Monthly Archives: May 2012

Hello, Again

And we’re back.
As an acting major, Catherine was lucky to have a lot of very thoughtful, incisive professors (all of whom I imagine as variations on that great choreographer-slash-tough love truth-teller, dance contest judge Mia Michaels) who elevated everyday classroom moments to Dead Poet Society levels. Like when she and her roommate were late for class and tried to explain that it was because the roads were so slick with ice and snow. A normal teacher would have just told you to sit down. (Or would not have noticed because your “classroom” was actually a large auditorium and they took attendance via remote control.) But a theatre professor gives you a life lesson: “Is that an apology or is that an excuse?” And with that convenient way of ignoring my blog delinquency,  I’ll skip the excuses and simply say I’m sorry. And I’ve missed you. Anyways, a lot has happened since we last spoke (besides Catherine getting braces). To get you up to speed, here’s a brief timeline of the major events that have happened in my life in the last three months. (Please note that I did not make them TV-centric for the sake of this blog. Television just makes up this much of my day-to-day life.)

March 25th: Mad Men premieres, Catherine and I do our taxes.

We wanted to have a Mad Men-themed premiere party, but since Catherine didn’t think Mad Men ate anything other than bourbon, we had breakfast for dinner instead. We also did our taxes (we’ll call this a tribute to Lane). I was supposed to be the brains behind that operation, until I miscalculated and thought I owed, like, $1,500 in taxes, and then Catherine suddenly stopped needing my help.

Paperwork. Ugh.

Pancakes and Chardonnay. Yum!

As for Mad Men, are people having a lot of strong feelings about Season 5? I continue to love the show, but frequently find myself one or two weeks behind schedule. Catherine, who shares my enthusiasm for Roger Sterling but does not forgive January Jones’ wooden acting just because she is beautiful and her wardrobe is perfection (as I do), has had only this to say about it:


April 7th: I finish Season 1 of Shameless.

My parents have been raving about this Showtime show starring William H. Macy as a despicable drunk with a menagerie of children. I couldn’t get into it. Part of the problem may be that a drunk man headbutting his son is not really in the flavor profile of what I find funny. But the bigger problem is definitely Emmy Rossum, who stars as oldest daughter Fiona Gallagher. This is a character who, as written, is a hard partying “hood rat” (their term, not mine!) from the South Side of Chicago. If you know Rossum from anything, it’s her inexplicable presence on all red carpets (given that her star-making vehicle, The Phantom of the Opera, came out 8 years ago), and/or when she weirdly dated the guy with the dreadlocks from Counting Crows. Which I suppose is the exact resume you would expect from a very pretty actress doing a very bad job of pretending to be a chick from the hood. Also, when listening to her attempt a Chicago accent, it seems the only note anyone gave her was “Sound more like Julianne Moore doing a Boston accent on 30 Rock.”

I mean, really. What is that? Where are you from, girl?

April 15th: Girls premieres, Catherine and I buy cowboy boots.

If you have not yet heard of HBO’s new show Girls, you likely are a person who has not spoken to me in the past two months, because it’s all I talk about anymore. I have been looking forward to this show since I first heard a synopsis of the premise: four young women, living in New York, trying to figure out their lives, jobs, romances, etc. What? That’s just like me! And I want to watch television that speaks exclusively to my millennial self-interest.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. First things first. Catherine and I have a family wedding in Austin this fall where cowboy boots will be required (as in, we decided we wanted to wear them, and then required ourselves to buy them). So we planned a lovely Sunday, which began with cowboy boot buying and culminated with Girls premiere watching. (It was supposed to start with breakfast having at Elly’s, but Catherine was hit with a case of bottle flu so severe not even pancakes could lure her out of the house before 2.) We headed to Alcala’s Western Wear, which is probably the most badass place I’ve ever been (I’m not a badass, so that bar is low). But seriously, if you are in the market for some authentic cowboy boots (or perhaps a saddle or 10 gallon hat), look no further. They have a huge selection, all of which is on display, so you just find the section with your size and start trying on the ones you like. It’s like being at Lori’s, except not full of unhelpful salespeople who always make you leave your Big Gulp behind the counter while you’re shopping.

Don’t worry-these were not the boots we bought. At least not the ones on the right. We’re going to Austin. Not Dallas cheerleader camp.

This is Lorenzo. I hate him.

But all of this was to keep us busy while we waited for the main event, which was eating Chinese food and watching Girls with our HBO-having friend Lara who had generously offered to host us. Because this is not the Tribune (although I’d love to hear Michael Phillip’s thoughts on the subject), I can admit that I am totally and utterly biased when it comes to Girls. Not only am I their target demographic (white, twenty something, frequently suffering from self-involved and self-created crises of the career and romance varieties), but I am unabashedly in love with writer-director-creator-star Lena Dunham. She is a creative genius who speaks the language of my soul. The characters aren’t perfect. They can be self-involved, and seemingly unaware of the scale of their problems in the grand scheme of things. But the show is so real, about its characters and the world they’re in, that it all feels honest and refreshing and true. It’s also hilarious.

There is no better example than this monologue that Lena’s character Hannah delivers to the douche weasel she’s been sleeping with, and is something every girl I know has wanted to say to a guy at some point, because it’s a perfect combination of being honest, while still lying about what you really want (which I’m sure does involve him meeting your friends):

I just want someone who wants to hang out all the time, and thinks I’m the best person in the world, and wants to have sex with only me. And it makes me feel very stupid to tell you this because it makes me sound like a girl who wants to, like, go to brunch, and I really don’t want to go to brunch. And I don’t want you to, like, sit on the couch while I shop. Or, like, even meet my friends. I don’t even want that, ok? But I also don’t want to share a sex partner with a girl who seems to have asked for a picture of your dick. And also, I don’t want a picture of your dick because I live very near you, so if you wanted me to look at your dick, I could just come over and look at your dick. And, I don’t really see you hearing me, and I don’t really see you changing, so…I just summed it up.

Lena, you are perfection.

April 16th: Taxes are due.

April 22nd: I finish doing my taxes. 

I have a biological imperative to procrastinate.

April 27th-29th: I return to my alma mater, the University of Illinois.

Ostensibly to run a 10K, but with the real goal of drinking like a 20-year-old for as little money as possible. This is how much drinks cost. Are you for real?


May 3rd: Catherine tries to convince me to attend a play that is 4-and-a-half hours long, with three intermissions.

Despite the fact that it stars Nathan Lane and the dad from Tommy Boy, I decline. Catherine goes, and collapses from exhaustion during the third intermission.

May 11th-13th: Veep continues to kill it, Catherine and I celebrate Mother’s Day (and our brosef’s college graduation).

Our baby bro graduated from college a few weeks ago, so we headed down to Bloomington-Normal for the Friday night ceremony. The highlight (after Sean graduating, I suppose) was the bruschetta at Biaggi’s. The lowlight was when Catherine and I managed to stop three times during a three hour drive home: once for coffee and water, then again for coffee because I wanted Dunkin’ Donuts instead, and a third time for gas. You will note, as we did, that all of these things could have been accomplished in a single trip.

Sunday was Mother’s Day, which we celebrated with one of Marth’s favorite dinners (flank steak!) and one of her new favorite shows-Veep. The HBO comedy, which stars Julia Louis-Dreyfus as an extremely foul-mouthed Vice President, airs on Sunday nights after Girls. Fortunately my parents like me a lot, because I have been coming home almost every Sunday just to watch these two shows. You guys, they are so good. Get on that.

May 14th: Season 8 of The Bachelorette premieres.

I have only caught bits and pieces thus far, but from what I can gather, the whole season will be spent showing Emily coming up with genuine and varied ways for her to thank the men when they tell her how beautiful she is.

May 18th: I finish Season 1 of The Big C.

Another Showtime disappointment that my parents love, and I start to question whether I’m adopted. Also, despite the fact that everyone told me there would be a big pay off at the end and I will bawl my eyes out, I cry as much at the last episode as I did at this year’s season finale of Parks and Recreation (and much less than I cried during the Season 2 finale of The Office).

May 20th: My roommate and I host a deck cooling party, to bid farewell to the porch we will be leaving at the end of the month when we move.

I make everyone drink out of the mason jars I have collected stolen over the years. It is 80 degrees and we are eating guac. Everyone is loving life.

So there you have it! The past three months of my life. What’s new with you guys?

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