I believe you have my stapler

There are only so many ways to spice up the benign décor of an office cube. I work for an office furniture dealer. Our business is making offices looks welcoming and trendy and colorful and yet still I stare at sand colored panels and granite colored desk tops all day. I want the people around me to know that I won’t settle for bland; I am not a bland person. I want color, I want humor, I want life. But even though my apartment is straight out of the clearance section of Urban Outfitters apartment dept, I have trouble reconstructing that cozy colorful chic in my corporate cave. While most of the women in the office have no trouble letting everyone know that their children and grand children are the apples of their eye as they use all available thumb tacks to plaster their cubes with baby pictures and wedding announcements and Anne Geddes calendars, I (HAPPILY) cannot use the same theme. So instead I’ve got a tasteful array of pictures. One of the fam, one of Zoey, one of the Ann St conquistadors, one of Doc and I at Lollapalooza (to show that no, I am not a directionless downtown spinster, yet I am still young and carefree and love music festivals more than a ring on my finger). But its just not enough. It still looks like any other employee cube trying to prove that they have a life outside of the office.

But since I am not going to spend $10 on a “Drab to Fab!” DIY office cube decorating book (Who IS buying this book? What office would let an employee decorate their cube in animal fur and bamboo?? I’m going to say probably not PETA) I still have to resort to pieces of me (and Ashlee Simpson) around my area. So I’ve taken to going to great lengths to find an appropriate yet thought provoking and eye catching background for my computer. No standard Windows XP “bliss” rolling green hills for me.

First was a painting made by a 4 year old "prodigy/fraud" named Marla Olmstead. It was only a matter of time before someone tried to exploit the simple, superficial view of abstract art. The idea behind the documentary was that these parents are trying to sell their 4 year old daughter's finger painting as masterpieces from the prodigy of Picasso. I am slightly torn with this argument. On one hand, I have always been a supporter of "everything is art" and anyone can create beauty in their own eyes and who are we to disagree? But this story seems to teeter on parents trying to cash in on the gray area of abstract art. Personally, I love exploring the Contemporary Art Museum, not for the art itself, but for what is behind the art, what the artist saw in it. And something tells me this cute little Marla was not thinking about starting a revolution or a new dimension of the mind with her paintbrush and cute little bob haircut. So even though I have to agree with the skeptics on this one, the art is still colorful and fun and has a cool and controversial story behind it so I used her as the splash of color and creativity my cube needed.

So now its time to mix things up for the next honored piece of art to be showcased in my 8x8 number-crunching platform. Erin showed me this awesome toolbar feature called Stumble Upon. Its a button that gets added to your toolbar that takes to you any thousands of random websites to explore. When you download it, it asks what your interested in and tunes into what you want to read about. I chose art and photography as one of my interests so when i click my little "stumble upon" button during a slow Friday afternoon at work, I usually find myself at photographers websites. I would spend too much of company time staring at photos of commonplace items brought to the forefront of your attention because of the colors and sharp focus of them. And the way photographers can make you want to land in middle of exquisite nature. So when I thought photography might be just the thing my computer needed, who better to look to for a shot than Annie Lebowitz, the legendary photographer in the inner circle of Vanity Fair, Rolling Stone, and Vogue. I love her work for the same reason I love abstract art. The stories behind them. Her book is story after story of photo shoots with celebrities all over the world. I love nothing more than to hear about how the Vanity Fair July cover project came to be and her Alice in Couture feature in Vogue and, of course, the infamous and sobering photo of J. Lennon and Yoko the day of his assassination. Chills.

So after clicking through hundreds of shots that she has done, I found one of Pete Seeger's banjo with a saying that stuck with me. "This machine surrounds hate and forces it to surrender." What more is there to say?

The Product of A Christmas Cookie Sugar Buzz

I have turned into a sweatpants-wearing, green-and-red-cookie-eating, The Santa Claus-watching, couch-potatoing, christmas-vacationing (with Chevy Chase), cheap-champagne-binge-drinking, ugly-sweater-party-attending, none-yogaing-or-running lazy SoB this month. And I blame every last chocolate truffle on the season of joy and snowflakes that stay on my nose and eye lashes. So once again I have all kinds of stuff that I see and want to write about but have no motivation to tear myself away from my two new lovers; DVR and Tila Tequila's Shot at Love.

1. Just because babies are the new Uggs and your name is Spears does not mean you can be 16, knocked up, and proud. You are not Katherine Heigl.

2. I realized that with finicky consumer desires media has to reach into their bag of tricks and treats to keep an overstimulated society interested. Webisodes, podcast exclusives, and Super-sized primetime dramas that’s running time are longer than a psych course lecture on ADHD (also amazing that most Americans don’t have the brain calm to sit through a 2 hour college lecture yet can plant themselves in front of the TV for 2 hours of McDoctors-are-never-that-hot-in-real-life-trust-me-I’ve-looked.) But I think MTV may have taken that cutting-edge-think-outside-the-TV-box EXCLUSIVE CANNOT MISS EVEN IF YOUR DOG HAS SHIT ON THE COATS a little too far. Last week I was mentally prepared for the finale of The Hills. Would the Spidi wedding fall in a disaster of immaturity and blonde hair? Would Brody and LC stop beating around the bush already? (If for no other reason than so I can stop throwing Famous Amos cookies at the TV) Would Lauren have a chance to go to Paris after her first pass on the visit to be with Jason? (Lowest point in me and LCs fictional relationship…) All the hype during the show and (totally unnecessary) red carpet preshow talked about some BIG announcement Lauren was going to announce during the (also unnecessary) post show. Excellent! She was finally going to admit to brainwashing America into big headbands and tights. So of course I had to tune in (addiction is a disease people, I know.) The big announcement? That this wasn’t REALLY the finale…………………………………All the hype, all the hair, all the glitter, all the leggings, all the viewers ($$$$$) and that was just another episode. There are no words. As excited as I am that I get to follow Lauren and Whitney to Paris and see Heidi come crawling back to Lauren for forgiveness post-Spencer breakup, I am peeved that MTV used us at our most vulnerable (no Hills for 6 months) to wrangle in a few million viewers for NOTHING. Crazy. Yet the business side of me can’t help but be totally impressed…

3. All I want for Christmas is an apartment hallway that doesnt smell like my grandmas house wallpapered in air fresheners.

4. Nothing can put me in the holiday spirit more than Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney singing "Count my blessings" God I just melted a little inside just watching that clip

5. Ok MABYBE white christmas is tied with a made-for-TV Christmas special from 1987 that my parents taped on Beta for me and I have watched every year since. The Muppet Family Christmas. Last year my dad found some guy that hasnt left his electronics store since it opened in 1970 that had a Beta-DVD converter. He burned this for me so I can continue watching it in my little apartment without having to haul the beta player all the way across the midwest just to discover that they no longer make the kind of cables needed to hook it up to anything besides a Zenith B&W 12" tube.

5. On the El last night I was sitting across from a Christmas pie of a little girl bundled up like Randy Parker (“I can't put my arms down!”). She was singing to herself. “Dradle, dradle, dradle, I made it out of clay, Dradle, dradle, dradle, and with it I will play!” Next moment she’s singing “Santa Claus is coming to town” Merry happy Christmas Holidays.

It means no worries, for the rest of your days!

Every person has that one school subject that they continue to have nightmares about. For some it is Math (obviously not me considering my career choices so far…), for others it is English (Sentence diagramming, anyone?), for me it is science. The only science class I could ever force myself not to doodle my way through was chemistry and that was only because it was mostly math-related chemical equations. So bare with me now as I attempt to write an educated essay on biology.

I’m working hard to open myself up to more educational entertainment outside the realm of Johnny Depps new movie and where I can get a cheap massage (New School for Massage). Since I moved into my new apartment and no longer have to live like a caveman without cable or Internet, I watch more Discovery channel (this is mostly due to Doc’s aggressive claim to the remote most nights to watch Survivorman) and check out the National Geographic’s website (amazing photography). In this month’s Vanity Fair (lots of awesome articles in December’s issue as you can tell by now) I decided to try reading an article about some bamboo plant that plagues an area of India every 50 years (“Waiting for the Plague” by Alex Shoumatoff). When after 15 min my attention had not yet been seduced by the glossy ads for Bottega Venetta and Prada, I knew I was going to have to share this event with you. So lets take a moment to acknowledge the fact that Jen actually has some substance to her beyond her desire to live in a high-rise loft downtown and becoming a close and personal friend of Ashley Olsen…….Thank you. Now back to the bamboo (PS – did you know Big Boi from Outkast named his kid Bamboo? Reason #12,634,757 Outkast is wicked cool)

So there is a region in India called Mizoram where their main material for sustaining their lifestyle is the bamboo that grows in droves in the area. Once ever 48-50 years the bamboo flowers and grows fruit, after the fruit is picked the bamboo dies and regrows over the next few years. But the people of the area are plagued by rats during the time that the bamboo flowers, as the rats feed on the fruit. The people call this plague “mautam”. This puts the people in a battle for food, and consequently life, with rats. It also spawns the population of the rats. This is because normally adult rats eat their young. Sounds traumatic but it’s for survival due to the lack of what it is rats usually eat in the area. This keeps the rat population low and under control. But when the bamboo flowers and produces the fruit, the rats no longer have to have a feast of babies, but of fruit. This leaves the people of Mizoram in a state of desperation, with the bamboo dead and the rats attacking the fruit, they have no food to survive the following years until the new bamboo grows again. The people of Mizoram are in constant contest with the rats. Even when the bamboo is dormant (not producing the fruit), they spend most of their time learning about rats and planning for the next war to rage. Adding to this amazing and unbelievable account of what really happens in the world outside the urban jungle, in the real jungle, is the fact that the area Mizoram is one of the most secluded and hardest to reach corners of the world. They are a group far from the domestication and westernization of most of the world. I’m not exaggerating when I say their lives are sustained on bamboo. The author lists tables, barrels, houses, toys, all created from bamboo. They use the edible part (unscientific and I don’t have the article in front of me right now. Deal with it.) for the main portion of their diets. I feel like there is hope that the modernization and destruction of the environment will not overwhelm the whole planet when I hear about places like this that still survive without all the hoo haa of developed countries and Tyra Banks. The article notes that this circle of destruction that the bamboo goes through is probably to be reborn anew, to start over, start fresh. That maybe the whole planet will be ready to brush off all the oil and gas we create someday and destroy itself to start anew. Circle of Life. Hakuna Matata.

Its far fetched I know, to say the world is going to just dissolve into dust, giving a big “ef you” to humans. But I promise the article said it much more articulately, much more realistically, much more frightening. Like I finished the article and had a sudden need to go to the botanical gardens and give them a “Thanks for everything!” card

…..I should probably make Doc do a fact check on this entry before I make a foul out of myself with this Green Love protest…..

Footnotes

Ok I have 10,000 things I want to write about but don't know how to start or end them (like any good tortured writer) so I'm just going to jot down what I've got, simply to share what I learn each week with you. I have these little nuggets of info that I absorb throughout the week, reading magazines, websites, newspapers, and I hate having all these fun facts about the world and not sharing them with people. Whether they are intellectual, gossipy, meaningful, helpful, or just something to make you laugh, I go crazy if I can't tell you about it. So instead of trying to piece together an essay of nonsensical catch phrases (like that one) I'm just gunna list. So now I give you: Lessons learned this week, during the first snow fall of the year......

1. Uggs have no traction. Regardless of the style status of the boots, I still believe in the functionality of them. But mine have been wore so many times in the last 6 winters that I might as well have just wrapped my feet in saran wrap and lather some butter on them before stepping out into the Chicago ice storm.

2. CTA buses have no traction.

3. Because my same roommates that couldn’t afford the internet also couldn’t afford cable TV, I didn’t think the writers strike would affect me at all. (Don’t think it hasn’t affected me emotionally, knowing that I have missed half a season of Top Model with Heather and having to watch the Office over a testy streaming video connection is blackening my soul.) But I was having a hard time swallowing the halting season finale of Weeds and have a hunch the Writers Guild of America may be to blame (huge SPOILER ALERT for the show’s ending). The season finale ends with Nancy’s Mexican Muscle torching the rival growers crop, subsequently developing into a wild fire, destroying the entire suburb. Nancy then decides to move her family across the country to start anew. Let me rephrase that for people that don't know the show. The writers dropped every plot twist and character formation in the last 20 min of the finale. They got rid of the main story line by setting the city on fire. They made the main characters run away from any problems or relationships that were forming. Literally run away. To Pittsburg. There were lose ends all over the place. It seemed like a huge cop out. So as I struggled to dissect the meaning of it all, it dawned on me. The writers had to get something down on paper before they grabbed their sign and joined the picket line. For god sake, give the people what they want so more of my shows don't commit network suicide like Weeds did!

4. The 22 Clark bus is more entertaining than an episode of True Life: I have Tourettes. The guy next to me, with his 21-year-old beard, fedora, and trench coat, was finger painting on the steamy window. Apparently my inner freak was dying to know what master piece this prodigy was creating that we were all fortunate enough to be in the presence of, because before I could process my motor skills, I asked this dude what he was drawing. A sheep shaking hands with a monk. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. After he got off, I continued to stare at the window, trying to decipher the thought process that went into this kids drawing, when I was pulled away by some loud dude ranting about drama drama drama. But as I listened (along with 90% of the bus) and he's dropping terms like "She was afraid he was going to murder her personal footprint on the world" or "the bond they shared was insatiable, it was destroying them as they failed to quench each others needs." and something about a Roman emperor that gained the thrown by tricking everyone around him to kill themselves and playing dumb to the power over the empire and that "Ben" uses that technique to gain their friendship and they can't let him take over them. The real life Dawson Leery is standing behind me.

God I just reread my "list" and realize I cannot escape the adjectives that attack everything I write. so much for a quick and to the point list of fun facts.....

Every man wants to be part of a heist

A wise man once said "There are a few things men want more than sex. Every man wants to be part of a heist." That wise man was Dane Cook.

I always though that parents blaming the media and video games for corrupting their children was a load of psych crap finger-pointing (not directed at you Erin). Take responsibility for your children. And get your pets spayed or neutered. But four college kids from Kentucky are behind bars for basing an artifact heist on tricks of the trade they saw in classic 21st century heist movies like the Oceans and Snatch. My opinion was counteracted. 4 friends blind sided a librarian at the University of Kentucky library and attempted to steal something like $12 million worth of 1st edition breakthrough science textbooks that included Darwin's The Origin of Species. John Falk turned Vanity Fair into a literary Bourne Ultimatum with his article "Majoring in Crime" (The Vanity Fair print was not posted on the website. This is a summary of the feature from the local paper where the heist took place.) He went to the prison where the guys are serving their 7 year sentences. Since the law has already caught up with them, there was no reason to hold back on the plan.

The article goes into detail about how the idea came about (a smoke down in a dorm room), how they planned it (talks with "our guy", watching Snatch, Oceans 11/12/13, Reservoir dogs, jetting over to NYC and Amsterdam to plan the black market sale of the books with characters worthy of villain parts in the next Italian Job), how they tried to execute it the first time (failed because their timing interfered with one of the guys final exams.), how it finally went down (taser the old librarian and stuff as many books as possible into a bedsheet), the loop hole (they didn't know where the emergency exit was), the chase (four 20 year olds vs four librarians and an escape van borrowed from someones mom), and the escape (in time for one dudes tennis final exam). The suspenseful part was post-capture. The guys had to travel to NYC to get the books appraised at Christie's (the black market buyer would only accept the books with a proper appraisal of the value) but the clock was ticking because within a week the news of the stolen books would be public and they would be caught with their hand in the cookie jar if they waltzed into the famous auction house with the books. They made it to NYC but the appraiser hesitated to give them the value because of their age (20 years old) manor (20 years old) and lack of knowledge of the history of the books. The plan came to a halt as they waited to hear back from Christie's. Within that time, investigators in Kentucky pieced together the crime. The guys knew the plan had come unraveled and in the following weeks they went about their business as usual and waited for their arrests, which came shortly after. Gen Y 0 Librarians 1

Sounds like a cop out ending at first, but the articles ends with the big question "WHY?" The guys explained that they basically had nothing to lose. College wasn't for them. Their small town didn't fit them. They didn't want to end up pigeonholed in a dead end job in a dead end city. They wanted more. So when they plans were coming together for the heist, they had to ask "what if?" What if they got away with it? They would each have millions to their name. They would flee the country and live in the Mediterranean with yachts and women and booze, like another James Bond or Max Burdett. And what if they get caught? They go to jail for a few years, and after they come out, they will be forced to start over. They will have to move out of the small town to preserve their dignity and start fresh, start over. Win win.

To imagine the lengths these people went through to rid themselves of their past, to move forward and create a better life for themselves, one they believe they deserve, seemed so out of touch with reality. But the big picture of that, that giant risky move to get what you want out of life, happens every day. Especially to Gen Yer that are now being forced out of school and into real life, force to decide what to make of their life. I made the jump a few months back when I decided to uproot from Cleveland and try out a taste of this big city life (which is working out pretty damn well) I guess we all have our own ways of finding what fits for us. To each his own.

It's too Late to Apologize

I don't have an apology for my lack of material lately. Only excuses. Excuse #1 www.jezebel.com they have taken any and all topics that I could criticize and criticizes it with double the witty and bitch-slapping humor that I could ever hope to have. Excuse #2 is moving to Chicago, starting a new job, and temporarily having roommates that couldn't afford to pay for the internet. So there. But lucky for both of us, I had a bit of inspiration to start writing again (and we got the internet). This blog is my best effort at showing my talent to the world. Or my friends, who are the only ones who read this. Thanks for making me feel special guys.

So what to write about now? I need a good topic to reinstate my place in the Blog-o-sphere. Living in this city is still a novelty to me so I will share a story, saturated with my editorial.

I was on the train yesterday, heading downtown to watch the lighting of the Christmas lights down Michigan Ave. At some Lincoln Park stop, five mid-50's women clamber on with their fur coats and Botox-inated smiles, smelling like too much hairspray and too many glasses of White Zinfandel. They settled stiffly into seats around me and some Columbia students and a club rep (we all got free passes to some party sponsored by Camel with free boxes of cigarettes. I could almost hear the raspy-voiced hipster next to me singing "I'VE GOT A GOLDEN TICKET") We could tell these women had not been on the Red Line since 1980. Conversation ensued. There was talk of cute servers at the wine bar with a hint of potential mid-life crisis and divorce. One women was harassed shamelessly for putting lipstick on. "Are you planning on making out with someone tonight??" the heckler spat. I couldn't take my mind off their hair. The amount of product used in their hair collectively would give Al Gore no other reason for the break down of the ozone. Stiff and big; proving my theory that they hadn't been out of their suburban boxes since the 80's for a Duran Duran concert. Their conversation veered towards the rumored relationship between Ashley Olsen and Lance Armstrong. "She's a baby!" "Ugh makes me sick. what do they have in common?" "He fought cancer! He is a champion athlete and what has she done? Coke?" The underlying hostility towards Gen Y is hard to miss (I wake up every morning hoping that a higher power has turned me into an Olsen.) After the train hits their stop and they stumble off. The Golden Ticket holder next to me can hold it in no longer "Sweet Jesus I hope I never talk that much when I'm old" "Did you see that woman's face? She looking like a parrot with all the make up" I threw in my observation "Did you see how much shit was in their hair??" We group of random 20 somethings laughed to the next stop over the desperation of those women. I got off the train with yet another reason to love being young and wild and relentless and having no reason to NOT believe that Gen Y is the shit.

I've got a crush on Obama

Political tendencies aside, there's some girl that vowed her undying love to Barack as only a Gen Y new yorker hottie can - a homemade youtube music video of course!

But that's not the best part. This 3 year old yelling "CRUSH ON OBAMA!" is.

It’s all just a little bit of history repeating

A few weeks ago, Doc and I fell upon an incense-filled, Marley-shirt stocked, dusty, musty record shop in Cleveland. We went in so I could ogle over old Beatles live albums and so he could work on building up his Zeppelin collection. As I perused the colorful glass-blown display case ornaments, smelling the Lavender Dreams incense, and wondering what my hypothetical child would look like in a Janis Joplin onezie, Doc carried around an armful of albums. I helped peruse the rows of vinyl. I filed through The Wailers, lots of Floyd and Zeppelin, Clapton, Stones, and all variations of 1960s nostalgia. Then I came upon Franz Ferdinand, Ben Harper, The White Stripes. What?? I did a double take and showed Doc. He gave a knowing nod and informed me that lots of band record onto vinyl these days.

I initially just thought this was a cool trendy thing to buy records because retro and hippie chic is so hot right now. But the more I thought about this, there are many a reason for this revived industry of rock. One is the hipster pastime of DJ mixing. I've heard some SICK (yes ma'am; sick) mixes of oldies melody lines with techno beats. Why not modern it up with some Beck and his two turntables and a microphone. Another reason for the vinyl revival may be the physicality (I'm pretty sure I'm just making words up now. Two glasses of wine will do that to you). My dad brought this up in an earlier post about people that may actually want a hard copy of albums. And an interesting fact from a business woman's point of view is that new indie bands today are slipping their albums between Deep Purple's 'Stormbringer' and Cat Stevens 'Tea for the Tillerman' (Before he converted to Islam and got that crazy name -Yusuf Islam - which I didn't even know was him last time Rolling Stone reviewed one of the albums. ANYways...) to get their association in there while the gray-haired men sift through the oldies to find something a little new, boosting their credibility among the rock gods true critics, their fans.

I did a little more digging and came across two Brit articles (1) (2) about an upturn in sales numbers for their record industry.

I realize this isn't the retro takeover that in the back of my mind I may be wishing it would be, but the growing variety of uses for the good ol' material (I used to make notebooks out of the cardboard covers of Linda Ronstand albums) is a refreshing little revolution to the digital revolution. Just what music needs - a revolution of the revolution.

And I said noo noo noo

In the words of Lester Bangs/Philip Seymour Hoffman in Almost Famous "Jim Morrison is a drunken buffoon, posing as a poet. Give me The Guess Who. They've got the courage to be drunken buffoons, which makes them poetic". Reading back on old Rolling Stone articles on Kurt Cobain and the Forever 27 gang, or Hunter S Thompson, I am initially shocked at the open recklessness of these dudes (my parents raised me well in my Midwestern sheltered town) but then I realized that this IS part of rock 'n roll. These crazy acts of sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll were at the forefront of the revolution. Rock is more than just a sound, its an existence. An existence that continually pushes the envelop, at the forefront of insanity. because that's what rock does to you. it pushes you, adrenalin-pumping pushes.

But why did it take reading about pre-millennium artists for me to see this? Because post-millennium rock isn't rock at all. Its Clear Channel propaganda. We should have seen it when the Backstreet Boys 2000 album was named "Millennium". This is the album to look to when trying to uncover the culture of Y2K?? Popular music today, the stuff on the radio, is sound that so many people I know work furiously to make known they DO NOT listen to it. That they have no part in promoting that sound. Is that how bigger-than-life bands should be seen?? I'm no hypocrite. I am the first one to deny listening to Akon, Avril Lavigne, Fergie, new age Green Day. I will always claim loyalty to 1960s and 70s bands over today's tween-friendly sounds. A generation should not finger-point who's to blame for music of their time, but be proud of the sound their peers can produce. But that's not so much the case when corporations are pulling the puppet strings of artists that see $$ before music notes.

Enter my chicks. I assumed for months that Lily Allen, Amy Winehouse, Neko Case, Jenny Lewis were all just ladies that I listened to in the semi-underground indie rock circuit. As soon as I heard Lily on the radio, I was (as usual) totally disappointed in her selling out to the man. That her sound would become like everyone elses and she would fade into the place up above where artists-that-all-sound-the-same float away to. Then Amy followed when Rehab hit the airwaves. I was depressed. But as both these ladies blow up (Amy on the cover of Rolling Stone last month sealed her fate in history) I noticed that neither were cleaning up their act, changing their sound or their attitude. Lily continued her drunken foolery as she performed a concert for some NYC socialites and kept called the queen bee of rich society the wrong name . Amy continues her crazy (and usually drunken) obsession with her husband ("I'm not in this to be a [bleep] role model."). Pink has the right idea with these fellow songbirds. Neither are afraid to be wasted in public. Isn't that what everyone dreams of? Being a rock star so awesome that you can have 5 shots of Jim Bean and sing about refusing to go to rehab? These ladies are living the dream.

Long live rock 'n roll!

Rehab is so hot right now

Don't worry, this isn't some post on the party like a coke addict era of starlets (couch LiLo cough). I'm all over this badass aura of Amy Winehouse and Lily Allen right now. Way to bring back the party like a ROCK STAR persona of the past in the form of 22 year old chicks who aren't afraid to be drunk on stage AND actually have the sound to back up their i-don't-care-what-you-think-i-am-awesome 'tude. Here is a picture from SNL that just about sums up the trend (Lily Allen as Amy Winehouse) --------^^^^^

I had all these cool dude things to say about the ladies, but I'm all into youtube tonight and got distracted by videos. Numero uno is Amy Winehouse + Charlotte Church (yea that15 year old opera singing prodigy from like 10 years ago. Turns out she's got a hot modern sound too!) doing M.Jackson's 'Beat It'. How could I pass that up?! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vfdl7-E80Q # Deux is Charlotte Church and Nelly Furtado doing 'Crazy' just because, i mean come on - how often are you going to see combos like these?? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qPnYWL-U1Eo And this is where my video ADD (or ADHD - correct me if I'm wrong Erin) kicked in and my Zooey stalkerness joined the party too........She can sing! (Sit tight through the first song - warm up. The second song makes me want to get into the cabaret scene.)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CXLepw52iFs Fun fact is that in Elf, that's for sure her singing "Baby, its cold outside". Ok shhh I'm watching Zooey. I'll get back to you with more power to the drunk girls later.