so yesterday

I am sick to death with some kind of evil sore throat and all I have the energy to do is sit here in my tatty Lindsay Lohan hoodie (yes, the very same one she's wearing above) and discuss the relative merits of pop singles released by famous actresses in the 2000s.

It's a topic that's close to my heart.

Most of these songs are dreadful, it's true. But others are underappreciated pop gems that deserve a closer look.

The thumbs-down songs largely speak for themselves. What is there to say about, say, the almost eerie soullessness (and palpable sense of effort) of Gweneth Paltrow's recent foray into singing?



Or the unbearable tinny monotony of Kim Kardashian's debut single?


they playin my jam they playin my jam they playin my jam they playin my jam they playin my jam they playin my jam they playin my jam they playin my jam turn it up turn it up turn it up turn it up turn it up turn it up dj

Or even Scarlett Johansson's cover of "Falling Down" from her album of nothing but Tom Waits covers (besides the fact that it is, objectively, one of the worst songs of all time?)



Ugh. Okay. Have a little ginger or something to cleanse your palate, and get ready for the good ones.

"Stars Are Blind" by Paris Hilton (2006)

I know what you're thinking. But listen to it first.



Tell me that isn't an effortless, chill, beachy, summery song. Nice reggae vibe without trying to riff too hard on Bob. The video is a not-entirely-successful ripoff of "Wicked Game" but I gotta say, I'm not mad at it. I think this song represents Paris Hilton at her most likeable. I realize that this is a low bar but I stand by my statement. And I'm not alone on this one: critics kind of can't help but like it.


"Rumors" by Lindsay Lohan (2004)

This video was shot at the height of Lilo's voluptuous redheaded appeal. She's 18 years old, famous as all get out, and feisty as hell.



Okay, the song is kind of meh. But the video is pure mid-2000s poppery, from the blatant product placement to the miniskirt-intensive rooftop choreographed breakdown at the end.

Basically, this video is a must-watch for anyone who considers themselves a fan of either (1) shiny things or (2) boobs.

She's no Madonna, but she comes off looking pretty cool, at least by 2004 standards. Compared to her film career, I think we have to chalk this one up as a modest success. ...is modest the right word?


"So Yesterday" by Hilary Duff (2003)

Hilary Duff was sixteen when "So Yesterday" came out, and I think it's surprisingly age-appropriate.



Can you believe how dressed she is in the video? After watching "Rumors," Hilary looks like a nun in her jeans and long-sleeved jacket.

What can I say? Ever since I first heard this song's clever phrasing and reassuring message, it's been one of my secret go-to cheer-me-up songs.

(Confidential to Hilary Duff: The teeshirt thing was creepy.)



Readers, I leave you with a quandry. A Jennifer Love quandry.



If you don't remember this song, don't fret. It's not early dementia. This song peaked at 124 on the American pop charts in 2002. I am fairly certain that I am probably one of twelve people on Earth who are aware of this song.

I truly can't decide if this song should be chalked up as a win or a lose for Jennifer Love Hewitt. The song is pretty bad, as is the video. But, she's wearing a fierce outfit and seems to be trying out a little bit of an edge, which is commendable. Most importantly, I heard this song probably three times when it came out in 2002 and I've never forgotten it. As an editor, I know that "memorable" is one of the best compliments you can give to a piece of artwork.

JLH has a pretty illustrious acting career. She was on Kids Incorporated, for pete's sake. Does "BareNaked" [editor's note: yes, this is actually how the title of the song is styled] live up to her acting resume?

Your vote.

Discussion Question:
"BareNaked" by Jennifer Love Hewitt: a Jennifer Love win or a Jennifer Love lose?

quidquid quidquid, always tackling today's relevant issues.

Guest post: The Outsider's Guide to the New Englander

Today's guest post comes to us from my friend Molly of Wicked Cheap in Boston, who could no longer stand idly by as I maligned her native culture with my Southern ramblings. She offers a valuable counterpoint to my extensive whining documentation of my culture shock as a native Southerner living in Boston.


I grew up in New Hampshire, and took the 60 mile trek south to land in Boston for college and beyond. I've been away from New England for a total of less than two months of my entire life. I like it here. I like the people. I usually like the weather. So when somebody starts to talk smack on my native land I take it personally.



I've heard it all - New Englanders are rude, Boston drivers are clueless, Southie accents are horrible, Red Sox fans are the worst. I'm here to tell you IT'S WRONG. ALL OF IT. (Except maybe the drivers part.)

So, because I'm so nice and not-rude, I've put together a little something to help you all (excuse me, "y'all") out:

Molly's Wicked Awesome Outsider's Guide To The New Englander

1. What you may deem as "rude" is really just a general distaste for small talk.

Now, I like to think of myself as a polite and friendly person. But I am not about to start making conversation with a stranger just for the sake of talking. It's simply not in my genes. If someone asks me a question (I'm a magnet for lost tourists needing directions), I'll gladly answer, maybe even ask where they're from. But chit chatting about the weather or "how about those Sox?" No. NOOO.

I know I share this trait with a great many of my fellow New Englanders. I have my theories as to why. We walk, talk, generally function a little bit faster up here because you never know when the next blizzard is about to hit. It may be June but a Nor'Easter is just around the bend and I have to get my lawn chairs and orange cones out to block my parking space I DON'T HAVE TIME TO TALK. I like to think of it less as rudeness and more as EFFICIENCY. (Though it could go either way in the example of my dad ending every phone call with an abrupt "good enough!" and a click.)

The best compliment I ever received from a stranger came a few years ago. Waiting at a bus stop, an older gentleman walked over and sat by me. I was nose deep in a book (an extremely popular "this means I don't want to talk to you" device), when he said, "excuse me, I won't bother you anymore after I say this, but you have really beautiful hair." Now THAT is how you compliment a New Englander. The promise that the forced conversation does not have to follow. Straight and to the point. And not at all rude.

If you're wearing any Yankees paraphernalia, all bets are off. You asked for it.

2. Just give the accent a chance

First: The Harvard Yard is not a parking lot. That's not cute anymore. Second: the thick Boston accent is not nearly as prevalent or as exaggerated as Hollywood would have you believe.

Leo, I love you, but lets leave the dropped R's to Marky Mark.


Let me show you how it's done.

But I promise, just listen to some townies for a while, you'll learn to love it.

3. While we're on the subject of speech - nobody in Beantown actually calls it Beantown

We do say wicked, but never "wicked pissah." I have no idea where that even came from. If you're in the 'burbs, you get your Sam Adams at the Packy (though in the city its still called a Liquor Store because we don't want to confuse the college kids). The T includes the subway, bus, commuter rail and ferries but most people are just referring to the subway (which is awful). Ask for a reguluh coffee at Dunk's and they'll give you cream and sugar. The B's and C's both play in the Gahdin, but the Sox are over at Fenway Pahk. All set?

4. If you haven't tried candlepin bowling yet, you really should

5. Nobody cares about you, soccer

Yes, New England has a professional soccer team (and lacrosse for that matter). No, I've never met or heard of anyone who cares about them. It's all about Red Sox, Bruins, Celtics, Patriots. If you're gonna live here, choose one or more and stick with it. Or at least respect the fact that you moved to a sports culture and things are gonna get FIERCE. Boston sports teams go through long phases of being just awful. Then improving for a few years, then breaking our hearts again. There's a whole psyche around being a Sox fan. I may or may not have a baseball related tattoo. I'm just saying. Fans can get rambunctious and annoying at times, but it doesn't last forever. Enjoy it, get involved, paint your face.

 

And that, friends, is all you need to know. Now get outta my way and quit hogging the sidewalk.



Discussion Question:
What would you want an outsider to know about your native culture?

the true meaning of "all set"

In this post from last month, one of many discussions on this blog about my experience as a lifelong Southerner moving to Boston, I mentioned the odd way that Bostonians use the phrase "all set."

I had definitely heard people say "all set" before I moved up here and, I probably even said it myself from time to time. But I had never heard it used with such a frequency until I moved up here. Bostonians say it CONSTANTLY. You might hear the following conversation at Dunkin Donuts.

CUSTOMER: I'll have a coffee.
CASHIER: You want a donut or are you all set?
CUSTOMER: No I'm all set.
CASHIER: Okay that's $1.25.
[money and coffee are exchanged]
CUSTOMER: Okay am I all set?
CASHIER: You're all set.

Am I exaggerating? Not really.

As I mentioned in the aforementioned post, I did some Googling and found several discussions online about this peculiarity of Bostonian speech, both on Urban Dictionary and on message boards.

There's a lot of discussion online about how difficult non-Bostonians find it to understand the many shades of meaning of the phrase. After all, the word set has 464 definitions in English, making it the word with the most definitions out of all the hundreds of thousands of words in our strange language. The phrase literally could not be more ambiguous.

"All set" seems to have a range of meanings, from "okay as I am" to "ready" to "finished." This site even cites a third-generation South Bostonian who uses it when people break up: Teresa's all set with that guy, he was an ahhshole.

I had a major realization the other day. All of the many meanings of "all set" converge into one single idea: not wanting to interact with someone any further.

Yes, it's true. This phrase is used constantly in Boston because everyone hates to talk to strangers.

"Are we all set?" means "Can we stop talking now?"

"I'm all set." means "I would like to stop talking to you now." or even "Stop talking to me."

Let's revisit the Dunkin Donuts scene.

CUSTOMER: I'll have a coffee.
CASHIER: You want a donut or are are we almost finished talking?
CUSTOMER: No donut, just stop talking please.
CASHIER: Okay that's $1.25.
[money is exchanged, coffee is handed.]
CUSTOMER: Okay are we done interacting?
CASHIER: Yes thank God.



Oh, New England. Y'all crazy.

It's 55 degrees and raining today. I think I'm all set with this weather.

Discussion Question:
What's your favorite regional verbal tic?

dancin in the dark

At a Paul Simon concert in Toronto on May 7th, fan Rayna Ford screamed out a request for the song "Duncan," calling out that she had learned to play the guitar on the tune. Paul heard her and pulled her up on stage to have her sing the song. I dare you to watch this and not choke up a little:


Thanks to Sammy Jane Allison for linking me to this great story about it on NPR.

You can feel the soaring joy and trembling disbelief as she straps Paul's guitar on and starts strumming along. She finds her rhythm as she goes, but her performance punctuated with irrepressible moments of giddy gratitude. She can't believe it. Paul Simon is watching her play "Duncan." She brings the house down with tears streaming down her face.

It's hard not to imagine yourself in the same position. Admit it. You've been fantasizing over it ever since the first time you saw Bruce Springsteen pull Courteney Cox onstage in the "Dancing in the Dark" video.


How impossibly young and gorgeous are they in this video??

It's so easy to imagine it. I'm a few rows back at a Lil Wayne concert, wired on sheer excitement and squinting through the plumes of smoke issuing out of the fog machine. Between songs, I scream out SWIZZZZZZZYYYYY! PLAY SWIZZY! Weezy squints out at the audience with his hands shielding his eyes from the stage lights, wondering who has requested such a deep track--a true fan. He catches sight of me and grins, the rainbow of pulsing lights glinting off his grill. Out of nowhere, the helicopter-chop crescendo of the beginning of the track booms out of the wall of speakers. Weezy points at me and gestures for me to join him on stage, laughing. I point at myself (who, me?) and then laugh, shaking my head (no, I couldn't) as my friends push me up towards the stage.

I jump up on stage with the help of a few refrigerator-sized security guards. I give Weezy the most effortless hip-hop hand-clasp-then-hug greeting with a familiar smile and a wink, and then like magic a golden mic appears in my hand. I'm a little taller than Weezy, so I throw my arm around his shoulder, resting on his dreads, as I furiously spit the opening lines:

You know me I just be chillin in the Phantom
Listenin to opera
Gun is my bodyguard
Call it Kevin Costner

Weezy laughs in disbelief at my unexpectedly tight flow. He slugs me on the shoulder jovially to indicate his appreciation, mouthing the words as I rapid-fire spit them like I've been practicing for this every day of my life. (Which I definitely haven't.)

When I reach the final lines (WEEZY THE BEAST! KATIE THE MONSTER! And we're gone.), Weezy lifts his chain off of his neck and places it around mine. There are so many diamonds on it that it actually makes a soft bling blingbling sound. The crowd loses it, nearly knocking us backwards with their adoration. Weezy and I forget the encore and head straight to his bus to start working on my album.


Bonus: scroll up and watch Bruce and Courteney dance to "Swizzy."

Discussion Question::
Which musician would you most want to be pulled onstage by?

on the value of useless trinkets

I read an article today that filled me with total delight: What Your American Girl Doll Says About the Rest of Your Life. I don't necessarily agree with the conclusions of the article, but who cares. Let's talk about American Girl dolls.

I had a Samantha doll for whom I purchased Molly glasses. I didn't particularly connect with the Victorian orphan's story, but she had brown eyes and brown hair like me, so she was in.



I had a variety of little outfits for my nearsighted orphan: a beautiful pink striped party dress, a navy winter coat with a snow-white muff, a crisp white summertime sailor suit, a stiff cranberry Christmas dress, and even a delicate nightgown.



photos from this American Girl collecting website

I read the little accompanying Samantha books too. They weren't particularly memorable aside from Samantha's birthday party, an elaborate affair featuring petit fours and home-churned ice cream, the latter of which is befouled with salt by evil neighbor Eddie. Not cool, Eddie. Not cool.

God knows what amount of whining I had to pitch for my parents to actually buy me some of Samantha's accessories. Anyone who is not familiar with the American Girl doll collection could not possibly believe how overpriced and useless these little trinkets are. I had a tiny doll (a doll for my doll!) and a tiny music box and a little brass lunch tin with a tiny plastic watercress sandwich and peach and a tiny embroidered handkerchief. But what really tickled my mom and me were the useless little kits.

I had two of these useless little kits. The Summertime Amusements set came with a tiny sketchbook, a tiny paint set with tiny tubes of real paint and a tiny artist's palette, and a tiny pine satchet that says "I Pine for You." This photo doesn't give a sense of scale, but the sketchbook is about the size of a business card.


Early 90s retail cost: $22
You thought I was kidding, didn't you.

Even more tempting was Samantha's Gingerbread House Kit, which came with impossibly small gingerbread pieces, a few tiny pieces of candy, a miniature pastry tube, and instructions for making the icing and assembling the whole thing.


Early 90s retail cost: $15
accessory photos from this alarmingly comprehensive American Girl dolls wiki

I'd beg and beg my mom to let me get into these kits and, I don't know, paint a teeny tiny picture in the sketchbook or (let's be real here) eat all of the stale component parts of the gingerbread house when my hammy little hands inevitably proved unable to assemble the tiny thing.

My poor mother. This was her:



Samantha still holds a place of honor in my childhood bedroom, all snugged up with my favorite stuffed snow leopard and a plastic Betty Boop doll who, characteristically, can't seem to keep her dress on. I guarantee that my mother could still put her hands on the still-pristine Summertime Amusements or Gingerbread Kit in five minutes flat if given the task. Guess whether or not she'd led me get into the kits if I asked her today.

So you can imagine my despair when I learned today that Samantha has been retired. Aw hell naw. But I am feeling grateful that my mom never let me tear into Samantha's accessories--I'll sell them on eBay one day to put my kids through college. Maybe it's time for a trip to Georgia, aka Doll Mecca, to visit Babyland General Hospital and then the American Girl Boutique and Bistro. Samantha can have a plastic watercress sandwich and get her hair did.

PS I have two relevant links to share: one which shares my sentiments exactly (and even makes a salty ice cream reference) and the first of eight YouTube videos of Samantha's movie, which I bet you never knew existed. In case you're wondering, yes, she does wear that sick signature checked dress in the very first scene.

Discussion Question: What overpriced silly stuff did you have as a kid?

they should arrest you and whoever dressed you

I started drinking at the crack of dawn last Friday. Against all better judgment and reason, I invited my girlfriends over to watch the royal wedding and drink champagne before work. Jess and Helen turned up right on time at 5am, only a little disoriented. Julia arrived in her bathrobe and a party hat. We had grits casserole, biscuits, berries, and at least Kate Middleton's weight in champagne.

We modified a variety of royal drinking game rules I found online to suit our purposes. We remembered Diana at every mention of her name with a MAY SHE REST (and a drink), and honored Her Majesty the Queen's presence on screen by drinking continuously.

The wedding party looked more perfect than dolls. But if you looked past the heirloom jewels and the endless rows of military medals, you could see that William and Kate really are two people in love. And that's pretty special, no matter what. I didn't expect myself to get so emotional when they exchanged vows.

We oohed, we ahhed.

We laughed, we cried.

And then, somehow, we went to work.

As for my favorite moment, well, it's between


"You look beautiful."

and



Discussion Question:
pssh you know what we're here to talk about. ROYAL WEDDING DISH you know you have a lot of feelings

Things I must begrudgingly admit I like about Boston

taken out of context I must seem so strange

Winter is ostensibly over here in Boston (although don't tell the winter coat I'm continuing to wear most days), so my homicidal winter madness has subsided temporarily. After a winter so insane that the snow had to be measured in Shaquille O'Neals, every bud, blossom, and shoot is an impossible miracle.

My skepticism about living in Boston is well documented. Very well documented. The 30 Rock episode where they go to Boston for a week in January ("Winter Madness" S04E11)--particularly the experience of native Southerner Kenneth--pretty much sums up my dominant feelings about this place.



And let's face it. I don't really fit in here. People have a hard time understanding my accent. Yesterday, when attempting to order a blueberry ale, the waiter helplessly asked me to repeat myself over and over again, asking, "Blueberry aioli?"

I never realized that my daily habits were so redneck until I moved to Cambridge. I live in an apartment complex with dozens of units, but we are the only residents who ever use the small common yard out front. I can often be found out front working on craft projects like Tanie's space shirts or assembling our many dozens of pieces of IKEA furniture in my overalls from the Fairview Tractor Supply Company. Nick and I also like to sit in our deluxe canopy camp chairs and read.


just LOOK at those rainbow glow-in-the-dark pony bead accents!!
I guess it goes without saying that this picture was not taken in Boston.

The neighbors walk by and they're all



It seems like something happens every day that makes me feel like an alien. Facebook friends of mine know all about my considerable distress about the difference in Southern and New England traditions--in my world, a white elephant exchange is not called a yankee swap and people not wearing green on St. Patrick's Day get pinched.

Even the smallest things are different. I started noticing recently that every monetary transaction I experience up here ends with the cashier informing me that I'm "all set." This is not an unusual thing to say at all, until you realize that every cashier says it every single time without fail. A quick Googlin' informed me that this is, in fact, a Boston tic.

But despite the cultural differences and the winter (oh lord, the winter), I have to admit that I'm coming around to a few things about Boston. Since I hate being such a Negative Nancy about New England all the time, I thought I should fess up to the things I've started to like.

BLUEBERRY ALE

They put fresh blueberries in it!!

from LittleBill's flickr


WATCHING SPORTING EVENTS IN BARS

All the beer and shouting--it feels like home!



WALKS ALONG THE CHARLES

Glistening water and athletic rich people rowing crew--what's not to love?




LIVING NEAR THE OCEAN

Seagulls scream at you on your way to work. You can almost smell the salt air. You can drive up to New Hampshiah and eat lobsters that mere hours before had been minding their own business in the ocean.


from Ken-ichi's flickr


THE NORTH END

Boston's Little Italy. They've got the best Italian food this side of Trastevere. There is magic in the air. And garlic.


from bradunc01's flickr


HARVARD SQUARE AT NIGHT

It's no Bourbon Street, but there are drunk Harvardians! And Christmas lights!




TOP OF THE HUB

There's a swank restaurant at the top of the 52 story Prudential Center. The view is astonishing.


from Basically Boston's flickr

Julia and I had a boozy lunch there last weekend.



THAT is the face of a woman enjoying her life in Boston.


And finally, my favorite thing about living in Boston is

BEING OUT OF CONTEXT

It's good for you. It reminds you who you really are underneath it all.


Discussion Question:
Tell me about a time you've been out of context.