Friday, February 29, 2008

In Which Tim Riggins and I Have Something in Common. Really.

So after a milkshake heaped up on top of a hot dog and tater tots and root beer (co-workers' night out -- we party hard sometimes, y'all), I wasn't feeling so hot and turned to an episode of Friday Night Lights to soothe my queasy tummy, as I am still catching up on the second season. And in this episode, I realized that I, middle-class, two-parent having, lacking-in-alcoholism, non-football-playing KB have something in common with Tim Riggins (I also do not have his hot hair, but that's because I'm a girl, I think). In this episode, he declares his deep feelings to Lyla, only to have her be all "I don't share your feelings" and tell him that the guy she's involved with now makes her happy. Which does not make Tim happy. Man. If the Tim Rigginses of the world can get their heart stepped on, there is no hope for any of us.

I kid, I kid. It's all fiction. And I have a feeling Lyla really DOES have feelings for Tim, because this is a TV show, and characters are always lying about their true feelings, as you do. Or not. But still, I have been in Tim's shoes (not the stealing-money-from-meth-addicts thing, but you know), where you feel deeper for someone than they do for you, and because the universe if unfair and a bitch like that, the heartbreaker moves on first. I never understood this -- why does someone who possesses the ability to be so cold get to be happy right away? Not that you're sitting there crying your eyes out or something, and you certainly don't expect them to mourn the relationship since they obviously didn't feel the same way but geez. Can't they get a little bit of bummer time thrown their way to even out the equation (and soften the blow a bit)?

It seems it's how it almost always works out, even with friends of mine who have been in similar circumstances. We have all been the Tim Riggins... minus the staff of writers making sure that we get rewarded for our putting our feelings out there in the end. Perhaps this means it's time we put a football team together and start drinking like fish? It could be like a club or something...

The Kids Are Alright

Between Phil Hughes' blog and this sweet story about Joba, I now want the youth movement to be around even when they're not-so youthy. I mean, how is it that Joba, at 22, is already about 40 kinds of awesome:

“You’re only a baseball player for so long, but you’re a human being your whole life,” he said. “Baseball is going to be over, and I want people to know that I was a good baseball player, but a better person.”

From anyone else, this might sound like BS, but it sure seems genuine to me.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

In Which the Yankee Youth Movement Is Even Awesomer

Should I be jealous that, according to this story, Phil Hughes' blog has had more hits in two months than mine has had in 6 1/2 years?

Nah, how could I be jealous of a Yankee? Especially one who will blog about his love for The Office? And one who is so refreshingly candid enough to even blog?

Wonder if he'd get The Yankee Chicken? Hmmm...

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Because It's Seriously One of the Best-Written Things On the Air

What Would Riggins Do?  Save Friday Night Lights!  Sign the BWE.tv Petition!

And the eye candy doesn't hurt, either.

Save Friday Night Lights, people. Or you'll feel my wrath. On this blog, anyway.

C is for Chicken

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The Yankee Chicken takes a break from some gluttonous thoughts to give you this tasty morsel of news.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Snow Job

MAN. I mean. I don't...I just had a snowball fight for the first time in about 18 years and it was the awesomest thing ever. It all started when Mona the Mets Fan, a Californian, was like, "I want to go outside and play in the snow." Production Guy Jeff, who'd earlier noted the snow was "good packing snow" said he'd go out, and since it's lunchtime and the work is slow in getting to us, the copy department was like, "Okay, what the hell." And where do you go to play in the snow in the middle of Manhattan? Why, right in front of the Public Library! We pretty much all pelted each other nice and good in the 10 minutes we were out there, got soaked, worked off all our editorial rage issues, pissed off some lady when she got a "sprinkle of snow" on her and thought we were throwing at her (only in New York would someone be that egotistical and paranoid at the same time), and pretty much just laughed like crazy people. It's now probably one of my most favoritest New York moments ever, such was the spur-of-the-momentness and the willingness by all involved to just let go and be immature for a few minutes and have fun. And we didn't even miss any work.

ShowLetter
I think Mona just got pelted off camera in this shot. Thanks, Rana!! Oh, and yes, we do work in our office. There's a reason we won't see the light of day on Monday, and this will all be just a pleasant, slushy memory.

When we came back in, all rosy-cheeked and giggly with wintery hijinks, one of our doormen was laughing and all, "You guys done terrorizing Fifth Avenue?"

And that's how you know you had a good time.

He's Coming, He's Coming, He's Coming

In honor of Washington's b-day:



Exchange of the day following an honorary work viewing:

Mona the Mets Fan: Did he really have four nuts?

Production Guy Jeff: Yeah, and two of them were wooden.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

I Got It, I Got It!

Picture 1

I don't know if this means I get it in the sense that I understand Wang's wang (which, if it's like any other dude's, it's not like you need a PhD to figure out its purpose or anything) or that I get it, like, at the deli with some chips or something. Rick, you will have to explain.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

You'll Never Convince Me...

...that they aren't really rehearsing for some big, spectacular, fabulous musical. Especially with hard evidence like this:





Monday, February 18, 2008

Frame Me, and Hang Me on the Wall, Indeed

So, I just saw the following video for the first time in like 20 years (yeah, yikes) the other day....



...and I was like, "this video would never get made today." It is entirely too innocent. One of the guys actually drinks milk. Women wear clothes. A bucket of water isn't thrown on some scantily clad strumpet -- nay, it is reserved for a full-clothed man. A dude does a cartwheel. The climactic point is the launching of a paper airplane. The band members actually look like they're having a good time. I mean, that is so not VMA material.

Maybe that is why I was always fascinated by the video back in 1987, when I was only 10. I think it's kind of what I hoped adult life would be like: hanging out with bunch of cute boys and friends (in a barn or wherever, I wasn't picky) and goofing off all day. And in a time where my Mondays have turned to absolute hell (ah, deadlines), thus meaning no day off on national holidays, and where I am so not young enough to watch MTV anymore, I'd like to hope that this is maybe still a possibility.

Hopefully before all the guys I know become too arthritic to do a cartwheel.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Pre-Season Preparedness

Today I procured a pair of long underwear for those early-season (and hopefully post-season) games that always tend to be a little... hypothermia-inducing.

This means it will be a minimum of 70 degrees at every game we attend, thus making the purchase completely unnecessary.

God, I hope so.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

You'll Have to Imagine the Barry White in the Background

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The Yankee Chicken takes a break from celebrating that most romantic day of the year, The Arrival of Pitchers & Catchers Day, to show his love for you and let you know it's just going to get more hot'n heavy starting March 31.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Because When You Get a Bunch of Jackasses in a Room Together, It's Compelling

Why I hate politics, from CNN/SI's live blog of the Clemens hearing:

12:15 p.m. ET

From SI.com's Jon Heyman: "The House Committee so far is splitting along party lies. Through their tough questioning of Clemens, the Democrats are showing support for McNamee's position, while Republicans have shown support for Clemens' denials. It seems that Republicans and Democrats have a tough time agreeing on many things, including Clemens."


Awesome Freudian "party lies" typo aside, like, make up your own minds people. I mean, I know this is a colossal waste of time, but if you have to be there, don't make it a political party issue. Or a Jose Canseco house party issue. Or a party issue of any kind.

I've been listening to bits and pieces of it, and I just have to say to the congressman who needed an explanation on what "it is what it is" means because it's only used in New York City or something: Shut up, dude. The tone in which it was implied, like it's only a New Yorkism, was the best, though, because it sounded like what he really wanted to say was "it's one of those mafia terms, like yousguys or fuggedaboutit." Which, I guess is to say that anyone shady from New York is in the mafia. At least that's what I was hearing.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Oh, Heart. Why?

So last night I happened to hear Heart's "All I Wanna Do is Make Love to You" and I'm not sure I've ever seen someone actually break this song down to show just how WTF it is. Not that you need to break it down to know that it's just WRONG. But I'm going to, because how can you not?

It was a rainy night
When he came into sight,
Standing by the road,
No umbrella, no coat.


This can't end well. He's either a serial killer or a broke ass whose wife/girlfriend kicked him out. Keep driving, lady.

So I pulled up alongside
And I offered him a ride.


Have you never seen a Lifetime movie, woman? They may look like Mark Harmon, but they're really Ted Bundy.

He accepted with a smile,
So we drove for a while.
I didn't ask him his name,
This lonely boy in the rain.


Lonely BOY? I stand corrected. The hunter is the hunted.

Fate, tell me it's right,
Is this love at first sight?
Please don't make it wrong,
Just stay for the night.


Love? But... oh, just read the rest of the lyrics.

All I wanna do is make love to you
Say you will
You want me too
All I wanna do is make love to you
I've got lovin arms to hold on to


Begging is not attractive. But I guess if you're standing on the side of the road, sopping wet, pretending not to be a serial killer, there are worse things.

So we found this hotel,
It was a place I knew well


Well this is telling. Has she made a habit of trolling for not-prepared-for-the-elements serial killers/vagabonds on the side of the road only to take them all to the same hotel? Does the staff, like, think she's a hooker? And it's not even a motel, people, it's a hotel. Which spells class.

We made magic that night.
Oh, he did everything right
He brought the woman out of me,
So many times, easily


Ugh, TMI, Ann. And why is Casanova here single and standing on the side of the road in the rain sans weather-protective gear when he has such obvious talents?

And in the morning when he woke all
I left him was a note


Klassy. But oh my is said note the most crazy-ass metaphor ever. Wait for it, kids.

I told him
I am the flower you are the seed


Oh yes she did!

We walked in the garden

Wait, mixed metaphor now. It must be, seeing has how flowers and seeds can't walk...

We planted a tree
...nor garden. But it's a metaphor for something else ENTIRELY isn't it? Whoops, did I just give it all away?

Don't try to find me,
Please dont you dare


Wait, I recall he was the one making the magic under the covers. Don't give yourself airs, lady. Especially when you haven't even exchanged names.

Just live in my memory,
You'll always be there


Man, that's all he gets for bringing out the woman in her, many times, easily? That's cold.

Chorus, semi-repeated with a few words changed to show progress of song.

Oh, oooh, we made love
Love like strangers
All night long
We made love


Now, call me picky, but isn't making love for people who are at least in like with each other? Otherwise, it's just sex. Unless you're talking about being in love with his magic or what not.

But here's where the song gets really dicey.

Then it happened one day,
We came round the same way


She picked him up sopping wet on the side of the road? Does he have something against Totes?

You can imagine his surprise
When he saw his own eyes.


I know! But let's ignore the fact that this woman jumped in a car when she was knowingly ovulating, picked up a strange, unsuspecting man in the rain and screwed his brains out so he could plant a tree in her uterus. But she picks up sex-starved hitchhikers with her kid in the car? And if she notices it's this same guy and didn't want him to know she was using him to plant a tree in her, why pull over? Unless she was looking to make a sibling....

I said please, please understand
I'm in love with another man


Who shoots blanks, obviously.

And what he couldn't give me
Was the one little thing that you can


Little thing? LITTLE THING? This isn't like he helped you change a flat tire (that's a different metaphor for a different song entirely) or you bummed a light off him. The cheap bitch used him as a sperm bank! And didn't tell her sterile husband! Maybe this shouldn't be a cautionary tale for women driving alone at night who spot hitchhikers, but something for serial killers to consider the next time they hop in a car, looking for prey.

And thus ends one of the more disturbing songs in musical history.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

I'm Submitting The Chicken's Opening Day Video for an Oscar

Because if Michael Clayton -- which I can best describe as a John Grisham thriller with a non-smarmy lead character -- can get nominated for Best Picture, I think the bar must have been set pretty low this year. SPOILERS AHOY!!!!! Acting wise, it's fine. I get George's nomination (not Tilda Swinton's so much, though -- her cold guilty bitch of a character seemed more like a caricature to me). But it requires you to suspend a lot of disbelief. I mean, how often do you hear of mean, evil corporations murdering lawyers who figure out they're doing something wrong? And why would said evil corporations work so hard to make one lawyer's death look like an accidental overdose and then try to very obviously blow up another lawyer with a car bomb? And how do the authorities declare someone dead in said car-bombing when there's no corpse? I know it's a fiery mess and all, but there would have to be SOMETHING left.

I don't know. Perhaps it just reeked of every other lawyery thriller out there and really offered nothing new to the genre for me. Color me unimpressed.

Friday, February 08, 2008

I Love You, You Big, Rich, Money-Making Team

Because if you'd attached a corporate name to Yankee Stadium, it would be the lamest move ever, seeing as how the franchise has more money than God (or at least St. Peter) and doesn't need a corporation to help them get by. Also, it would suck. It's nice to see that in a day where even replays and half-time shows have corporate sponsorship that at least something can remain sacred.

Wow. I said something nice about the new Yankee Stadium. Though I suspect the very basebally sushi huts and tiki bars or whatever grab-the-non-fan-yuppies-by-the-wallet establishments they put inside will detract from that greatly. Don't expect this charitable mood to last. Especially with lines like this:

"We tried to reflect a five-star hotel and put a ballfield in the middle," Trost said.

Yes, because baseball should always come second to luxury in a baseball stadium. SIGH.

(And whoever wrote the flowery prose in that story...man alive, it actually SMELLED like carnations...)

Thursday, February 07, 2008

The Best Part About This Evening's Lost?

That would be during the really tense final minutes of the show, when suddenly this giant banner screaming "PEDRO MARTINEZ COCKFIGHTING VIDEO NEXT ON EYEWITNESS NEWS" pops up across the bottom of the screen. I mean...I mean....do I even have to explain why that's awesome?

Although The Yankee Chicken is now cowering under the bed in fear that Pedro and his oven mitts of death are now coming for him...

Wednesday, February 06, 2008

B'Gock the Vote

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The Yankee Chicken takes a break from deciding on the big issues to bring you this news about your real primary concern.

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

Because I Vote for Being Random

-- I don't know what it is about downtown Jersey City, but I have seen WAY too many people driving without their headlights on at night since I moved here. And they don't seem drunk or anything -- just clueless. I can't tell you how many times I've yelled "YOUR LIGHTS!" to people passing by -- and it's great when it's the dark-dashboarded guys who think I'm flirting with them or something, because apparently that is how you go about courting, and not preventing some major accident.

-- I find elections completely hilarious for one reason: it's the one time you are allowed to be completely selfish and not apologize for it. I mean, when I cast my vote for one candidate because they stand for what I believe in, that's me saying "I think my ideals are the best way to run this country." And the person voting for the opposing candidate is doing the same exact thing. It's why politics make me uncomfortable. It's why I don't like talking about it. It's also funny as hell, when you think about it.

-- I can say that if the candidate I'm leaning toward doesn't make the ticket, I'm going to have a hard time voting this November (but I will, people, so don't go all crazy on me about being a bad citizen or whatnot). I'm kinda tired of that. I am also tired of being completely terrified of some candidates.

-- Man, it's great watching the coverage of this election and having the newscasters get expert opinions from high-ranking Democratic and Republican backers who immediatley turn it into a smarmy "the other party SUUUUUUUUUCKS" spot instead of "this is what candidate X can do for you and this country." Like, if I'm going to buy a Chevy, I want to know why I should buy it, not why I shouldn't buy a Ford. You know?

Monday, February 04, 2008

Danger! Rant Ahead!

Did you ever have a thought so disturbing that it gets you out of bed to blog about it? Yeah. Mine? That if I shacked up in my apartment, I could save roughly $700 a month. When I came to this realization, I almost hurled my white-noise machine across the room. Because it is unfair. I don't live beyond my means, my apartment isn't grossly overpriced and my income is average. And yet if I pretended to fall in love with some dude and have him move in with me, I wouldn't have to worry about paying my eeeevil utility bill by myself, or cutting back on my 401K or the fact that my season tickets (my one not-so extravagant extravagance) went up in price or how in god's name I'm going to buy a new computer when the time comes. I wouldn't have to worry about taking on extra work to pay off my student loan. Maybe I could even get one of those nifty towel warmers that I see on HGTV or upgrade my cable package to get VH1 Classic and Noggin again. I know, I'm such a greedy sonofabitch.

I say it is unfair not because I am feeling whiny, but because it is. My only fault here (aside from being more suited for a career in the average-paying field of writing and editing instead of a better-paying field like, say, stock trading) is being single. Because, oh my god, I have yet to meet The Complete and Total Boyfriend, I (and anyone else who decides to live alone -- I know I'm not alone that) get drained financially. Yes, there is always the roommate option but 1) It ain't that much cheaper because you are sharing a multi-bedroom apartment as opposed to a one bedroom and is therefore more money. Unless you guys are, like, really, really close and share said one bedroom. 2) There comes a point in life where you should be able to live on your own if you want to, and that really shouldn't come at the age of 40.

I think it's mostly unfair because who is it that I can complain to about this to change it? This is the NYC metro area -- rent prices/utilities are never going to be fair for anyone who isn't making a lot of money. I've always understood this. But I swear to god, cohabitation shouldn't be someone's only way out to stop the whole vicious cycle of living paycheck to paycheck.

So whomever I'm shaking my fist at, consider it...shook. I'm pissed, and until I get to a point where I can have warm towels in the a.m., I'll stay that way.

Sunday, February 03, 2008

Holy Cow

Haven't had access to the Internet since the first quarter, but damn, what a fucking game. I haven't been that tensely wound over a sporting event since Game 7 in 2003 (but nowhere near as tense, mind you -- I didn't go and talk to myself in the bathroom mirror or rearrange Eric and Liana's inanimate objects or anything tonight) and that joyousness over the outcome was so, so...nice. The play where Eli got grabbed, broke free, and still managed a solid throw made us all (including two South Africans and a Canadian) erupt, which was where I kind of knew the Giants would pull it out. Then awesomeness abounded.

Man. Imagine if I actuallly, like, loved the Giants. I envy those of you who actually do -- I hope you're soaking this up and reveling in it. The night belongs to you. /corniness

Oh, and the commercials? SUCKED. Are drunken, unfunny frat boys doling out the advertising "creativity" these days? Because it certainly feels that way.

Saturday, February 02, 2008

Which One of These Doesn't Belong?

Diana Ross. Billy Joel. Garth Brooks. Harry Connick Jr. Mariah Carey. Luther Vandross. The Dixie Chicks. Jordin Sparks.

I'm sorry, did I make it too obvious that Jordin Sparks singing the national anthem tomorrow is Fox synergy at its most ridiculous? I know, her dad played football. I know, she won American Idol. But it is grossly obvious that Fox wants to pimp their show via these means. This is America's biggest sporting event of the year, and if you're going to have someone sing the Star Spangled Banner, at least get someone who can sell albums, you know? If Fox was so desperate to tout their Idol powerhouse, why not get one of the performers who actually, you know, is taken seriously in the music community, like Carrie Underwood or Kelly Clarkson?

This is the Super Bowl. You get someone of Super Bowl quality to sing, not a walking advertisement for a show that really doesn't need it.

Friday, February 01, 2008

Nothing Brings the Office Together Like Gambling

So, with our regular office Super Bowl pool box/chart maker on vacation, it occured to me yesterday that we had two work days till the big game and no betting going on. And that's just not right. When I lamented this fact, Rana was all "you should do it" and I was like "I don't want to have to handle the money" because that's not my forte. Somehow, Rana, who hates football, found the betting spirit and roped an at-first reluctant and muttering Production Guy Jeff into making the boxes, while she worked the room, so to speak. In the last day, Rana has become quite the hustler and influencer (enabler, possibly?), and it has brought out people from all corners of the office in economic celebration. It's like that story Stone Soup, or the end of It's a Wonderful Life, minus the suicidalness and guardian angels, with the added bonus of a $25 1st and 3rd quarter winnings, $50 for the half, and $100 grand prize (we work in publishing, people. This means we're not all privileged enough to be good with numbers and shady deals and therefore don't work in an industry where you can have $200-$1,000 a-box or whatnot).

Rana and Production Guy Jeff are currently working on the final proof (because while publishing won't land us mansions, it does give you some pretty sweet design software) of the big box, and with it rides the hopes and dreams of a few dozen people, many of whom actually don't give a shit about football. Just money.

It's a beautiful thing, y'all.