Why weekends suck and are amazing

Friday: Came home right after work, went into a tv coma.

Saturday: Participated in harrowing, headache inducing, kind of strangely comfortable road trip to Philly with my sister driving and 4 women going through menopause complaining about the air conditioner in the back. (Among many, many other things.)

Sunday: Went to the New York Television Festival at New World Stages, which sadly, used to be the $2 movie theater. (HS memories!) The panel discussions ranged from very helpful, inspiring and informative to downright patronizing and glib. (welcome to the world of TV development!) After that, I decided to walk from 50th between 8th and 9th all the way home. I made it almost 2 miles when I realized that I was sweating worse than everyone in this movie so I hopped on the bus.

Before that though, I took a little shortcut (not really) through the tunnel at the Bethesda Fountain and was literally stopped in my tracks by Thoth. I'd heard of him and have probably seen him around, but because of my increasingly unhealthy contempt for tourists who I try to avoid like the plague, I haven't been to that part of the park in ages. It was like everyone disappeared. No real description can accurately describe the effect of his voice, his movement in the space, that lacked a real audience, thanks to the massive crowd of tourists surrounding these two guys who were doing stand up or break dancing, or something. Some people walked by, snickering at his costume, his unexplainable performance. Some, like me, stayed to watch, mesmerized and when he finished we weren't sure whether to applaud or just walk away in quiet reverence. I did both and then continued on my trek through the park where I proceeded to dodge camera wielding tourists who took up the entire width of a city street, oblivious to the thousands of people around them who just wanted to go home.

Bliss.

It's better now

Some might think this to be blasphemy in its most perverse form:

I watched The Way We Were last night...for the first time.

I have to say...can I please be put in a time machine and transported into Robert Redford's arms circa 1973? I'm just saying. Barbra is fabulous and everything but god-damn Hubble!

And her nails bothered me...you don't really see nails like that unless you're hanging outside a Korean nail shop Sat. before church or down south before an outdoor crunk concert.

Some other movies that I have only recently seen for the first time for whatever reason:

Pretty Woman- about 2 years ago
When Harry Met Sally- last year
Love Story- a few months ago (I was sick, it was on Starz)

Only sensing a little bit of a pattern here....my only regret is that watching it the second and third times will not be nearly as satisfying...ok, twenty-ninth and thirtieth times.

This is a tough one for me

Lord knows I loves me some John Mayer. For starters, just look at him. Even when he wasn't the sexy beast that he is now, there was definitely a certain something about him (and of course he knows this)that drives the chickies wild. Oh yes, and his songs are not bad either. My music tastes are much like my taste in film, it's all over the place and I will listen to anything at least once, mostly to back up my elaborate and elegant flair for talking smack. Yes, he is most definitely a little too on the popcorn spectrum of music at times but the boy can play his arse off on guitar. Don't hate, the man is talented. Like I have said in a previous blog about music, he has mastered voicing what slightly nerdy girls and boys who daydream too much, who fall in love too easily, who don't really want to grow up, constantly think. I am glad I discovered him later in my twenties as opposed to my last years of college. I would have been a complete mess. 3x5? That song is my last year of college....anyway, the point of this was to say that while I am officially coming out of the closet to more than just one of my more non- judgemental friends about being a fan, I completely get why there are so many people who absolutely loathe his persona and his music. He wears his heart on his sleeve and while silly girls are eating it up,(and record companies are eating up their silliness in profit) their boyfriends are getting pissed because they have to become something a little more. How hilarious was it to go the concert this summer in L.I. and see hundreds of guys sitting with their girlfriends with the serious, "kill me, kill me now" look on their faces? It was classic. He has mastered the art of being super famous and still being a regular, actually likable guy, and when he's being an "insufferable douche", we love him even more. That being said, while I resent being called "an offense to retarded primates" just because I am a JM fan, this fake blog by Gordon Ramsay was pretty damn funny. Hey, maybe douches of a feather.....





Pics via LaineyGossip, The Daily Mail
Link via Newsgroper, TMZ