I have literally three minutes to spare.

Dear Friends,

I like my job but I have been extremely busy every day this week and haven't had time to write a real post.

Today I have been going mad with stuff to do.

That's actually a good thing, though.

I want you to know that I'm not shirking my blogging duties, even if I'm being published elsewhere occasionally.

My boss will be out of town for the next two weeks, so hopefully regular posts will resume on Monday.


xoxo,

Tyler.

We're all a little bit Mandy Patinkin.

Occasionally I get emails from the Chicago Theatre about pre-sales for upcoming shows. I've only been there once (or The Arcade Fire), but generally the shows there are not really appealing to my demographic (read: younger than fifty-five).

But then, last night, I received this in my inbox:

I showed Christina, who responded, "OH MAN. I would TOTALLY go to that! If it was free! But if I could go I would start a blog just about that one night!"


So who wants to buy us tickets for Christmas?

Better late than never.

For once in my life I have actual work to do (I know, right?!), so I haven't had time to write a post today.

BUT!

My recap of last week's P-Run is up over at This Recording. This week I'll be getting it in on time, but hey, at least I'm leaving my mark on the world, right?

Thxgiving recap, of sorts.

Sometimes having a long weekend is just as exhausting as working an actual job.

The Thanksgiving break was nice, even if I had only been at my job for three days. But it was also packed, and I stayed pretty busy. I saw two shows; The Pipettes played on Wednesday at the Double Door (which was pretty fun), and M.I.A. was at The Vic on Friday (and I lost my shiiiiiit). I also made a Coke cake and had some delicious food on Thanksgiving. Katy had a birthday and we went bowling in Skokie after unsuccessfully searching for an open ice-skating rink. I'm still a horrible bowler, and I played my worst-game ever despite making a 7-10 split. Of course, when one only bowls twice a year at best, one cannot expect to break a hundred.

I am glad it is Monday, even if it means I'm back and work and my job is slightly terrifying. But I think I find it so scary because I don't really know what I'm doing yet, and the idea of keeping someone else's shit organized when I don't even file my own emails is pretty frightening. But I'm not necessarily stressed or anything, since I have about an hour of actual work that I space out into eight hours of the day. The rest of the time I stare out the window, watching traffic.

Perhaps I'm still just shocked I'm getting paid so much to sit in my own office and watch buses drive by several floors below me?

I may try to be productive and write something worth reading, instead of boring posts like this. I'm supposed to be recapping P-Run for This Recording, although I had to skip last week as I missed the show because of the Pipettes and couldn't manage to find a rerun until yesterday. And I'm frustrated because Bravo doesn't post its shows online, which makes it difficult to get screen caps from the show, natch. I also thought about writing a post about Marianne Faithfull, which is doable provided I get my ass in gear.

I kinda just want to take a nap. Bleh.

"That's exactly what lesbians say."

Occasionally, I have nutty GChat conversations with Katy. Sometimes the stuff she says is so fascinating that I want to share them with the world. To know Katy is to love her, but to read transcriptions of her instant messages is to look deeply into her soul.

Today, Katy got all sassy with me about my music tastes, which naturally evolved into a conversations about lesbians. With Katy, it always turns into a conversation about lesbians.


Katy: julia and i had an extensive conversation about who we hate more: john mayer or james blunt
me: oof, james blunt.
Katy: thats what she said
Katy: i tend to agree
me: john mayer at least had a mediocre career for a while that wasn't completely tragic
Katy: the sad thing is that anyone likes either of them
me: i liked his first album
Katy: ugh
me: it really spoke to me when i was 18
Katy: i have hated him since day 1
Katy: radiohead spoke to me when i was 18
me: this was also around the time dashboard confessional spoke to me, so give me a break
me: i was misled
Katy: you and my sister were kindred spirits
Katy: i forget you're of a younger generation than me
me: oh shut up, i'm a year younger
me: we're the same generation
me: liz phair was also speaking to me, and that one stuck
me: at least her first album did
Katy: how are you not a lesbian?
me: shut up, exile in guyville is not lesbian rock
Katy: yes it is!!
me: just because i listened to some indigo girls BRIEFLY does not make me a lesbian
me: NO
me: it is not lesbian
Katy: sigh
me: whitechocolatespaceegg MAYBE
me: exile in guyville transcends gender and sexuality
Katy: i dont even know because i never listened to it
me: it's about all of us, katy. it's about all of us.
Katy: thats exactly what lesbians say
me: i think you're a horrible person sometimes.
Katy: why?!
me: BECAUSE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING.
Katy: you cant take the heat, mister
Katy: i have never preferred female bands or singers anyway
me: that's because you hate women.
Katy: i like my mom
me: that's not a good argument
Katy: i had a roommate that was a lesbian and we were BFFs
Katy: and she was 35
me: what? you had a 35 year old roommate?
Katy: it was during an internship at the place i did therapeutic horsemanship, so we lived together for 3 months
me: how are YOU not a lesbian?
Katy: because i like to be pretty
me: lesbians like to be pretty
Katy: not hannah, my 35 yr old roommate
me: 35 year olds don't like to be pretty, katy.
Katy: angie harmon does
me: just when i think i'm winning, you pull out a law and order reference
Katy: thank you!
me: dick wolf runs your life.

Consider this product placement.

There are very few inventions that I believe have truly made my life better. For example, I can think of maybe two major contraptions that have, in my lifetime, made improvements upon my being. Those are the iPod and the DVD player. Seriously.

I have recently discovered Burt's Bees Medicated Lip Balm. I'd used the plain old regular Burt's Bees before but it actually made my lips in worse shape, as the oil in the chapstick clogs the pores around my lips, which then makes me break out. I don't enjoy looking like I have herpes, so I usually suffer on with dry lips. A few weeks ago, however, my lips were in serious pain, and I broke down and bought a new tube. Not only are my lips as moist as, well, things that are moist, but they also constantly smell like chai tea, thanks to the clove oil used as an ingredient.

Having the scent of chai tea follow me around every day has certainly made my life better.

A good case of the Mondays.

Today is my first day at my new job. So far I've answered the phone once and created a PDF form, mostly because I don't have access to most of the things I will eventually use to perform my daily duties. But that's okay, because I've basically spent the first half of the day staring out of the HUGE WINDOW IN MY BIG OFFICE.

Um, yeah, I HAVE MY OWN OFFICE.

So things are pretty damn good right now.

Also, my parents had a terrific weekend in Chicago. The first evening was rough because they weren't used to walking (my mother was convinced that one city block was actually three) or the cold (it was forty degrees, which is "freezing"). But I was impressed how well they behaved: my dad didn't talk to every crazy person he encountered, my mother only asked me about my job about fifteen times despite my instructions not to, and they managed to commute around the city without major injury (although my mother did get her hand caught in the door of a bus). They even took the Broadway bus from Diversey to Bryn Mawr BY THEMSELVES, which is quite a feat considering the last time I tried that I got off five blocks before I needed to because I couldn't handle all of the crazy.

My only complaint about this weekend is that my mom refused to buy me astronaut ice cream at the Museum of Science and Industry, but hey - in the grand scheme of things, is it that big of a deal? Not when you manage to get a great shot of wallaby balls!

Have a terrific day, Internet.

Last day last day last daaaayyyyy.

I don't have anything interesting to note, really. Just excited that I'm outta here in less than four hours! Hooraaaah.

But since it's Friday, I'll post some videos. Last night Julia and I went to see Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings at Park West, and it was a fantastic show, despite my fear that she would pull me on stage to dance (she pulled about fifteen audience members throughout the entire show and I there was only one person in between me and the stage). But I've been listening to them constantly for the last couple of days, and here are some sweeet jamz.

It's Sew Time.

OMG, you guys! Project Runway!! I'm sew excited that it's finally on again. It's been a rough year without it, but I think it was sew worth the wait, right?

I'm mostly excited to take the opportunity to pretend that I know / give a shit about fashion and write recaps of each episode, even though every fourth blogger on the Internet is doing the same thing. But hey, I'm just happy to have a topic to write about every Thursday for the next few months. Thanks, Bravo!

Adam and his friend Mel came up with this complicated game this year where the winner could win fifty dollars. It involves everyone who participates picking three designers (randomly from a hat). There's also a complicated point system, which I'm not going to try to explain because I still don't get it. I know you're rewarded if your designer wins a challenge or cries. I wasn't able to watch it at Adam and Alissa's last night, so Carl Weathers picked out some designers for me.


Here's who I got:


1. Victorya
Victorya is one of the many designers this year to have a pretentiously misspelled first name. Also, she's kind of boring. But she went to University of Chicago, so she's smart! And maybe socially inept! Maybe that'll make for some nutty encounters with the rest of the cast.


2. Sweet P
Oh, thanks a lot, Carl, for picking the leather-clad Joni Mitchell. Again, she was rather boring, but maybe she'll have an acid flashback or two.


3. Kevin
Kevin made a point to mention that he was straight. Thank you, Kevin, for making the brave choice to come out like that. It must be hard being a minority. - it gives you and Kelis something to talk about. And can I just say that his facial hair is terrifying? It took me a while, but I figured out what he reminds me of:


Now, some random thoughts:

The best part of the episode clearly was the opening, when they had everyone sprint across a field for fabric. The producers rewarded us for waiting a year for this by having a fat designer this year. Thank you, Heidi Klum.

I would support Stephen if only for the fact that he's from Chicago, but I can't because he's a serial killer.

I can tell Rami is an authentic designer because he wears a measuring tape scarf.

OMG HATE.

Sew far, I'm a little underwhelmed. And I think Heidi is, too:




UPDATE: Because you're dying to know, I'm sure, here are the rules for our P-Run tournament, courtesy of Adam:

+1 if your person moves on to the next round (but isn't in the top 3)
+2 if your person is in the top 3 (but doesn't win the challenge)
+5 if your person wins the challenge
+10 if your person wins the competition
+3 if your person cries (maximum of 6 points an episode, crying cause they were kicked off does not count)
+2 if Tim tells your person (directly) to "Carry on" or "Make it work"
-2 if your person is in the bottom 2
-3 if your person is kicked off

Overheard at the office:

"When my granddaughter found out I had a MySpace, she said, 'Granddaddy, that ain't for old folks!!'"

"It's OK to say Merry Christmas to me!"

Occasionally, I have nutty GChat conversations with Katy. Sometimes the stuff she says is so fascinating that I want to share them with the world. To know Katy is to love her, but to read transcriptions of her instant messages is to look deeply into her soul.

This week, Katy and I discuss the War on Christmas and her cat's jealousy of her unborn child.





Katy: so i heard this ad on the radio that is for these pins you can order that say "it's ok to say merry christmas to me!"
me: are you going to get one?
Katy: no!
Katy: i say it to people regardless
me: good girl
me: you're on the right side of the war on christmas
Katy: i don't look jewish so there shouldn't be confusion
me: well, what if you were a convert, but weren't ethnically jewish?
Katy: hmm
me: i'd probably say it anyway, out of nostalgia
me: i don't have a problem with what people say to me
Katy: i don't either
me: hell, if someone at macy's told me to fuck off after i bought something, i'd be fine with that
i'd probably respect them more
Katy: lol
Katy: only at macys though
me: where else would i shop?!
Katy: american apparel!
me: american apparel is a big "fuck you" to me anyway
Katy: they would totally say it there

Katy: lily has been hinting to me that she wants me to declaw her
me: oh yeah? how so?
Katy: she was scratching the crib this morning
me: did she look like she was disgusted with her behavior?
Katy: no she was really smug
me: so how do you know she WANTS to be declawed?
Katy: because if she didn't she wouldn't scratch
me: you don't think she scratches because she enjoys her claws?
me: and the power?
Katy: maybe subconsciously
Katy: shes acting out because of the baby
me: do you think she's jealous because of not being the center of attention, or is she jealous because she can't have a baby of her own?
Katy: its probably both
me: she needs to go into therapy
Katy: ok, i'm convinced
me: i'll do it, if you want.
Katy: i try to talk to her but i think she needs outside help
me: katy, i broke her of her fear of sleeping in a bed with people
me: i was like, "lily, i am going to nap and you are going to cuddle with me. and you have to accept it."
Katy: i know, maybe that is what opened her floodgates
Katy: she doesn't fear anymore
Katy: she sleeps in the bed almost every night now
me: but isn't it comforting?
Katy: it is. it's adorable
me: sometimes, you have to take the good with the bad
Katy: i know...
me: like, accept her issues because she's adorable
me: i think you're the one who needs therapy, katy
Katy: i have been to therapy! i know how it works
me: but do you know that it DID work?
Katy: shove it
Katy: i am no longer destructive

And a bonus one-liner!
Katy: the guy looks like an ugly paul giamatti

Eeek! My parents are coming!

My parents are coming to Chicago to visit me for the first time since I moved here over two years ago. They had been planning to come for a long time but there's been a ton of family crises (deaths, cancer, etc) keeping them in Virginia. I'm very excited, but now that they'll be here in two days, I'm rather nervous because I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH THEM.

Granted, I can have them do all of the tourist stuff like the Sears Tower and Millennium Park because I know they want to do that stuff. But at the same time, I don't want to limit it to the crappy stuff like going to the top of a big building and looking at that damn Bean. I'm definitely going to encourage that we make the trek down to Hyde Park to go to the Museum of Science and Industry, since my dad is obsessed with Discovery Channel type things, and the Field Museum since my mom likes dead, stuffed animals (especially elephants!).

I'm also trying to figure out where to go for dinner three nights in a row. My parents definitely aren't as picky as I am when it comes to food, but they are just as hesitant to unnecessary fancy meals. (We don't have an exotic selection in Montross, natch.) I talked to my mom online last night, and she started asking me if I'd heard of the restaurants featured in her Frommers' guide (from 2004). "Have you heard of North Pond? How about Italian Village? Ooh! A Rainforest Cafe!" I, on the other hand, am trying to find some places that have some character and do not have locations in other cities. And also feature hamburgers on the menu.

I've also come up with two rules that my parents will have to follow the entire weekend. The first is mostly for my father: DO NOT TALK TO ANYONE YOU DO NOT KNOW. When my father came with me to Chicago, every single bum and con artist on the street took him for the sucker he is, and I'll be damned if he wasn't handing out spare change to anyone who asked him for it, only to bitch about it later to me. He even paid twelve dollars for an unsolicited shoe-shine!

Rule number two is for my mother: DO NOT ASK ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY NEW JOB. My mother has been driving me absolutely nuts since Monday by calling me at work multiple times a day with random queries about my new employment. Hell, this started on Thursday, the day of the interview, when she asked me three times if Northwestern offered benefits. The thing that really aggravates me is that she'll just look up the answers to her questions on the Northwestern HR site no matter what I tell her, so I don't know why she's bothering me with them in the first place. Yesterday was probably the worst of it, when she called to tell me that I shouldn't have formally resigned from DePaul because I haven't gotten the official offer letter. She's convinced that my new boss is trying to scam me into working for free, I think, and she's terrified that I won't have a real job in two weeks. She also told me not to burn my bridges at DePaul "just in case of an emergency." I guess she expects that on Friday I'll be so excited to leave that I'll be throwing out Fuck-yous and c-punches and lighting my farts on fire.

I mean, it's not like I haven't thought about it, but come on - I'm an adult now.

Welcome to Adulthood.

Last Thursday I had an early-morning interview that I scheduled the previous afternoon for a job I didn't know much about. I was feeling rather blasé about it when I left the house that morning, more thankful that I didn't have to be at work at seven than about having another fruitless interview. By nine-thirty, however, I had the impression that I had gotten the job. And then I spent the next four days in frenzied anticipation until I got an offer yesterday morning.

Basically, I'd be the assistant to this professor who does a lot of fancy sciency things, which includes running an institute of sorts within Northwestern. He travels a lot, only teaches six months out of the year, and publishes a lot of articles, and he needs someone to manage his calendar and correspondence while he's off showing everyone how brilliant he is. And luckily, he seems like a super nice guy who immediately liked me (maybe for my keen ability to smile and nod). The interesting thing about the position is that I'll be commuting back and forth between his Chicago and Evanston offices while he decides if he's going to hire a second assistant.

It'll be a lot more responsibility, which is both exciting and terrifying at the same time. I'll probably be busy at work most of the time, which is something I'm actually looking forward to, as the six hours of downtime at my current job has taken its toll. Sure, I won't be able to watch Netflix or 30Rock at work anymore, but the salary more than makes up for it. The unofficial offer is over ten thousand more than I'm currently making.

I'm so ecstatic about this opportunity, and I feel like I'm finally doing something. The last year and a half of work has finally paid off - I paid my dues, got some experience, and am finally able to move on. And the idea of not having to rewrite my resume every few weeks and letting my CareerBuilder account sit dormant for a while is something I'm excited about. I'm also anticipating a lifestyle change; I won't have to worry about overdrawing my account anymore, I can start building some savings, I can pay off my credit card, and can maybe even afford a sweater from J. Crew. It's kind of surreal, in a way, but I feel like a lot of my early-20s problems might find some resolution, just in time for me to settle into my MID-20s.

And here's the other crazy thing: I start on Monday. As of this writing, I have only thirty more hours of work at DePaul.

Insanely happy. Details soon.

I just accepted a job offer at Northwestern. They finally caved.

"No fourteen-year-old boy should have a ninety five-dollar shirt unless he's on stage with his four brothers."

This is the second part of a series wherein I bitterly whine about how I can't afford stupid shit (because I go out for lunch and buy gin and tonics too often) and then project my self-hatred onto others.

I hate people who shop at J. Crew because I wish I could afford to shop at J. Crew.

I thought long and hard about writing this post since I have a not-so-secret love for J. Crew. When I was in high school I ordered the J. Crew catalogs and got really excited whenever I received one in the mail. The wool! The cashmere! The leather! The seersucker! The argyle!!! I loved it so much and desperately wanted all of my clothes to come from there. Of course, my mother refused to spend so much money on a sweater that she thought I'd outgrow in a year. (The irony of this is that I still can't fit into the sweaters my mother bought me in high school, since she is of the school of thought wherein everyone's clothes should be at least one size too big just in case. I realized recently that I was even conned into wearing size twelve shoes. Imagine my joy when I discovered that I could wear a size TEN, which doesn't make my feet look too big for my body.)

Therefore, I have a love / hate relationship with J. Crew.

The whole J. Crew image certainly doesn't fit in with my own. Perhaps I decided to buy most of my clothes at thrift stores and wear dark, tight jeans to rebel against my own desire to be WASPier than I already am. I dunno. The point is that if you can afford these ties, I hate you.


And here's a full disclosure: I own two items from J. Crew. The first is a leather key chain with a whale on it (obvs.). I spent fourteen dollars on it last winter and it's already falling apart. The other is a sweater I bought at Goodwill for three dollars four years ago. It's never been washed because it's Dry Clean Only.

The word "prostitute" is French for "nature's clown."

God bless Julie Klausner and Jackie Clarke.




Julie and Jackie dot com.

"Write a blog about ingrown hairs."

Another new feature this week: Conversations with Katy.*




Occasionally, I have nutty GChat conversations with Katy. Sometimes the stuff she says is so fascinating that I want to share them with the world. To know Katy is to love her, but to read transcriptions of her instant messages is to look deeply into her soul

Our inaugural edition of Conversations with Katy is a long one about how how crazy things (cysts, hair, babies) grow inside our bodies. Read further and you just mind learn something!





me: i have a cyst on my neck

Katy: really?

me: yes

me: just a little ball

me: it's annoying

Katy: weird

Katy: where?

me: under my ear

me: it just popped up

Katy: when?

me: i thought it was a pimple

me: like, two weeks ago, maybe three

Katy: i have that too!

me: my mother used to get those on her head

me: she has one that's been there for years

Katy: mine went away actually

me: one time she said she brushed her hair and it popped out

Katy: weird

me: and bounced on the floor

Katy: WOW

Katy: that would be the best day of my life

me: OUR BODIES ARE SO STRANGE

Katy: i love it

me: i get excited when i have an ingrown hair

Katy: ME TOO!!!!

Katy: i seek them out

me: there's a sense of accomplishment when you get one out

me: like, "wow, that thing was IN ME?"

Katy: oh it is a huge satisfaction

Katy: i know, especially when you get a really long hair out

me: is that what it's like when you have a baby?

Katy: yeah except i know whats coming

Katy: and it will hurt

Katy: there is nothing better than barely pressing on an ingrown and a huge hair comes out

me: we're kindred spirits, katy.

Katy: there are many of us out there

me: i wonder if there's a chat room i can join

Katy: hmm, i bet there is

Katy: justin is the same way, and so is his sister

me: i just googled "ingrown hair fetish"

me: i don't really want to click the links

Katy: festish may not be the right word tyler

me: well, what is it? fascination?

Katy: obsession?

Katy: if you google fetish there will be trouble

Katy: write a blog about ingrown hairs
Katy: we need the peoples feedback

me: i may have to just copy and paste this whole conversation



*This is a direct rip-off of Erica's weekly Tuesdays with Jihone.

My power animals.

I can't decide which one I really am.

More: Animals Have Problems Too

I definitely hate you if you have both an iPhone and a Blackberry.

This is the first part of a series wherein I bitterly whine about how I can't afford stupid shit (because I go out for lunch and buy gin and tonics too often) and then project my self-hatred onto others.

I was riding the brown line home the other night instead of the red line. The brown line seems to have a different kind of people riding on it; in other words, there are more white people, which is not really a good think because they're all rich, young, sometimes attractive white people who live in Lincoln Park. And I don't like those people very much, because they are more apt to own Blackberries and iPhones.

I was standing across the train from this man in his late twenties who was wearing a leather blazer, which was offense number one. The second offensive thing about him was that he had a chin strap, which is the worst kind of facial hair (even worse than a soul patch). The only good thing about seeing a man with a chin strap is that it makes me realize that the guy is most likely insecure about his undefined jaw line, because men whose faces blend into their necks are more apt to grow skinny little beards to give the illusion of jaws and chins. This makes me feel better about my bone structure.

Anyway, the Dude in the leather blazer was fiddling with his iPhone, which was not particularly surprising. After he finished picking out whatever album he wanted to listen to, which quite possibly may have been this one or this one, he slipped it into the pocket on the inside of his blazer. And then what did he pull out of another pocket? A Blackberry. Chin Strap And Leather Blazer owns and carries both an iPhone and a Blackberry.

I hate him because he's both a walking cliche and a walking redundancy.

LOLjellicles

You all know I love LOLcats. I've been on the LOLcat bandwagon for months. I sit in my cubicle, clicking through I Can Has Cheezburger and loudly giggle to myself. I make friends look at pictures and get angry when they do not LOL. I was a LOLcat for Halloween. I list "LOLcats" as my religion on my Facebook profile. Clearly, I love the LOLcat phenomenon.

Which is why I have to destroy it.

I don't know if you've ever had the misfortune to realize that you must destroy something you love. This is, honestly, the first time I've had to come to terms with it. It's really upsetting, even worse than Old Yeller would have you believe, but that's not a surprise. I'm not a dog person. I am a LOLcat person.

But the Internet craze has become too much. It's inspired websites like LOLgay, LOLhan, and LOLsecretz, all of which you will notice are on my blogroll. And while I am in LOLlove with all of these sites, I'm afraid the fifteen minutes is up. And usually, fifteen minutes of fame on the Internet is equivalent to about an afternoon of chuckles, so the LOLcats have done pretty well for themselves.

I was thinking the other night, "How can I put an end to the LOLcat phenomenon? What can convince the Internet that these cats are bad, and need to be stopped?" Then I remembered what almost ruined the universal love for actual kittens back in 1982: CATS.

So, I figure if I cross LOLcats with some Andrew LOL Webber, I can end it once and for all. And frankly, I'm surprised no one has thought it before. Please, come with me as I journey to the Heavyside Layer, where the spirits of LOLcats will rest forever.

(whoops, that one doesn't belong!)

(Somewhat) Related:
Julie Klausner and friends perform "Honky Cat" [YouTube]

I am a lame ass.

When I got to work this morning, I logged into MySpace and found this:

Immediately, Adam and I had this conversation. Well, it was more like I shouted at him across the cubicle wall.

Me: Chris Brown is from Tappahannock?!

Adam: Um, I don't know where that is.

Me: IT'S WHERE MY WAL-MART IS!!!

Also, I had to ask Megan who this Chris Brown person was. Apparently "he is all over the place"? I must have missed that. But seriously, no one from Tappahannock is famous. This dude just raised the bar.

I wrote about Tappahannock two years ago. Take a gander.

Poor Pedro!

The re-release of Bambi in the 1960s may have sparked the environmental movement, but I think this scene from 1956's Giant is what enticed Americans to embrace vegetarianism. Also, I think it's hilarious.

Zelda Rubinstein: The Most Popular Girl

I made some friends watch Poltergeist III with me yesterday, a feat I accomplished by pointing out that it takes place in Chicago in the John Hancock building. Also, it used to scare the shit out of me when I was little, and even though I knew it was bad, I had forgotten how bad. And it's basically an hour and a half of people screaming, "Carol Anne!" To wit:



But God bless Zelda Rubinstein, right guys?


Which brings me to the real reason behind this post: the great cinematic achievement that is Teen Witch.

I remember seeing Teen Witch on HBO a lot when I was little, and kind of like The Babysitters Club TV show, it was the type of thing that was always on and I never actually sought out to watch, yet I was somehow fascinated regardless. Maybe I liked it because it was about a nerdy teen who won over her classmates with magic instead of actually being cool. You know, kind of like Carrie, but without murder.

The star of Teen Witch is Robyn Lively, who is kind of like the poor man's Jenny Lewis.




Did you notice how her loser best friend is the poor man's Sara Gilbert? And, if you noticed, that scene has an oddly placed rap song. Well, remember 1989? White people rapped back then - even homely, Jewish Darlene Connor:



OMG, you guys, couldn't you totally see those guys together? Also, those dudes are so Blue States Lose! It's nice to finally discover where today's hipsters get their fashion cues.

Like any great teen movie from the '80s, there's an awesome prom sequence. Cue the taffeta!



On second thought, Robyn Lively is a poor man's Sissy Spacek as Loretta Lynn:



Zelda Rubinstein, who played Tangina Barrons (which regrettably does not sound like "Vagina Barrons") in the Poltergeist films, plays the teen witch's mentor, naturally. Sadly, the online community has not embraced Ms. Rubinstein with the same passion. Someone get that lady a YouTube channel!

Oh, Zelda. You can deliver me from the astral plane anytime.




Bonus Video!!! A Teen Witch fan vid!

Johnny Depp is into that "less is more" kind of acting.

Entertainment Weekly has a fairly insipid (suprise!) interview with Johnny Depp about Sweeney Todd, and I think this is my favorite part because it's so groundbreaking and cutting-edge, you know?

You have a scene with Helena Bonham Carter as Mrs. Lovett, set to the song ''My Friends,'' where you never once look at her — she's out of focus behind you. It's right for the character, but did that freak her out on the set?
She was terrific about it, Helena. We did that entire piece and I don't think we made eye contact at all. It seemed like the right thing to do. I thought the only time he'd have real intense eye contact would be with his wife when they were younger, or with Judge Turpin. I really tried to stick to that. It wasn't always possible, but we came close.

Related:
Johnny Depp: Cutting Loose in "Sweeney Todd" [EW]

THANKS A LOT, CHICAGO HEIGHTS READER.

I'm on the verge of doing something drastic.

Have you ever had one of those days where, in the first two hours, everything that could possibly go wrong did and by nine o'clock you wonder what other forms of Hell are headed your way? Well:

I woke up at 7:25.

My train lost power for fifteen minutes.

Someone got sick on the train.

After getting off the train, a woman literally ran into me as she sped toward the train to make it inside before the doors closed.

I got to work forty minutes late.

I opened my bag and discovered my pasta sauce leaked out of the fake Glad tupperware.

I am STILL AT THIS SHITHOLE PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT.

Aaaand segue:

Several months ago, when I first told my new boss that I didn't particularly like working here and wanted a new job that paid more, he told me, "Oh, well, how about we move you under a new manager? And I'll give you an office!" Well, the office thing was stupid because none of the managers even have offices, but I did want to be moved under new management because my manager at the time was driving me crazy. About a week later, he tells me that he decided to not give me an office or move me under a new manager. And so begins a load of broken promises.

He then told me that I should stick around because they were going to open a new position that would require more responsibility and a higher salary. It still wasn't thirty-thousand, but hey - it's still a promotion, right? So I asked my manager regularly when this job was getting posted so I could apply, and she just signed and complained that our boss, who is never here, had told her she had to write up the job description, even though that was his job. And in the meantime, I started applying to other places because I was becoming increasingly fed up with this place.

About a month ago my manager sent out an email to the entire office telling us the job had finally been posted and that we could apply for it if we wanted to. I asked my manager immediately who was the hiring manager, and she said she was, and that she'd start looking at resumes the following week.

I never heard anything about it after that, and I just assumed that they were taking their precious time as they do with everything else around here.

Yesterday, after our Halloween potluck, at which I listened to a temp tell everyone about the production of Godspell she's in for an hour, I got an email from our department's communication director. Usually I just delete them since it's usually news that I don't understand about people I don't know, but I actually skimmed it. And there I saw that one of my co-workers, who happens to be my manager's best friend, had received the promotion and was now the auditing coordinator.

And I'm still really, really pissed about this.

I know that they did not even conduct interviews for this position, because there is no reason why they wouldn't have spoken to me about it. I'm perfectly qualified for it, given the fact that my manager and my boss had both spoken to me about the job as some kind of incentive to stick around here. And it's possible that my co-worker is more qualified for it, since she's been here much longer than I have, but the point is that my manager gave her best friend a promotion and never announced that the position had been filled. I never received anything from HR saying I wasn't selected. All of this has been done almost secretly and I'm so fucking angry about that.

This was my last chance to move forward in this office. Now I'm still stuck in a sub-par entry-level position, making less than thirteen dollars an hour on a thirty-five hour work week. And I have a degree, whereas my newly promoted co-worker (as well as my manager) do not.

So after a miserable commute to work this morning, it took a lot of effort to not turn around and go back home. It's also taking a lot of effort (read: rational thought) to not tell my boss that I'm quitting this job immediately. Also, he's not here today anyway, and that's kind of preventing my resignation, as well.