/* */ The Other Shoe

Where I malign, whine and opine.

November 20, 2009

Rap Recall Friday

Oh yes yes, ya'll. And you don't stop.



Poison
- Bel Biv Devoe

Never trust a big butt and a smile. So true.

I love the vibrant colors of 90s videos. It's a treat for the eyes and the ears. Speaking of the eyes, the girl in the lavender dress with the ankle boots could be lead serve on the US volleyball team. Not that she doesn't have a slammin' body, but her calves are like two twine-wrapped hams. Video contains mandatory party scene and game of three-on-three (where someone sitting on a backstop makes me immediately think of Dick in a Box). And does anyone else detect a hint of Kid n' Play in the choreography? And, now that I think of it, did Kid n' Play ever have any actual songs?

November 04, 2009

Celebrity Encounters: A Guide to Keeping Your Cool

It’s not everyday you go to work and find yourself face-to-face with Robin Williams. Especially if you live in southeastern Michigan, are gearing up for the Christmas rush and have nothing more remarkable to look forward to than sitting on the couches at Pottery Barn on your lunch break. And yet, standing in front of you, requesting a doppio espresso, is Mork.

To say the least, you’d be a bit flustered. You might drop things. You might utter a nonsensical paragraph on how much you loved Good Will Hunting. After all, this is not LA.

Or is it? With Hilary Swank shopping the farmer’s market, George Clooney on set at Detroit Metro, and upcoming the Rob Reiner film Flipped filming in Saline, Hollywood is pouring into Michigan. We seem to be inundated by celebrities—which is all very well and awesome until we’re face-to-face with them on a midnight run to Meijer wearing jammies. If this should happen, don’t panic! Here are a few tips on playing it cool:

1. The Approach. Approaching a celebrity is tricky. You know it happens to them hundreds of times a day, and most of them are gracious about it—but there’s always the risk that they’ll refuse you. Quick way to up the odds: If you run into a celebrity in a place of business, the best time to ask for a photo or autograph is as they’re leaving. This way, you’re acknowledging that they’re busy and won’t hold them up. However, you still have to ask…

2. The Request. Speaking to a celebrity is even trickier. First impulses are to gush uncontrollably, spouting praise and losing all track of time while the celebrity’s eyebrows creep closer and closer into her hairline. This is natural, but avoidable. If you can control what comes out, try to keep it short and genial. A smile and an “Excuse me, but do you have the time for…?” is polite, charming, and hard to resist.

3. The Result. Usually, you’ll get what you want. It’s easier than refusing, and takes less time. Say thank you, and move away with a smile. Resist the urge to offer some sort of follow up, such as a phone number, your Twitter, or your first born. Also, don’t get on their case if they do something you don’t like. So they didn’t tip the barista; neither did 50 other nameless people. Unless you’re putting everyone under the microscope, let it go.

Now, let’s suppose the celebrity is incredibly attractive. A sex symbol, even. And that you are off the opposite (or similarly appreciative) sex. And that you have been caught entirely by surprise.

4. The Hard Part. If you are a customer service employee and are approached by a celebrity, try to keep calm. Treat them as you would any other customer, even if they are tall, British, and have swarthy, graying temples. Smile and get them through the line quickly, purposely not calling attention to them. When other customers have gone, find a pillar to stand behind to commiserate with your coworkers about how attractive/tall said famous person is. Find it hard to concentrate. Giggle. Resist, resist, RESIST texting all your friends to tell them you’re staring at six feet of handsome. Fantasize about hading him another latte. Spend next hour heavily embellishing that story. Drop things. Feel huge swell of relief when Clive Owen leaves center court so you can do your job again.

Wonder when Angelina Jolie is going to drop by to demand an ice water.

[reprinted from AnnArbor.com]

October 21, 2009

Don't Panic

When you undergo a job change, you're immediately over the platitudes. You don't really have an ear for the "I'm sorry"s or "that sucks"es and "something'll come up"s--or even, in my case, the well-intentioned "good for you." I'm not thinking about the future. I'm thinking about rent.

Chaos makes us planner-types itchy. After five minutes of sitting flat-palmed and perfectly still at my desk, I made lists. I filled out copious applications, called previous employers, and generally dealt with the fallout of the first irresponsible decision I've ever made. It's amazing how fast your priorities change. Wednesday I wanted a wraparound porch; Friday I wanted clean hair.

But, good for me. Good that I decided to walk out on an employer because his behavior was intolerable, and good that I learned what is and is not acceptable in both my daily and working life. Bad that I have no money, bad that I had no backup plan, bad that I just found a winter coat I want and my proposed paycheck leaves me exactly $10 post-bills. But good for me, that I have people who love me who won't see me starve. Good that I found a job that will allow me to keep sleeping indoors--one that I actually enjoy. Good that I have a chance to reflect. And ass-gropingly awesome that I no longer have a boatload of office-induced stress about which I could not give less of a shit.

Here I go. Good for me.

October 09, 2009

Rap Recall Friday

Another virtual time travel song, one that from the first notes will transport you instantly to a particular time and place. Mine is the freshman dance, the one Tiff made me go to, when I would rather have stayed home doing my Enterprise jigsaw puzzle. I reluctantly slapped on jeans and a men's dress shirt and had as much fun as I expected until my soon-to-be first boyfriend showed up. I remember he hated this song, HATED it, and walked out when they played it. I watched his white sweat socks go with stars in my eyes. Ahh, love.



Gangsta's Paradise - Coolio

It's not a bad song, really, but all the good is detracted instantly with the movie-tie in.

"Ok, here it is: Michelle Pfeiffer comes to an empty school, which is, like, Coolio's mafia den, for a gangster showdown!"

[blink]

"She's there to, like, reclaim the young, inner-city minds of America!"

[derisive laughter]

"What? She's tough! She's wearing leather!"

Supposed ex-military training aside, we can pretty much guess what the outcome would be--especially since the bluescreening makes it obvious that Mme. Pfeiffer and Mr. 'Lio were never in the same room at the same time. Acting to an empty chair (or a profoundly less frightening body double), Michelle uses her +12 Cloak of Stanislavsky to project her agent's image onto "Coolio" right from the get-go.

Also, I'm a huge fan of the Weird Al spoof Amish Paradise, particularly for the genius casting of Florence Henderson in the Michelle Pfeiffer role. Mrs. Brady or not, an old Amish lady throwing a chair is just awesome. (Not as awesome as the one I saw using the Dyson turbo-hand dryer in the bathroom of Union Station, but almost.)

October 07, 2009

The Dinogay Homoerotic Coloring Book

Submitted for your pleasure: a Flickr set of actual pictures scanned from a seemingly-innocent children's coloring book, which was well worth the dollar spent.



Enjoy!

September 25, 2009

Rap Recall Friday

I agonized--AGONIZED--over which of these videos to put up. They are so vastly different, each one could warrant its own post. In the end, I could not decide. It's a two-fer!

"I Wanna Sex You Up" - Color Me Badd



Ah, the days of the color-coded outfits. Did anyone ever look good in a purple blazer besides the Joker? They look like the Wiggles' horny evil twins. Actually, I get more sexual tension off the Wiggles (albeit for each other); the choreography for the line "sex you up" is relatively tame. I remember thinking that video was pretty progressive for its time until I realized the black person with braids was actually a man.

I forgot that "crew cut and round glasses" was a common look in the nineties. I wish I could have kept forgetting it. It somehow looked fine on black people (Wesley Snipes, Dwayne Wayne), but as is so often with gangsta fashion, it makes white guys look like douches. Exhibit A: the lead singer, who has compounded said douchiness with an Arsenio-stache. Not cool.

The other half of the band is just as big a question mark. It's not like they want to sex these women up as much as they want to keep singing about it. UnGeorge Michael will only make out as long as a woman's touch does not disturb the perfect helmet of his coif. Kenny G either needs a sandwich or a smaller size. Also, he is terrified that the lady in the elevator is going to rape him.

And, holy shit--is that Traci Lords?



As far as the uniforms go, I prefer the "away" version; they've gone with a little less Color in favor of a little more Badd. The choreography is still very much alive in the form of airplane arms and, quizically, stage-humping. Supposedly they saw the video and were concerned that people wouldn't "get" just how Up they wanted to Sex You. Pretty up, as it turns out. Even the lead singer looks a modicum less gay, but he still doesn't know what to do with his hands. The black dude has remembered that he is both black and a dude, rapping like he means it while making it clear he can't get far enough away from the rest of the band. Kenny has not taken my sandwich advice, but is adamantly pelvic thrusting his way into the hearts of the middle-aged women in the audience. Poor UnGeorge's hair, meanwhile, has taken on Prince Valiant proportions.

The winner: Arsenio. Damn, but he was dreamy.

September 22, 2009

Book Review: On The Edge

On The Edge
by Richard Hammond

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I've been a huge fan of Top Gear for ages, but it surprised me to learn that Richard Hammond had been in a life-threatening crash during the 2006 season. The book gives a decent background on Hammond, but mainly chronicles the events of the crash and the aftermath--how he and his family deals with a traumatic brain injury.

There's something about a near-death experience, a tale of personal grievance where you think the protagonist might not make it, that shows you and how bloody raw and difficult life can be--even when you haven't crashed a jet-fueled car going 300 miles an hour. The trouble is, Hammond's not that fantastic a writer. He's all right, just a touch boring at times. Luckily, his wife Mindy (with whom the book is co-written) is both sweet and engaging, and keeps you going with how remarkably competent and terrified she was while going through it all. The books has remarkable recall and detail, and is a great read for anyone dealing with a traumatic brain injury, or anyone who is a sucker for coming-back-from-the-brink narratives.