"I'm a world class neonatal surgeon and I'm here to stay!"

So, I just watched the premiere episode of Private Practice. Yawn. It was as bad as I expected it to be. What a waste of a good character. Hopefully Dr. Montgomery will be transferring back to Seattle Grace by mid season replacement time...however, it did get me thinking.
Do you think that Audra McDonald and Taye Diggs (who play divorced doctors) just like, hang out on the set and sing show tunes for everyone? "OK guys, More selections from Sunset Boulevard after the Table Read!" That might be kind of fun. They should put that on instead.

BUH!!

Music of the Night

There are concerts. And then there are great concerts. And then there are concerts that remind you that old music can be great. Look at how Elton plays that Piano! How the hell can Mick Jagger still move like that? Concerts that make the musicians involved feel timeless because their songs are still so relevant. Last night's family outing to see Genesis was ...
not one of those occasions.
Oh dear god. Some things really should just stop as the Millennium passes them by. For example: Tab. Or Palazzo pants. Or Phil Collins.
First they come on 40 minutes late. Then they start with these 14 minute long soft-rock synth heavy interludes. And my dad is all about this stuff, so I am singing along and trying to enjoy it. Mommie Dearest is already restless 15 minutes in. And then Phil Collins literally started telling ghost stories (complete with background graphics left over from the Invisible Touch Tour '84) and making scary faces with a flashlight, as though we were all sitting 'round a campfire.
Never have a I run so fast towards Penn Station in all my life. EEEEEP.
In other music news, has anyone heard the Pink song "Dear Mr. President"?
Note the lyrics:
Dear Mr. President,
Come take a walk with me.
Let's pretend we're just two people and
You're not better than me.
I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly.

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street?
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep?
What do you feel when you look in the mirror?
Are you proud?

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why?

Dear Mr. President,
Were you a lonely boy?
Are you a lonely boy?
Are you a lonely boy?
How can you say
No child is left behind?
We're not dumb and we're not blind.
They're all sitting in your cells
While you pave the road to hell.

What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away?
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay?
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine.

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry?
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Can you even look me in the eye?

Let me tell you 'bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you 'bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you 'bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you 'bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don't know nothing 'bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night?
How do you walk with your head held high?
Dear Mr. President,
You'd never take a walk with me.
Would you?

OH. NO.

I am SO sick right now, but I pulled myself out of a DayQuil induced-haze to post this:
On behalf of myself, The Katie McBakery, and every social event the Wilkinson-Manganaro household has ever produced,...If America bans Cupcakes, this blog is moving to Canada.

The OC 2: Welcome to Lenox Hill, Bitch!!

by Guest Blogger "Roommate.", formerly of Popzilla fame.

I had zero interest in watching the premiere of "Gossip Girl", the show about privileged teenagers on the upper east side. Snore. Why would I want to watch that? This is the same reason I don't watch The Hills - I don't care, and girls like that are boring. If I wanted to watch a bunch of rich bitches be annoying, I'd go to martini bar on a Saturday. But I don't roll like that. Plus, at least the short-lived "Bedford Diaries" had added camp provided by a convoluted plot involving sex diaries. But what did this have? Shots of the Met? I've been there. And I don't give a shit.

Somehow, Kevin and our friend Leah convinced me to watch. Josh Schwartz (creator of the OC) is one of GG's executive producers. I was a huge OC fan (until the bitter, boring end) so I decided to watch.

And it turns out the plot is just as convoluted as the most unintentionally campy nighttime soaps! It's about a blog called gossip girl, written by a mysterious but omnipresent voice (Kristin Bell, slumming it) which narrates the episode. I guess the whole blog angle is what's got the critics all hot in the biscuit for this show. It's about the internet! It's so cutting edge! Everyone reads blogs! (You're even reading one now, get it?)

But in the end, GG is a total snoozefest. When a character bemoans "don't you ever feel like everything is already planned out for you?" you want to scream (and I did) at the screen, "YOU STOLE THAT FROM AN EPISODE OF SWAN'S CROSSING WHICH PROBABLY STOLE IT FROM SAL MINEO! GET SOME FUCKING NEW MATERIAL!"

Speaking of getting new material, Josh Schwartz hasn't. The cast of characters in GG are essentially rip-offs of characters from the OC, except you don't have a Ben McKenzie character punching everyone and being a good actor (seriously, I stand by that). Instead you have:

BLAKE LIVELY as Serena van der Woodsen (yes that's really her name) - the poor little rich girl who's trying to curb her wicked ways.


-AKA-

Mischa Barton as Marissa Cooper - the poor little rich girl who's trying to curb her wicked ways.


PENN BADGLEY (note: dreamy!) as Dan Humphrey - the oft-ignored geek (who's not so secretly hot) that has a crush on the popular girl.



-AKA-

Adam Brody as Seth Cohen - the oft-ignored geek (who's not so secretly hot) that has a crush on the popular girl.


LEIGHTON MEESLER as Blair Waldorf (salad?) - the popular girl who's a bitch, maybe just because she's a brunette.


-AKA-

Rachel Bilson as Summer Roberts - the popular girl who's a bitch, maybe just because she's a brunette.


ED WESTWICK as Chuck Bass - the ticking time bomb / would-be date rapist.


-AKA-

Taylor Handley as (the short-lived) Oliver Trask - the ticking time bomb / would-be date rapist.


Yup, I've seen this all before. And it's boring. It's as if Josh Schwartz just said "hey, let's just put the OC on the UES. That's all i got. Where's my check?"

It should be noted that the only somewhat original idea he presents in this episode is the concept of trading sexual favors for a grilled cheese sandwich cooked with truffle oil. I guess that's a new one.

But there is no social conflict as on the OC - no Ryan Atwood from Chino to rile things up. All we've got is the near constant threat of rape from this so-called "Chuck" and everyone taking out their blackberries every time Blake Lively enters a room. (Note: Blake Lively, at 20, is playing a high school student while the rest of her traveling pants sisters have either on-screen graduated from Yale or are helping to run Mode Magazine. I'm just saying).

Sure, it is hilarious that the whole plot hinges on the misguided concept that teenagers, as stupid as they are, would log onto a blog just to follow the life of Blake Lively, but come on. Where was I. Now there's more under-aged drinking going on? I'm sorry - I just dozed off.

I thought we might be getting close to something when "Nate" was about to confess to "Blair" why he felt apprehensive about having sex with her. I thought CLEARLY it would be because he was the gayest teenager on TV this side of Zac Efron. But no - the real secret is because he had exhibitionist sex with her best friend! Omg! Brb....wtf? IMHO (zzzz.......)

I think I'm going to sit this one out. As novel a concept of watching the OC do repertory theater in Gossip Girl might be, I'd rather just watch the original on syndication somewhere. It is on syndication right? If not, get Soap Net on the horn.

"I got the Conch"

William Golding, where art thou?
As Co-blogger mentions below; we sat down last night to drink some Sauvignon Blanc and watch Kid Nation. We found ourselves repeatedly wanting to yell at the television...and then we had to remind ourselves: these are children.
Was it entertaining? Of course. Are we watching every week? You betcha.
Here's the thing. Even though this is everywhere, I just want to mention the fact that 40 sets of parents signed their kids up for this little social experiment. 80 people thought, "Sending children to the desert, with no beds or bathrooms or running water and forcing them to attempt manual labor for a summer? Fantastic Idea!- Let's sign them up!" While I would like to think that all of these children must be the products of socially inept homeschooling parents and/or hippie leftovers; its not true.
And just in case you're thinking "Now Leigh, maybe giving children a chance to fix the world is a good idea" please note some highlights from the Parental Consent Waiver:

• Parents agreed not sue CBS if their child was injured, contracted and STD, or died
• CBS was given total power over the Child's medical care (including decisions about surgery)
• Child has no right to privacy, unless in the bathroom

I mean, really?

OK, now I can get off my soapbox....
I'm totally rooting for Taylor (the mini-beauty queen from Georgia) and her yellow team of cooks.
At the end of the day, the question is:
DOES THIS:


EQUAL = THIS?

probably not.
As per usual... New York Magazine may have put it best...

THERE WILL BE BLOOD

I was trying to come up with a punchier title for a blog post about the premiere of Kid Nation, the new CBS reality that drops 40 kids, ages 8-15, in the New Mexico desert and asks them to revive an abandoned frontier town, but I think this kind of says it all: There Will Be Blood. Because no matter whether or not you think this show violates child labor laws (as some critics, and at least one litigious parent are saying), there is literally no way for this show to end without injury and death. The cloud of menace hangs over Kid Nation from episode one. Hello, they're KIDS! And they're UNSUPERVISED! CBS should seriously be ashamed of themselves and, indeed, prosecuted along with any parent that would allow their child to participate in something so ill-conceived and dangerous as this.

That's what my rational mind thinks of Kid Nation, anyway.

But... I mean... Ugh. OK, I really do think that this show is going to break America of the reality TV craze. I mean, it has to, right? The draw of reality shows is for people to sit on their couches and look down at the losers on TV, right? (Lord knows that's how I watched Kara on Project Runway, bless that mess.) But it's really hard to do that when they're, like... they're KIDS. They're LITTLE. When I saw that some of the kids were being branded as the town "scottlaws," I wanted to scream and punch the TV. They're KIDS.

Ultimately, I think that CBS really needs the threat of the kids being injured to keep people watching, becaue a reality show where you can't mock the participants kind of just isn't any fun.

(UPDATE: Roommate watched the show after I did, and she said of one of the kids, "Ugh, I hate him." So... Maybe my whole 'you can't hate the kids' theory is bullscat.)

XOXO Kevin.

PS- Just to be clear, no matter what, Leigh and I have a date every Wednesday to sit on her couch for popcorn, Sauvignon Blanc, and candy corn, and watch Kid Nation. Just to be clear.

Kevin & Leigh: Arbiters of the Cultural Zeitgest...

Leigh and I are simple people. Well, not "simple" in, like, that we're touched or something. But, you know- We're just folks. We're not writers for British music magazines and we're not Perez Hilton (thank you JESUS), so we rarely get to break news about music that's new, exciting, and very "what everyone will be talking about in 10 months." But now we are.

Check out the MySpace for The Big Galoots- The best fucking band in New York right now.

Listen to their songs. Let them seep into your mind. When they play, go see them live. And say that you read about them on Kevin & Leigh's blog. We want to become so powerful that we can get into shows for free. Or at least Big Galoots shows. As they are awesome.

Kingmakers,
KWM + LAS

EMMY FASHON RECAP!

The greatest TV show ever. CONGRATS.

So Leigh and I watched the 59th Annual Emmy Awards last night, chez moi. As always, the Emmys were boring, poorly-produced, and truly off-putting to watch. And Ryan Seacrest is- and I'm sorry to say this- too gay to be sat through. My eyes have glitterburns. He's disgusting. But yeah- As much as I want to just totally shun the Emmys, there are gowns. And Leigh and I are honor-bound to watch and critique anything with gowns on it. We're gownaholics, and if that's wrong, we ain't never gonna be right!

So check it. Y'all know the drill.




I'm told that this woman was on Grey's Anatomy and that she's somehow getting a spin-off. I can't imagine that's a good idea, as I have no idea who she is. But I'll tell her that if she's going to headline a major medical drama, she's going to need to invest in a bra sometime. The hair is good, though. Great, even. The tits, though... Mid-season replacement quality at best.


This is some Barry Manilow shit right here. He writes the songs that make the whole world FUCKYOUGIVEMICHAELIMPERIOLIHISEMMYBACK. No really, though. Can y'all see that his tie has rhinestones on it? Maniac.


Let's not waste any time. WORST. Worst, worst, worst. Why this hair? Why? She looks like a Snork! And are those drape pulls on her neck? Someone euthanize this poor soul.


Zzzzzz. What? Uh? Oh, fuck. I'm sorry. What was I saying? Oh, right. I was looking at Debra Messing's dressed when I dozed off. I must have- ..... Zzzzzzzzz.


So some people actually liked this... whatever color it is. I just think she looks a drag queen dressed up as caution tape for Halloween. (Sidebar: I don't get the bracelet. And I always get bracelets.)


Dumb earrings. Dumb face. Dumb lady. (I think she's actually saying, "Duuurrr! Look what I put on!")


Yes, yes, yes! Love, love, love! Jaime Pressley, you are THE SHIT. Congrats on your well-deserved win and for looking So. Fucking. Hot. I'm in love. I'm fawning. Just... LOVE.


This was going to be my picked for Worst Dressed, but Roommate pointed out that she is indeed, very young, and maybe she just doesn't know any better. Or maybe she's trying to defuse that whole cheerleader fetish thing. I mean, if anything's going to stop middle age men around the country from wanting to give her "a pearl necklace" (ugh, gross) it's this creamsicle circus tent.

So Leigh and I are torn on this. I think it's spellbinding, actually. I mean, it actually slaps Fashion in the face with a white glove and challenges it to pistols at dawn. She's wearing a train of feathers. I mean, I'm sorry but at the end of the day, she's wearing a train of feathers. So... Case closed, as far as I'm concerned- A+. Leigh, though, can't seem to forgive V. Williams for her poodle-ish Golden Globes hair.



One of these women looks 70 and the other is Helen Mirren. Seriously, Oh (who I totally enjoy) looks wretched, but La Mirren looks as stunning and fuckable as always. Plus, she had the best speech of the night. Home run in violet. (Which was going to be the title of my memoirs.)


Your speech may have been censored Sally "God Damn" Field, but you looked adorable- just downright lovely- in this eggplant-y number. Also, you were in Steel Magnolias, so we genuflect at the very sight of you.


Aaaaaaaahhhh. THERE SHE IS. Look at her. Tina Fey, writer/producer/star of 30 Rock is our pick for Best Dressed, because nobody that geniusly hilarious should also be able to turn up the hot like that. Look at her! Damn. Icon. And she looks like she wants to hit Patricia Heaton! Bonus points! Stab her with the statue lady's wings, Liz Lemon!

Until next year, TV fans! (When we'll be toasting the Emmy success of Damages! Bwa ha ha!)
KEVIN (et Leigh)

Classy. Just Plain Classy.

The UPS man just arrived at my door. (Always a delight) He handed over a giant box from Crate & Barrel containing a housewarming gift from one A. Laura Collier(almost) Esq.
What, you might ask, did said box contain?
A Huge assortment of fancy booze glasses; that's what!
No more drinking bubbly out of plastic glasses at my apartment.
What a lucky girl I am to have such a classy friend.
(Don't they look charming next to my antique springer spaniel salt and pepper shakers?)

'tis the season...

Mcgrath and I strolled into Duane Reed on Tuesday night to pick up some movie snacks. I had almost forgotten about it. It hadn't crossed my mind in so many months. And yet, there is was, in a giant display smack in the middle of the store:
It's Candy Corn time

Crisp air, leaves changing colors, the end of humidity and the return of my all time favorite empty calorie snack.
let's hear it for for Fall!

How Sweet It Is...

Hey bitch, it's Britney.

Kidding. It's Kevin. Hey. Sorry it's been a while. I've been too excited that my co-blogger is now officially a fellow Brooklynite to even think about posting. I mean, it's basically the coolest shit to ever happen. Leigh's new pad is boss! And it's *ahem* very, VERY clean. So congrats, Leigh! I'll be calling you plenty to borrow a cup of sugar. And by sugar, I mean gin. And by gin, I mean sex.

Also, a great good friend of this blog, our chum Nick, is now a neighbor as well! It's just like... When it rains it pours, you know? And it is pouring white people in Brooklyn. And it makes me so happy!! I have now have dear, beloved friends as neighbors for all occasions.

I envision the following with Leigh: Bagels. Cocktails. Picking out wicker baskets, filling them with tiny gourds and decorating windowsills with said gourds.

I envision the following with Nick: Scoping cute Brooklyn boys. Cocktails. Power walking up and down Washington Avenue, arms pumping, pushing baby carriages.

God, I fucking love Brooklyn. And the weather's getting chilly! Soon, it'll be time for falling leaves, gorgeous colors, good Oscar-y movies, Christmas, and the onset of (gulp) 2008. That last part might be a little scary.

So yeah. Life is good. It's great to have all of our chickens in the coop, and... Yeah. In related news, who's planning on seeing Jodie Foster's "I want my dog back" snuff film this weekend? Bitch already has my $11.50.

XOXO Kevin.

Weekend Update

The blog is finally coming to you from my new apartment! I am so excited to be (somewhat) settled into my new home. My Co-blogger and company are coming over to paint tomorrow; and then I can actually, you know, hang things on walls and whatnot. Then there will be pictures, I promise. Anyway, here's some stuff I've been waxing poetic about of late:
1-Why in the hell do cars no longer come with real spare tires? How is a fake tire that I can only drive 50 miles on at turtle-like speeds supposed to be helpful? Argh.
2- I may or may not have DVRed the Justin Timberlake HBO special on Monday. Go ahead, judge me.
3-Moving into a third floor apartment is hell. My legs are still nonfunctional. Feel free to send letters to this address forever, because I'm never moving again.
4-I've just discovered that digital cable means I can have NY1 and karaoke on demand. My poor neighbors. (For those of you outside of the New York metropolitan area: New York one is a fascinating local channel; which I watch every morning while Pat Kiernan literally reads the newspaper to me. It's so comforting when I'm half asleep and wondering why there isn't a latte in my hand)
5-I live next door to a giant German Shepard named Butch. Obviously, this pleases me to no end. Also today I found a restaurant that exclusively serves Fried Turkey.
I know I'm gonna like it here...

Turn the Radio Up to that Sweet Sound...

As I was making 3 round trips to Brooklyn today, the unthinkable happened: the CD player in my car jammed and my ipod ran out of power. This forced me to do something I don't often do. I had to listen to the radio. Labor Day weekend is not really an ideal to be driving, so I got to hear quite a lot. For some reason or another, I was listening to Z100.
Observations:
1.Is anyone out there besides Rhianna making songs? You wouldn't know it by the playlist
2.Wait- is Fall Out Boy a gay band?
Lyrics:
One night and one more time
Thanks for the memories
even though they weren't so great
He tastes like you only sweeter
I can't be the only one to see that...
3.And finally- there is a new Britney song. She does a lot of moaning. She's good at that. Honestly, if someone this far gone can make a comeback maybe there's hope for Lindsay after all. But I digress...
Mostly I was angered that this is what America listens to. While I was humming my fiftieth chorus of "'ella 'ella hey hey" A sudden wave of Nostalgia hit. I could picture my twelve year old self dancing around my bedroom; deciding what Gap shirt to wear with my Gap jeans, Gap socks and Bass Bucs-hoping that Ace of Base would come on before I had to leave for school. (Sidebar: even though it is the worst music ever made, I still have an affinity for early 90s dance music. So much so that while driving across the country with Kevin and The Gayrab; Joe would yell "Leigh Somerville!" every time a 90s song came on-in an attempt to show his displeasure. This Pavlovian reaction comes from when Joe, Gayrab and I drove Canada in my car for 10 hours with a largely early 90s CD selection- and Joe trapped in the backseat.) Anyway, this sentimental haze made me decide that all music has its purpose-even that of Z100.
+ = '93.
-L
PS-If you can place the title of this post, (or better yet sing it) and you can cook, and you like french fries a lot-there's a good chance I'll marry you.I'm just putting that out there.