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Jeremy's Ramblings, Babblings, and Other Pretentious Bullshit.
Friday, February 04, 2005
 
- I am addicted to car naps. When I get a break at work, it is usually spent sleeping in my car. I have always disliked naps because time always speeds by when I'm sleeping, and before I know it, I have to leave my subconscious and enter my real life (on weekday mornings, this is particularly disappointing). However, in my car, the time becomes drawn out, so that a fifteen-minute rest feels like an hour. It's glorious and leaves me feeling quite refreshed.

- I get insanely jealous every time someone tells me about the time they spent two months backpacking through Europe. I know that it's cliched, but all of those magical phrases - "hostel", "no money", "didn't speak the language", "spent all night walking around", "an amazing city", "never saw her again" - make me want to indulge in what would probably be my ultimate fantasy.

- Speaking of fantasies, at the moment, I really want to have a "Blue Lagoon"-type scenario right now where I'm marooned on this beautiful island with a beautiful young woman (preferably Brey). I don't know why, but right now, that's where I want to be.

- It annoys me when I really want to listen to an album, but I don't have said album with me at work. I'm hankering big time for a listen to The Clash's "Sandanista!", and yet all with me is "London Calling" (a better album, in my opinion, but not what I want right now). LIFE SUCKS!!! Not really.

- Theater tickets are expensive. I love theater with an unparalleled passion, but if I want to see, let's say, "Golda's Balcony" at the Geffen Playhouse, and I have to pay, let's say, fifty-nine dollars (for a one-woman show, no less), that's just crazy.

- I found out yesterday that on "The O.C." - a show that I've previously avoided watching due to my resistance to shows about rich white people's problems - the rather hot Mischa Barton is starting up a relationship with a new girl played by the slightly-less-hot Olivia Wilde (I don't know if there's any relation to Oscar, but wouldn't that be an interesting homosexual entertainer connection?). As sad as it sounds, this is something that would get me watching the show. Right now, according to my sister, they are only in the furtive-glances-and-sexual-tension stage (a stage I'm quite familiar with), but already much is being made of the coming relationship between these two (and when I found out about the relationship, I was coming, too). Oh, and I apologize for my sudden frat boy-like behavior. I wish I could say that am above the stereotypical male fascination with lesbians, but I am a due-paying member of that juvenile organization.

- It's more difficult than you would think to come up with three jokes that deal with Egypt, corn and/or dreams every weekend.

- It's pretty annoying to listen to people beg for money. NPR is having their pledge drive that they have twice a year, in which they basically ask for a buttload* of money. I gave to them on one of the first days of the drive, and now when I listen to them (which is often), I keep hearing them ask me for money. Although I understand it's not personal, it makes me feel like my donation was in vain. But that doesn't matter, because I have an Eclectic 5-CD pack coming my way, and I get to go to the Matt's Movies preview program. Hell of a lot better than a tote bag!

- Two days ago, "Good Vibrations", a musical based around the songs of the Beach Boys, opened on Broadway. Ben Brantley of the New York Times reviewed it, and it is one of the most scathing pieces written about a musical that I have ever read. Here are the first three paragraphs:

"Even those who believe everything on the planet is here for a purpose may at first have trouble justifying the existence of 'Good Vibrations', the singing headache that opened last night at the Eugene O'Neill Theater.

But audience members strong enough to sit through this rickety jukebox of a show, which manages to purge all catchiness from the surpassingly catchy hits of the Beach Boys, will discover that the production does have a reason to be, and a noble one: 'Good Vibrations' sacrifices itself, night after night and with considerable anguish, to make all other musicals on Broadway look good.

Such virtuous behavior could not come at a more propitious moment. Just think of the roster of dim, dispiriting shows that have opened this season: 'Brooklyn', 'Little Women', the deceased 'Dracula'. Each of these clunkers now feels like a high point of professionalism thanks to 'Good Vibrations', which features a lot of washboard-stomached performers who give the impression of having spent far more time in the gym than in the rehearsal studio. As they smile, wriggle and squeak with the desperation of wet young things hung out to dry, you feel their pain. It is unlikely, however, to be more acute than yours."

- The quote of the week came at a Borders, when an irate customer, threatening legal action and using Law School 101 terms in a bragging manner, said to the abnormally no-nonsense manager as a closing argument, "In the interim...kiss my ass!"

* buttload: equal to four bunches

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