NYC IKEA Trips

No one drives in New York. Lots of people know this, but I didn't realize the gravity of that truth until a couple days ago. I was walking down the street and noticed that I lost all of the guilt I used to associate with buying a new car. Before I left for New York I was very much in "buy a new car" mode. I was looking at a sexy little coupe that was horrible on gas, and while I loved it, I always felt guilty about its flagrant over-use of fossil fuels. To that end, whenever I thought about getting a Prius or a Highlander Hybrid I wondered if I was missing out on something that the coupe offered--some degree of excitement that my "green guilt" wouldn't afford me. I'm a big fan of renewable energy initiatives, but I also like going really really fast, so there was this constant back and fourth. Ultimately, the choice was made for me when I moved to New York and no longer had to think about transportation other than the subway.

There are both very positive, and very irritating aspects of not having a car. I love not paying insurance or car payments, it's pretty sweet. Additionally, gas is expensive and another thing you have to worry about. Then there's car maintenance, which I always hated doing--even routine oil changes made me feel "put out." Also, by relegating yourself to only use public transportation you never wind up in a place longer than you want to be because you're too drunk to drive!

But not having a car can be frustrating too. Often you have to wait for subways, which isn't so bad, except when it's late at night. Occasionally I'll find myself standing on a platform at 4am, tipsy and tired, waiting for a transfer train for a half-hour. You're also kind of stuck on a subway too if it's late, which means if you have to pee you're gonna' hold it in. If you're gonna' get sick, you gotta' wait until the stop then wait for another train. If you're gonna' fall asleep, you shouldn't (because you might wind up in Coney Island).

Trips that were previously really casual and easy are instantly more difficult as well, if you've previously had regular access to a car. I eat out a lot more now. This is fundamentally because I don't like to cook, but the second reason is that in order to buy food at reasonable prices I now have to walk about 3/4 of a mile to the grocery store. "Now Marc," you say,"that's not far at all. In fact, don't you like taking walks?" Yes, dear reader, I do, but when it's this cold outside, and I have to carry bags walking is something I'm not really interested in doing. And then there's IKEA.

IKEA is a pretty sweet deal. You drive down there, get a bunch of cheap and "all right" furniture, load it up, drive it home, build it, and enjoy your new Iklorp entertainment system, or whatever you got. But when you don't have a car you either have to A) find a friend with a car who can take pity on your rideless ass and go with you, B) hire a U-Haul (which is or is not cost effective, depending on how far you're going), or C) take a shuttle bus down to IKEA and ship your purchases from the store.

Option C is actually really convenient, as it's flat $100 fee (+$10 for boroughs outside of Manhattan) to have up to 17 boxes delivered. If you go with a couple roommates, that shipping cost becomes MUCH more reasonable. This is much cheaper than shipping things through the website because shipping costs on IKEA.com are calculated per item. Additionally, your things will be delivered same day, or next day!

Editorial Note: If the New York City Marathon is on the weekend of your scheduled delivery you will likely get your IKEA purchases the following weekend.

I mention IKEA specifically because it's an ideal place to buy furniture for a New York apartment. The space is small, and changes drastically depending on where you live and what your budget is. If you move from, say, Bay Ridge, Brooklyn to Gramercy (for example) you'll probably wind up wind up with a completely different space. Because IKEA stuff is so relatively cheap, you can just Craigslist your old stuff easily, and buy new stuff that fits your new space!

That said, I also highly recommend getting furniture on Craigslist. About 2 days after I bought my loft bed, I found the exact same one on Craigslist for half the price! Keeping the shipping costs of IKEA in mind, I was planning on buying an IKEA desk for about $40, but after shipping it would have been much much more. Instead, I bought a cool secretary desk in my neighborhood from Craigslist for $50. The guy even helped me get it to my place!

Editorial Note: I wouldn't have been able to get it up my stairs without the help of everyone's favorite bartender at a Vietnam-themed restaurant, Rohan.

Having a car definitely has it's advantages and disadvantages, that's pretty obvious. But what I can say is that a car in New York City (and most surrounding areas) is just really really difficult. It's expensive to pay for parking, and if you can find free parking you usually have to move your car every other day because of street cleaning. Cops around here LOVE giving out tickets too, so if you're kind of a space-cadet parker like me, you'll easily rack up a month's rent in parking violations.

If you absolutely need a car in New York, I'd recommend getting together a bunch of your closest friends, finding one with optional monthly garage service in their building, pulling your money, and buying a cheap 1989 Bronco or something, that everyone can take turns using. But that's if all of you decide you really need a car. I say a Bronco because they're American and easier to get fixed/find parts for, you can haul a lot of stuff in one, and they have really great clutches (in my experience). But I that's a lot of organization, and I don't know anyone who needs a car that bad.

Muskrat Love

What Draws People To Different Images?

I was looking around at ffffound today, and saw the picture below. It just jumped out at me as something that I really liked looking at. Then I noticed that only 3 people had saved it, as opposed to 27 or 56 people for other pictures that I didn't find as interesting. It got me thinking about why certain people are attracted to certain visual qualities and traits. Whenever I'm looking around at ffffound I just flip through and wait for something to jump out, grab my around the chest and start shaking.

I think that's what ffffound eventually wants to become, if I understand correctly; a place where people choose different images they respond to and eventually a commonly appreciated aesthetic thread is found in their options. Then ffffound can direct its users towards other images they may appreciate, based on similar criteria from their already established visual preferences.

It's a great idea, and I'd certainly want to be a part of that kind of experiment. I'd like to know why I'm not interested in looking at a picture of two green cars (where as 10 other people think it's interesting enough to download), but I think blue shipping crates and red flags are just the coolest.

Great American Novelist

Hey! I just discovered that no one owns: http://www.greatamericannovelist.com/!

How is this possible? Surely there is a self-important enough author/wannabe author who is willing to shell out the $10/year to own this domain name!

So come on all you aspiring novelists in Brooklyn, by pulling all your trust fund money you might just be able to afford this url, which will assuredly guarantee you and your book instant notoriety and fame.

Then maybe, just maybe, the world will finally get to discover your story about a boy who was an outcast in his small town, moved to "the big city," and found love and redemption in the eccentric personality of a girl who dresses at thrift stores and wears pilot's goggles to go grocery shopping. Delicious!

You're Welcome, 16th Floor

Rest assured, 16th Floor.

After a long and arduous application process, physical fitness test, and extensive training; I, Marcus Finneus Ryan Cabrera, have just been named the new 16th Floor Men's Restroom Searcher.

In the event of a fire emergency, you can count on me, Marcus Finneus Ryan Cabrera, to ensure that no one is peeing when they should be fleeing.

If you have any questions, please come by my office, or call me at extension 7237.

Thank you, and God Bless.

No Recent Updatez

Hey everyone,

I guess I'm at that point in my blog where I feel like I need to occasionally apologize for not updating more recently. It's one of those milestones, like buying a .com, or filing a restraining order against your biggest fan. Anyway, I've been kind of busy lately with a couple of other things, but as soon as I finish with all that noise, I'll be back here--writing about my zany adventures in New York City.

I'm going to put some words in an Excel spreadsheet now.

Loope

This is twista cool. I can't imagine ever living in a space where this wouldn't look out of place, but I still think it's really interesting. There are better pictures at the link.

Twista Cool

I've grown really fond of the term "twista cool," which I just made up. It's kind of like "tre chic," but about things being really cool. That said, it's not really something you can say aloud. In fact, I think describing something out loud as "twista cool" would be "twista lame." But in writing, it's a pretty dope way to describe things.

.COM Search

Today, as I was typing a url into the address bar, I accidentally typed ".com" into Google and pressed enter. I found that if you search ".com" in Google, the first thing that comes up is MySpace.com, then Amazon.com, then Answers.com, then CNN.com, then CNET.com...

I wonder if that's a quick and easy way to find out which .com websites have the most traffic. Huh.

Alabaster Skin

This girl read a story she wrote in one of my writing classes during college. I don't remember the story at all, but I remember when it was time for us to discuss her story a kid raised his hand and said, "I think the use of the term 'porcelain skin' is a little cliche... whenever I have to describe really white, fair skin I say "alabaster skin."

I've thought for a long time that that was just a really annoying thing to say. He said it in this really condescending way too, like he had the solution to her problem, and it was thus. I mean, honestly, alabaster skin is almost as cliche as porcelain skin--it might even be about equal in over-used-ness.

I was neither of the people in this story, just an objective observer. The kid who commented was kind of my arch-nemesis in college. He always carried around this little glass bottle of Perrier water around with him that clanked especially loud when he put it down before class. He also wore a really nice, long black wool coat that seethed with misunderstood artisanship. What was even more annoying was that he wasn't completely un-aware of himself. Truth be told--aside from the alabaster skin thing--he was pretty talented.

After our last class, in our Senior year of college, I was sitting in a hallway waiting for someone, and he came up to me. A piece I wrote for a writing magazine on campus had been accepted and was recently published. He was not in the magazine, though he submitted plenty of his own work. We never overtly disliked each other, and actually had a few fairly good conversations in the past, but this was different. He walked up to me and told me how surprised he was that my piece had been chosen--not because it was bad, but that it just wasn't my best work. Because, you see, we'd taken lots of classes together, and we'd heard each other's writing many many times before. "I just feel like you've written much better things in the past, that's all," he said.

"Thanks," I said. "Did you get anything in this year?"
"No, not this year."
"Oh, that's too bad," I said.

Checkmate... bitch.

New York City Trip

This is New York... if you've taken a bunch of acid.

1AM

It's nearly 1:00am and I can't sleep for anything. 1:00am isn't so late, but given that I didn't sleep at all last night either I'm starting to wonder how/if I'm going to function tomorrow. I've got all these ideas shooting through my head, and evolving, and spinning around wildly. It's such a passionate stream of consciousness that there's no logical endpoint, and the endorphins--that are triggering as a result of my mind's own self-congratulatory excitement--are preventing me from even trying to find a place to leave my manic monologue for the night. It's like my brain has restless leg syndrome.

I've got to get some sleep, this is insane. The worst part is that when I got home today I was exhausted. Last night I took a nap at 6:30pm, and woke up at 9:30pm. This kept me awake until 2:00am, and I kept waking up during the night. I didn't want to do that again, so I powered through 7:00, and 8:00, and 9:00... then I got my second wind. I started watching "The Millionaire Matchmaker" and finally went to bed at midnight. But it's 1:00am now. I've been tossing around for an hour and I don't see any end in sight. I'd take an Ambien, but I only have one left, and I feel like it would go to waste when I couldn't possibly get 8 hours of sleep tonight.

The Ambien are from my wrist surgery, which was months ago. I came to taking them when I moved to New York because I'm a light sleeper as it is, and that coupled with the over-stimulus and inherent stress that this city provides I needed something to knock me the F out.

I'm kind of hungry, maybe I'll eat something. I also kind of want to watch "Tron." But I probably won't do any of those things. I'll probably just go to bed, and hope that writing this will have filled the restless desire to do something productive while that's keeping me awake.

Oh, and for some reason this blog posts on west coast time, so even though the time stamp reads 10:00pm, it's really 1:00am.

Annoying Ads

Just because I used the word "personality" in a post, all the GoogleAds in my sidebar are about personality disorder tests! WTF? That's not what this blog is about, not at all. So here's a short list of words that will hopefully prompt new ads to appear:

iPhone, Documentary, Documentary about iPhone, American Revolution, Playwright, Spelunking, Rome, Oscars, Coffee Mug, Eddie Izzard, Vh1, Time Travel, Pommel horse.

An Open Letter To Facebook Applications

Dear Facebook Applications,

All right, as is evident by my facebook profile, I LOVE facebook applications. I like the quizzes, and the personality tests, and the playing Oregon Trail, and the like. I also love when arbitrary tests/quizzes claim to tell me about my personality! Biz knows this first hand, as we used to use library study time during European History class taking Cosmo Quizzes. With that in mind, I added an application called something about your astrological sign and what your birth date means.

I signed up, then it said, "invite 20 friends so you can see your full profile!" I thought surely there are 20 people on facebook who wouldn't care if I sent them the invite to some stupid app. I did think it was weird because most apps don't ask you to do this, but whatever. So I did it, then this damn pop-up appears that I can't click out of! It asks me to choose my gender, and I immediately knew where this was going. Like I said, I tried to click out and all these little boxes popped up that said things like "ARE YOU SURE YOU don't WANT EXIT OUT?"

The more I clicked the more elaborate the stupid little "Are you sure?" boxes kept popping up!!! So I was like, aw fuck it, let's see if this is a credit card scam, a cell phone scam, or a social security scam. The next question after gender was actually a request: "Please enter your cell phone number." What in the hell does that have to do with my zodiac sign and how that will tell me about my personality? How? Tell me, facebook... tell me.

So if you were one of the 20 people I sent this too don't load it up, it's a piece of shit and will make you really frustrated and angry. It, at least, got me worked up.

PS: WTF Scrabulous? That sucks Milton-Bradley pulled the plug on you. Why don't you just take out all the Scrabble colors and stuff, use generic names for everything, change your name to something like "WORD MADNESS," and call yourself a parody of Scrabble? That will hold up in court, just ask Roy Orbison/2 Live Crew.

Finally, A Soup I Don't Love

I've started going to Hale and Hearty's Soup for lunch. While I've been on a recent packing my own lunch kick, some soup and a sandwich are a nice dalliance from the PB & J that I usually make.

Every time I go to Hale and Hearty's I try a new soup. And I don't sample first, oh no, Dear Reader--it's the only degree of gambling I'm really willing to participate in. Usually I love the soups, and am welcomed to a new taste sensation when I get back to my desk.

But today, a soup I thought would be good, Coconut Chicken, was just OK. I didn't hate it, mind you, it just didn't rock my world. To be honest, it was a little bland. I had high hopes for the soup, however, because

{I use to work at this cafe in Bellingham, WA that made an amazing Thai Ginger Chicken soup. My old roommate, David, brought me a big yogurt container of it one day after work and it was one of the best gifts I have ever received.}

So, you know, I probably won't get it again. I have other soups to try, and I don't have the time to spend on soups that don't change my life.

Hot Internet Property

I've gotten 2 "winks" on match.com in the last week and a half. My grand total right now is 3. Somehow, however, this is not inspiring me to join. I guess it's hard for me to spend $40 ($30 a month for 3 months, $20 a month for 6 months) on something I still am not convinced is worthwhile.

But I also think I would have a fundamental problem ever committing to someone on match.com. This isn't because there would be that stigma of meeting on the Internet. On the contrary, I love the Internet, I think it's a good resource for, well, everything! It only makes sense that as we evolve services like this appear. It's more that with how people are commodified in such an obvious, simple way on match.com I'm afraid I would always think, "oh, she came up on my search for single women in the area a month ago, but what would happen if I searched now?" It gives you this easy, "could I do better?" feeling that is inescapable. It has the potential to make you think that you're settling, and if you just keep clicking that search button you could find someone better.

In the real world this kind of trepidation doesn't happen as much because often people meet through shared events, or friends, or whatever. Even random encounters in the "real world" don't display this kind of "easy, can I do better" dilemma because in real-life people understand how rare that sort of thing really is. Where as on match.com there's an endless pool of single people all looking for the same thing. But is that necessarily a bad thing?

It makes perfect logical sense that a bunch of people with the same goal would come together like this. But as I said before, this kind of solution is just evolution. We created a very simple solution to a common "problem." And there are side-effects: objectification; invalidation from the sense of a "false" encounter (romantics would call it that at least, the people who believe in words like "fate" and "destiny"); and maybe even the feeling like you gave up and copped out, submitting yourself to this thing that anti-social losers do between games of World of Warcraft and driving their mothers to the grocery store and the pharmacy.

Where was I? Oh yeah, so I don't know whether or not to follow up on these winks. The reason for this is because every wink I get is from a more attractive person, who seems more interesting than the last. I keep thinking that if I hold out long enough Giselle Bunchen will have finally joined match.com and she'll wink at me and tell me how much she likes the picture of me where I'm holding a beer.

Good Quert

"The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right place but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment."

-Dorothy Nevill


Oh, Snap! That's a good quert! I don't know who Dorothy Nevill is (is she related to Aaron Nevill), but she's got some wisdom. I love words, but more than that, I love thinking about how words are used. When I read this quert it makes me really think about the value of shutting the hell up sometimes. Good quert, good quert indeed.

Feature Sidebar Ad Website

I think I'll start featuring a few of the websites from the ads in my sidebar. Some of them are pretty hilarious. Here's the first one:

PuppyPetite.com

There are a number of things I love about this website. First, it's crazy amateurish, but you know given all the crazy effects on the page, someone is trying really really hard to make it "pop!" I also really enjoy how they say you have to pick the puppies up personally because they won't ship them. What the hell kind of person thinks, "Yeah, I want a puppy. Can you UPS Ground Mail that?" Actually, I can see Paris Hilton thinking that pretty easily.

This is just the Pug page, but as you can see from the fuzzy pink titles on the left (that are blinking on the actual page) PuppyPetitie.com offers many types of dogs. The common thread throughout all the dog pages is that there are huge amounts of dog pictures that are oddly suggestive, and illicit all kinds of boudoir photo imagery--note the above picture of the Pug in the basket.

PuppyPetite.com, it's like Old Navy... but for dogs.

Ads in the Sidebar

In case you haven't noticed, I put up some ads in the sidebar. These are really basic GoogleAds that pay me based on the amount of clicks they receive.

It's with that in mind that I tell you that I don't write this site to make money. After all, why would I need money with a cushy publishing job like mine? Exactly. The benefits of this website for me are purely psychic. However, that's not to say that a little extra cash wouldn't hurt...

I guess what I'm saying is that it would be great if you could click on the ad links once in a while. Some of them are actually kind of interesting. They're based on topics related to key words in my posts, so sometimes they wind up being pretty quirky and bizarre.

Oh, I almost forgot! I'm going to buy drinks for my friends (as many as I can) with my first GoogleAds check! What's the point of getting cash for something you'd otherwise do for free if you can't get your peeps drunk, right?

Overthinking

Do you ever think about something so much that you're convinced everyone you know already knows about it, and then you're surprised when they don't know what you're talking about? That happens to me pretty often. A good example is this other web project I'll be starting soon. I constantly thought about it for about two weeks and then brought it up in conversation with a friend and realized I'd told NO ONE about it except my roommates.

I've found this happens pretty often with me, and was just curious if other people experience this or if I'm just a space cadet. I guess part of it too is that I learned a few years ago that people actually talk about me when I'm not around, which blew my mind. That's not to say people gossip, they just talk about other people they know with mutual friends. I know, it seems absurd that I didn't realize this, but I just never thought about it. With that in mind, maybe I'm unconsciously giving the grape vine too much credit. What's even more absurd about my disbelief of this pretty basic human form of interaction is that I talk about people's lives all the time--about what they're doing, different things--because I think what other people are doing is just completely fascinating! So why would I assume so naively that other people don't do this? Huh.

Wii Injuries

Is it pathetic that I woke up this morning with some sore muscles and joints from playing Wii all night? Wait, I don't think that should be a question. If I was to think of a word for one who is achy from playing Wii it would be "Wii-nis." I'm such a Wii-nis.

The Inherent Honesty of Music and TV

That title is a little misleading.

It occurs to me that music is an intrinsically honest medium, which is why music resonates so strongly with people. The messages are typically universal truths about life, and living, and humanity, and whatever. However, television, while also wildly popular isn't intrinsically honest. In fact, television is intrinsically dishonest because of the constraints of the medium (half hour to hour time slots, the addition of commercials, etc.) it is forced to exaggerate situations, and change the way people interact to simulate life. These changes have to be made in order to speed along the action and neatly conclude a plot in a very specific time frame.

Really what you have then are two popular forms of entertainment that give you conflicting perspectives on life. If you grew up, like me, watching a lot of TV during your oh so important formative years you develop this skewed purview of the world. Then, when you're older, like me, and start listening and appreciating music you start to realize that these are the themes that people really experience. Music contains real emotions and ideas, as opposed to situations that are developed to move along a short, confined plot. And then you start to wonder how you were shaped as a child, and what disservice all that fiction did to you. Then you want to fix it, but it's hard to undo values and perspectives you've accepted as true for so long. It's enough to make you crazy.

A good example of the conflict between what TV tells us vs. a common theme in music that proves true often is loneliness. On television people are always dating someone new, relationships are quick and insignificant. I'm thinking of "Friends" when I write this. Monica, Phoebe, and Rachel constantly had new boyfriends that they just met randomly all the time. They'd be around for an episode, sometimes two, then they'd disappear. Rarely are any of these past boyfriends mentioned in later episodes, and for the most part they've been effectively erased from everyone's memory. Personally, I've probably been in four or five relationships. I think about them occasionally, and have lots of stories about ex-girlfriends that occasionally come up in conversation. This is pretty standard. To that end, there are so many songs about that time when you're not dating anyone. When you feel like you'll never find anyone you're happy with, and when you just feel completely alone. I know that's real.

The only time you hear about themes as complex as that on TV are during serial dramas like "The L Word" where they're able to extend stories over 32 episodes. But even then everything is exaggerated and spliced up because if it wasn't people wouldn't be compelled. If there was a series about the relationships of four average couples (for example) it would probably be a lot of boring footage. Then again, it might make for an interesting reality TV show, but it probably wouldn't work. The cameras would change everything, producers would get the most dysfunctional couples they could find, and the whole project would become a caricature of itself.

And isn't that what this boils down to? Why do people give music more validity. We respond to the honesty in "You Outta' Know" and then think Alanis Morrisette is annoying when she gets all new-agey and spiritual. It's not the truth that brought us to her, and we feel betrayed. She's just a good example, but this has happened plenty of times. Artists lose their message sometimes, the message they were known for, and we feel betrayed. Of course there's the bubblegum pop. The Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys singles that you hate to like, but do in a really visceral way. The production value is just so good, and the harmonies are so tight you can't help but like it. But even there we're hearing songs about someone being in love, or being lonely, or growing up. They're still messages about reality.

Then I guess this all boils down to the fact that music holds a mirror up to reality, and TV re-shapes it. You look for messages and lessons and empathy in songs, and escape in TV. But like I said, if you confuse the two it'll make you crazy--you wind up dancing in fountains and thinking the world is full of models and homicides.

Facebook Status

Lately I've been really interested in people's facebook status (stati?). They're often entertaining and original, and I'm curious as to what people post as their status says about them. In an attempt to quantify facebook stati in a way that draws meaningful conclusions about peoples' status updating habits and their individual significance I'm going to start recording the status updates I see. Not only will it be interesting, but it will also make me feel somewhat better about checking facebook every 12 minutes. I'll post updates on the project periodically as they arise.

Tay Zonday... LIVE! (Part 2)

Upon further consideration, I'll need to make sure Europa serves drinks before I agree to attend this performance. If the interview below is any indication of awkwardness that an evening with Tay Zonday holds, I will definately need some booze.

Tay Zonday... LIVE!

Today I got this email from Scenic Events, in Brooklyn regarding a live show with TAY ZONDAY!!! The show is on January 20th at Europa (see address below). I, for one, am going--if not for Tay then for "Philly dance sensations, GANG." I'm buying my ticket ASAP, and I suggest you do the same.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
CONTACT:
Robert Johnson
Scenic Propaganda
robert@scenicnyc.com
153 Roebling 3rd Floor # 7
Brooklyn NY 11222
(917)407-7062
aim: rljohnsonnyc
Tay Zonday Announces NYC Debut!
Brooklyn, New York, January 14th 2007

Tay Zonday announced today a club show at Brooklyn's Europa for January 20th 2008.
Tay Zonday took the internet by storm in 2007 with his haunting song Chocolate Rain. The home recorded video of the song got over 13 million plays on Youtube and attention from media worldwide. Artists as diverse as Tre' Cool of Blink 182, Dave Matthews and John Mayer have covered the surprise hit of the past summer. This is a very rare performance and only the second time Tay Zonda has hit the stage for the public.

Tay Zonday will be joined by Philly dance sensations GANG,
Europa is located at 94 Meserole Ave Brooklyn, NY 11222. Tickets are $10 and on sale now at
http://ticketweb.com/
ABOUT Scenic - Scenic is a Brooklyn, NY based P.R. and events firm
###

See you there!

High School Debate

Those of you who know me somewhat well know that I was on the debate team in high school. Those of you who know me really well know that I was not good at debate AT ALL. I joined debate in the first place because going into high school I was crazy shy and had absurd stage-fright. I figured debate would help alleviate that, and maybe make me a better public speaker. That said, I went in feeling pretty confident about being able to do well. After all, I like discussing things and considering different viewpoints on various topics.

But it turns out that's not what debate is at all. It's the formality that kills it, it's the competitive nature of the debates that I think are its ultimate downfall. It's just so rigid. You have to, HAVE TO, go into every discussion knowing that you might not be right. At least, that's a rule I have about discussing things with people. That way you don't get caught saying something ridiculous and stupid because you aligned yourself with a specific viewpoint.

And that's not to say that it's best not to have opinions, certainly have opinions! It's a detriment to our human ability to have perspective if you DON'T have any opinions. I think the key, though, is to keep your perspective transitive. By that I mean that it's important to listen and understand where other people are coming from before you dig yourself into a big hole by asserting something you don't really understand. To that end, if you do assert something you really understand, isn't it fun to talk about why you're right with people who don't agree with you? That's debate, that's interesting, and that's productive.

In debate, at least high school debate, you're given a topic and a side to that topic you have to argue. An example is, "Is a parent's right to know greater than a child's right to privacy." And certainly this has value. It makes you go outside of what you would normally agree with and forces you to see differing perspectives. This exercise also develops basic argument skills. By being obliged to argue something you don't necessarily believe you have to look for basic holes in your opponents logic and attack them. It's like doing algebra: there aren't specific numbers, but universal symbols that you must apply basic laws to.

So high school debate certainly has it's good qualities. That said, it's got an obvious slant towards law study. When else in life are you ever, EVER going to argue for something with which you don't agree? But it gets so formal, high school debate (competitive debate in general). It's like a kick-boxer being told he can't use his feet. You say your piece, you get asked questions, opponent says their piece, you ask questions, rebuttal, opponent rebuttal, your last rebuttal, the end. Ugh. Just let me talk in real-time, maybe we'll get something out there we never expected. Maybe instead of looking up what old dead White guys said about the topic, we'll draw our own conclusions about things. Incidentally, competitive debate often becomes an argument over the value of what a source said and who said it more than an argument about the topic, which makes the whole rigid structure of it needlessly time-consuming and stilting at times (thankfully not all the time).

But what can I say? At times, high school debate was torture: waking up early on Saturday mornings and spending your entire weekend in a high school cafeteria. You'd be hungry, and tired, and if you lost a round probably a little pissed off. It was its own little clicky microcosm and had its own cast of characters that were always fluttering around. Some people found their stride, others cracked under the pressure of it all and quit, and some people (like me) stayed grudgingly in the middle. When I think about it, I wonder why I wasn't better at it, really. Then I realize that competitive debate, to me, just wasn't all that fun. It wasn't exciting, and it wasn't conducive to how I communicate with people, and I didn't like being judged on opinions that weren't my own.

That said, ALL that said, I'm a better public speaker now, and I no longer worry about being in front of people. In college when people were agonizing over presentations they had to give I was never really phased. And that's not meant to sound arrogant, it was just something I got used to--like playing piano, or gymnastics (which are just examples, I do neither of those things). So to that end, I guess there's something to be said for toughing out situations that seem long and painful. I didn't realize at the time all the good I was doing for myself, I just saw the sleeplessness, the defeat, and the hunger pains. But now, now that I'm in my early twenties and far removed from the experience, I think I get it.

Thanks, Mr. Lang.

U Snuz U Luz

This clock is both hilarious AND the solution to all my sleeping in late problems!

New Bannerrrr

Note! A new banner up top, compliments of one, Walton Jebadiah Keys.

Thanks Walt, that new banner is so banana muffins.

Hoodies

I only feel comfortable, I mean completely comfortable, wearing hooded sweatshirts. Seriously, they're the perfect article of clothing. If you're too hot, scrunch up the sleeves. Too cold? Put up the hood. Oh, just your hands are cold? Just put those in the little pouch up front! They're perfect, and I only want to wear hoodies all the time now.

Except when it's hot out, like during summer. Then I'm only interested in wearing tube-tops.

Celebrity Ethics Dilemmas

OK, here's the skinny, media outlets: "it's not really a big deal." Apparently it's a big controversy that The Sneaky Chef and Deceptively Delicious are really similar, supposedly to a plagiaristic extent. Furthermore, the author of The Sneaky Chef likes to tell people that her book was passed over by HarperCollins because she wasn't as marketable as Jessica Seinfeld. And we're supposed to be all up in arms, and think that that's not right because Jessica Seinfeld shouldn't get referential treatment for being a (sort of) celebrity. But that's just it, she should get referential treatment because she's a celebrity.

Seinfeld will sell more books than someone no one has ever heard of, it's just that simple. If the publisher is going to take all the risk in publishing a book, then doesn't it make sense that they hedge their bets with a more likely winner? It's like saying the police force should accept candidates who can't do a push-up, or can't run a mile. That's just foolish because no one wins in that situation except that out-of-shape person who always wanted to be a cop. The streets aren't safer, it's a waste of tax-payer money, and it makes all the other cops' jobs more difficult because they have to cover 'fatty cop's" a$$ all the time. Which brings me back to the point of hedging your bets. If a book can sell a few thousand (or in this case, hundred thousand) more copies, that improves the bottom-line and demands less from the other season's titles. It's just smart business to go with the celebrity over the "nobody," and anyone who says different doesn't know what they're talking about.

About the plagiarism, if someone says a universal truth, like "the sky is blue" do they own that truth? Can no one else say that fact now because someone claimed it as their own original idea? Fact: Kids hate vegetables, Fact 2: Parents lie to their children to get them to do things that are good for them, Fact 3: Parents have been covering cauliflower in cheese since long before The Sneaky Chef or Jessica Seinfeld came along. These authors just consolidated the ideas in books and claimed them as their own. I have a manuscript in my office right now (seriously, I'm looking at it right now as I type this) titled __________ , about getting children to eat "real" food that's good for them, as opposed to processed foods that are bad for them. Oh no! Someone better call Jessica Seinfeld, someone wants to feed kids food that doesn't make them fat--and without her express permission no less!

All meandering aside, there you have it, why it was a completely reasonable decision for HarperCollins to publish Jessica Seinfeld's book over The Sneaky Chef book, fiscally it just made a hell of a lot more sense. Now, moving on to Katie Holmes in the New York Marathon...

The good people at US Weekly are now snooping around to see if Katie Holmes' entry into the New York Marathon was the result of "string-pulling" at the Marathon committee. They want to know if Holmes was able to enter the race without having to either: 1) qualify by running in other marathons around the country, or 2) waiting for her number in the marathon lottery. They're (US Weekly) is saying the NYC Marathon is keeping records from them, and covering up how Holmes' got into the race, and that in a very Watergate-y sort of way, they're being dodged every time they get on the trail of what really happened.

First, get a F-ing life, US Weekly. All your writers went to Yale to write about Tom Cruise's wife?

Second, I hope she was let into the race "unfairly." If it wasn't for Katie Holmes I probably wouldn't have even remembered that the New York Marathon was happening. Honestly, the chairperson of the NYC Marathon committee could come out tomorrow and say that Holmes just showed up on race-day and that they just gave her a number and said "good luck," and I wouldn't care. You have to use what you have to get what you need. Celebrity is a fully renewable resource that's value lies in scarcity. If someone gave you a 15 lb. gold bar tomorrow, would you spend it? Hell yeah you would! If you were promoting the world's largest foot-race and someone gave you a bunch of free advertising would you use it? Hell yeah you would! Is it unfair to the other racers though?

Yes and no. It is because ONE of them didn't get to race because Katie Holmes got their spot. BUT, ultimately, the extra publicity, sponsorship, and new excitement over a race that celebrities occasionally run will improve the race conditions for all future racers. The event will run smoother because they have more money to hire more people and additionally (and this is important) they'll be able to handle more racers with the extra money and more streamlined org structure, which will allow more racers in future years! So that one man or woman who missed out this year essentially paved the way for 100-200 more next year.

That's my piece on the matter. I think celebrity gossip has gotten so boring lately that gossip mags and the media are trying to scrounge up "interesting" stories by neglecting critical details and logic, and reporting on incomplete stories that are skewed towards the negative. There are arguments for and against both of the things I just discussed, but really, it's a disservice to everyone not to take these arguments just that little bit farther, and try to understand where the people making these "scandalous" decisions are coming from.

Midtown is NOT a Sandals All-Inclusive Resort

Today Midtown smelled sweet. There were hints of Pina Colada in the air...

I think people are taking this whole "unseasonably warm" thing too far.

Burp Castle

This was a while, but I couldn't go on without mentioning our foray to the East Village's, Burp Castle. You'd think from the name that Burp Castle was a place where transients and truckers shared stories about the open road and "bangin' chicks," but in fact, it's an upscale establishment that's dedicated to 6-inch voices.

Walt, Michael, and I met in the breezeway after work to head over to "The Castle." None of us had been there before, but we had it on good authority that it was fun times. "Good authority" means Casey, Aislinn, and Julianne--which is as good as authority gets. They told us that they went there before and that while fun, they were given many awkward glances because their voices raised above library voice levels.

Editorial Note: A "breezeway" is where the cultural elite meet for nights on the town. If you need further definition you are obviously philistine, and there is no hope for you.

We took the E train down to the East Village and followed our hopstop directions to what we thought was to the letter. That said, we wound up walking right past Burp Castle. We did, however, encounter a gitchy toy shop in the middle of St. Marks. While we stood on the corner and wondered why Burp Castle wasn't where it was supposed to be, a scraggly-looking fellow approached us. He was holding a bent bicycle wheel that had a bike chain dangling from it. The guy fed us a story about how he had to get home, but his bike had been stolen.

Editorial Note: If it's not abundantly clear at this point, the bicycle wheel did not belong to the man. In fact, the bicycle wheel had about 3 months of rust on it, and was in all likelihood, nicked unlawfully by the man who approached us.

We got on the phone with Casey and she told us to look for a big white picket fence. Uh... nope. "Oh my God, you guys! The big white picket fence." Oh! I think we probably all saw it at the same time. We walked in and met Casey, Aislinn, and Julianne. They already had extremely strong Belgian beers, and I was jealous. I'll get back to that in a second.

There were these massive mural on the walls, impossible to ignore scenes of people sacrificing life and limb in order to save barrels of beer. There was one of a bunch of monks, getting drunk, being circled by sharks! One monk was narrowly escaping being devoured by a shark but was in lucky to be pulled away from the water by a diligent cabin boy. I sound drunk. I sound like I'm make this up. Suck on this evidential proof, bitches:


Walt, Michael, and I got what we thought were normal microbrews and sat down at a table in the corner. Julianne had an absurdly huge bag of chocolate because it was the holiday season and I'm pretty sure the publishing industry single-handily puts the chocolate industry in silk robes and college tuition each year. With one sip I could tell my seasonal beer was 14% alcohol. Seriously, it was almost undrinkable. I just wish highly alcoholic drinks weren't made so crazy, malt liquor-y sweet. Honestly, just make them taste like booze, then at least I'll feel like I'm getting something done.

We talked about pirates, and gardening, and other stuff. A few times we were shh-ed by the bartender, a woman named Rachel Hyman. She has a website that you can visit here. Though I make it sound like the contrary, she was actually really really nice. They just have weird stringent rules about talking over a certain level at Burp Castle.


Three beers later, I realized this wasn't my usual Bud Light, and decided I better slow-down or I'd be cruisin' for a wicked hangover on a Wednesday. Since moving to New York I've enough Wednesday hangovers for my taste, and now only reserve them for special occasions... or Thursdays. The bartenders mixed up the days and accidentally brought out the free expensive cheese. Let me explain. Every other Tuesday they have "Crazy Fancy Cheese Night," or something like that. They get out these exotic wheels of cheese and one of the bartenders stands at the end of the bar and cuts little wedges for the quiet, drunk patrons who in turn for free cheese, act like they appreciate it on a level other than drunk munchiness.


I really don't remember much else about the night. Generally I liked the place, but I have some withstanding reservations about people telling me how loud I can talk. Like a lot of people, I get louder and more animated when I'm drunk, so far be it for an establishment to give me booze and expect me to stay quiet. What is this, Mother Russia?

Ashley Tisdale/Thermals Mash-Up

Ok, here's a fun way to spend about 3 minutes and 9 seconds. Go to YouTube and look up the official video for Ashley Tisdale's "He Said, She Said" single. Then go to your iTunes and pick a song that is about 3 minutes and 9 seconds long*. Turn the sound off the video and turn the song up. I went with "Pillar of Salt" by The Thermals.

*This is not nearly as funny if you choose to play Ashley Tisdale's "He Said, She Said" over the Ashley Tisdale "He Said, She Said" video.

To replay my mash-up, just start the top video and turn off the volume. Then, quickly, press play on the bottom video!

Ashley Tisdale - "He Said, She Said"





The Thermals - "Pillar of Salt"

Socks

All of my socks are in a terrible state of disrepair. I should go buy some new ones.

11th Street Bar

A couple Fridays ago Walt, Amy, and I went to 11th Street Bar in the upper part of the Lower East Side/East Village area. I found the place on Yelp.com and along with good customer reviews I also read a hilarious anecdote about a girl who was almost tricked into using the Men's Room.

Editorial Note: The anecdote was, in fact, not hilarious at all. I'm using an ancient writing device that the Romans called "sarcasm."

While waiting for the E train, Amy showed us her new shoe organizer. She was very excited, and so were we.


We got off the train and immediately wondered where the hell we had been dropped off. The area just above the East Village looks like an mill town in New Jersey from the 50s. Honestly, the place was so unfamiliar I thought I'd be accompanied at any moment by a troupe of singing dwarfs who love sweets.

Editorial Note: I'm really pleased with that "Wizard of Oz" reference. If you didn't get, that's OK, I'm sure I'll make another one in the future.

There was this old factory in the distance that looked as though it hadn't yet been made into luxury condominiums, which immediately disconcerted me. Un-utilized commercial space in newly sheik residential areas always rubs me the wrong way.

What was really strange about the place was that it looked like a 'bad neighborhood' but there were all these really great, hip little bars and restaurants all over the place. I guess they're a result of the neighborhood's proximity to the East Village. I think we were technically in Alphabet City, or just South of it. At any moment we thought we might get mugged, but it would be alright because we would catch up with the muggers late at some place named after a verb with a giant screen-printed scene from "The Love Boat" over the Bar later.

Editorial Note: I know, there aren't usually so many asides--get off my tip. Second, I just made up the whole "bar named after a verb with a screen-printed scene from "The Love Boat" thing. It only exists in my dreams... for now.

When we got to the bar I was surprised to find it was an Irish pub. I was surprised because nothing I read mentioned anything about it being an Irish pub. No matter, Irish pubs are banana muffins, and people are usually really friendly there. We sat down and ordered beerz.


Shortly after we sat down, the bartender--who had this habit of listening to what you were saying but completely failing to acknowledge you--told us there were free wings at the end of the bar. This was especially awesome for me because the only things I'd consumed all day were a few Godiva chocolates--holdovers from the absurd amount of Christmas candy our office got--and a bottle of vitamin water (I don't remember which flavor, so don't ask... it was probably the orange one). I immediately loaded up a plate and ordered another beer.

This isn't a very good picture, but I needed photographic evidence of free wings.


Typically when I go to bars with large beer selections I order the one with the funniest sounding name. I did not, however, order the Dinkel Ackle Dunker, because that's surprisingly common. I got something named after a type of dog that was good enough, but not terribly memorable. It did, however, get me wasted. Half-way down my third beer I cursed the wings for not being more absorbent.


Amy noticed a bottle of rum from the Dominican Republic behind the bar. She ordered a Diet Coke and Rum and inexplicably got sillier. Neither Walt nor I can drink rum anymore, for our own individual reasons, so we didn't try the drink. That said, I was going to break my normal avoidance of rum because this was "special Dominican Republic run," but I also don't drink diet soda, so I was basically completely barred from Amy's drink. In retrospect, I wonder if she did that on purpose...

Rum from the DR:


Ok, we've all got a healthy buzz, time to go meet Brent at Doc Holiday's--where soberness goes to die. On the way there, we passed "Angels and Kings," which is owned by Pete Weintz of "Fall Out Boy." I'm not a huge Pete Weintz fan or anything, in fact, I kind of love how much sites like Gawker make fun of him and his guy-liner, but for some reason I vehemently wanted to go in. The place looked really lame though. All the metal shutters were down and it looked like no one was inside. It was also oddly bright, not just the lights, but the walls. You'd be surprised what bars look like when the lighting is good. The walls of Beauty Bar, incidentally, are bright bright neon green, but you'd never know because the lights are always so low. Little knowledge for your mind.

After not going to "Angels and Kings" we arrived at Doc Holiday's. Amy went to get a taco, and we sat down with Brent and a bucket of Rolling Rocks. We were under the impression it was still Happy Hour, which meant we'd get 2 buckets for the price of 1, but when I got to the bar the bartender said, "it's too bad it's not Happy Hour anymore," then you'd get 2 for the price of 1." Shit. I didn't want to bring it up, you don't argue semantics with the bartenders at Doc Holiday's. Come to think of it, you should really try not to argue semantics with anyone at Doc Holiday's.


The Rolling Rocks in the bucket were the kinds of beers that are made specifically for buckets of beer, which means they were tiny. For some reason I didn't take a picture, but if you want to put on your imagination cap, think of a normal-size beer and make it about 3 inches shorter. Viola.

But it didn't seem to matter how big the beers were... because we got trashed. Just because the buckets weren't 2 for 1 didn't mean that they stopped serving PBR. The table was a wasteland of cheap beer and no longer topical graffiti about things like: Reaganomics and POGs. They ran out of cold PBR, so we switched to Miller Lite.


Once Walt's hood went up, he told us all about the "Walt Tang Clan," and it's founding principles.


Editorial Note: The Walt Tang Clan, while originating in Malaysian during the Thai-Malaysian War of Words, was first brought to the United States via Ohio State University in the Summer of 2003 by Walt Keys and his merry band of Juggalos. After abandoning the Insane Clown Posse in hopes of finding a better life for their children, and their children's children, Walt fell upon an ancient scroll that detailed the doctrines of the "Walt Tang Monks." He passed along these teaching to his breathren, and thus the "Walt Tang Clan" was formed. The fact that Walt's name is "Walt" and that he is the founding American father of the Walt Tang Clan is purely coincidental.

Then Brent mentioned that he had some friends who were having a house-party at their apartment a couple blocks away. What? Brent, who the hell are these friends of yours who randomly have an apartment right in the middle of the East Village? Whatever. So we went.

Inside there was a beer pong table set up, along with a giant TV, a tap of some kind of microbrew beer coming out of a refrigerator, and these two weird girls sitting on the couch.

Hi weird, giggly girls!


Neither Walt, nor Amy, nor I knew anyone there, and I was starting to wonder if Brent actually knew anyone there. Then I realized these guys must be investment bankers, in order to be this young and have a place in the East Village. This made me very uncomfortable. There's something about investment bankers I don't trust. I can't really pin-point it, but I'll tell you this, I always watch my drink around them.


They seemed like nice enough guys though, and they ordered pizza for all the strangers in their apartment, which put them on the "Nice List." They also has these two interesting signs next to the front door that totally intrigued my drunk ass. One, I know, was about sports betting, which I don't really care about but admire nonethesame. The other looked like a guest roster, but everyone on it got the designation "Brother," and it was labeled "HOTEL DELTS." Now that I think about it, "DELTS" might be the street name or something, or maybe the building name. For a second I thought it was something really clever and bizarre. Maybe it is. Maybe "DELTS" means "crotchless panties" in Ukrainian, or something.

We took some random pictures of ourselves in there apartment too:



We walked to the subway and Brent was fascinated by a building under construction. Once my attention was called to it, I was equally fascinated--but frustrated because Brent is, like, 3 feet taller than me and could see everything better. We both tried to take some pictures, but this was the best one we could get.


Then we rode the subway for a while and had a tired photo shoot. We were all tired for about twenty minutes. Apparently, when you're as wasted as we were, a few minutes of fake sleep is like several hours of real sleep. Soon enough, Brent was trying to do the "Superman" on a subway pole, Amy was eating an apple she found under one of the seats, and I was making out with a homeless guy named "Brickhouse."

Editorial Note: 2 of those things aren't true.




Back at the apartment, Brent fell asleep on our temporarily, woefully uncomfortable couch. I woke up the next day with a moderate hangover, and cursed the chicken wings again--for not being absorbent enough.

New York Magazine Cover

Will someone please read this and tell me if I'm reading it right? Is New York Magazine asking if the city would be better off if the murder rate went to zero?

Personally, I could have done without the stabbing next door.

Leaves And Silly Bikes

I ffffound this today and really liked it. I didn't even especially like Paris, but there's just something about this picture that I like. It looks much better in actual 1092 X 728.

Make Me A Supermodel: Meet the Models

BravoTV's latest entry into the reality TV milieu, "Make Me A Supermodel," premiered last night (unofficially) with a special titled "Meet the Models" where the audience is introduced to the 16 aspiring supermodels who will compete on the show. After about 30 seconds of watching the show you can tell the pitch meeting went something like this:

Television producer walks into a room full of executives and says, "Hey, you know how 'America's Next Top Model' is really popular? And you know how 'American Idol' is really popular? Let's combine the two!" The television executives looks around at each other and say, almost in unison and with unprecedented joy and exuberance, "Of course!"

But here's the thing about the American Idol format when related to a modeling competition: they included the try-out part where they make fun of the people who are obviously not right for the competition. If you're not following me up to this point, I'll just say it, they spend a good amount of time making fun of people for being ugly and not realizing it. It's like a nightmare middle-school flashback where Nikki Taylor and Tyson Beckford make fun of awkward, unattractive people who are deluded enough to think they too can be models. Luckily they do the mockery with overlaid narration, and not with a panel of three judges at a table, like "Idol."

Editorial Note: If you're unfamiliar with Tyson Beckford he is best known for his role in Zoolander as Derek's "walk-off" couch.

The second part of the show was a mini-competition with 36 finalists. We got a brief introduction to some, and longer looks at other who we knew would be on the show for the rest of the season. This included the application video from Frankie. Frankie, who we learn from the video, is a hyper-active guy with an endless surplus of interests including: wake boarding, playing guitar, and having a really angular face. He's also very proud of his abs, which are "rock hard," we know this because he tell us so in his application video whilst lifting up his shirt. Thanks, Frankie, you also simultaneously illustrated how you're a douchebag.

As you can see from the Make Me A Supermodel website, which for some reason is impossible to find from the BravoTV homepage, Frankie--for all his virtues--still lives with his parents. You know who else still lived with his parents? The Entertainer on "I Love New York 2," and we all know how that worked out...

We also got to meet a prison guard/aspiring model named Ben. In his application video he says, in uniform, "you know, sometimes you have to put your dreams on hold for a while and survive." Hey, that's great advice, really I'm not being sarcastic. But how many prison guards out there do you really imagining daydreaming about working it on a catwalk in Milan? What kind of weird mash-up is this? They're, like, mutually exclusive personality traits. That's like Mike Tyson aspiring to be a speech therapist to disadvantaged youth. I wonder if later in the show he'll draw some kind of comparison with modeling and being a prison guard like, "you gotta' block everything out. You can't think about who's hollerin' at ya', whether it's angry cons with shivs or excited photogs, you just gotta' keep on walkin' with yer head high... and strut."

There was one guy who got kicked off in the second part of "Meet the Models" who I didn't understand the presence of. I mean, I don't know who looked at this guy and thought and thought "Now this guy, this guy is a model." Amy had a good point, a lot of models look really different in person, and sometimes they're pretty unattractive. But this guy had specifically un-model-like features, like, things that would keep him from getting dates let alone getting fashion work. Damn, I thought I could find a picture, but I can't. Basically he had giant ears, no chin, and really huge lips--like consume his face big.

And then there was Ronnie. Another Abercrombie model, really? I don't need another one, I'm pretty tired of the ones we've got already, thanks. With his bleach blond dye-job and orange spray-on tan, no one thought that Ronnie's fakeness would let him pass to the final round, but low and behold, the judges saw something in him, some kind of fire, some sort of supermodel quality beneath all that slightly "off" chemical enhancement. Truth be told, he did have a nice smile and a classic "boyfriend cute" look, but I still couldn't handle his average, AF-ness. He does look a lot better on the BravoTV page though.

Later in the episode, we learn he's gay, which for some reason made me like him a little bit more. I don't know, maybe it's because I don't think he's out there stealing available women from normal guys like me with his cheesiness. I don't want to have to be cheezy to get dates, I want to rely on the old stand-bys like driving a flashy car and starting rumors about having a giant penis.

There were some other contestants like the really pretty starving artists guy, Casey; or the woman who looks like she was born to play an art gallery owner in every movie EVER, Holly; but this post would just get absurdly long if I kept going.

Generally speaking, the show made me a worse person after it was over. I spent an hour exhaustively picking out every contestants flaws to the point of near insanity. I even found something I hate about Tyson Beckford's face (look at his upper lip sometime, like really take a good look--it'll blow your mind). More over, Nikki Taylor was hardly in the show. I watched the damn thing because she looks so hot on the poster, but her only camera exposure was in the way of unflattering close-ups that made her look old and puffy.

That said, I'm going to keep watching. If I can say one good thing about "Make Me A Supermodel" it's that they have the story-telling narrative about the contestants down. As much as I love hating on shallow models (and there's plenty of model-y shallowness in this show to hate) the producers manage to occasionally weave an interesting story around some of the contestants, which anyone will tell you is the key to endearing an audience to your show. That, and like I told Julianne, I just really love watching good-looking people.

Editorial Note: If I ever mysteriously disappear for a week don't be surprised if you find me dead of starvation, sitting in front of a mirror.

So yeah, "Make Me A Supermodel" is on Thursdays at 10:00pm MT/9:00 CT, and I recommend it for a bunch of reasons I can't exactly pinpoint. Or don't watch it, I don't really care, it's not like I'm getting paid for this.