Posts Tagged Arts
Be sure to tune in to Clash Radio at 11:20 a.m. ET time tomorrow, I’m going to be talking about one of my latest articles! I believe you’ll be able to find the audio at this link on Friday. Keep your fingers crossed that I speak coherently and articulately. Better yet, here’s to hoping I’ll get future television and radio gigs.
I’ve always wanted to meet Bill O’Reilly, so maybe someday my colleague MaryKatharine Ham can make an introduction!
As my good friend Luke Money often reminds me, “Patience is a virtue, L. Diablo.” It’s also something I’ll always need more of!
I’ve been super busy writing news blurbs and reports at work, and among my favorite Daily Caller piece so far tackles the issue of the elimination of the ‘n’ word in an updated version of Huckleberry Finn. Go read the article, I had a blast writing and researching it.
When I’m not writing stories, I’m laughing at weird commercials and news oddities. I’ve been desperately trying to sift through the Youtube search engine for a particularly hilarious Capitol One Venture Card commercial, but I can’t seem to locate this amusing ad.
So, I instead giggle about the Usher song conspiracy theory, which claims that Usher Raymond ripped his tune “OMG” off Homer Simpson.
Listen for yourself and hypothesize. Personally, I don’t think Usher poached anything from the Simpsons, but who doesn’t love a peculiar conspiracy theory every now and then?
“Christmas in December, wow wow wow! Give me tons of presents, now now now!”
Still not buying it.
Oh, and you know my obsession with commercials? Here’s another ad that I always laugh at during work hours.
“Maybe we should move you over to Mamby Pamby Land, ya Jack Wagon!”
Here’s the ever amazing, weird, uncomfortable “Ladders” ad I’ve recently taken a liking to:
I’m not going to lie: I really want to read this book, and it’s not because I find Snooki entertaining. I actually don’t watch “The Jersey Shore,” or any television for that matter. Snooki’s remarks are just too goofy, off-the-wall, unusual, and insane to ignore. You couldn’t make any of this stuff up.
Because I have graduated college and no longer encounter weirdos on a daily basis, I could really use a good laugh these days, and I feel Snooki’s book will definitely fulfill that need.
If you don’t believe me, just take a look at some of her book excerpts:
“He had an okay body. Not fat at all. And naturally toned abs. She could pour a shot of tequila down his belly and slurp it out of his navel without getting splashed in the face.”
“Yum. Johnny Hulk tasted like fresh gorilla.”
“Any juicehead will get some nut shrinkage. And bacne. They fly into a ‘roid rage, it is a ‘road’ ‘roid rage.”
“Gia had never before been in jail. It wasn’t nearly as gritty and disgusting as she’d seen on TV prison shows. The Seaside Heights drunk tank — on a weekday afternoon — was as clean and quiet as a church.”
“Gia danced around a little, shaking her peaches for show. She shook it hard. Too hard. In the middle of a shimmy, her stomach cramped. A fart slipped out. A loud one. And stinky.”
She may as well be speaking Italian. Oh wait, hasn’t she blasted people before for not being Italian enough? Oh, Snooki. Never a dull moment with this girl. If I ever make it huge in the writing world, I’d gladly write a profile on her. I know The New York Times did so already, but I’m sure her personality will be different enough in a decade that a fresh profile piece would be warranted.
Snooki, if you’re out there, ping me. I have a feeling we’d click. You’d talk, I’d laugh incessantly. Maybe you can teach me a little something about tanning, being that I’m a redhead, a.k.a. paler than Edward Cullen. I won’t lie: I’ll never reach guidette status. After all, I’m an Irish Catholic without a drop of Italian blood in my system, but I’m sure you’d appreciate my company. So come my way and make me laugh.
Until we meet, I’ll just have to re-read these excerpts from your novel whenever I desperately need to giggle.
Don’t forget to read up on my double byline piece about the Comedy Central Party.
I’m not sure if sanity was successfully restored, especially considering the fact that a diabetic woman passed out in my metro train, which was already overcrowded, without air conditioning, and full of anxious people. New Yorkers everywhere were complaining about how much they hate D.C. and its transit system, and last night, someone was “struck by a train” at Metro Center, which, as you can imagine, is the center of the Washington Metro Area Transit Authority. How much do you want to bet that person was a tourist?
On my way to the rally, some girl creeped up behind me and whispered into my hair (yes, my hair, NOT my ear), “I don’t mean this offensively, but I’m surprised by the amount of old people at this rally. I figured it would all be people our age.”
Later on, I chatted with an older man who said, “This is the microcosm of America. Not a bunch of old fuddy-duddy tea baggers.”
A teenage Virginia girl also described Jon Stewart as “the most adorable old man ever” before going on to disparage tea partiers for being “dumb and closed-minded.”
Oh, and in the morning, children everywhere were crying and pouting because they were chilly and bored, but can you blame them? Their parents brought them out to a rally in freezing weather conditions (at least for the first part of the day), and most kids don’t have the attention span, patience, or intellect to appreciate such an experience.
All I can say is this: D.C. will be a much calmer city when all the imported rally attendees leave the premises.