Be Good.

i have a crush. but not on a person, on a magazine. Good magazine, to be precise. it's goal is simple, yet bold: create a medium to discuss, debate, and demand knowledge on things that matter. what does that mean? well...it's a broad mission. pick up the magazine's premiere issue (September 2006) and you see the following statement staring back at you: _______ like you give a Damn. it's at once empowering and intimidating...wait, we get to fill in the blank? WE get a voice? oh yes we do. and that kinda sums up Good's concept. it asks its readers to be fearless, to take action, and give voice to the problems/ideas/passions that move us to do 'good' things. and what i really appreciate is its admission that being 'good' doesn't mean we have to reject the institutions that sometimes frustrate us, but to understand how to turn those barriers into opportunties.

Good offers an innovative approach, and its content and design reflects this. it's sorta like a hybrid of The Economist, Rolling Stone, and Wired but all with an eye towards social change and transparency. printed on recycled paper, the first page opens up to a Vision Statement, a visual piece that frames the theme of each issue. for the premiere: America, Love it or Fix it. pieces range from features on social entrepreneurs to editorials on urban life to a guide to the midterm elections, which includes stickers (stickers!) and a mix of cartoon-y artwork with edgy photographs. running on top of each page are a set of icons that act as content area guides--e.g. business, health, culture, living, etc. running on the bottom margin of each page are not just photo and story credits, but also website info for groups/people featured in each story.

the magazine is also philanthropic-- 100% of the $20 subscription fee (which buys you 6 issues) will go to one of twelve partner charities. and these charities range in causes from grassroots education groups (the amazing DonorsChoose) to established global organizations like The World Wildlife Fund. the number of subscribers and dollars raised is tracked in total and then disaggregated by each charity partner-- with a total goal of $1M, or 50,000 subscribers. and the magazine is filled with non-traditional ad buys all with messages towards the socially aware consumer.

so what are you waiting for? do some Good and subscribe.

It's Just TV, right?

It’s pathetic, really. The most exciting thing that’s happened to me in the past 2 weeks is the start of the new television season. Oh yea. I do indeed live an interesting life. And as a full-time student, is there a better way to procrastinate than watching tv? Why yes. There’s surfing the net, reading blogs, cooking, window-shopping, drinking… I do all those things too. But nothing is as much fun as observing/reacting to other people’s (some real, some very much not real) extra-ordinary lives streaming before me on that big flat screen.

Highlights for me this week? Well definitely the latest installment of Project Runway. I’ve been obsessed since season 1 but this season has been STELLAR. Loads of drama, loads of bad taste (can we say, rosettes?), a bit of bitch slapping, and of course, the lovely Tim Gunn. If only we could all have mentors like The Gunn. And I'm happy with the Final Four and am ecstatic they all get a fair shot at winning the prize and showing at Fashion Week (for a sneak peak, there are photo stills of The Four’s twelve pieces available for the obsessed among us). Michael’s my favorite but I grew a soft spot for Laura after her breakdown. She isn’t a total Ice Queen. But oh how I miss Robert Best. He was labeled ‘boring’ by the judges but he had the funnest personality. I want to be his fag hag. Ha.

What else keeps me attached to the remote? The new season of The Office and Grey’s Anatomy. Love those shows. They are completely different but both make me laugh and cry and sometimes cringe (if you saw The Office’s brilliant season premiere, you know exactly what I mean). However, I really do dislike Meredith Grey. I know she’s supposed to be flawed and ‘relatable’—but I don’t think she’s all that. She’s whiny, and frankly, her boy problems? Choosing between McDreamy and a very grown-up Chris O’Donnell? Oh the dilemma….

New shows that have me setting my VCR? Justice on Fox gives me the Victor Garber fix I need to keep me going after Alias’ swan song last May. He’s no longer Spy Daddy…he’s Big Bad Lawyer Daddy. God, I love him. And it has Kerr Smith (aka Gay Jack from Dawson’s Creek). And the show’s episodic so you don’t really need to watch in sequence to figure out the premise (each week features a new trial/case). Another winner is the new ABC dramedy Ugly Betty. Sort of like The Devil Wears Prada, but there’s no magical transformation for the main character. She is who she is—and apparently, because she’s not lean and tall and blonde and has couture taste, she is labeled ‘ugly’—which is so offensive since America Ferrera is quite beautiful. Watch her in Real Woman Have Curves and try to disagree with me. Try. As Betty, Ferrara has an endearing on-screen presence that charms you in for the full-hour despite the show’s standard (and clichéd) storyline.

What's makes matter worse is now, with the quick evolution of interactive media, all the major networks are creating numerous ways for fans to extend their obsession beyond mere viewership. The Office, has special webisdoes that spotlight some of the more minor (yet brilliant) characters on the show. Other shows feature characters with their own blogs. Grey's Anatomy has an entire section dedicated to music used in each episode and enables fans to sample or download songs via iTunes. And if you're not home to watch a show (or don't own a Tivo like me), don't fret. In fact, don't even set your VCR. All you need is a little patience and access to a fast internet connection because each of the major networks are offering full-episode replays of their shows online 24 hours after airing. Great. Even MORE ways for me to procrastinate. I need to spice up my life real soon or else I'll never leave the house!

To D.C., With Love

it's funny how you can think you're so completely committed to a city/job/person, then you walk away briefly, experience comfort/satsifaction/happiness from another perspective, and begin to wonder: perhaps committment is over-rated? heh.

a year ago, i didn't think i could ever consider living in another city. but as i approach my last year at grad school, i find myself with more than just career choices ahead of me, but city choices too. it's not that i no longer love New York, but my summer in D.C. did prove that its possible for me to make a home elsewhere. obviously, it also helps to have an amazing group of friends there that made adjustment to life outside of NYC that much more palatable.

now today is the last official day of summer. it certainly came and went waaaay too quickly. so i thought i should take pause, reflect on my summer experience, and send a little valentine to the city and my friends--particularly Y, J& R, Holly, JMc, EQ, and Sep-- for making the summer so much fun for me. hell, there were moments where i even forgot (gasp!) a bit about New York.

Some favorite moments and places:

• The newly re-opened Smithsonian Museum of American Art & the National Portrait Gallery was a favorite destination of mine this summer. The historic building offers visitors a clean, unfettered experience-- brightly lit corridors, spacious viewing galleries that provides a 2-for-1 art deal. i especially loved the William Wegman 'Funny/Strange' exhibit. The man was more than just the guy who took the dog pictures.
• Y and I dancing it up and falling in love with the lead singer of We Are Scientists, during their too-quick concert at The Black Cat. they're young. they're cute. they're sarcastic. basically, they're PERFECT. sigh.
• Taking too many shots with my Grad School Gals in Adams Morgan. they made me feel like i was a 23 year old babe again...
• Watching the lightning storm around the Capitol Building while picnicking with Y, Holly, and two J's. wait a minute. actually, we were there for D.C.'s Screen on the Green classic movie-fest. best part? that Holly brought wine in Perrier bottles (she was afraid we'd get caught by the alcohol-free police). did you know that one bottle of wine barely fills two bottles of perrier? well, its true. second best part of that nite? Bogie and Bacall.
• Larry's Ice Cream. Man, I miss this. I think it was the only place I frequented more than three times. their unique flavors (especially the Cleopatra and the Fred & Ginger) are almost better than sex. I said almost.
• Attempting to play frisbee at Burke Lake Park in VA with J&R. oh and Y. she may have a post-graduate degree, but girl can't toss a frisbee to save her life!
• Running around in the heat (and I mean the HEAT!) of summer doing a D.C.-MD-VA scavenger hunt. yes, i said scavenger hunt. Y and I ran around the metro area with sixty odd other crazy 'young professionals' in an event sponsored by Things to Do D.C. Our team took the laid back approach. if by laid-back, you mean cut-throat competitive. I think I laughed when an opposing team person fell running up the Metro escalators. idiot.
• Finally visiting Teddy Roosevelt Island. It's small! It's filled with trees! It's also named in honor of my favorite President. beautiful. but bring bug spray.
• Exploring the amazing (but very un-free) Phillips Collection with Sep. She and I spent a couple of post-work hours marveling at the exquisite exhibit space, stood enamored by the famed Renoir in its permanent collection, and of course, barealy avoided total embarrassment when Sep nearly fell straight into a Klimt masterpiece. Good job Sep, good job.
• And of course, enjoying the thrills of the suburbs. including shopping at the mall, eating at The Cheesecake Factory, matinee movies at less than ten dollars (!), downing cheap (but out-of-place) beers with Holly at roadside joint Hank Dietle's Tavern (a most random bar nestled between strip malls), and eating lots and lots of shaved ice smothered in condensed milk goodness at a local Taiwanese eatery. oooooh how i miss the shaved ice!

Poolside

On a perfect summer day like yesterday, what's better than sitting poolside? How about inside a pool...a former community pool that when it was functioning, held nearly 8,000 swimming bodies in it? uh...ew. and wha? that's exactly what i thought as I was heading towards McCarren Park Pool, which this summer, has been re-fashioned as THE HIP and happening outdoor venue for hip and happening greenpoint, brooklyn. you enter through a large, worn brick structure before you come face-to-face with the Gi-NORMOUS (and un-filled) skeleton of a pool. the inside is all chipped concrete lined with plenty of graffitti art. it really is HUGE. supposedly on weekends, they have free 'pool parties' which includes live DJs, loads of sweaty dancing bodies, and a slip 'n slide-- i MUST get myself to one of these...

i was at McCarren Pool for one reason only: The Shins. to say i was excited would be an understatement. yeppers. they are definitely one of my most favorite bands i wouldn't miss a chance to see them live. here, the audience sits INSIDE the pool-- you can bring blankets to picnic but there's also brooklyn brewery beers and burgers and dogs for sale to munch on. and, this place is seriously hipster heaven. W kept egging me on to admit that yes, 4 out of 5 guys attending the event would qualify as 'my type.' perhaps he's right...but they all seemed either VERY young or VERY taken or (possibly) VERY gay. sigh.

The Shins, on the otherhand, sounded great (although the acoustics are iffy--it can get REALLY loud). fortunately, The Shins are pretty mellow-- although the boys totally rocked out on some of their tunes, which included a few new tracks from their upcoming album (they promised it will be out by very very early 2007). James Mercer, the lead singer, is sparse with the audience chatter (read: he doesn't chat), saving his unique, beautiful voice for singing only. a souped of version of my personal favorite 'Gone for Good' gave the anti-love song a different edge. And an almost elegiac, rendition of 'Young Pilgrims,' which Mercer sang alone under a single spotlight, was haunting. now the funniest part of their set-- while singing their hit 'New Slang'-- i could tell Mercer looked distracted and almost confused...in fact, he had to stop because he lost track of the lyrics. laughing it off and attempting a re-do, he stopped again, this time cracking up and asking if someone would just come up and sing it. it seems, post-Garden State fame, he can't seem to recall the lyrics to a track he's been forced to play a bajillion times. W and I started calling out Natalie (as in Portman's) name to see if she could help fill in the gaps. there was no answer. The Shins, of course, redeemed themselves with a proper re-do during their encore. me suspects they went back to review the lyrics...haha.

Pretty and Pretty Funny: The Whitney Biennial 2006

I am not an art aficionado—far from it. My list of “favorite” artists reads like a who’s who on the shelves of standard and obvious: Monet, Rodin, Chagall, Gaguin, Hopper, and Homer. It’s uncreative, un-edgy, and very un-modern. And yet every two years, I make my way to an unspectacular section of Madison Ave (unless of course, you have spare cash to drop at Kors or Cavalli) with the wannabe progressive masses to partake in the Whitney Museum’s Biennial Exhibition, a roundup of what matters NOW in contemporary art.

Biennial 2006’s theme was a riff off a Francois Truffaut film “Day to Night.” I’ve never seen it but am fairly certain 80% of New York’s arty, anti-Establishment filmmaker wannabes feign reverence to Truffaut. His film demonstrates how special filters are used to create night scenes that are shot during the day. I read that off the entrance to the exhibition. My first thought: I get it. It’s a metaphor! OMG, art is about manipulation! No Effen WAY!

Forgive me my bitterness and sarcasm. But sometimes art is pretty…and sometimes art is pretentious. There's a reason the stereotype exists. I guess I tend to find things like…oh, say…a blank canvas less profound and more profoundly lazy. Let me guess, that’s supposed to represent the emptiness in our culture? What. Ever.

Nonetheless, I navigated the exhibition’s varied offering--paintings, sculpture, photography, mixed-media installations, and what not--looking for that fine line between pretty and pretty absurd.

Things I found pretty:

--Graphite drawings and watercolors by Jennie Smith: I can’t forget Smith’s simple and exquisitely delicate renderings of animals patterned into their various natural habitats. I lingered on these drawings, teasing out the subliminal messages tangled in her details, gently imploring for ecological collaboration and social change.It's a daring demand bathed in subtle tones. And to think that Smith is barely 25 years old. I felt inadequate while admiring her work.

--Florian Maier-Aichen’s photographs of the Los Angeles landscape which he imbues with bold washes of reds and blues, making the pictures pop in such a beautiful way, I couldn’t ignore it.

--Paul Chan’s elegiac digital animation of falling and rising images projected diagonally onto the floor of a darkened room. Listening to the audio commentary, the Whitney’s curators warned that Chan’s piece invoked memories of 9/11—while ordinary objects (like a bicycle) ascend up into the sky, shadowy bodies drop quickly downwards...giving me chills.

Audio commentaries are awesome. They don't just give voice to the artists and curators behind the pieces...but provide ample material for which I can mock and laugh at. Listening to their lengthy and sometimes crazy confusing explanations, I couldn't help but smirk...on the outside.

Things I found pretty funny:

--Urs Fischer's installation of torn down walls were...well, they were literally Torn Down Walls. um...if the Whitney wanted someone to go ape shit in its space, I would have been happy to come in and wreck a few walls. It would have been great stress relief. But no...I am not an artist. These walls provided a broken perimeter for Fisher's centerpiece display: two metal rods with a candle flickering on one end, rotating at a measured pace so that the dripping wax formed thick circles on the floor. hmmm...interesting. it just made me wanna test the security guard and blow those candles out.

--Sheep. Recorded eating on a grassy expanse by the water. Sheep. that's it. that's all it was and that's all I have to say. its mean that I laughed, yes...because the artist was sooooooo earnest in his commentary, explaining the wonderful coincidence of seeing the sheep and the spontaneity of grabbing his video camera to film them, non-coercively. Just filming the sheep doing their thing. Dude...what do i need to do to get a video in the Whitney? Film me, doing nothing. okay, wait...scratch that...that came out wrong.

And speaking of wrong...one artist, I can't remember her name...but she painted a "sculpture box" cartoonishly depicting two naked people engaged in sex. There's a big hard penis and everything. But the woman's head is removed and replaced with a video of the artist's face...stimulating herself. um, yeah. i wouldn't have known that if i didn't listen to her commentary because the video was fuzzy and muted. but now that i do know, i found it highly irresponsible to see parents showing their children this video, even pointing out the penis and the cooch. call me old-fashioned, but a seven year old does NOT need to know what a clitoris is. and yes, i did hear a mother explain that to her child. NYC parents are waaaaaaaayyy too hip for me.

The biennial closes really soon (May 28) so get to it if you want a few hours of hilarious confusion mixed with a few minutes of true insight.

De-coded. Finally.

I JUST finished reading Da Vinci Code. I know. I am SOOOOO behind. Crazily enough, I successfully sheltered myself from all things Code-like the past few years. I’m that stupid girl who screams like a little bitch whenever someone attempted to reveal a slight plot point. I even hid behind my coat and plugged my ears really tight during trailers for the movie. The thing is, I friggin hate hardcover books (I only made exceptions for Harry Potter, and even then, I wouldn’t buy the book) and the stupid publishing company milked the book’s success for its every penny by waiting until late March 2006 (that’s three years AFTER the book was officially went to press) to release not one, but TWO paperback versions. One is larger and the other is thicker. I’m talking about books here.

It wasn’t easy to achieve blissful ignorance. Especially the last few months with the publicity machine spewing endless trailers, interviews, and debates leading up to the movie’s upcoming release. But it worked. I read the whole thing cover to cover without a true inkling of what would go down (although, c’mon! some plot points were predictable). And although I found Dan Brown’s writing style to be laughable and highly un-literary…it was still a DAMN GOOD READ. Great pacing, amazing details, clever twists. And I loved that for better or worse (who knows how “factual” the facts were), I learned so much about history, religion, and art. So now, with the book’s fine points still fresh in my head, I’m hoping that Opie, Tom, and Audrey don’t screw things up. No pressure.

Bodies of Knowledge, Bodies Exposed

I haven’t taken a legitimate science class since my senior year in high school. That’s more than ten years people. Needless to say, it’s not my primary interest area. I nerd out when it comes to literature (classic and contemporary), am an avid history buff (albeit, mostly good ol’ American History), and genuinely enjoy the study of government, policy, and social sciences (thank goodness, that’s why I gave up earning a good salary—to study that shit!). But science? Let’s just say I still squirm at the sight of blood…in the movies! My parents used to say I had a mental block against the subject area—as if I purposely built a wall to force out any ounce of comprehension of all things scientific. And to think, I’m the daughter of both an engineer and biochemistry major! All those genes went straight to my bro—he’s pursuing his PhD in some engineering-something-or-another as we speak.

But years away from the textbooks and laboratories, Science has finally become fascinating to me. The evolution of a disease, the physiological miracle that composes every breath we inhale, the exact mixture of elements that allows something to taste/smell/look that very specific way—it’s captivating. Though I lack the actual expertise, I no longer lack the appreciation for it.

Science after all, is really just a story—telling us about who we are and the world we live in. The twist is that the story constantly shifts and develops--there are no fixed endings as advances in technology allow for narrative manipulation, which of course opens the door for new debates. For example: If a doctor takes drops of our blood, or scrapes from our skin—do we still own the right to those parts that are now removed? That was the question posed by a recent NY Times Magazine cover story, featuring the growing bioethical debate on whether individuals have legal domain over their own tissue samples. When a doctor takes pieces of your tissue for research and then finds an innovative medical treatment based on that sample— who should be the beneficiaries of that discovery? The doctor only or does the original tissue owner have rights to them as well—whether they are pecuniary rewards or not?

Whichever side you fall on, there is no denying that a gray area will always persist. Growing up in the U.S., we’re taught to believe that our bodies are precious, that our minds are unique—it’s the underlying definition of American Individualism. So when you put your body on display, donating pieces or the whole of it to art or science or whatever research purpose—that’s a decision that is all your own, right? Well, it depends.

And that’s the back-story behind the groundbreaking Bodies: The Exhibition. A few weeks ago, I apprehensively attended this with a few friends. On a conceptual level, I was really curious…but my former science-hating-self grew anxious at losing my lunch while scrutinizing the peeled-back details of these formerly living mannequins.

The exhibit is more than just a biology lesson, but literally an insider’s view into the complexity that goes on underneath all of us. These specimens underwent a special preservation process that allowed their muscles and bones to be more malleable, allowing them to be positioned in various stances—from the Thinker’s Pose to the stretch maintained by an athlete pitching a fastball. The exhibit divides itself into key functional sections—examining the anatomical underpinnings behind each of our life processes (e.g. nervous, digestive, reproductive, et. al). The specimens are then “cut” in ways to highlight each observed process—for example, a brain opening reveals where memory is stored; the spine is sliced through to present the many nerves running up and down it. Visitors can also compare/contrast healthy organs with diseased ones—such as a healthy lung to one blackened with years of smoking. I, for one, could not suppress my shock at the size of an enlarged liver, and regretted that extra vodka tonic I imbibed the night before.

For me, the section on the circulatory system was most enjoyable: you enter a darkened room where highways of blood vessels and veins sat in free-standing liquid boxes, hauntingly lit. Isolating the veins and arteries away from the distraction of muscles, bones, organs and other parts—I quickly understood the beauty and fragility hidden in each tiny capillary and felt sad for all my bruises--present, past, and future.

The exhibit’s final room will probably be one of its most controversial —an examination of fetuses in differing stages of development. My heart hurt at the sight of seeing one at 4 weeks old, and yet I proceeded to review each one. Upon exiting, one friend brought up an even more controversial aspect of the displays—apparently the sourcing of these bodies came from Chinese prisoners. We wondered aloud: was consent acquired from these men and women? Did they know their bodies would be carved like meat, splayed out for the masses to see? Something tells us not. I left with a bigger lump in my throat.

Rhapsodic!

Romance comes in many forms. Sometimes it surprises you, sometimes you can’t put your finger on it…and sometimes you’d rather avoid it and just walk the other way--declaring it cheesy, vomit-inducing…or gasp!...nonexistent. But even the most skeptical among us (myself included) fall victim to that flutter of whimsy, that welling of warmth that allows us to believe--if only for an instant--that the world is perfect and that love is actually possible.

Excuse me. But I’m making myself sick.

In spite of my current predicament of stalled romantic opportunities (some days, I term it “I-Will-Be-Alone-Forever”), I am still easily seduced by that jazzy symphonic ode to romantic nostalgia: Gershwin's An American in Paris. Ever since my friend A and I attended this concert , I can't rid myself from visions of Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron, dancing their wistful pas de deux under the starry glow of a Paris dreamscape. To me, romance should sound like a Gershwin composition. Its confluence of brass and strings-- complicated rhythms, long notes held by a lone saxaphone, violins swelling to a rapturous crescendo-- casts a spell that's irresistable. Even the anti-romantics can't help but be moved.

In a packed concert hall last Sunday afternoon, One World Symphony, a community orchestra based here in NYC, performed not just Paris, but also Gershwin's classic (and one of my all-time favorite pieces) Rhapsody in Blue. No matter how often I listen to it, hearing it performed live is still thrilling. I'd love to learn to play it one day. And between the Gershwin masterpieces, they performed a series of works from another love-erly classic: Leonard Bernstein's West Side Story. Yes, we know how that one goes. Boy meets Girl and both love and tragedy ensue. This day, the focus was just on the love part. And yes, the song lyrics can be heavy on the fromage (A and I mock-sang the roles of Tony and Maria during intermission, people were probably staring) but the orchestra's conductor was pumped up, and got the audience involved by having us shout "Mambo!" during the hyperkinetic Latin dance sequences. It was awesome. The I-want-to-get-up-and-shake-my-hips kind of awesome.

When it was all over, right as the applause died down, the conductor-- all shifty nerves in his rigid military tux-- faced the audience and began inarticulately waxing poetic about the music...the dedication of his musicians...the orchestra's founding member who made this all happen...and then got on bended knee and proposed to his girlfriend (she's the founding member!) who was sitting up in the balcony. the audience whooped, tears were flowing, and an embrace was had on center stage. me? i was ready to fall in love. too bad Real Life doesn't play like a Gershwin tune.

Jane Austen Redux

sure, Jane Austen is an irresistible source to tap into when it comes to film-making...but how many versions of Pride & Prejudice can each generation take? apparently, not enough. whoever the incarnation, be it a neurotic British diaryist or a fearless Bollywood beauty...it seems all women aspire to be a little like Elizabeth Bennett.

against my better wishes, my jewish sista persuaded (or passive-aggressively dragged) me to see the new Keira Knightly helmed take on the Austen classic. the theater was packed with women (and the occassional hauled boyfriend) ready to take in the high comedy and drama eventually leading Lizzie to fall for the arrogant-turned-dashing Mr. Darcy. for those of us still shaking off the goose-bumps induced by the decidedly sexy Colin Firth as Darcy in the 1995 BBC miniseries version (um, wet white shirt scene at Pemberly? fan me now!), THIS new Darcy will leave a lot to be desired. he's handsome, yes. but you just don't SEE the transformation from uppity ass to a man affected by love...nor does he do adequate justice to the pivotal marriage proposal scene. which, for more dramatic flourish, was done in the rain, not as Austen intended. artistic license i understand...but come on! rain?!?! how cliche is that? however, there are upsides. the film is beautifully shot and the score is lovely (and perhaps, eerily similar to the BBC's score?). Knightly makes a feisty Elizabeth and Brenda Blethyn and Donald Sutherland are perfectly cast as the Bennett parents. and Dame Judi Dench, true to form, is a biting and almost demonic Lady Catherine. overall, i'll admit that film is faithful in tone to Austen's story-- particularly paying close attention to the finely drawn comedic points. i actually laughed out loud quite a lot. but when the credits rolled, i was ready to go home and reacquaint myself with the book. even a good copy can never top the original masterpiece.

Must See TV?

now that we're officially entrenched in the new television season, its time for some personal commentary on a handful of new AND returning shows...

Arrested Development 8:30pm, Mondays on FOX

Will PEOPLE PLEASE WATCH THIS SHOW!!!! it's BRILLIANT. okay, enough screaming, but please, America, i beg you for the second time to give this show a chance. in its third (and possibly last) season, the show is quirkier and even more ludicrously sardonic than ever. Ron Howard, who does the documentary-ish narrations, has infused his voice-overs with with a less-than-objective twist of actually mocking the characters. and those crazy characters--each member of the Bluth family is still hopelessly selfish and appalling. God, i love them. and this show. can any other sitcom rival its genius?...

My Name is Earl 9:00 pm, Tuesdays on NBC

well...Earl is setting itself up to be the cleverest new sitcom since...well...since Arrested Development. Earl, Jason Lee's shady redneck alter-ego is both smarmy and charming (trust me, the mustache works for him) and the show plays like a mini-movie: each ep has Earl (and his lovably dense brother--"oh no he DIDN'T") seek redemption by way of Carson Daly (again, just trust me) to undo all the horrible things he's done in his life. all 248 of them (or something like that). you see, he's won the lottery...gets hit by a car...lost the ticket...regains the ticket...and is thus set on his mission. the dialogue is smart, the set-ups are downright laugh-out-loud hilarious (exhibit A: gay club dance scene) and the low-life characters are actually empathetic ones... sounds like a recipe for success to me...

The Apprentice: Martha Stewart 8pm, Wednesdays on NBC

is it wrong that i love Martha? suddenly, she's this whole new person that i truly respect. sure, call me manipulated by the production whores, but i'm enamored with softer, gentler Martha. pre-white-collar-jail, Martha seemed so out-of-reach from the audience...her sets were almost as austere as her chilly demeanor. post-white-collar-jail: she's all warm hues and regal elegance...on her new daytime show (yes, i watch it, sue me!), she does fun craft/cooking projects with her celebrity guests...and she actually exudes patience in lieu of pointing out their incompetence. its charming, really. and on HER version of The Apprentice, she epitomizes female success. and unlike Trump's stupid-ass "business" tips...Martha actually doles out useful, relevant advice. and she's stern ("women don't cry in the business world my dear) but not bitchy. AND, to extend the soft side-- she write letters to the candidates she "lets go." LETTERS. dude. my new hero. okay, i'll stop gushing now.

How I Met Your Mother 8:30pm, Mondays on CBS

since when did CBS begin courting the coveted 18-35 age group? isn't this the old fogies network that features sappy shows like Judging Amy?no longer. nudged between mediocre family staples like Two and a Half Men (again, someone explain to me the appeal?) and King of Queens, is the above-mediocre-with-loads-of-potential Friends-like comedy, How I Met Your Mother. as the ads say, its a love story in reverse-- an unseen father in year 2030 (the voice of Bob Saget) is telling his teenage kids the long long LONG story of how he met their mother. flashback to present day NYC, where the doofily charming and neurotic Ted (played by Josh Radnor), gets a case of serious wedding-envy when his best friends (one of whom is played by American Pie's i-get-off-on-a-flute Alyson Hannigan) get engaged. Um, wha? A MAN...in NYC...with WEDDING ENVY? does such a man exist? hm...not sure. BUT, neil patrick harris is pretty funny as ted's dumb-ass bachelor friend and the ensemble has a natural enough chemistry that may endear themselves to a new generation of twenty-somethings suffering through yet another quarter life crises. i loved the first two eps...but the third one was drab and beyond contrived (licking the Liberty Bell as a metaphor for living in the moment, WTF?)...i'm holding out hope that things will get better.

Amazing Race: Family Edition, 9pm Tuesdays on NBC

as reality shows go, Amazing Race is definitely the cream of the crop. teams of two race around the world, duking out each other in physical and mental competitions with $1MM at stake. as teams traverse the globe, storylines emerge organically: under the burden of exhaustion, language barriers, and personal contentions, teams learn life lessons and test their both their physical limits and their social adaptability (and yes, the label Ugly American does rear its nasty head). but for this, the eighth iteration of the race...producers are ratcheting up the drama notch by expanding the teams into "families" of four. what use to be a compelling reality show that brought the world's nether regions to the American TV-watching masses has turned into a show about the Worst Family Roadtrip Ever. lots of camera time focusing on families bickering in the car. to be fair, only two episodes have aired so far. but so far, the teams haven't left the country yet (its been a journey through American history-- NYC--> Philadelphia--> Washington, D.C.) and the challenges seem contrived to induce a sense of American patriotism. not sure if this format works, but there are still 9 legs of the race to run...

Lost 9pm, Wednesdays on ABC

this show is going to drive me crazy. i literally watch on the edge of my seat, clutching my hands and scared of polar bears. but when the show ends, i end up reeling with questions. questions that usually begin with WHAT THE F---? inside the hatch is some grand scientific experiment? The Others are just a Lord of the Flies version of the other half of the plane? or ARE they? who is Desmond and where the hell is he running off to? exactly exactly. i still love the slow-reveal format of each character's psyche-- journeying deep into their past puts more context around each person's individual reaction to the island happenings. BUT. and this is a big BUT. the mysteries are starting to spin out of control-- at what point do the dots connect and will they ever?

Grey's Anatomy 10pm, Sundays on ABC

love this show. i really do. its cutesy without being annoying. its moving without being overly manipulative. and sandra oh rocks. love her. her character's friendship with ellen pompeo's meredith makes meredith's i'm-a-fragile-porcelain-doll routine much more bearable. and did ANYONE predict that the ultar-dorky Ronald Miller from Can't Buy Me Love would turn into the hot Dr. McDreamy? HELLO!

Alias 8pm, Thursdays on ABC

okay. this is sad to admit...but i fear i may have to just let this show go. there. i said it. but i can't seem to buy into the crazy Rimbaldi-Prophet-Project shit anymore. and killing off a major character who's relationship with Jennifer Garner's Sydney was the major romantic thread of the show...it just seems so wrong. i mean, i still love Victor Garber (Best Spy Daddy Ever) but i can't watch Sydney Bristow screw things up and furrow her brow for the umpteenth time. i can't. i'm sorry. bring back Lena Olin or else i'm switching to Everybody Hates Chris.

Great Reads

the last two books i read were so diametrically different in tone and subject matter, but the quality writing and compelling storylines in each warrant a quick personal plug...

Triangle: The Fire That Changed America by David Von Drehle

initially, the fact that i had "pre-work" for my public policy class really threw a wrench in my summer unemployment plans. gritting my teeth, i bought this book and sought out a variety of ways to avoid actually reading it until the absolute last moment. one week before the start of classes, i capitulated...only to be completely enthralled by the author's grim and gripping account of New York City's worst workplace disaster prior to the 9/11 tragedy.

in March 1911, the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory-- one of the largest garment factories in the city-- went up in flames, killing 146 workers, the majority of them young immigrant women. you are taken straight inside the inferno, reliving those precious details--locked doors, narrow stairwells, misplaced scraps of cloth-- as fire and smoke swept through the factory's upper floors, trapping scores of desperate workers in a matter of fifteen short minutes. this story, is not just a disaster saga; it is an engrossing social commentary, re-introducing readers to one of the most combustible times in our nation's socio-political history. Von Drehle takes great care to frame the story in the context of the times and from multiple angles-- the immigration boom at the turn of the century and its effects on urban culture; the growth of the american organized labor movement; the dominating political presence of Tammany Hall and city politics' subsequent shift to an era of more progressive reform ; and most notably, the humanizing of many of the individual Triangle workers-- add dimensions to an already riveting story. and as a new yorker, the book is a reminder of the living history we have in this city--from the corners of lower east side tenements to buildings on Washington Place (the Triangle building now houses NYU's chemistry classrooms). if you're a history or policy buff, or just want to be drawn in by a strong work of nonfiction, pick this one up-- you'll learn, and enjoy.

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

some old work buds and i formed an ad-hoc book club of sorts and this was our second official book club selection. during our discussion over dinner and wine the other day, one sentiment was unanimous: WOW. we loved this book. it is everything that Great Fiction is suppose to be-- incredibly beautiful prose, fully fleshed out characters with tragic flaws, and a central narrative voice that a reader will surely empathize with. the crux of the story is built around Cal Stephanides, the protagonist who takes you through his life history-- beyond his conception and back in time to when his grandparents were about to flee Greece for America, taking with them a certain family secret that will unknowingly spill into the lives of their children and children's children. you see, Cal is no ordinary person-- Cal (nee Calliope) was brought up as a girl in Detroit, becoming a boy only when circumstances (or biology?) dictated it might be time to switch over.

this is an EPIC. similar to other epic family biographies (100 years of solitude comes to mind, as it's my personal favorite), this story illustrates the untenable connection we have to our families, the biological roadmap they unknowingly pass on to us, and a reminder that our past is always intertwined with our present--no matter how much we try to run away from it. tracing the lives of three generations of Stephanides, Middlesex relives Cal's unique family history set within the changing landscape of post-war America. it tells of the hope for and the inevitable loss of the American Dream. but it is also a story about identity-- gender roles, the immigrant experience, assimilation and all the gray areas in between that seek to define us. these characters will make you angry, sad, excited and perplexed and will probably shed some light on your own personal legacy. don't wait any longer. READ THIS BOOK...and tell me your thoughts when you've finished and finally taken a breath.

The Doctor is In! "Scrubs: Season 1" finally on DVD

need a prescription for a strong, laugh-out-loud-yet touching comedy? well, you're in luck! get addicted to a tv show like no other: the brilliant but tragically underrated Scrubs has finally issued its fantastic season 1 on dvd! all the tv execs, critics, and most critically, nielsen families, who've lamented the demise of the sitcom obviously have not fully embraced (or perhaps even seen) the HIL-ariousness that is Scrubs.

i first fell in love with this little show about hapless medical interns turned almost capable doctors four years ago when i flipped onto the series' emotional, and truly excellent, fourth episode-- "My Old Lady." i nearly peed my pants when one character, shocked by a patient's response, literally received a delivery of a ton of bricks. get it? GET IT? before i could recover from laughing pains, the show reaches a poignant conclusion, reflecting on the fragile cycle of life and death always present in the hospital. i had never seen a show like this. Scrubs, shot in single-camera format, features innovative storytelling techniques-- most prominently in the form of a pseudo-internal monologue voiced by the show's central character, Dr. JD Dorian (played by the endearingly adorable Zach Braff-- who i hope will be my future husband. Zach, if you're reading this, call me!). JD's rich interior life infuses each episode with the most ludicrous fantasy sequences, ultimately revealing each character's secret fears and hopes.

season 1 follows this set of crazy and amazingly human characters--doctors, nurses, a creepy janitor-- through a story arc where they each grow, disappoint, and fall in and out of love with each other and their chosen profession. in addition, the dvd set includes all the cool bonus stuff a Scrubs fanatic has patiently waited for-- a "making of" featurette, interviews with each of the cast members, alternate lines, deleted scenes, and an outtakes reel. for a snoozefest summer of bad tv, this is pretty awesome.

so i bought the box set 2 weeks ago and watched all 24 eps over a 3-day period (i'm weirdly obsessive like that)--at the end of which i wondered aloud-- why the fuck is this show not a bigger hit? what the hell is wrong with America that the best quality comedies are usurped by the boring likes of Two and a Half Men or worst, the vomit-inducing According to Jim. THAT is what Americans think is funny? oh the national travesty.

sigh. it saddens me that the fate of Scrubs for next season is still up in the air-- nbc (damn you tv execs! don't you know that Joey sucks ass?) has yet to determine when it will come back on the schedule-- and the second best comedy on tv, the equally brilliant and hilarious Arrested Development barely eeked out the to-cut list. please America. i beg thee. buy this dvd, find out what you're missing, and help make sure Scrubs doesn't go into television's I.C.U. my sense of humor (and all that is right with the world) begs you.

Twelve Angry Men vs. Glengarry Glen Ross?

is there anything better than watching a group of desperately impatient men strut, seethe, and flaunt their testosterone like a well-worn suit? well...i can think of a few things but that will detract from the downright explosiveness of watching this theater season's sufficiently Man-ly slate of plays.

a stage full of un-naked men won't necessarily appeal to the post-feminist female audience...but the revival of two classic plays-- first, Twelve Angry Men and most recently, Glengarry Glen Ross, reminds me of why live theater is one of the most thoroughly satisfying cultural experiences out there. native new yorkers who don't take advantage of it, shame on you cuz you're missing out. because the men on the stage all give knockout performances--seamlessly channelling their characters, moving stories along by their words only--there are no plot gimmicks or silly special effects. just words. and sometimes, a lot of yelling and cursing.

up to bat first this 2005 theater season was Twelve Angry Men, which recently (and sadly) closed here in NYC. luckily, i caught it a few months ago with discount tix from work, which promised the Best Theater Experience Ever. melodrama aside, this tagline would not disappoint. the aforementioned cast of twelve interrogate, demean, judge, and eventually, reconstruct each other's moral compass as they attempt to reach a decision on a what seemed to be an open-and-shut murder case. but for one scene played during my freshman year management class (it was suppose to be an example of working in teams--ha!), i had never seen the original 1957 film. so the drama played out a fresh revelation of each piece of evidence-- exposing half-truths along with each man's agenda, and ultimately, doubts. the story, though half a century old, still seems relevant and i walked away from the show--which ran at a slim 90 minutes with no intermission-- unnerved by the play's moral lesson and grateful for the chance to witness such an amazing ensemble cast. each of the twelve actors gave astounding visceral performances--not one a household name, although all were theater veterans. however, other theater geeks may recognize Boyd Gaines-- who broke hearts and inspired dorky white guys everywhere to take a chance and dance-- in Susan Stroman's Contact a few years ago. his interpretation of the Juror who is the first to question everything, is a highlight.

Glengarry Glen Ross, which opened to rave reviews in early May, may contain a cast half its size, but outshines Twelve when it comes to star power. Alan Alda, Liev Schreiber, Gordon Clapp, and Jeffrey Tambor are all a part of this stellar cast of sleezy, verbally abusive set of real-estate salesmen who would do anything--lie, cheat, steal-- to "get the premium leads." i just came back from seeing the show and am still wowed over by its quick-paced abrasive dialogue and dumpy, but effective staging. unfortunately for me, this time i had seen the movie before (again, back in college...do all business courses reference movies as an easy way out?) so the only surprise was the play's duration-- clocking in at roughly 90 minutes. this story also has significant moral undertones-- but unlike Twelve, it isn't the lesson that resonates so much as the stunning performances of the leads-- i will put money on either Schreiber or Alda winning a Tony this weekend. both playing against type-- Schreiber as a slick, arrogant asshole of a sales guy on a hot streak; Alda completely decimating the good guy routine he's famous for, is Schreiber's perfect foil playing the down-on-his luck loser trying to find a way--any way-- to get back in the game.

in terms of which show is better?-- its a draw. Twelve had more emotional impact, as months later, i still recall its affecting resolution. but both made me remember why i love living in nyc-- access to such near-perfect performances is something we don't all get to appreciate, much less experience. hopefully, next season, the women will get their turn to wow audiences over.

Fountains of Wayne Rock!

the other day, i went to the Fountains of Wayne concert at Central Park. it was part of this sing-a-thon fundraiser type event to raise money for homeless children. and as the sage FoW lead singer said-- who doesn't support children without homes? hehehe. okay, lame joke. in any case, for those that don't know FoW outside of their pivotal radio-hit-turned-pepsi-commercial-theme-song tune "Stacy's Mom"-- they are a fun, laid-back, tongue-in-cheek power pop band from new york. their songs are about everyday things: an asshole boss, a shitty relationship, why high school sucked, and of course, football...you know, regular stuff. but each song is infused with catchy hooks and up-tempo, rock-out guitar riffs. despite the lack of a real audience(the rain didn't help) FoW gave an energetic, self-deprecating performance of some of their best tracks. some personal faves of mine: "Hey Julie!," (a personal anthem when i'm having a crappy day at work) done acoustic style, "Hackensack," and "Radiation Vibe." good stuff. and despite an awesome 9'X 12' plastic tarp my friend W (genius!) brought for us to huddle under(which resulted in a narsty-ass viral infection i'm still forced to endure), they have become, in my mind, a band I must catch live as MUCH AS POSSIBLE. check out more about them here.

Weezer tries to "Make Believe"

some bands, and specifically some albums, are more than just a cultural reference point, but a touchstone for one's own personal history. for me, weezer's eponymous debut album, known by the emo masses as the Blue Album brings me straight back to senior year in high school. it was fall 1994, and i would rock out behind closed doors to "in the garage" and "say it ain't so" while attempting to pen my college application essays.

luckily for me, the album's power pop sound and confessional lyrics were more adrenaline-inducing vs. distracting, sending me into college, primed and ready for angst and self-discovery. which was why Weezer's second album, released during my sophomore year-- the sometimes angry, often dour, and always catchy Pinkerton-- sealed the deal for me: Weezer was My Band. i was freakishly obsessed. i re-read every tortured lyric, pined after geeky front-man Rivers Cuomo, played each song over and over until every exploding guitar riff found its place as a personal anthem. will i ever get over this? could another band ever mean as much to me?

well, the answer would be yes. and yes. my obsession was real, but so was my short attention span. Rivers and crew waited five years to put out two consecutive albums that amped up the power pop but forgot the soulful introspection that brought them to cult status. i had, in turn, gone from insecure collegiate to wannabe yuppy. so now, on the cusp of my late twenties ready to discard yuppy status, the band has released a new album rumored to be more closely aligned in tone and sound to the earlier ones i had been so attached to. sure, its been ten years, but i was ready to Make Believe.

a recent Rolling Stone cover story illustrated Weezer as a band mired in dysfunction, one where Cuomo's quirks and ego dominates every track. Cuomo spent much of his three-year hiatus seeking peace and celibacy through meditation and the result is a fifth album that is at once introspective and unapologetically optimistic. the album's first track, already an MTV staple as the video was shot at the Playboy Mansion, seems to shout out "Look! The Geeks have made it!" while other tracks, such as "This is Such A Pity" sounds like it could have come straight off a Depeche Mode album-- when did Weezer become a New Wave band?

however, these deviations aside, the album has some real gems reminding me of the Classic Weezer i first fell for. "Perfect Situation" opens with a 40 second punk-pop guitar solo before plunging straight into a quick-tempo song about fear, love, longing and loneliness, eventually leading into a power ballad type chorus. i have a feeling its a track i'll be putting on repeat a lot. "Hold Me" and "Haunt You Every Day" continue along this same theme of self-doubt, very much in the vein of Pinkerton. other tracks, such as "Pardon Me" and "Peace" are reflective and somewhat hopeful-- it's as if all the meditation is allowing Rivers to finally forgive himself.

in the end, nothing will ever replace the impact of Weezer's earlier breakthrough albums. but, maybe that's okay. i'm older and wiser (supposedly) now too and can learn to appreciate that as a band ages, it's expected that they will let go of the issues that once defined them...so long as they don't forget what makes them essentially who they are. you should only be allowed to Make Believe some of the time.