In a Fit of Pique

 
I received this in the mail last week and was so deeply offended by the cover image that I couldn't stand the thought of even seeing it lying on my coffee table for the duration of time it would take me to read through it. So, I got a little creative. Much more satisfying (and accurate) this way, don't you think?

Me All Over

**Giggle** This is me all over.

I, embarrassingly, finally got around to watching the last two episodes of the last (seventh) season of Buffy this weekend. No, really. About a year and a half on, I still hadn't seen the series finale, even after purchasing the whole durn thing on DVD. But, karmically, I think it's because I didn't need those episodes in my life until just now. Ah, Joss. I'm all about the cookie dough metaphor, I'm all about the little girl at bat. (I'm also all about "I'm drowning in footwear!" but we'll just stick with the schmoopy girl-power stuff for now.)

Everyone should send Brendon an e-mail today wishing him a very happy birthday. Brendon rules. This is something you should just know, instinctively, without thinking about it, the way you know Tallahassee is the capital of Florida or the way you know all the lyrics to the theme song from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

The Sarcasm Point

Genius, pure genius. As an editor, this is the best holiday gift I possibly could have gotten this year.

Listmania

OK, so Pitchfork issued their list of this year's 50 best singles today, so I guess I should take that as my cue to list my own personal favorite songs from the year. I know that not all of them are from 2004, but will you forgive me if I list them in a sequence and running order that would fit on an industry-standard 80 minute blank CD? I thought so.

1. They Put Her in the Movies--Jason Falkner (Bliss Descending EP)
2. 40'--Franz Ferdinand (Franz Ferdinand)
3. Come As You Are--Caetano Veloso (A Foreign Sound)
4. Stupid Memory--Sondre Lerche (Two Way Monologue)
5. Get Your Hands Off My Woman--Ben Folds (Super D EP)
6. Length of Love--Interpol (Antics)
7. Serenade for the Renegade--E.S.T. (Strange Place for Snow)
8. Where Is the Line--Björk (Medulla)
9. Wicked Little Town (Tommy Gnosis version)--The Bens
(Wig in a Box: Songs from and Inspired by Hedwig and the Angry Inch)
10. Our Mutual Friend--The Divine Comedy (Absent Friends)
11. Bathtime in Clerkenwell--The Real Tuesday Weld (I, Lucifer)
12. The Rat--The Walkmen (Bows + Arrows)
13. Red Right Ankle--The Decemberists (Her Majesty the Decemberists)
14. We Looked Like Giants--Death Cab for Cutie (Transatlanticism)
15. Stupid--The Long Winters (When I Pretend to Fall)
16. I Was Made to Love You--Polly Paulusma (Scissors in My Pocket)
17. The Art Teacher--Rufus Wainwright (Want Two)
18. Memory Lane--Elliott Smith (From a Basement on a Hill)
19. Walking to Do--Ted Leo/Pharmacists (Shake the Sheets)

Honorable mention: the Stills’ “Lola Stars and Stripes,” Maroon 5’s “This Love,” the Flaming Lips’ live, acoustic version of “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots,” the Hives’ “Walk, Idiot, Walk,” N.E.R.D.’s “The Way She Dances,” Travis Morrison’s “Born in ’72,” Wilco’s “Muzzle of Bees,” Loretta Lynn’s “Portland, Oregon,” the Lashes’ “Death by Mixtape,” Britney Spears’s “Toxic,” and Courtney Love’s “But Julian, I’m a Little Older Than You.”

Also, tonight is the longest night of the year. Let's take that time to mourn whatever was darkest in our lives this year, and then try our damnedest to move the fuck beyond it as the days begin to get progressively lighter again. Can I get an amen?

Killer's . . . Snuggle?

Does shit like this seem vaguely reminiscent to anyone else of the creepy final scene from Killer's Kiss?

Band Name?

If there's anyone out there in need of a band name, I've got one for you:

Gamma Night Box.

Every time I walk west on Superior toward Orleans, I always notice the library-style drop box built into the wall of the building where Gamma (I guess it's a photo lab) resides, and always take great delight in the label that reads, in big, bold, block letters, "Gamma Night Box." What a fantastic name that would make for a band! And every time I see it, I lament the fact that I, theoretically, would have to form and then disband the Mean Little Dogs, the Rhea Perlman Approximation, and the Whom before I would have a chance to use the name as my own. So, in the interest of getting the name out into the collective consciousness where it belongs, I'm offering it up here. Any takers?

Gettin' Squirrelly

For the romantics in the house, check out the entry dated December 7. My favorite sentence? "This is how you find the man/woman of your dreams, stupids: You refuse to waste time on the man/woman of your loneliness-fueled spreadsheets."

The Onion issues its year-end roundup of best albums. Egotistically, I quite enjoyed Stephen Thompson's best songs list at the bottom of the page since he includes both Sondre Lerche's "Stupid Memory" and The Walkmen's "The Rat," two tunes which will appear on my own personal best of 2004 mix.

Oh, the Rude Pundit just makes me feel all warm and happy for the holiday season!

Note

A note to potential male suitors: the smell of Aqua di Gio makes me want to retch. Ignore this fact at your own peril.

Pop Culture Round-Up

Why didn't anybody tell me that Cy Coleman passed away recently? I read about it this weekend in an issue of Entertainment Weekly that was already a couple of weeks old when I got around to flipping through it, and was saddened to hear it. I listened to a bit of the original Broadway cast recording of City of Angels as I was getting ready for work today, in mourning.

Closer was disappointing. There's simultaneously much and little to say about it. I haven't yet read Marber's original stage play, but would like to do so sometime soon, to glean any new insight into what went wrong with the movie. Part of the reason is that it was abysmally miscast. I know what you're going to say: "that cast is a big part of the reason why I wanted to see the movie in the first place!" And I agree with you. That's what got me in the door, too. However, as I was watching the movie, I started to realize that just because you're making a movie about sex doesn't mean it always has to contain inherently sexy people. In fact, sometimes a sexy movie is strengthened by the ordinariness of its actors. After giving the matter some thought, I've decided that Clive Owen should have been replaced by his King Arthur castmate Ray Winstone, Juliet Stevenson should have appeared in the Julia Roberts role, Paul Bettany would have ripped the place up as Jude Law's character, and Ludivine Sagnier would have been a much better choice than Natalie Portman. Feh. I dunno. I'm, in theory, a big fan of the fucked-up, bed-swapping, sexual manipulation, emotional cruelty genre, but I can't remember the last time I saw one that was actually worth my time. (Don't get me started on either We Don't Live Here Anymore or The Shape of Things.) There comes a point at which, if the characters haven't been so perfectly conceived that their littlest movement or gesture becomes heartbreaking because of the way it resonates with everything that came before it, you're just trying to out-LaBute LaBute with frank language and despicable behavior in an effort to shock the audience. That's not teaching me anything about the human experience. It's just kind of boring. (To read more about the movie, check out Stephanie Zacharek's write-up on Salon. It's one of the few recent movies I wholeheartedly agree with her assessment of. On. About. Sorry for the prepositional spew there.)

And, if there's one comedy truism that Arrested Development proved incontrovertible with last night's episode, it's that tear-away pants are always funny.

Odd. Dark. Irresistible.

Stocking stuffers for that special little tyke in your life?

You may not know it yet, but you neeeeed a little James Ellroy in your life today. What a bastard.

It's been bouncing around the internet for the past week or so, but, if you haven't heard it yet, you should definitely check out the Walkmen's hilarious new downloadable single The Christmas Party.