*Teenage Wasteland*

It's funny what all this free time will do a recently unemployed person. I think I'm regressing to, like, 15-year-old Rebecca. Remember when you were a teenager and you heard some song and it resonated so strongly with you that it, like, hurt to listen to it? Yep, that moment is happening to me all the time these days. Like this afternoon when I was supposed to be applying for jobs and I was casually listening to the Smith's Meat Is Murder (who was I kidding- you can't CASUALLY listen to the Smiths. At least not when you are depressed about not having gotten your dream job or your dream boyfriend or your dream apartment.). I Want The One That I Can't Have came on and- just like in high school- my chest started tightening up and little hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end. It's just weird when music or art or movies expresses exactly what you are thinking. Sometimes it's cathartic or fun (or at least passes the hours when everyone else is at work) to wallow in the pathos of a dark song. I mean I could have written these lyrics:

On the day that your mentality
catches up with your biology-
I want the one I can't have
and it's driving me mad
it's written all over my face.

I'm just glad it wasn't Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want. I might've had to have spent the rest of the day in bed. Thank God for small favors, I guess.

*TV Party*

It was appropriate for me- since, in my current state of unemployement, I've got nothing better to do than watch tv and have a couple of brews- to catch Black Flag's ode to suburban boredom in the modern age on TV. But I find it very jarring (and disturbing) that it was while flipping through the channels today and stopping on On Air with Ryan "the homogay" Seacrest, that the highlighted one was playing TV Party as a segue from a commercial into his discussion of the SAG awards. I don't think Seacrest's core demo of crushing 13-year old girls (and sexually ambigious guys) know or care about Black Flag and I can't believe that Black Flag would really want themselves associated with Ryan Seacrest and his type of "hard-hitting celebrity journallism." (Does anyone really believe that Greg Ginn okayed this licensing request?) I'm not trying to be some teenage hardcore fan, yelling "sell out." That's not really my bag. But it was just so uncongruous; I was kind of shocked. I mean, who prepares to rock some BF after Ryan Seacrest's discussion of (I shit you not) how he cried while watching the last episode of Sex and the City and how he was distracted by Charlize Theron's SAG award acceptance speech because he was trying to figure out what kind of bronzer she was wearing on her shoulders. PS, Ryan: That is miles past metrosexual. And 13 year old girls (and the aforementioned questioning boys) may enjoy that kind of girly, non-threatening afternoon TV appeal. But women, well, we find it a little creepy.

I'm kind of digging the new show on Vh1, The Best Week Ever. I mean, it's like I Love the 80's but instead of having to go to all the trouble to wait twenty years before we feel all nostalgic and ironically detached from events- now we barely have to wait a week. So in the spirit of this interesting/moronic show that keeps people like Judy Gold and those MTV comedy twins in business, I thought I'd give you my week's wrap up.

The winners:

Ok, I know this isn't a strictly "this week" phenomenon but I'm OBSESSED with the Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind preview . I watch it on my computer all the time! I'm counting the days until it gets released. (Although, I must admit that the wait just got a little shorter- THANKS JESSICA for inviting me to a screening in 8 days!) I mean, generally I'm not a Jim Carrey fan. When he's being goofy, he's too plastic-faced and manic and when he's being serious, he's trying too hard to be earnest. But this movie looks like it has everything: a punk-rock-looking Kate Winslet, a script by Charlie Kaufman, Michel Gondry as a director (you make one White Stripes video, you're pretty cool; you make two, you're ice cold!). Plus the preview has Mr. Blue Sky by ELO in it. I forgot how freaking great ELO can be. Sometimes I forget that there is more to them than Xanadu.

I am so happy that Ashton Kutcher has been outed as a 30 year old! I love it so much that I lurve it! I knew there was no way that dude went to college, modeled underwear and made a hit TV for six years and was (allegedly) a month younger than I am! Now if the media could just get their hands on documents to prove that Catherine Zeta Jones isn't the 34 years that she claims (c'mon that woman is at least 40!), then maybe we could stop all the squawking about the age differences between them and their partners.

I am loving the Fiery Furnaces record Gallowsbird's Bark. It's been the soundtrack to my week as I sit in front of my computer and hammer out a freelance assignment. I like listening to their song "Bow Wow" at 4 in the morning as my eyes are getting blurry from staring at the screen and I'm tired and depressed that no one that I called and emailed for my article has gotten back to me. (Being a journalist can really feel like being the most unpopular kid in high school the night before prom- no one will take your calls!) The boogie-woogie blues piano and Eleanor's breathy, naked, Cowboy-Junkies-but-more-rock vocals lifted my spirit and reminded me that my deadline was right around the corner and then I'd be all done! (or as Annie says- "it's only a day away!") The Fiery Furnaces are playing at Northsix in Williamsburg on 3/26 for only 10 bucks! Get your tickets now.

Ok, you'd think I'd be sick of it by now, but I'm not. "I Believe in a Thing Called Love" might be the best song ever. I'm physically incapable of getting bored of it.

I admit it. I've given in. Fucking Britney Spears. Fucking "Toxic." Fucking swervy, note-bending futuristic surf-rock. I wake up singing this fucker. I can't even look away from the Britney-as-super-villian video where she sort of plays Uma Thurman's Poison Ivy from the worst of the Batman sequels. (Though I must say Brit as a stewardess doesn't really re-inforce my confidence of the aviation industry!)

Ryan Adams on "The O.C." Ain't nothin' wrong with that. There is a 14-year-old girl inside me that wants a Seth Cohen to ask me to dance while Ryan's version of "Wonderwall" plays. I read a rumor once that Oasis declared Ryan's version the definitive version of the song. And I must concurr. It the standout track of a pretty lackluster year for Ryan. (I'm sorry baby but I have to admit that- even though you had three releases this year- NONE of them rose to your potential. I'll still marry you though!)

The losers:

David Gest. What do you do for a second act after marrying a boozy, past-her prime, gay icon/songstress? Marry another one? I love these internet rumors that he is engaged to Diana Ross because a) they claim that the couple got together after her drunk driving arrest, so it's like Gest is out there trolling for drunken, washed up stars- but only if they're drunken! b) he's so clearly gay that I don't know who he think's he's fooling with marriage, but at least he's marrying the only two women (outside of Judy Garland) that the gay community would approve of ! and C) Frankly, I love any story that involves David Gest because it is another opportunity to stare at his REALLY SCARY BOTOXED face!

Courtney Love on Howard Stern. I think she might be David Gest's doppelganger. (Do they have Michael Jackson's surgeon? Don't people know when enough is enough- plastic surgery wise? Meg Ryan, I'm talking to you!) Plus I don't think the best way to win custody of your daughter and get a not guilty verdict in your trial is to go on national radio all crazy-like and ranting. Hey Courtney, when Howard Stern- king of shock radio and all around-neurotic- tells you you have a problem- YOU HAVE A PROBLEM!

Jessica Simpson and her lap dog Nick. Much like the Osbornes lost their charm in a flurry of over-exposure, so goes another MTV reality show family. The Osbornes couldn't top their show after "Bubbles? I'm the fucking Prince of Darkness!" so the Lachey's couldn't top their, "Is this chicken, what I have, or is it fish?" So, instead they both made too mant TV appearances, had a lackluster second season and got their own major network show. Let's hope Jessica's new sitcom goes the way of the just-canceled Sharon Osborne show.

G-Unit's "Wanna Get To Know You." The last thing I want from Fiddy and company is a slow jam. I much prefer Twista's "Slow Jamz"- even if it features Jaime Fox singing.

Maroon 5. In general. Especially that stupid "This Love" song. Why must the lead singer (who- PS- is clearly a midget) wave when he sings "goodbye." GRRR. It drives me crazy. And every time I turn on MTV this mothertrucking video is playing!

Beyonce's "Me Myself and I" video. It's like a short movie about bad wigs. I feel like Samantha from Sex and the City should be playing Beyonce's part. (and I don't mean that in a bad cancer joke sort of way.) It's a bad video. Bad. Beyonce may be crazy and dangerously in love but she is Fucking Mental in fashion.

And that is my week in review!

*** L.A. grew too much for the (wo)man***

Ok, since the only people who seem to read this blog have probably already heard my anti-L.A. tirade since I returned from Hell-Ay, I thought that I would regale you with some of the choice moments of my trip.

choice moment one:
Rebecca sits on Jet Blue Airlines one row behind NILE RODGERS! He gets out his laptop and fiddles with it mid-flight. I'm starstruck (hey, I have been Madonna for, like, three separate Halloweens in my life. For those of you who aren't VH1 specials addicts, Nile was in the Apollo's house band as a teenager; he was the amazing rhythm guitarist for the best licked disco band- Chic; and he produced Madge's Like a Virgin, as well as stuff by Beck, Diana Ross and David Bowie. Oh yeah, and he is ALWAYS a talking head on VH1.) and contemplate how I can weasel my way into a conversation with him. The flight ends. I say nothing.

choice moment two:
the scene: waiting in line for the Vacation's show at Spaceland. L.A.'s version of cognescenti mill around, looking like they are either trying too hard (the woman in ripped leggings, high heels and big Motley Crue-circa 1985 hair) or going to the mall in the Valley (the two women in front of me who, aside from their facial piercings could have been my first and second grade teachers respectively). I overhear this gem (and am forced to actually stiffle a public giggle):
Woman in pink peasant blouse: Well, Max's band is playing here on Thursday.
Her friend, who is wearing a nose ring and black jeans: OMigod, Max is one of my friendsters.
WIPPB: Really? It's been so long since someone I actually liked asked to be my friendster.
HF: Totally.
(Ok, maybe I'm a snob and I'm making fun of these people unnecessarily. But the cool kids in NY- and BY NO MEANS am I including myself in that group- were WAY cooler than these yahoos.)

choice moment three:
My big celebrity citing moment, Nile aside, is either seeing Real World San Francisco Judd (or a reasonable facsimile) at In and Out Burger, where I ate an amazing non-menu grilled cheese. Or seeing Nick Stahl in the pick up mecca of Barney's Beanery. C'mon people! What is the point of going to lala land if you aren't going to see Jennifer Aniston not-eating at the Ivy!

choice moment four:
Without getting into detail, let's just say that I do not like to be torn away from a morning of watching soap operas and smoking by a visit from the LAPD. There's nothing like being questioned by cops while in your pajamas. Did I mention that I was being questioned regarding a murder in the building? Well, I guess you haven't truly been to LA unless you've had some kind of run in with the cops.

choice moment number five:
Missing my flight back to New York City, because an accident on the 405- complete with fire truck action- caused me to sit in traffic. So instead I waited SEVEN HOURS at the Long Beach airport (during which I procceded to sing Leaving on a Midnight Train to Georgia to myself as I chain smoked, simply because I loved going, "OOOOh LA, grew too much for the man.") and flew standby on the red eye. On the plane I sat in between a foul-breathed stock broker who divided his time between snoring loudly and talking my ear off and a woman who just snored loudly. I couldn't fall asleep- what with the cacophonous snoring and all- so I just watched VH1 Classic and reruns of LA Law on A&E. I literally almost kissed the ground at JFK.

Remind me not to leave town again.

*Damn right, it's better than yours*

Nas is one lucky man. Did you watch SNL this last week? I swear to God, in my next life I want to come back as Kelis. I've liked her since she sang the hook on my favorite ODB song, but omigod her milkshake is better than mine. And yours. And all other women not from the Planet Perfect. Plus, I must say, that her rocked-up, live version of Milkshake kicked ass. Who knew that what that song needed was live heavy-metal guitars instead of Neptune's itchy clicks and bleeps? I guess Kelis, that's who! It's been a long time since I didn't have to change the channel during the SNL musical guest's performance. So this week was a welcome change. Oh- and while we are on the subject of SNL- does anyone else think it's weird that next week's host is Christina Aguilera. BUT SHE'S NOT THE MUSICAL GUEST! Did anyone else know that X-tina's talent (besides being able to wear two-inch-long skirts and do pelvic thrusts with Plushies while doused in drrrty water) was her comedic acting ability? Yeah, me neither.

**GOOD VIBRATIONS?**

As of dawn on Wednesday I'll be in California for a week. Getting some sunshine. Visiting my grandparents. (Did I mention that when my grandfather called last week to wish me a happy birthday he basically said, "Hey happy birthday. How does it feel to be 26 and single." To which I answered, "About the same as 25!") Hanging with my best friend from high school in Hell-Ay. (Sorry but that's how I feel about the so-called "City of Angels") So, to my four loyal readers, I will be incommunicado until February 13th. (Try not to miss me too much.) Ooh goody, just in time for Valentine's Day. So, what am I up to...

Things I'm hating this week:
The prevalence of the Darkness' video for "I Believe in a Thing Called Love" on Vh1 and MTV. (Don't get me wrong, I dig the song. And I love the video with the horney space squid. But if music telelvision ruins this song for me with overkill, I'll be furious. I'm nostalgic for the days when catching "Hey Ya" on tv made me have to get up off of the couch and shake my ass, I was so excited. Now I don't even get a twinge when the commercial for "Fifty First Dates" comes on. I just change the channel.)

The Superbowl. Superbowl. Schmooperbowl. I get that this is Oscar night for straight dudes, but it still doesn't make me want to watch. Now I get why my dad doesn't watch the Academy Awards.

The only thing I care less about than the Superbowl, is the ridiculous "controversy" about Janet's boob at halftime. Please. L'il Kim is more risque going to church. Call me, Miss Jackson, when a member of the Supreme's gets to second base with you. (Was it staged? Was it a "wardrobe malfunction"? UGH! C'mon, the only thing lamer than a publicity-grabbing stunt is a publicity-grabbing denial of a stunt!)

The fact that Scarlett Johanssen was snubbed by the Oscars. But hey, on the bright side, they snubbed Nic Kidman too. (Am I the only person who thinks that her icy performance in "Cold Mountain" totally ruined the movie? Plus her accent sucked. I don't think Aussies lived in Charleston!)

The New Yorker. I know this is an on-going battle that I have with the snooty magazine of choice amongst my compatriots from J. school. They do some good work and have a stable of good writers. But why must they say things like, "He immolated himself." when they could just say, "he killed himself." It's pretentious and it drives me BONKERS! (Or maybe I'm just low-brow. I actually laughed aloud on the train yesterday reading the February issue of Blender. Poop and sex jokes? That is a little more my level.)

The fact that my street is still not really shoveled and plowed. Its like if you live below Houston, you are a second class citizen. Shaya slipped on sidewalk ice and fell on her ass yesterday. Remind me, how many days ago was the snowstorm?

Things I'm Loving This Week:
Big League Chew. Who knew they still made this gum. It's awesome. The flavor disapears after 5 minutes, but you can blow the best bubbles. Plus, its chewy, plastic-like consistency is pleasing, in a nostalgic sort of way. (It's helping me quit smoking, one pouch at a time!)

My new ipod. As I unwrapped it, I squeeled to my parents, "Omigod! I'd marry it if I could!" I'm sure that's just the thing that parents want to hear from their single, 26-year-old daughter. Whatever- find me the man who is full of 10,000 songs and I'd marry him, too. (Especially if some of those songs were about me! C'mon, that is my not-so secret dream. I want to be a "Lady" or a "Baby" or a "Girl" in some song.)

The Killers. I know I mentioned them in a previous post, but Thursday night was their show with the Stills. (Shaya took me- another great birthday present!) Despite technical problems, they put on an amazing show. And there I was, in the second row of the not -very-crowded Bowery Ballroom, dancing and singing along like an inebriated super-fan. I'd be embarassed by my actions, if I didn't embarass myself so much worse when I got diarhea of the mouth while chatting with the drummer after their set. Whatever. I Love Them. It was bound to come out sooner or later. They are coming back to New York after mixing their album and making a video for a March 31st show with Stellastarr and Ambulance. I'm only telling you this once..... BUY YOUR TICKETS NOW!

The song "99 Problems" by Jay-Z. Speaking of problems, what is his label's problem? How could they release "Change Clothes" as the first single from his "last" album? This Rick Rubin joint rocks like early Beastie Boys- if Mike D. had Jigga's deep, chocolate flow instead of his own Brooklyn nasal twang. He's got "99 Problems but a bitch ain't one." I'm pleased things with the bootylicious one are going so well!

Reading "Never Mind the Pollacks" while listening to the accompanying CD. It's a reminder of a simpler time- when Tinkerbell's chimes on my tape recorder told me to turn the page!

The Smiths video collection mentioned in an earlier post. Bethie bought it for me as a birthday present. I've already watched it three times. Watching the Mozzer and Company on Top of the Pops just can't be beat. I think I've decided that though I'm naming my first son Declan (after Elvis Costello), my second kid (male or female) will be called Morrissey. I think Mo is a cool nickname. Plus I think I don't see enough babies with pompadours!

The new season of the Real World/Road Rules Challenge: The Inferno. I even have a fantasy team. (It's called The Infern-hos) And I belong to a fantasy league. (We're the Road Tools) I plan on making all of my points on drama and hookups! Just think of all the new couples this year- Mike and Kendall, Leah and Darrell, CT and somebody!! Let me just say that I think this is proof that I really, really, really need a job.