Excellant article in the June GQ about just why the new Liz Phair album sucks so much -you can read it on this non GQ site.
And then, as if she's dead-set on proving just how weird she's become (and not in a good way), Phair recently wrote a scary letter to the New York Times in response to its bad review of her album.
Liz - chill. Face it, your album sucks. It sucks bad. It is Avril-slick and radio-ready and while I like a good radio pop song now and then this one reeks of a desperate attempt to have a HIT of the mass market variety. So you're 36 years old and scared that this is IT- that you're running out of chances to take the world by storm? Honey, you already took the world by storm with Exile in Guyville. Your follow-up record, Whip-Smart was, in my opinion, under-rated. It didn't have quite the same intensity as Exile, but I appreciated its reflective quality, its quiet moments, its mood. I wasn't so sure about Whitechocolatespaceegg - although I thought it did have its better moments and I was more than willing to keep listening.
But this record? Other than two songs - Extraordinary and Rock Me - everything here is just really out of sorts. You sound frantic and trite, your lyrics are embarrassing - not shocking.
I know that people grow and change and I certainly don't expect you to be the same person you were when you wrote the dead-on "Fuck and Run" or the amazing "Mesmerizing" or the wonderfully lyrical "Stratford-on-Guy" ... but I did hope that you'd grow and change in a real, honest sort of way. Right now you seem like someone's trying to fit in by acting like she doesn't care about not fitting in. Your naked desire to score big on the charts is very obvious and not very flattering.
I know you're smarter than this Liz...I hope that somewhere, deep down beneath the carefully-arranged sexpot poses and the glossy pop tunes, that you've still got it in you...I named my car after you for chrissakes..please don't tell me it was for nothing...

So on Friday I got a big old fat check for $1500 and on Sunday I went to deposit it - all excited like because I'm thatmuchcloser to paying off all debt (school debt doesn't count...i will be hounded by school debt til I'm 60 - seriously) and then I guess I hit an extra number because after I made the transaction my deposit slip showed that I had almost $17,000. And then I got all excited like, for like, you know, a minute - thinking some nice prince somewhere had deposited some spare change in my account and I was made in the shade but then I realized, oops. I'm clumsy when it comes to everything. Oh well. It was a nice feeling rich moment while it lasted....

Eat. Sleep. Drink. Harry Potter.
That was my weekend in a nutshell. Actually, when you break it down, it was only 14.5 hours' worth of reading. Nothing really.
So why then am I so exhausted?
Because it was a very dark, sad, emotionally messy book.
Once I was finished it was all I could do to crawl to the couch and turn on America's Next Top Model and just let the frothy fluff wash over me like a cool, spring rain...

Wow, the new Harry Potter book is only 870 pages - not 896 like I previously thought. That makes all the difference in the world.

Top online blogs as ranked by top dog bloggers and reported by the Online Journalism Review - lotsa the same old familiar names. Is blogging really that small of a world?

My weekend to-do list

• read new Harry Potter book


• no, really - read all of it


• that's right, read all 896 pages of it


• put drops in bloodshot eyes


• drink lots of coffee

Yep, as soon as the book is delivered to my front door, I'd diving in and not looking back til it's over.
It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it...
(Sometimes I can't believe I get paid to do this kinda stuff....but I'm not complaining).

My good friend Bobby J. just sent me a link to the Amazon World blog - a collection of Amazon reader book reviews. My hands-down favorite is the review of Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar (towards the bottom of the page)- cuz you know Sylvia was a 'player hater'!

So when I heard that President Bush had given the ol' commander-in-chief go-ahead to fatten my paycheck via tax cuts, I got all excited and decided this might be a good time to sell out to the Republicans. But then I got my paycheck today and it was only $12 more (for a two week pay period). That's only an extra $312 a year - hardly enough for which to justify hawking my soul.
Nice try, Dubya.

I'm supposed to be watching less TV now that it's summer but last night I caught up on two episodes of "America's Next Top Model". All I have to say is that Tyra Banks definitely becomes more annoying by the episode. Unfortunately we didn't get to see last night's new episode because it was pre-empted for a baseball game. But I'm supposed to get a tape soon and if all else fails they are re-airing it on Sunday night. So until then - keep it on the down low about who got kicked off, OK? Right now I'm all about Elyse and that girl from Chicago who talks like she's stoned or something....now remember, shhh, don't tell me anything...
Speaking of television, I'm a bit bummed that the NBA season is now officially over - although I'm glad that the Spurs won and that David Robinson ended his career on such a high note - this means four whole months until the next season! I don't know how I'll survive...seriously...(by the way, I'm so sick of this whole Tim Duncan is boring vibe that the short attention span media is putting forth. Tim Duncan is a nice guy who rarely shows any temper - that means he's not a superstar? Give me a break...(although I do think Slate gets it right in the article).

...oh, and the Jeremy Sisto interview that I wrote about earlier? Not happening. Seems like Mr. Big Shot is too big for his Grass Valley roots....no, seriously, I guess he's just too busy. Oh well...I did, however, get to talk to Pamela Anderson today. And even though all Kid Rock/Tommy Lee questions were off limits, the interview went well. She was nice, articulate and had a lovely breathy voice. I think I was her 20th interview this morning and instead of sounding burnt out or frustrated by having to answer the thousandth "Stripperella" question she said she was 'really happy to be getting all the lady' journalists today....it's strange, Pamela Anderson is one of those woman that I theoretically should dislike, but between her monthly column in Jane and her work with Peta and her fairly candid comments to the press (her apparent refusal to answer those Kid Rock/Tommy Lee questions notwithstanding), I find her rather endearing...besides, her Stripperella character has boobs that double as lie detectors...what's not to like?

I am SO jealous: Spotted by Cory at Virgin Records on Sunday (while I was at Cafe Melange on Sunday afternoon - slaving away over homework) - one of my NBA boyfriends, Mike Bibby browsing through the magazines. No one really seemed to notice him - except three fans who quietly asked for an autograph (Bibby politely followed through) and the cashier who says he comes in there all the time.
Damn. Damn. Damn.

The Onion just gets funnier and funnier... Gen. Tommy Franks
Quits Army To Pursue Solo Bombing Projects had me in stitches....

Yes, I watched For Love or Money again last night. Yes, once again it was total crap. But oddly compelling crap - especially considering that our fine eligible bachelor really is a slimeball jerk. I even got Cory to sit down and watch the last 10 minutes or so with me. He was fascinated in sort of a horrified way I think. At one point he said,I can't believe you're watching this.
But we watched Joe Millionaire! Why's this any different? I said.
Because it's a Joe Millionaire knockoff.
True, true...but still...
Other than bad TV, things are pretty much maintaining the status quo over here in my little corner of the world...i.e. lots of work and school stuff with snippets of socializing here and there.
It's a bit disconcerting - here it is only June 10 and I swear to God most of my summer is completely booked already. There are dates to hang out with friends, shows, school stuff, bridal showers, trips (Grand Canyon! July! Hot! Damn Hot!), appointments and more more more. Last night, Cory looked over my shoulder as I made notes on my calendar and asked if I had scheduled in any time with him.
Umm, let's see...here's a little window of time at 9:45 p.m. on Thursday July 17 - are you free?
Ugh.
Next summer I am NOT doing this to myself - NO independent study. NO writer's group. NOTHING. I. Swear. To. God.
Yeah right, famous last words.
Cory and I did get to squeeze in a little date night on Saturday - went to see Down With Love which was cute and frothy but frankly could have sucked eggs for all I cared - it was all about seeing the sets and costumes, people.
The guy sitting in the row ahead of us, however, was SO not happy to be there. You could tell by the way he was slumped in his seat, intent on mutilating his ticket as his girlfriend gabbed on her cell phone, that he'd have MUCH rather been at 2Fast 2Furious. Once some of the film's more risque jokes started flying, however, he seemed to perk up.
I also saw Wrong Turn last week. Talk about an apt title. If you're not familiar with this bit of cinema it's about a group of really attractive people who have the misfortune to get stranded in backwoods West Virginia where a gang of mutant hillbillies is waiting to hunt/mutilate/eat them. I had to see it for work because I'm supposed to do a story on Jeremy Sisto - if he doesn't flake out - and let me tell you it was a major pile of stinky garbage. You KNOW it's bad when you start correctly predicting the order in which people are getting killed. So I think my first question for Mr. Sisto will have to be WHY?????
Why indeed. Maybe he should go back to the clown suits (see below).

Rock on!

Overheard on the way to work this morning via a guy talking on his cell phone: Well, if it doesn't work out you could always go back to the clown suits.

These are words to live by my friend, words to live by.

You don't know Sac unless you're getting the Fly Guide....what are you waiting for? Sign up on their e-mail list already...

The real difference between the San Antonio Spurs and the New Jersey Nets (game one tonight!)

Almost a week since i last updated...i took a few days off from work and had myself a nice four day weekend replete with rock'n'roll shows, scary bars, lazy brunches and afternoon BBQ's
oh yeah, and the season finale of Six Feet Under.

I must say I think that was quite possibly the best episode ever. Great in-depth scene with Keith & Richard. Ruth getting married and Claire buying her those lovely earrings. Claire and her father. Claire and Nate. Nate freaking out. Brenda and the horn player. The mystery of Lisa. Overall it was funny and sad and dark and disturbing all at the same time - classic Six Feet Under. A couple of things in particular, however, really got to me. The scene with Claire & Maya dancing. Nathanial curled up in a corner, crying...it was these tiny but incredibly profound moments that really got to me - I was a wreck by the time it was over. Just emotionally ripped-apart. Crying.

And now we have to wait until who-knows-when for the next season...

Speaking of TV - but not of the good variety - last night I got sucked into watching NBC's "For Love or Money". I'd like those two hours of my life back please. I don't know why I watched the whole thing - it was hypnotizing in a horrid, mind-sucking sort of way. Basically it's just yet another show - like "The Bachelor" and "Joe Millionar" before it - that's set out to promote a negative image of women by playing up the catfighting, back-stabbing, gold-digger stereotype. Sadly, none of these women were even remotely interesting and the guy? Slimey as all hell and with a really annoying voice. When he wasn't giving each woman the full-body once-over (he did everything but check their teeth and nails) he was saying nearly identical things in an oily voice to each woman. This guy's supposed to be a smart, studly, sailboat-lovin' lawyer and he can't think of anything more original than "I really like your dress"? He said this to each woman. He also said a lot of other stupid things in his creepy voice - he reminded me of an arrogant post-frat boy who's confident that all he has to do is order an expensive bottle of wine and he'll get into his date's pants. Actually that's pretty much what he is. At least the Joe Millionaire guy had a few endearingly goofy qualities.

Blah. Bad television.

And yeah, i'll probably tune in again next week. I need help like that.