Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Get the Monkey Off My Back, PLEASE

So you know that AT&T commercial with the dad going away on a business trip, and his cutesy daughter gives him her stuffed monkey to take with him and he's all sending photos from NYC with said monkey? Actually, I don't think I have to ask if you know it because IT'S ON ALL THE FRIGGIN TIME. I can't escape it and its "Sweet pea, apple of my eye" strummy tune of annoyingness. And its baguettes, palm trees, newspaper stacks representing "bars." GAH. My only hope is that it isn't in the YES Network repertoire come baseball season...oh man, it's too much to bear.


The Yankee Chicken takes a break from showing his displeasure with merciless marketing to advertise this great news.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

In Which Kenickie is a Cautionary Tale

So, I said I wouldn't watch Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, because watching C and D-Listers get off the stuff sounded kind of...uncomfortable. That was before Dexter, Vicki, and my co-workers were like "OH MY GOD. You HAVE to see Jeff Conaway" and not in a laugh-and-point sort of way, but as in, "you will never want to do drugs after seeing him" sort of way. And holy crap were they right. If I hadn't been warned that he was seriously addicted to coke and booze and whatever pills he could get his hands on, I'd have thought he'd had a major stroke. It's scary (and depressing) as hell, and sadly, a better warning to "just say no" than any of the stuff they force-fed us in school.

And the rest of the show is pretty well-done. It goes into the celebs' reasons leading to addiction, and after hearing what they've been through, you genuinely want them to get clean (though I think it's not going to be smooth sailing for a few who just don't seem ready yet -- which is realistic and not sugar coated). In fact, it feels more like a documentary than a reality show, which is refreshing in a time of in-your-face, scripted "reality."

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Man. It Felt Like Baseball Season For a Minute There.

Oh good lord. This might be the most ridiculous thing I have ever read -- and I'm exposed to Lupicass on a daily basis, so that's saying a lot. Basically, I thought something titled "Pats fans a cut above, Giants outclassed on the field and in the stands" was going to be a little bit of a rivalry harty-harr-harr and it ends up being...lame beyond belief? I don't know. Let's break it down a bit. I'll do it slowly since my Giants fan friends might not be as smart as I thought, according to the "research."

Some 62 percent of Pats fans living in the Boston area earned a bachelor’s or postgraduate degree or have some higher-education experience, compared to 59 percent of Giants fans, according to the latest marketing data provided by the Nielsen Co., the TV ratings firm.

Whoooooeeeeeee, a whopping three percent more. I'm convinced.

Likewise, 72 percent of Pats fans live in homes worth north of $200,000, compared to 63 percent of Giants yahoos.

I find this hard to believe, when there are, like, NO HOMES UNDER $400,000 in the NYC metroarea -- I am a single, bitter non-home owner, so I am well-versed in these things. And that $400,000 would net you a closet with a reading lamp and hole in the floor to do your business. Anyhow, carry on, column.

We drink Amstel Light, not Bud Light.

BWAH! I don't know if I want to live in a world where Amstel Fucking Light is the pinnacle of Good Beerdom, but if that makes you "classier" then so be it.

Giants fans slug back lots of whiskey. Bostonians are likely to read connoisseur magazines like Wine Spectator...

First off, how is what one fan base drinks comparable to what the other fan base reads? Second, have you SEEN the price of whiskey? There ain't no Two-Buck Chuck for it, unlike hoity-toity oooh, wiiiiine. But then perhaps it's the whiskey that keeps you from burning through a town, turning over cars and all-out rioting after your team wins a championship. I guess you can blame those nasty tannins for that kind of behavior.

...Gotham fans like to pig out on junk food like pretzels, chips and nuts.

Last time I checked, pretzels and nuts aren't really that junk-foody. But I guess Bostonians really are the healthier eaters, seeing as how they are more likely to throw nutrional-value-heavy foods such as pizza at each other instead of consuming it.

Giants tailgaters are conspicuous consumers who party off the backs of Land Rovers and showy BMW SUVs. Pats fans are more likely to tailgate off the back of an understated Lexus or a sturdy Volvo SUV.

So fans of both teams are likely to waste money on obnoxious gas-guzzling environmental-killing machines, with Boston fans also leaning toward buying a car that parallel parks itself because its owner just can't figure that shit out. Very convincing.

When Pats revelers aren’t watching football, they’re hitting the slopes skiing or going for a sail. They’re also more likely to belong to country clubs...

This is really damaging to all those Pats fans who are also Red Sox fans because they consider themselves as gritty and grounded and "blue collar" as their beloved team...

...When Giants fans aren’t booing Giants coach Tom Coughlin or punk quarterback Eli Manning in that New Jersey stadium they call home, they’re out practicing their tennis backhands in the backyard.

What does this even mean? Especially since a $200,000 home probably isn't going to come with a tennis court?

So, really, I don't get what this column was meant to do except point out that through "research" Patriots fans are a bunch of pretentious snobs while Giants fans seem like... slightly less pretentious snobs. Well done, "research."

And It Was a Gaping One, Y'all

Did you ever get 3/4 of the way through an okay movie, and then have it introduce this ridiculous plot device (by way of giant plot hole), thereby making you pretty much start cleaning your apartment because you can't be bothered with it anymore?

That was Sunshine for me. Perhaps I missed something, but....PLOT. HOLE.

Thursday, January 24, 2008


Hast thou seen this?? Michael Cera (and ensuing hilarity) alert!

and for more awesomeness via U.S. history....

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Hope is the Thing With Feathers


The Yankee Chicken takes a break from finding the right poem to express his colossal off-season ennui to deliver this ode to you all.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Quote of the Day

The news of Heath Ledger's untimely death has just hit the office

Random editor: They're saying it's an overdose on CNN.

Production Guy Jeff: How do you overdose on CNN? Is all news, all the time just too much?

Sunday, January 20, 2008


It's been awhile (104 days, to be exact) since I've been invested in a sporting event, but the Giants seriously made me interested this evening. I mean, I've been watching them lately, alternately being wistful/grateful, because while I'm in that vulnerable baseball period of missing hanging on every play a team makes, I'm also like "man, am I glad I don't have to be stressed right now." So, with Tynes poised to try for the 47-yard-field goal, I was all "Yeaaaaaaah right." And then he got an actual "Holy Shit" out of me when he actually made it. I'm not saying I'm all Big Blue now, since I never have been, but it was quite pleasant to be rooting for a team in a tight spot without feeling like I was going to simultaneously gnaw off my arm and puke out my spleen in nervous anticipation.

Also, it was kind of cool to not be able to get a text message out right after the game, due to, I imagine, the lines being all tied up by Giants fans. What can I say, I like it when NY has something to cheer about.

And to my bloggy pals who are Giants fans, wooooooooo for you!

ETA: The real reason the Giants won?:

Picture 1

I think Rick needs to collect his hidden camera from my apartment because I'm feeling really found out right about now.

Because Playoff Football Means Baseball is Near

So, anytime I go to complain about sitting through a 45-degree Yankee game in April, I will allow any person at Lambeau Field right now to slap me via the blog. My hat's off to those people. You either have to be really drunk or really loyal to sit through 0 degrees and a -6 windchill for, like, three hours.

Oh, and the WebMD ad where the woman's got these little bites and finds out "My roommate had bedbugs" is ridiculous, because if your roommate has bedbugs, then YOU have bedbugs too, lady.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Pillow Squawk


The Chicken multitasks in trying to drown out neighborly noise and passing along the info you all need to know.


Elizabeth and I were just wondering at what age does a woman get considered a "cougar?" Because at 30, I certainly don't feel old enough for that title, but I DO feel too old to be called a "kitten." I suggested that there may be some intermediate member of the feline species, like a "house cat" or a "mountain lion," for women of our age. Elizabeth then suggested "ocelot." I like it.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

KB's First American Idol Prediction of the Year

A male country singer is going to be pimped hardcore this year. They'll want to capitalize on Carrie's success in the niche (seeing as how R&B, teenybop and classic rockish has done nothing for them), but won't want to draw comparisions with another female.

Also, is it odd that I found weird peeled-fingernail guy kinda cute? Yeah, I thought so.

In Which Saving for a House Commences

So, my dream of having the vacant apartment next door become occupied by a grow house (because marijuana plants seem like they'd be nice, quiet neighbors) has been shattered. Nay, now I have quite possibly the worst-case scenario, in possibly all my years of apartment living: A couple. WITH LOUD CHILDREN. Whose bedroom shares a wall with my own.

I know.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Things I Learned This Weekend:

Oyster shooters will kill the bronchitis better than an antibiotic. When a Canadian says that caribou will be served at his up-coming wedding, he isn't being all "Canada is funny, eh?" and is dead serious. Vicki is a magical baketress. Season One of Friday Night Lights might be the closest thing to TV perfection I've ever seen and will get me all crazy verklempt when the high schoolers get to Texas Stadium for the big game, and not as a result of scripted manipulation -- I love that this show lets you make up your own mind about things rather than play the cliche card (Mad Men is another example of this, so glad it won at the ghetto Golden Globes!). You can somehow win $89 on a $2 bet on a horse that has 12-1 odds (still have no idea how or why, though my guess is something to do with the mafia). You can sit in an owner's box-y area that requires sportcoats and slacks while wearing trackpants. No matter the amount of snow predicted, the local newscasts will ALL start out with an update on what the salt trucks and plows are doing, even if it's just being "ready." And even if no snow makes an appearance because everyone lies about this sort of thing now. Bastards.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

In Which Time Is Well Spent

Yesterday: I went to a new doctor (to see about fixing a cough) in the city at 2 p.m. for a scheduled appointment. At 4 p.m., I walked out of the office having not seen said doctor, despite only three people being ahead of me. When the receptionist asked why I was leaving and I explained that I'd been there for two hours and had to get back to work because it was a deadline day (how galling of me, I know) she was all eye-rolly and "You haven't been here two hours." As if I was making it up because I don't have better things to do than lie to receptionists for sport. So not only am I glad I left because the only person I wait two hours to see is...uh, no one... I'm glad I left a facility that employs a receptionist who cannot count.

Today: I left my apartment to go to a doctor in JC, walked three blocks and stumbled upon a free TV in good condition for a currently-TV-less Jason, walked the TV back to my aparment, walked back out, hiked across town to the doctor, saw the doctor, got a diagnosis (bronchitis, not TB like I was suspecting -- Oregon Trail has made me very aware of these things), got my prescription filled, walked across town to the Shop Rite, food shopped and came back home, all in less than two hours.

But I'm sure I made all that up because lying about time management is SO much funner than telling the truth, you know?

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

And He Swears He's Hot Enough to Not Need Heat


The Yankee Chicken takes a break from finding another means of warmth to let you know blanket/heat season is that much closer to being over.


So, my energy bill this month? 22 dollars for electric. Okay, normal. Gas? 94 DOLLARS. For an average-sized one-bedroom apartment. And I was away for a week. I called PSE&G and the dude tells me I only used 61 cubic feet of energy, which is relatively low, but gas prices being the way they are and turning the heat on and off will do that. I am flabberagasted. I keep my heat from 60-65 every day, turn it up to 68 for maybe an hour when I get home and turn it back down when I go to bed. I thought maybe I was turning it on and off by doing that, but then I realized I'd have to actually, you know, TURN IT OFF. Which I don't.

Perhaps Matteo and The Chicken are tag-teaming and making the apartment a tropical paradise, complete with a hidden hot tub, when I am away. There is no other feasible way this could be happening...

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Quote of Hall of Fame Day

"David Justice beat up Halle Berry and Chuck Finley got beat up by Tawny Kitaen. Maybe they cancel each other out." -- Jason, sarcastically, on today's Hall of Fame nominees.

Monday, January 07, 2008

The first crop of crack came early this year...

Sunday, January 06, 2008


First off, Mike Wallace is a lot better as a sports reporter than Katie Couric.

Second, Roger Clemens? It's nice that you're not hiding from talking about this, but you're about as convincing as Katie Couric. Whining about the country being "guilty before innocent" and saying you're "retiring" because of this crap is laaaaaaame. You weren't much help to the Yanks at 44, and I doubt another season would make you, you know, better. Way to try to cover that up, dude.

And why is it only Pettitte, Clemens and Knoblauch are getting called before Congress (and seriously, D.C., you REALLY don't have anything better to do right now?) and anyone NOT once wearing a Yankee uniform hasn't? If I'm not mistaken, as ridiculous as that list was, there were a bunch of non-Yankees named. Like, is Lenny Dykstra so busy that he can't fit it in his schedule?

Saturday, January 05, 2008

Because It's Awesome, and You Know It

"We Are the World": Not just for KB's birthday anymore!

I've referenced it before, but never with video, so thanks, YouTube. My favorite part has to be the Bruce/Stevie Wonder deeply earnest emote-off toward the end there, with their "We are the World/We are the children" duet-y thing. Also, I remember hearing this on the radio a few days after 9/11, and for some reason, the Bob Dylan part made me literally fall over laughing, which was something I totally needed at that point.

Also, what happened to Kenny Loggins? And James Ingram? And is it me or if they tried to do something like this with today's music stars, it wouldn't be as cool because they're all, like, 12?

Friday, January 04, 2008

Quote of the Day

"That's Daniel-san's hometown!" -- Production Guy Jeff's friend, on passing Newark on the highway.

This whole day's theme has been The Karate Kid, specifically, The Karate Kid III, which no one in the copy department has seen, but after Rana read us the detailed outline from Wikipedia about it, we're now all pretty curious.

The Writers' Strike HAS to End

Because when the back-to-back Thursday night awesomeness of 30 Rock and The Office is replaced by Deal or No Deal and Celebrity Apprentice.... the world is screwed, man.

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

BLARGH: The Part Where I Have to Do Something About It

When I was younger, my mom always used to claim that I was going to grow up, meet some long-haired tattooed motorcycle guy that I felt sorry for and marry him, because I've always had a bit of a bleeding heart when it comes to furry things. This is probably why I'm having trouble with the idea of setting a trap for Matteo, the mouse who shares my apartment with me.

Yes, he's back. After seeing no evidence of mousy-ness following The Incident With the Garbage Bag Left on the Floor, I figured it was a one-time thing. There were no turds or chew marks around my kitchen, and there's no way a mouse could get into my food supply, unless he is a Navy SEAL-trained acrobat who also dabbles in practicing magic. So what would a mouse want with my kitchen?

Why, to live there of course! The other night, I'm watching TV in the living room, and hearing the usual noises that come from my kitchen (the fridge likes to make knocking noises on occasion and the heating pipes make for quite a symphony and sometimes The Chicken likes to get up and make himself a milkshake) and I notice there's a little extra noise coming from there. When I get up to go to bed, I notice a tiny figure scurry out from under the oven, to the heating pipes behind the stove, which was the same manuever he or his friend pulled in the original incident three weeks ago.

So now I have to do something (aside form call my super, who, when I told him about the first sighting, told me that the building doesn't have mouse problems -- yeah, those glue traps that came with my apartment were just for show, I suppose --, but he'd look into getting an exterminator. Hasn't happened yet.) and I'm majorly skeeved out/bummed about the whole process. I mean, I bought the traps where you don't have to see your victim, but I just feel BAD about killing something whose only fault is doing what he's got to do to survive and being stupid enough to do it in my living space. We used to have mice when I was a kid and I had no problem with mouse-traps killing them back then, but now, probably because I have to be the one who disposes of it, I'm just not enamored with the idea.

See, this is what comes of not having roommates or a live-in boyfriend: dirty work. Independence: wooooo!

Singing in the New Year

So after a night of homemade pizza and karaoke, I think I did enough to ensure that the beginning of 2008 would at least be somewhat awesome. And when you, along with Rana, are belting out the really emphatic part of "Hold Onto the Night," that being the "I don't know how...TO STOP FEELING THIS WAYAYAYAAAAAAAY" part, and pretty much pop your last remaining vocal chord (and while completely sober, as, after being sick all week, it was either singing badly or drinking in excess as a means of lowering your resistance -- doing both would've likely landed you with TB) and find yourelf bopping around to Colette's very merry version of David Bowie's "Modern Love" and making "Manic Monday" your own and getting Ken to actually sing "Umbrella" and seeing Dexter and Rana know the lyrics to Britney Spears' "Toxic" a little too well and gorging yourself on Vicki's awesomely chewy chocolate chip cookies and listening to Dick Clark on Dexter's bomb-shelter ready radio, all while in a karaoke room that was like a frat-guy's studio aparment, complete with black-leather couches and WTF video accompaniment, well, it makes for a good start.

Also, when the fist non-karaoke song I hear of 2008 is "The Thong Song" in the supermarket, you know it's going to be a...festive?...year.

Oh, yeah, and The Yankee Chicken takes a break from nursing his hangover, because, it's getting to be that time of year again....