"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.