Hey economy: STFU and put on a scarf.

OMJ you guys, have you seen the new Gap ads? The holiday ones always make my heart a little more toasty, and this year they're inundated with celebrities that simply make me giggle. In a year when Wall Street almost canceled Christmas, Gap makes me wanna spend my American money! For one, Jennifer Hudson greenlit her own shots despite the wretchedness in her life, and for that my heart really goes out to her. Also, the SOS Dreamboat comes sailing into the Gap in a button-collared beige sweater: Jon Hamm (swoon!). To top it off, as I noticed gliding up Third Avenue on an MTA bus, the dudes of the finally-funny-again Saturday Night Live faux-male-model some striped crew necks and look pretty fuckin loveable doing it. Ohmigawd. Also. Jason Bateman + adorbz daughter. Also. Dwight Schrute. Ohmigawd. Cool celebrity overload.

Also. Has anyone noticed how SNL has once again become hilarious? I actually would no longer be ashamed to forego a night out on Saturdays just to stay in and watch. Naturally the most interesting and bizarre election in history lent a lot to the show's boost in ratings and credit, but I'm both impressed and pleased that this show can hold its own and entertain without making a satire of the political circus we call American government. I can't really do it justice in words, other than to say the rotational skits (Surprise Lady, Two A-Holes, etc) are pretty damn funny, but even the new randoms carry enough novelty. This one is my latest fave.

I could lose this lemon in return for a rad trike.

You wanna know why I voted Obama two weeks ago? It's not because I was voting for terrorism and ACORN, and it certainly wasn't because I wanted my overmedicated grouchy Pop Pop telling me whether to watch MacGuiver or 60 Minutes, it's because of johnmccainisyourjalopy.com and barackobamaisyournewbicylce.com - two websites that bear more truth than an EPT. If you don't get either of them, well, then I guess you voted for the apropos man.

Two things I'm obsessed with but shouldn't be:

ONE. Kanye West. I'm sorry. I cannot ignore this man. And much as I try to dislike him, he just keeps pleasing and wowing me more and more (TWSS). I tried to dismiss his new album as a shitty rehash of Chris Brown/ Akon electric-esque sound flows, but it's so innovative. And even Gawker loves his new ideas. WTF, mate??? Anyway, I just redownloaded some of my faves from the College Dropout, and here's what I consider the best, catchiest vid from Kanye. It reminds me of Paris and spending 35 euro on a concert to get faced on kir and party in a shady part of the City of Lights and hitchhike home during a transit strike. Vive la France, mesdames et messieurs.



TWO. Bandit wine. I stopped by The Bottle Shoppe on Sunday and dropped $30. $20 was on a pretentious, shitty zinfandel that tasted like fermented syrup before it had the chance to make it to a priest's communion inventory. $9, however, was on my new best friend, the undiscovered grail of happiness, Bandit. It comes in a BOX (not like Franzia though - shit son, this aint your mother's basement!) and leads you to believe that you can and should be able to drink it in like 3 minutes. Well, you can. But you shouldn't (well, on a week night by yourself). Welcome to the adult's answer to Juicy Juice. Apparently these little wonders hold 133% the amount of vino an average bottle of wine can. And therefore get you tanked. Also, they're delicious (another bonus: they're totally green!). Buy it. Makes for a right class Thanksgiving. And guess what the first thing is that I'm bringing to the opening of HBO's 2009 Bryant Park Film Festival. YUM.

East v. West: a case study

Remember a few whiles back when I posted that video for the Virgins' single "Rich Girls"? It got me thinking. It's such a quintessentially "New York" video. It's in a dingy underground bar. Practically everything from the walls to the table tops to people's skin to the camera lens is coated in this film of sweat, condensation, and booze. The only light comes from overhead UVs and red bulbs. Everyone's wearing black. Everyone is completely, lethargically housed. No one really gives a shit because, like, you have to be sober to give a shit. Basically every person is going to die in 4 years even though no one's over the age of 26. It's basically supposed to take place from 2-5am. Save people falling over each other in a drunken stupor, no one's dancing (they jes' sittin around!).



Now. Compare with what I call the quintessentially "SoCal" video, from Rooney's "When did your Heart go Missing?" It's on a sunny, happy beach and down the Malibu strip. Everything looks like it tastes like a cool, fresh margarita or something. It's so fucking bright out them kids are wearing shades till 7pm. Everyone is wearing some form of pastel or white or gold (either in their hair or in their Hollister costume). Everyone is so naturally pepped that they can still toss a beach ball around while sipping 80,000 red plastic cups and not get pulled over for DUI in their vintage convertible. Everyone's so healthy you wonder if its their vocal cords they're singing from or their numerous, big healthy red blood cells and happy little liver. It's basically supposed to take place between 2pm-12am. Everyone dances and claps in unison.



We both may have voted Obama, but my what distances stand between New York and California...

(PS: My fave part of that Rooney video is "Why don't you wake him up and get a job?" Ha, spoken like a true McCain.)

Heart-Dick Productions

Last night I had the utter pleasure to experience the awkward, embarrassing, and ugly sexhound of a movie, Zack and Miri Make a Porno, with an awkward, embarrassing and ugly sexhound of my own. In case you haven't heard about it, it's the latest "let's make lots of jokes about weewees and poopoo but still make it endearing" flick from Seth Rogen, of frat pack fame. You know, call me crazy, but as redundant as this series is, and debase as they may be, I will never grow tired of these movies. And my hat's really off to Seth Rogen for winning fame by being normally funny. A lot of people may say, "Oh my friends and I same the same shit but we're not getting paid millions of dollars for it..." Yeah, true. You're NOT getting paid millions of dollars for it. You're sitting on your ass playing Xbox Live and drinking your Natty Light and he made an effort to work hard and crank out a grazillion movies a year, just bein himself. So, you know, shaddap.I really have come to admire Seth Rogen (along with the rest of the Farty boys that have dominated the American comedy scene since about 2004). A few months back he was actually in the Hitchcock-attributed Hollywood issue of Vanity Fair, recreating Cary Grant's iconic scene from North by Northwest, and later this summer he graced the cover of GQ's comedy issue. In his GQ feature, he described his school of comedy as "heart-dick production," since his films consist of a lot of heart, but simultaneously, a lot of dick. Not too far off the mark, wouldn't you say? Look at what he's been in: The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up, Superbad... (no, I didn't see Pineapple Express). Most of those movies tie directly back to Judd Apatow, but I still contest that the uncomfortable, chubby, jewfro lovability of Rogen is largely responsible for this whole phenomenon.

Also, I must contest that he's started a new misplaced romantic lead phenomenon, akin to Tom Hanks in the 80s and Woody Allan in the 70s... Last night, as I squinted through Rogen and Elizabeth Banks' silent explosion of a sex scene (yeah... spoiler alert... they do it, since duh they made a porno!), I actually found myself, kind of um, turned on. It was this strange alloy of arousal, confusion, discomfort, and sheer endearment. Yes, frankly, watching Seth Rogen even make OUT with a girl is weird, and watching him "make love" (as his character Zack actually declared it) is sheerly mind-bending and existential. But the truth is, he created a scenario that was both emotional and real, and yeah, really fucking awkward. But that, I think, is what made it so hot. Oh Seth Rogen, you slick-talkin fly-walkin panty dropper.

PS: For those of you who are attune to viral videos, check this noise out, which was shot on the set of Zack and Miri and I discovered a few months ago! Wee!

Hellobama

I would be remiss as an adult functioning person if tonight I didn't give my nods to the man who had single-handedly (question mark if you count the internet as an entity in and of itself, I guess) changed the face of American campaigning ( youth culture/ redistribution of wealth/ ideological priority/ racial question/ economical reality/ physical health/ campaign finance reform/White House puppies aside from Miss Beazley) in only two short years. Congratulations, Mr. Obama, in finally sealing the title that you have not only stridently labored to earn, but that we have so desperately been seeking to place. I am confident in your abilities.

So uh, puppies?