Televison, or my undeclared love for Anthony Bourdain

I do not own a televsion.

When I tell this to people, there is ALWAYS a response of approval. I get high fives and head nods and "way to go!" 's and "good for you!"'s, pats on the back and various other methods of allowing another human being know that you like what he/she is doing.

No one ever asks, presumably because they really don't care, but I continue this little interchange with a list of things that I do instead:

I read
I listen to talk radio
Laundry-okay, this one is a joke
I play my records and cds
I cook (consistantly failing at baking)
I organize my shoes (if you know me at all, you know what a task this is, in my five years of living in Columbia I have amassed a wonderfully decadent collection of shoes)
I check (in no particular order)
-facebook
-slate
-the huffington post (that's a new one)
-wwtdd.com
-the sartorialist's blog
-the daily digress
-gmail
-craig's list (free stuff, bikes, furniture, and the missed connections and personals...trust me, they're a hoot)
-sometimes the guardian uk if I'm feeling particularly uninformed

All of these things happen in my quaint little duplex in Olympia.

Technically, my attempt at television-less productivity is a BIG FAT LIE.
See, I can't afford a televsion. Nor can I afford the cable plan that I would need to go along with it. Actually, I can afford a small, cheap televsion with basic access cable, but that's out of the question because I would need a egregious, hi def flat screen with one million channels. I heart tv.

If I weren't a girl just out of college almost going to grad school this whole no-televsion thing wouldn't be a question.
I would devote a considerable amount of time obtaining that device and then another chunk of considerable time watching it.

But I am so I just make up for the rest of the year at Thanksgiving time in my Mother's guest bedroom watching No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain. I'm not going to tell you about this show because I don't feel like it, but I will say: It is almost perfect. I want to BE Anthony Bourdain. Then I want to marry him and have his babies and spend every waking moment looking at him and admiring his AMAZINGNESS.
Then I switch the channel back to the "What Not to Wear" Marathon and ponder yet again, "why do they thing that 5,000 dollars is enough to revamp a wardrobe?" Because it's not. I could take that money and spend every cent only on shoes and in half and hour.
Then I switch to the guide and ponder whether or not Paris Hilton's best friend search is trashy and entertaining enough for me to focus on but I pick "Dangerous Hippies" instead only to discover that it's ACTUALLY "Dangerous Hippos" and I would have noticed that if I had been wearing my glasses.

I've been doing this ALL DAY. But don't worry, I am not a pathetic triptophan-induced slug. I have inherited, from my Mother, the facinating ability to read and watch tv at the same time. I didn't even realize that I could do it until a couple of summers ago when I was Au Pair-ing in Auburn and I was made aware that I could pay attention to Hannah Montana AND read some Micheal Chabon novel at the same time. All the while making sure these children didn't walk off a cliff or stick their head into an oven. Does anyone need a babysitter?

So yeah, I've been reading too. The new cookbooks my Mother bought me. "Eat Me", and "Larousse Gastronomique". Because she knows what I'll be doing when I get home.

Happy Thanksgiving!

chunder

There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who utilize vomiting for the greater good of their bodies, and those who are so repulsed by the act that they avoid regurgitation even at their own personal discomfort.

To the latter, suck it up. (ha, ha, get the pun?) I'm a member of the first category (thanks, Mama!) and, truthfully, my chunder knows no bounds. Here's a list of places I have thrown up. Don't ask me why I thought to write about this. I'm twisted, I know........

-the Blimpies on Colonial Life Blvd.
-The College of Preachers, Washington National Cathedral in DC
-in an airplane on the way to Salzburg
-in the basement bathrooms of the hostel in Gimmelwald, Switzerland
-Manifest Discs and Tapes
-in the garden of a particularly quaint stone B&B in the north of England, somewhere around the lake district
-Wade Hampton Dormitory Bathrooms, 1st floor
-2437 Monroe Street
-1817 York Drive
-329 Piccadilly Street
-a restaurant bathroom somewhere in Bejing
-the entrance to the Carolina Colonial Cup horseracing grounds
-University of South Carolina School of Music
-on the train platform in Venice, Italy (disturbingly near some Asian schoolgirls, I might add)
-a swanky NYC apartment overlooking Washington Square in the Village

Chapter Two

I lost my findings. I think they're in a purse somewhere. Regardless, I think the outcome was more in favor of Steven Jacob Klipowitcz. Yes. I know I accidentally typed SPJ, perhaps I had Sarah Jessica Parker on the brain. Get over it.

ANYWAY.....Here's another attempt at the blogs.

I used to do it all the time. Now I only get the inkling to do it when I read other people's blogs. Mostly my friend Kate's. I have blog envy.

I wish I hadn't deleted all of the old myspace blogs. There was some good stuff in there.

I'm subbing right now for a friend of mine who works as an administrator for a music department. So I have a computer in front of me constantly. Therein lies the orgins of the blog envy.

Hopefully this won't be a sporatic thing.

The Dark Knight Movie Debacle

Chapter One

Herein lies the most interesting social phenomenon I've encountered to date.

Okay, so I may have tossed that with a dash of hyperbole, but it's only for point's sake.
However...

I have never, in my entire life, come upon something (I initially thought to be so obvious and clean cut) that has presented itself to be, in all actuality, so divided.

First, let me recount the story..........

Several weeks ago I procured three tickets to view a midnight showing of the very highly anticipated new Batman movie, The Dark Knight. You may have heard of it. I was terribly excited, I enjoyed immensely the first Christian Bale-y Batman movie and was just plain stoked about the second. Being someone who does not watch a lot of movies, this whole shebang was quite the occasion.

The three movie attendees scheduled for attendance were my friends Greg and Elizabeth, and of course, myself. Both folks of high culture and awesome-friend status, I knew that the company involved would only enhance my Batman-watching. Needless to say, the whole ordeal was simply gaining in anticipation and titillation.

In an unhappy turn of events, the evening of the movie, Elizabeth caught a bout of the not-feeling-wells, and could not fulfill her ticket holding status.

Because I am a lady of grace and good fortune, I am lucky enough to have more than two friends, and I called upon my very near and dear, Bianca, to fill Elizabeth's spot. If you're adept enough to have read my past blogs, you'll know Bianca and her immediate history-for those of you who don't, in a short bit, Bianca is my movie-appreciating, soprano-singing, Canadian friend.
Being her movie-appreciating self, and also being otherwise unoccupied that Friday night, Bianca expressed genuine interest in our movie-going excursion.

Bianca is currently in a relationship with one, SJP*. SJP, at the time of THE DARK KNIGHT MOVIE DEBACLE was vacationing on Folly with two of his three pollack brothers.

Now, it was my understanding that SJP and Bianca had at one time or another, made known an interest in seeing The Dark Knight together. But the advent of a opening-night ticket gave Bianca a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see this highly anticipated blockbuster with her friends Greg and Jessica.

Not only is she Canadian, but she's understanding, generous, and a damn good girlfriend, so immediately after movie invitation, Bianca called (or texted, my memory fails me for some reason) SJP to alert him of this happenstance.

Let it be known that Bianca wanted very much to see this movie with SJP, and ALSO wanted to see the movie twice, and ALSO knew the importance of not divulging any movie plot turns, twists, or surprises. Thereby, she made a pledge, upon her seeing the film that night, she would refrain from discussion with SJP until after his viewing, with her, when he got back from vacation, three days later.

...ahem...

needless to say, SJP did NOT approve. There was a fallout. He hearkened to past promises of them seeing the movie together, combined with a plethora of reasons that she should not go, one long phone call, and a swift consultation of his ever present, vacationing brothers. The other pollacks agreed, Bianca should wait to see the movie with SJP.

This, in turn, resulted in a swift consultation with ME, wherein, I announced that Bianca should see it twice, once with me, once with SJP. At that moment-THE DARK KNIGHT MOVIE DEBACLE had begun.

The issue in question:

Should Bianca wait to see the movie with SJP, OR continue forth, see the movie with the available party, not tell SJP the details of the movie, and gladly see the movie again when he got back to town?

My immediate response was one of disgust. ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME? I thought. COULD HE BE THIS STUPID? I PAID FOR THAT TICKET AND NOW IT'S GONE TO WASTE? The last one, actually, had more to do with my state of aghast-ness, rather than the six-fifty or so I dropped on one, lousy ticket. To be completely honest, at the moment, I found SJP to be a complete lunatic.

Despite my claims at lunacy, Bianca was conciliatory and decided not to go.
Then there were two.

Arriving at the midnight showing, etickets confirmation and excitement in hand, sans third party, I met Greg somewhere around the front of the movies, allllllll ready to go.

We got our seating-tickets and waited a bit for the theater persons to open the doors. In the meanwhile, I sat behind a table and pretended to sign people up for a movie club, while Greg went to go get us some over-priced movie snacks.

Oh-so-nicely returning with popcorn for himself and the ever-illustrious Diet Coke for me, I brought up THE DARK KNIGHT MOVIE DEBACLE, retelling, in all of it's splendor, the moments from the past afternoon.

not fifteen seconds into the retelling, Greggles stopped me and said....

"oh sure, Bianca should wait for Steve..."

I'm sure passers-by could hear the screeching halt, and noted the Shaggy and Scooby-esque turning of head........WWHHHAT?!............this was my instinctive response.

Now, Greg is a friend of mine, and while in jest, some have heard me question his credibility, his level of intelligence, hair color, nose size, Lebanese family history, ability to spell, choice of sock, dance moves, worthiness as a human, character in general.....you get the idea....

but in all truth, I actually respect his opinion. At least more so than I respect SJP's.
Because everyone knows that the Lebanese have more stock than the Poles.

So I was forced to delve deeper into THE DARK KNIGHT MOVIE DEBACLE. I made Greg explain himself. He cited reasons of some unknown cosmic force that draws two in a relationship to see an anticipated movie for the first time, and that this certain experience is tarnished upon two viewings.

Still, I was doubtful.

He went on to explain the culture of of movie-coupledom, and how this has the possibility to exist even longer than the actual affections of the couple, and how this is an institution in American Dating.

I called Bullshit.

But our debate was serious, unlike about 97% of our other family-friendly arguments, as is the nature of our friendship.

So I took my findings and went out into the field. I conducted research that I will soon post in the next chapter, because what I have found may certainly shake the foundation for movie-watchers everywhere.

or it may just bore the crap out of you.

but read, react, and recount to your friends....because the conclusion is soon to come!


*see previous blog

Steve

I have this friend named Steve. Steven Jacob Klipowicz, to be exact. Unless he has a baptism name, which I have not heard yet (because, let's face it, Steve is not privy to speaking in-depth about matters concerning Christianity).

For those who do not know Steve, the previous comment would appear to be snarky. I'm sure Steve will appriciate it's comedic value and timing.

I have known more than a handful of Stevens in my life, this one, is my most recent meeting.
Because I like lists, I'm going to make a list of the people I have hitherto known as "Steven"

My Step-Father
My little brother (his first name)
The guy who works behind the counter at Immac
Spanish Teacher
a one, Mr. Genco-a business student
a one, Mr. Gunter-a Baptist
a one, Mr. Price-a Presbyterian youth leader
a one, Mr. Hillard-a high school Choral director
FM
The football coach for the Gamecocks (I don't really know him, but as a USC student, I feel obligated to his inclusion)

annnd...Klipowicz.*

So SJK, for a living, designs trees. As far as I can tell, he designs them inside computers, for video games. This is my base understanding of the technology he uses, for all I really know, it could be small gnomes that do the work for him.

This, by far, is one of the most interesting jobs that any of my friends have. But to be honest, again, I have no clue what it entails, so it could very possibly be sludge-worthy and mundane.

It probably is safer to say that : This, by far, is one of the most interesting jobs that I tell other people that any of my friends have.

Being someone who works daily with computers outside of the realm of facebook and whatwouldtylerdurdendo.com, SJK is fairly adept with technology, and has a super fancy computer, a televison that swivels, three or four thousand different video-game playing machines, an iphone, and probably a robot that cleans his apartment for him when he's asleep.

He lives out in Broad River Trace, where Bianca and I bike rided (bike rode? boke rided? Rode our bikes!) yesterday to pool and tan. Then we rode back on the riverwalk. It was a glorious day. I digress.

Speaking of Bianca,
SJK is currently dating my very good and best friend in Columbia, Bianca Raso. See, I can say that now, because it's up on facebook. They make a good match-for other reasons than the fact that they both have an affinity to shop at American Apparel.

SJK is a pollack. For those offended by the word pollack, I will restate. SJK is Polish.
Upon getting to know SJK my "pool of pollacks I know" has increased probably about five hundred percent. Once I knew only two pollacks. SJK and this guy named Jan straight from Poland. Now I know five. Dave Pinski, Zach Klipowicz, and Ben Klipowicz are the new additions. Two of the new pollacks are SJK's brothers, the other is his good friend. Dave carries a cigarette holder and has a handle-bar mustache.

There is one more Klipowicz brother, but I personally do not believe in his exsistence. I think the brothers made him up to have a scapegoat. Approximately a year and half of internet Myspace stalking has produced nary a picture of this elusive "fourth brother".

SJK also has superb tastes in music. He drinks higher priced liqours than I do. His couch is brown. He likes musical comedy. He has a friend named Gabby. He used to be Susan's neighbor. He illustrates Jesus comics. Has a stack of playboys in his living room. Used to be in a band called the Kings of Mexico. Has at least an 11th grade vocabulary. Seems to always have a case of Tecate in his fridge. Is from Chigaco. Smokes Camel Lights.


These are most of the things I know/assume/have gathered sneakily from the approximately year-and-a-half we've known each other. Any further inquiries into his personality can be directed toward http://www.speedtree.com/, or on facebook-under Steven J Klipowicz.



*from here on out in the blog, this paricular Steven will be referred to as SJK

lists

Bianca and I went on a trip to St. Matthews-because we had never traversed there.
We then went to the beach, whereupon meeting the Klipowicz brothers, shared a lovely two-ish days.

.....

Because the old house still has a hole in the ceiling, and I have been steadily putting my things in precisely-marked liquor boxes I took from Morganelli's down the street, I have happened to come across a plethora of interesting trinkets from good times past.

One of the most interesting, bar none, has been a list of things (keep in mind, it's not actually these things, just a LIST of them) that I once found in a purse.....long, long ago.

Here's a good portion of the list:

37 cents in Euros
a bottle cap from a Mexican Coca-Cola
a train ticket from Gloucester to Paddington Station
chapstick
chopstick
three broken bobby pins
a phone number on a gum wrapper
a papa jazz stamping card
one small blue lighter
a sketching pencil
a pair of fake pearl earrings
a Zeta Tau Alpha keychain

Ka-pow

A tree fell in my house.

There was a big storm. On the fourth of July. It happened not on me, (because I was pooling, steaking, and new firefly vodka sweet-teaing at the time) but on my house. We have now, a new, several room-sized sky light. There is debris everywhere (okay, there WAS debris everywhere, my landlady's husband n' friends cleaned it up today). But nontheless, there is a DISASTEROUS amount of damage

And all I can do is chuckle.

None of my important (see-macbook/shoes/ridiculously comfy bed) stuff has been marred. But Matt and I are currently out of house and home. I'm not even sure what is to come of this.

By luck, chance, good karma, or divine intervention, I am house-sitting this week is a sick-nasty colonial in the swanky part of Shandon.

Seriously, though....wtf. I don't think I've been upset by it yet because I haven't really been home for more than a night at a time since I got back from das Chinaland.

dude.

recap

Only three posts deep and this blog, so far, has only been used as an insomnia-killer.  It is currently 7:31 a.m. and I have been up since four.  Mindlessly facebooking, tagging friends, commenting on pictures, untagging, retagging, editing, shifting, and being all-around useless in the online world.  Meh.

So now that my facebook universe has been updated, here's the skinny on the past few weeks:

I went to see an opera at Spoleto, spent some time with Susan, met everyone I knew downtown in Chas, dyed my hair blonde, my cat got skinny (because of the loss of hair in the heat), I went to China, did some outdoor labor, stepped in a hole on the roof, had some bean dip last night, had a severely tame night that ended at a strip club, HUNG OUT WITH KATE, hung out with Collin, Sam, and Liz too, HUNG OUT WITH RUTH, went to a slip n' slide party, worked a shift at the pub, hung out with Scott, designed a tshirt, ran out of money, became obsessed with HIMYM, ate a lot of dumplings, ended a lease, tanned some more, bought some cowboy boots, tried to save gas.

For some inexplicable reason I can't muster up the smart-aleckness to give any minute detail of any of these stories to make this blog entertaining.  Is my well of online self-indulgence drying up?  Surely this can't be so.  I'm not going to lie, I slightly miss myspace.

buzz

So since the first foray into blogspot blogging, I had sort of a small mental block.  Which is strange because usually, even if I'm otherwise silent, you'll be hard pressed to find me mum on having opinions.  

It must be because of my supreme relaxed state.  My semi-daily routine usually consists (in no particular order) of a tennis match, tanning, eating lunch, reading, and perhaps some admin work for Wyatt or picking up a shift at the pub.  It's been downright glorious.

I've been to the beach twice, I'll probably go this week as well.  I've seen iron man and have a dinner date with several of my boss's wife and her friends to see the sex and the city movie.  I've just been so darn WASPY I can barely handle myself.  I'm getting good riding in on my bike and good sun on my legs.  I'm just gosh darn golly damned having a good time. 

May has been super fantastico

But here's a small project I've started:

I've been asking all the people around me, those who I work with, friends of mine, my regular customers and family..what they wanted to be when they grew up.

So far my answers have been

married

museum curator/actress

doctor

a knight in shining armor

the Statue of Liberty

deep sea fisher

doctor

college professor/fashion designer

artist

ballet dancer

astronaut

candy shop owner

I wonder what it says about your subconcious when you pick that profession as a child.....my favorite two are the Statue of Liberty and the knight.  If this thing has the ability to post comments and anyone (god help them) feels the dire need to comment on this drivel, let me know what you wanted to be, I'm geniunely interested

infomercialmania

For an extended period of time I was a regular blogger on Myspace.  I deleted my account for various and sundry reasons but have terribly missed the outlet of the online journal.  I'm pretty sure it's narcissism thing.  So whomever you are, thanks for indulging my narcissism. 

....

A small bit of insomnia might account for this blogtastic adventure, so we'll see how long this lasts.

So I was started in my sleep and woke up, approximately fifty-three minutes ago, to some unknown force-but it's the late night programming that's keeping me from drifting back to sleep.

A glorious selction of knives and the kimora-panty-line-free-body-shaper are seeming more and more attractive as the infomercials drag on.  I understand why these things only show at night, because no one with any daylight conciousness would buy this crap.  However, in a lucid world, somewhere between toothbrushing and REM cycles, they have convinced me that my life is incomplete without a bread knife.  

If I had a bottomless checking account, my collection already useless things (see-antique tennis rackets, endless collection of shoes) would soon be including a kimora-panty-line-free-body-shaper and about two dozen kitchen knives.

I shake my fists at the monetary gods for denying me of this materialistic pleasure.