have wanted any life other than the one I had.

Okay, that last one sounded like we were on The View, but it was actually in my car on the way back from Lake Las Vegas.

It's been a long week. And it's, like, Wednesday.

 

The Absolute Stupidist Thing I've Ever Said in an Interview

And I've had some big ones. But this morning I had to get up to do some east coast radio interviews about the final American Idol odds. By "this morning", I mean I had to get up at 4:15am because you'll notice that I said "east" coast radio and I live on the "west" coast. Which is my way of saying I said this stupidness because I wasn't all there.

Radio Talk Show Guy
So to win $10 on Jordin, I'd have to bet almost $60.

Me
Yep. And in my world, that's $60 better spent on six Elliot Yamin albums.

I'm so embarassed. There's no need to own more than two copies of that album.

 

Today's Conversations with Bon Bon

I listen to Bon Bon talk all day in the office. I could write a blog that was nothing but repeating things she says. Here are two more.

While listening to Elliot Yamin's "I Will Wait for You" while we work:

Bon Bon
You don't have to wait for me, Elliot. I'm right here. Just call me. 1-800-Pregame.

Me
I wonder if his tour is coming to Vegas. I'd go see that with you.

Bon Bon
It's not. I already checked his MySpace and it's not. But I left a comment asking why it wasn't and saying that he should.

Me/K-Rock
Oh. Um. What to say, really?

 

Three Monday Thoughts. My Head Hurts.

1. Screw You Grey's Anatomy: I don't even LIKE that show. I avoid it like the plague. McDreamy, McSteamy, Mc-I-Would-Kick-These-People's-Asses-In-Real-Life. But in a catch up maneuver, I watched the season finale. AND I CRIED LIKE A BABY OVER THE WHOLE WEDDING/NOT WEDDING STORY LINE. The vows that never get said. When he left her at the alter. The very last scene where she realizes that she's both relieved and sad that he's left her. BAWLING. And now, and now, I may have to watch next season to see what happens. Damnit.

2. Uganda, U Got Me: This is how this conversation rolled out.

Me to Lis
NO. I am not coming to Uganda with you. Not at that price tag, and not during football season. There is ZERO CHANCE that that is going to happen, so stop asking.

Me to My Mom
NO. There's no way I'm taking that trip to Uganda at that price tag and during football season. Think of all the places I SHOULD put that money.

Me to K-Yo
No way I'm going to Uganda. I have things I need to pay for with that money. NO WAY I'm going.

And then the following three things happened:
Lisa was relentless. I'd be sitting in the office reviewing a tracking report and suddenly an email would appear in my inbox with pictures of wild gorilla or girraffe or rhinos and a note from somebody who knew somebody who knew somebody who had been to Uganda about how amazing Uganda is. Last week? I heard about NOTHING but Uganda. Uganda, Uganda, Uganda.

My mom pointed out that the only thing that money can buy is a happy memory. We can discuss that financial role modeling later.

K-Yo pointed out that the other things I could use that money to pay for will always be there, but Uganda with Lis may be a once in a life time. And I've never been to Africa.

And before you know it, I'm checking the visa/passport situation, arrival and departure dates and immunization schedules. YOU GOT ME, OKAY? I'LL GO ON YOUR STUPID AFRICA TRIP TO SEE THE STUPID GORILLAS AND PROBABLY FEEL LIKE MY LIFE IS CHANGED FOREVER WHEN I GET BACK. YOU WIN.

3. Blake has beatboxed his way into my heart. And then this conversation today.

Me
Listen, I like Blake, too, but I really don't think you can make the argument that he *should* be in the final two.

Bon Bon
I don't care. I love him. And anyway, how many straight white guys have ever won American Idol?

Me
Oh, honey, honey, honey.

Bon Bon
What? You're going to point out that Taylor Hicks won last year?

Me
No. I'm going to point out that Blake Lewis cannot be a straight white man.

 

5 Random Thoughts on Wednesday

1. You know how sometimes you put two things together and it's like a little slice of heaven:
- peanut butter and chocolate
- diamonds and pearls
- lobster and butter sauce
- FUCKING BON JOVI AND AMERICAN IDOL

It was like an experience I cannot even describe. I literally cried tears of joy during just about every performance. And that includes the Blake Lewis performance. I'm sorry. You know I'm a BJ fan to the 10th degree, but I dug that Blake Lewis mix up. I dug everything. Even Jordin. Seriously.

2. And then, damn you Fox, you went with the tear jerker House episode when I was already emotionally primed from Idol.

3. I have been on a food binge like no other this week. This morning for breakfast? A box of tiny chocolate covered donuts, three cheese danish, two bananas, yogurt, coffee, one pound of red meat. Even my metabolism won't keep up with that.

4. I miss Pennsylvania already. But that may be because it's just a crappy work week.

5. I need more food. I'm going to Sonic.

 

Three Conversations: This Time ALL REAL

But I Have MySpace!
The first of the key IM conversations happens with Ferris. You may think we are both smart, articulate people, but we spent an hour on Wednesday IMing about Jennifer Lopez and Sanjaya Malakar. And then this happened.

Ferris
What were our parents doing at our age?

Me
My mom was pregnant with Pookie when she was my age.

(pause)

Me
Yep. Pretty much at my age my mother had babies, and I have ... MySpace.

(And for the record, this exchange is much funnier if you could hear Ferris' response, but I pretty sure it's not approved for posting.)

GO DEVILS.
I have a friend (or many, but this is in reference to one specific one). We don't speak all that often, but I adore him. I'm not about to stroke his ego and list the specific things that I adore about him, but to understand what happens next you need to understand that one of the things that I adore about him is the dynamic he provides me with. So the thing about him is that he can push my buttons in .004 seconds flat. Often, he does it entirely unintentionally. Sometimes, he does it to amuse himself. Sometimes, he actually gets me worked up and defensive about things we share the same opinion on. Rarely, but not never, he does it and then stifles a smirk as I go into hyper mode and sound like this: "What are you saying? What are you saying? What are you saying? I can't believe you just said that. But, but, but..." Other people, people who are related to me, people who have dated me, have all commented the following, "Man, he can push your buttons faster than anybody I've ever seen."

And here is the kicker. Many people would describe me as a button pusher myself. But this particular person seems to be impervious to my efforts to get him worked up. I throw things out there to try and prod at him, and it's like I'm throwing a big foam softball that he takes a whack at with a tennis racket and it comes back and hits me in the face and suddenly I'm all like "What are you saying? What are you saying? What are you saying? I can't believe you just said that. But, but, but..." And I have always appreciated about this person that my attempts to push at buttons roll off his shoulders and yet, somehow, he can get a reaction out of me by giving me a sideways look. I appreciate the change up in my daily dynamic.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, I am eating a burrito and doing my taxes and I look at my Gmail Chat and notice that said person has changed his status indicator to cheer for the New Jersey Devils, in almost direct contrast to my Gmail Chat status indicator that was rallying for the Pens. And yes, yes, this is a discussion of an event that was launched by status indicators in Gmail Chat. And so I change my status indicator to tell him to live in the now with the team of the future, and he changes his to remind me that only one of those two hockey teams "knows how to win championships." And I'm all like, "That's so cute. He felt like playing via Gmail Chat." And I go back to eating my burrito and being horrified at how many line items on my 2006 credit card statements are literally for slurpees from 7-11. And then...

The chat window opens, and paragraphs, PARAGRAPHS, start rolling in about the New Jersey Devils and their apparent superiority over all other NHL teams, EVER. I am so shocked by the deluge of PARAGRAPHS of impassioned Devils adoration that I actually slide my chair back from my desk in physical shock. Holding my burrito in one hand and my 1099 itemized sheet in the other, I occasionally begin to slide my chair back towards the desk to hazard a response, but as soon as I do, there is another PARAGRAPH about how the NHL changed the rules to try to bring the Devils down and the Devils still kept on winning, or about how they're a true team and not a bunch of individuals, or how they have the greatest goalie to ever play the game (Uh, Patrick Waugh, anybody?) ... and more! And it just kept going! The paragraphs came so quickly I couldn't even keep up with reading them. And, I have to say, I know this person to have great passion, but I have never seen him express such deep passion as he did for the New Jersey Devils during this IM exchange.

And for a moment, I am...triumphant! That's right. Three years later, I manage to push a button that causes him to stop in the middle of his work day and set me straight about my misguided hockey beliefs. In my head, as I was carefully sliding my chair back towards my desk, waiting to see what would happen next, I envisioned what this must look like. What joy I would see if I were able to be in two places at once and watch this go down. His furiously fast typing into the tiny Gmail chat box while hunched over the keyboard in the midst of fiery emotion. Red laser beams shooting out from behind very sexy, thin-rimmed intellectual glasses. Quickened breathing. A half-eaten take-out container of nachos abandoned while he ferociously puts me in my place about the special place in hockey hierarchy that the New Jersey Devils have reserved for them.

AND EVEN IF THAT IS NOT HOW IT WAS, YOU WILL LET ME HAVE THIS ONE. YOU HAVE DESTROYED ENOUGH ILLUSIONS FOR ME. LET ME HAVE THIS.

I'm going into the neutral corner for now. Go Sharks.

And, finally, this sexiness

DCWP
I'm currently at the Midwest Political Science Association's annual meeting.

Me
I can't think of anything that sounds like a sexier gathering than the Midwest Political Science Association's annual meeting. I need to go shower about now just to cool down.

DCWP
If i told you the title of my paper was "BRAC ATTACK: The Politics of Military Base Closings" would that make you even hotter?

Me
I'm quite sure I wouldn't even be able to handle it. Now go find me a nice academic husband while you're there. Somebody whose paper is on something unbearably sexy like the politics of agricultural subsidies or re-inventing voting laws though a return to town hall meetings.

 

I am the most boring girl in the world this week.

Of course we all hate it when I get busy at work and busy with running and busy getting ready to go on vacation and there are no stories to tell. Summer is supposed to be about stories, right? I have no stories this week. The extent of the excitement that's rolling right now is that Candy is texting me during the east coast feed of American Idol to warn me about tonight's Besame Mucho experience.

What to write about...

Yep. Well, I pretty much have nothing. You know, but to keep you coming back, I'll tease what's coming up that may or may not interest you.

- That marathon I'm running is in Salt Lake City. How can there not be Mormon stories?

- I've been going out on some dates with this absurdly cute boy, and it's making me think about the fact that I really can be shallow and superficial sometimes. I may want to, you know, dissect that a little bit, because it's not how I would describe myself if you asked, but it apparently does exist in me because there have been several times in this experience where I've said, "Yeah, there's that, but he's so hot. Do we really care?"

- I'm spending a week in PA. I've been warned (also by Candy) that if the Pens are still in the playoffs at that point that the streets will be lined with burly, hockey-playing boys who will hit on me shamelessly while I'm getting gas in my sweats. That's her quote. That's what she said. I'm not sure that I'll be hitting up the gas station in sweats just to get a date, but you never know. I might do it just for the sake of a story. I might feel a RESPONSIBILITY to do it for the sake of the story.

- Speaking of that week in PA, Pookie is turning 30 and I am looking for something even more ridiculous than those skanky red snakeskin ho boots to wear to that party. Let me know if you have any ideas.

- You know what it is? I've actually been writing a lot of poetry lately. And I do not mean drunku. And that leaves me a little less inspired to write here unless there is an obvious story to tell. But fortunately, vacation coming! Stories coming!

 

Is this really happening?

Sanjaya?

I can't even watch.

 

Thoughts to Start the Week With

I swear we'll come back to the pampering topic. I have a lot of email on that subject to sort through. Also this week, dead birds and conversations with a coke dealer ( a coke dealer, not my coke dealer. I am not doing coke.). Good times. In the meantime, five thoughts to start the week with.

1. Elliot Yamin: I swear to God, that album is fantastic. There's only, like, one bad track on the whole thing. You think I'm just saying that because he was my favorite one on that season of American Idol, but I'm not. And, also, how hot did he get? Hot. The "Alright" track is a great running track. The "One Word" track is uplifting. The "Moving On" track is really, really good. Don't bother downloading the singles, just download the album. It's worth your $10.



2. Michael Burkard: This week, a meditation not from Rumi but from Michael Burkard.
From Today's Crisis:

Today's crisis is entitled "Sunlight"
It feels too strict in its brightness
And upon awakening from a night of ghosts
you feel the brightness is, in a word, opaque.

3. Phonetics: This is actual conversation with shamus today:

shamus
I know why you pick the wrong men for you all the time.

me
Well then hit me, because I'd love to stop doing that.

shamus
stay with me here.
k-ceeeeeeeeeeeee
ton-eeeeeeeeeee
rand-eeeeeeeeeee
jimm-eeeeeeeeeeee
charl-eeeeeeeeeeee

me
(pause)
(runs hand through hair)
(makes scrunched up face)
Are you really telling me that I pick the wrong men for me because I'm attracted to them because of ... phonetics?

shamus
I'm just saying there's a track record to prove it. Get out of the box, lady friend!

4. Why I haven't called anybody back: I'm ovulating. It makes me sleepy. I swear I'll hit people back this week.

5. Also, shamus: So, as some of you know, sometimes this thing happens with shamus and I where we start a joke and then neither of us wants to be the one to punk out on the joke before it's gone as far as it possibly, possibly can. The Phil Collins albums would be an example of this. Those pictures from Hawaii might be considered an example of this. The time shamus convinced me that my move after drinking heavily was just to lay my ass down on the sidewalk would be an example of this. Every "Why not buy a round of Jack Daniels shots for EVERYBODY and then drink them ourselves?" would be an example of this. And now, a new example. Glamour Shots. This is going to end badly, I can feel it.

So, shamus asks me what I want for my birthday. I begin the joke that I want Glamour Shots. I then proceed to work that joke to the point where I begin a MySpace campaign with his teenage sisters to rally him to do this. All this time, I have to admit, I feel that shamus will punk out on the joke. That he's not going to spend his hard earned dollars getting me "tasteful adult photographs for your loved one." And I should have known better. Because, behold, in my hot little hand is my Glamour Shots gift certificate.

Now, you see, a wiser person than I am would say, "That's funny. You win, shamus. I don't have the balls to do this." But I am not wise in that way, and my only response it to step up the game and take it far beyond the level it was designed for. Oh, I'm going to my Glamour Shots appointment. And I'm buying something ridiculous for it. Like a Little Bo Peep outfit, or a naughty nurse outfit or something like that. Tell me, what should I wear to make this as ridiculous as possible? And don't waste your time telling me Catholic schoolgirl outfit, because that's like 150 notches below what I need to do to ensure that I'm not the one who punks out on the joke before it's been taken as far as it can possibly, possibly be taken.

And that is all. It's 8:15pm on a Sunday and I'm just getting in the shower to get ready to go to dinner. I have to get out of this town!

 

Open Letters to American Idol

Dear Diana Ross,

I so wanted to make fun of you and tell you that "pronunciate" is not a real word, but I looked it up, and it is. I'm sorry.

xo,
jocelyn

Dear Sanjaya,

Really? Justin Guarini hair was your solution?

xo,
jocelyn

Dear Phil Stacey,

You're my sleeper pick.

xo,
jocelyn

Dear Blake Lewis,

You are no Prince. I have already grown tired of you. Please go home.

xo,
jocelyn

Dear Ryan & Simon,

There's no such thing as too many gay innuendo jokes. Really.

xo,
jocelyn

Dear Judges,

You're on crack. Chris Richardson rocked.

xo,
jocelyn

Dear Ruben Studdard,

How did it feel to be the only long-term Idol alum not featured in the pre-show clips?

xo,
jocelyn

 

So That Was Fantastic

My birthday was fantastic. I have lots of people to thank and a great story to tell about a drag dress, a gay boy on a bicycle and my new Asian heterosexual girlfriend from the karaoke bar. I swear it's coming. And that I will return phone calls (I had to get up at 5am yesterday so I slept a lot when I got home). In the meantime, please meet my new boyfriend:



Now, I'm going to wait until he makes the final 12 before I do this to him, but ladies, his heroes are Jesus and his dad. I'm writing my fan haikus in my head right now.

Birthday entry manana or so (I need photos to make that story work), Jared Cotter lovefest soon.