U + Me

iTunes Party Shuffle can be a magical thing.
At any given moment a new song can pop up and take you back to a moment in your past or remind you of something you must do today or what is to come in your future.

It has this weird quality to choose the exact song you need in that exact moment to describe how you're feeling or what's going on in your life.

Or it can awaken the nostalgic monster inside you and immediately you're back in a previous life doing and saying things maybe you had forgotten.

Something like this happened to me the other day.
As you know, I've been feeling pretty nostalgic recently. So it's no wonder how happy it made me to hear a song from my boy band past shuffle up on iTunes.

I'm not talking about NSYNC or the Backstreet Boys or UFO (oops, I mean LFO) or 98 Degrees. Oh no, I'm talking about 2gether.

If you aren't familiar with 2gether, you must not have been a teenybopper in 2000 when MTV debuted their first tv movie ever, which, like most tv movies, covers whatever is current at the moment. And what was current in 2000 was boy bands.

It was February of 2000, probably the height of boy band hysteria. I was feverishly counting down the days until No Strings Attached came out. Then I heard about this mockumentary premiering on MTV, called 2gether. Hmm, a movie about a fake boy band? Would this be popular among the dozens of boy bands already out there?

And for me, the answer is yes. I immediately made plans to watch the movie over at my best friend's house . She wasn't a boy band fan really, but she indulged in my boy band habit as long as I didn't make fun of her obsession with Ricky Martin. But really, we were two peas in a pod, since Ricky Martin got his start in a boy band.

Anyways, we watched the movie and were instantly hooked. It wasn't long before we were quoting it, singing the songs and picking out our favorites (mine was and still is Chad, the shy one).

And that was just the beginning. 2gether actually became a legit boy band. They had a video on TRL (back when TRL was good) and even opened up for Britney Spears (back when Britney wasn't crazy).

It's a song from their second album (yes, they had two albums!) that came up on my iTunes that put me on this way back machine. The Hardest Part of Breaking Up (Is Getting Back Your Stuff). Catchy, no?

Well, maybe 2gether won't stand the test of time, but in that moment, they were what I'd like to call a snarky pop music pleasure.

Because they never took themselves too seriously. It was always about poking fun at boy bands and the hysteria that followed them around. But even when they became one of them, it was still all good fun.

And that's why I love my iTunes Party Shuffle. Just a single song can bring up all this stuff from my pop culture past.

Who knows what a tap of the next button will bring?

I Saw It! It's Alive! It's Huge!

Some movies are just made for the movie theater experience.
They demand a larger than life screen, sticky butter coated popcorn, an oversized mug of Coke, a sugar coma inducing bag of Skittles and a group of rowdy and annoying teenagers in the front row.

Case in point: Cloverfield.
The movie theater going experience was invented for movies like Cloverfield. And you better believe I was there.

The events leading up to the release of the movie formally known as the Untitled JJ Abrams Monster Movie should be familiar to any pop culture addict so I won't waste time recounting them here. But if last summer you were living under a rock and missed the teaser trailer that launched a thousand Google searches, then you can check out my very first blog, which will provide you with a niblet of Cloverfield info.

Anyways, back to my point: Cloverfield is a movie made for the theater. If you didn't see it when it was released in January, then you've really missed out. Nothing beats seeing on the big screen the Statue of Liberty's head fly through the air, hit a mile high sky scraper and come to its final resting point in the middle of a street teeming with onlookers.

Though for me, what was most amazing that day in the theater was not how I bitched out a group of teenagers making noise during the opening reel (true story) but how monstrous the monster truly looked up there on the screen.

That's not to say I imagined he'd look anything other than terrifying. Actually, I had no clue what he'd look like before I walked into the theater. But I knew from the half a second I saw of him in the trailer that he'd be bloody fantastic. And since JJ Abrams was involved with the project, I knew I'd be blown away to the Hawaiian islands, captured by a group of Others, and attacked by a smoke monster. That's how crazy I knew it would be.

And like I said, I wasn't let down. I loved seeing the monster crawl through Midtown taking out buildings with his long praying mantis type arms. And in a particularly stunning scene shot from the helicopter, we see what appears to be the monster's final moments as he collapses in the wreckage of Manhattan. Hud, the man behind the camera (and the second best thing about Cloverfield), shouts with glee at the monster's destruction. That is, until the monster lunges out of the smoke and grabs the chopper, sending it crashing into Central Park.

What followed was the monster's marvelous "I'm ready for my close up, Mr. De Mille" moment before he gobbled up poor Hud. His grill was all up in mine and frankly, I was scared. To see that face only a mother could love tower over me on the big screen made me want to hide behind my fingers. It truly felt like I was going to be lunched on instead of Hud.

But when the dust finally settled on a ruined New York City and the credits rolled, I thought ahead to what Cloverfield's DVD release might entail. And that's when I knew it wouldn't be the same watching it on my tiny television.

Flashforward to this weekend when I bought a copy. And I have to say, the experience isn't as good. New York City is tiny, the buildings are tiny, the monster is tiny. But I guess that's to be expected. Movies are never the same once you get them home and pop them into your DVD player. That is unless you have a movie theater sized tv in your living room. And let's face it, we're not all Mariah Carey so we don't have that luxury.

That's not to say I didn't enjoy a second viewing. I still jumped at the scary bits. I got a much better view of the monster babies (they're even creepier than I thought). And since JJ Abrams is a tv man, I'm sure he thought about what the movie would look like on the small screen so I trust that it's the best it can be.

Yet I'm still a bit sad I'll never get that experience again, going to the theater to see a monster trample through New York City, while I scarf down on Sour Patch Kids and yell at the kids in front of me.

I guess there's always the sequel: Cloverfield 2: Electric Boogaloo. You know I'll be there.

Chimpanzee That! No More Monkey News

It's a sad day for us fans of the man with the roundest head in the world.

Karl Pilkington will do no more podcasts.
That means no more monkey news or stories about his Auntie Nora farting for five minutes or hairy Chinese kids or alien abductions or horses living in houses or Rockbusters or freaks or any of the hundreds of topics covered on The Ricky Gervais Show.

If you're unfamiliar with Karl's inane ramblings, it's best if you head over to YouTube and search for "Karl Pilkington". You're bound to find clips of all the things I mentioned above and more, all of which will, no doubt, make you either laugh or cry with laughter.

That is, if you can stand Ricky's hyena like laugh and constant interjection of things like "You've got to be kidding!", "Absolute bollocks!" and "I'm about to burst!", which usually comes after a particularly ridiculous story of Karl's.

But honestly, any fan will tell you that it's often Ricky's outbursts which make Karl's stories funnier. I don't know of a funnier moment (and greater Ricky outburst) than when Karl tells the story of Siamese twins who got run over. When Karl says the story piqued his interest because he thought they should have looked both ways, Ricky lets loose a sound never before heard out of a human being. And while I can't accurately describe the screech, I can say that it never fails to make me double over with laughter.

I also love when Karl and Steve have a go at each other. It usually starts off when Karl makes a comment about Steve's height (he's 6 feet, 7 inches tall). Then Ricky, who always likes to stir the pot, will bring up how Karl felt about Steve when they first met. And that's all Karl needs. Before you know it, he's on about Steve's eyes (as Ricky mumbles, "goggle-eyed freak"), his trouble with women and his stinginess with money.

My favorite bit between the two is when Karl calls in and tells Steve that an alien in Men in Black 2 looks like his brother. It had big eyes and was gangly, Karl said, but ultimately wasn't as weird as Steve because it had a normal voice. At this point, the sparks are flying and I'm dying with laughter. But when Steve comes back and tells Karl he looks like the Humanzee, a hypothetical human/chimpanzee hybrid, I lose it.

Because if you've seen Karl, he really does look like a shaved monkey. Steve's right. He walks like the Humanzee, is bald like him and has the same gormless face.

But Karl's simian features are not what this blog's about. Or maybe it is. It might be that the constant ridicule from Ricky and Steve got to be too much for poor Karl. Or maybe he ran out of stories to tell about his often strange life. Or nothing exciting is going on in the monkey world to warrant an update.

Who knows?

Apparently, Ricky does. He's been keeping fans up to date on the goings on in Karl's life in a blog on his website. And it's in the latest and last blog that he breaks the news that Karl has finally put his foot down. No more podcasts. Well, no more free podcasts. But Ricky wants to give something free to the fans, a one off farewell show to thank everyone for listening.

Yet Karl's having none of it. And that's what makes me sad.

No one has made me laugh more than Ricky, Steve and Karl. I know I can count on them to crack me up to the point of tears whenever I listen to their shows.

That's why I want to pull a Ricky and squeeze Karl's little baldy head for making this decision. But I guess I can't be mad at Karl for too long. Maybe Ricky was right when he wrote on his blog that Karl's sick of playing the fool.

But honestly, all jokes aside, Karl is no fool. He just looks at the world a bit differently than the rest of us. And its his perspective on things which put the podcasts on my must listen to list.

So whatever ends up happening with the trio, it's probably for the best. I mean, Ricky and Steve will write another brilliant tv show or direct a movie or star in one.

And Karl will putter around London rescuing bees that have heart attacks. And that's why we love him, podcast or not.

There and Back Again

At any given moment, I'm feeling the pangs of nostalgia. Whether it's for 80s music or 90s tv shows or the boy band hysteria, I'm eternally hankering for the good ole days of my pop culture past.

These days my nostalgic gaze is turned toward the year 2003 and a little movie about the return of a king and the little hobbit who could.

That's right. I'm totally and utterly a sentimental sap for The Lord of the Rings.

In a previous blog I talked about how LOTR (as the cool kids say) popped my geek cherry. And now, five years later, it has surprisingly come back into my life.

For a class, I've been assigned to read the books and honestly, I couldn't be happier.

Wait a minute, a college student who actually likes and will do the reading assigned? Contrary to popular belief, they do exist and one of them is typing this here blog right now!

Anyways, what was I saying? Oh yes. I remember.

When I cracked open the books a few weeks ago, it all came back to me. Not just of reading the books or watching the movies, but that whole experience. The idea of leaving the comforts of home to journey to places unknown was not just for hobbits, dwarves and elves. As a high school senior that year, I too was about to embark on a journey of sorts. But instead of ending up in the dark and mysterious land of Mordor, I found myself in the cement covered land of UMass Dartmouth, where guys with popped collars roamed instead of Orcs (and they were just as ugly).

And my assignment isn't the only thing bringing back the memories. In fact, it seems like serendipity has intervened and supplied with me with a dish of LOTR goodness to satiate my nostalgia.

First of all, I'm surrounded by many LOTR loving friends. So when I'm feeling extra sad after watching Frodo sail off to the Grey Havens, I can lament to them about how heartbreaking it is to see him say goodbye to Merry, Pippin and Sam.

Then, to my pleasant surprise, all three movies were shown on tv last weekend. Three nights of hobbity goodness is something I couldn't pass up, especially when my DVDs were away from me at home.

But alas! I wasn't without them for much longer. One short trip home and there they were! My DVDs! All six sets! Where should I start? Why, with the commentaries, of course. Nothing is better than listening to the actors (especially Elijah, Sean, Dom, and Billy) tell stories and crack jokes about filming what was to become the greatest trilogy of all time.

And that's not all! The aforementioned Elijah Wood recently appeared on The Friday Night Project (a comedy/variety show from across the pond). There was much talk of LOTR, of course. The hosts dressed up like Gollum and Frodo. Even Sir Ian McKellen made an appearance!


And so, for now, my feelings of nostalgia have subsided. I've had my fix. But talk to me this time tomorrow and who knows how I'll feel. I might be like Gollum, calling out for the return of my precious. So I'll have to pop in a DVD or pick up the book and dive right back into the world of Middle Earth.

Fool Me Twice

Dear Project Runway,

It's been awhile since our last correspondence. I know I ripped you a new one and I'm sorry if I came off as a harsh bitch. However, I still stand behind my criticisms of you and your less than stellar four season.

With that said, I will bow down to you for your fierce decision to crown Christian as the king (or queen) of the fashion heap. But honestly, was there ever any doubt he'd win? No one ever came close. Not the constant draper Rami or the always uber stressed out Jillian.

And I even appreciate you including spicy Victoria Beckham, who, if I was a betting woman, would have invited herself to the Bryant Park festivities anyways since she desires desperately to be everywhere and in most cases, succeeds.

But the purpose of this letter is not to wax poetic about your season four finale.

No. I've got a bigger and badder bone to pick with you.
Your deflection from Bravo to Lifetime.

When I said get it together and make it work, I was just quoting your best asset and the always loquacious Tim Gunn. I didn't mean get it together and move it over to another channel! If any move was deemed necessary by your people (I'm looking at you, Weinsteins) then it should be to NBC, not to some channel which caters to middle aged housewives and obese shut-ins.

Now instead of neighboring hits like Top Chef, Inside the Actors' Studio and My Life on the D-List, you'll be among such gems as Your Mama Don't Dance (yes, that's a real show), reruns of The Golden Girls, and countless movies of the week, like, get this, Crimes of Passion: She Woke Up Pregnant.

Now, you have every right to jump ship if you so please. I get it. The entertainment biz is a crazy world and I'm sure you have your reasons for the change. But don't think NBC will be as understanding as me. In fact, as I'm sure you already know, they've filed a suit against you.

And can you blame them? Your sketchiness is off the radar. Secret negotiations with Lifetime all while stringing along NBC? Not fair, Project Runway.

I guess I shouldn't be too shocked about your behavior. I mean, just the other day I went mental over the shady dealings involving a remake of Spaced. But that's neither here nor there. All I'm saying is I guess Hollywood wouldn't appear as shiny and bright without its dark underbelly of shadiness.

Well, like I said in my last letter, I'm not ready to give up on you yet. But you've only got one more chance before I'll have to officially say "Auf Wiedersehen".

(Reluctantly) love,
Nicole

Everybody Loves Dan

In my second blog, I talked about my love for all things British. But I couldn't resist making a comment about my favorite thing Stateside. That favorite thing, of course, is Lost.

Here's what I had to say:

Thursday nights at 9pm I'm stupid with excitement waiting for the next installment of Lost. Who gets to go home? Who's left behind? Who's the guy who just parachuted onto the island?

Well, after 8 episodes, I can now answer all of my questions.

Kate, Jack, Sayid, Hurley, Sun and Aaron (aka Turnip Head) get to go home.
Everyone else is left behind (well, everyone besides Ben, who shockingly appeared off island in a later episode).

But the reason I bring this up is to answer my final question. That is, who is the guy who parachuted onto the island?

Well, that guy would be Daniel Faraday, who if you've been reading this blog or know me at all, is my favorite thing about Lost's fourth season.

Like I've said before, Dan is a twitchy and often rambling physicist, who in his off island life, was a professor at Oxford, working secretly on an even more secret time machine.

And as my blog title says, everyone loves him.
No, really. I've yet to meet someone who doesn't find Dan to be the most precious thing ever to be.

During the card game when he failed to remember the third card, I wanted to squeeze him and tell him everything would be okay. Then he amazes me with his genius and I want him to teach me physics. I know I must truly be a geek if the time experiment he did on the island turned me on. What can I say? I love a man who's smart and does sciencey stuff.

But what I really love about Dan is how he genuinely wants to help the survivors. I could totally see it pained him to say to Sun that their rescue wasn't up to him (cue me wanting to squeeze him again).

And it doesn't hurt that Dan is played by the equally twitchy and rambling Jeremy Davies, who has just about killed me dead with his amazing performance not only as Mr. Faraday but in all his other movies.

I could go on and on (no really, you should see my other blog) but since it's Thursday and Thursdays mean Lost, I must depart.

See you on the island.

McSpaced: I'm Not Loving It

British television remakes are often a hit and miss game.
You hit and get The Office. You miss and get Coupling.

There are many reasons why the Americanized Office succeeded, from the brilliance of Steve Carell to the fleshed out and super funny supporting cast. But believe me, had the remake not received blessings from creators Ricky Gervais and Steve Merchant, it might not have made it past the development stage.

Coupling, on the other hand, failed harder than Britney Spears at last year's VMAs. An American remake of a British remake of Friends? That's one too many remakes for me. Thankfully, Coupling was canceled before you could say "Chip chip, cheerio!"

But my grievance isn't with the remakes of the past. Right now, my favorite show from across the pond is undergoing its own Extreme Makeover of sorts.

And all I can say is that in the case of Spaced, imitation is the most insincere form of flattery.

For those of you who don't know, Spaced follows the often surreal and pop culture packed lives of Tim and Daisy, two Londoners who pretend to be a couple so they can rent an apartment, which they believe is reserved for professional couples only.

You're probably thinking, "Wow, that sounds like a great idea for a sitcom! What's the big deal?"

And it's questions like this that make Spaced fans like me really annoyed.

Spaced is about so much more than just two people renting an apartment. It's the baby of creators, Simon Pegg and Jessica Stevenson. Along with director Edgar Wright, they put their blood, sweat and tears into a show which stands as a specific and singular moment in their lives.

So when the remake was announced last year, I searched for one bit of information: what did Simon, Jessica and Edgar think?

And what I found was that not only weren't the trio involved in the project but they weren't even asked for their blessings beforehand. What? Are you kidding? Remake such a personal show without the people who created it? Who would do that?

Oh, that's right. McG. The man responsible for Charlie's Angels, a remake more obsessed with T&A than its cheesy 70s original.

Needless to say, I was worried. Would an American version of Spaced (titled McSpaced by fans) put the kibosh on what made the show great, the geektastic pop culture references? Would our Tim stay up all night playing Resident Evil 2, doped up on speed? Or break out into a Platoon-esque finger gun battle against a group of hoodlums? Or pay homage to other such staples as One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and Scooby Doo?

Doubtful.
And if they aren't going to keep the geeky sensibilities, then why remake it at all? Why not just take the basic concept and run with it? Two people living in an apartment. Period. Why call it Spaced if you're just going to squeeze out everything that made it what it was, including the creators?

And what really pisses me off is that McG and company claim to be such big fans of the show. Well, as a big fan myself, I call their claims bullshit. Because if they really were big fans (and thus fans of Simon, Jessica and Edgar), they wouldn't have been so shady about developing the remake. They would have picked up the phone and called them. Maybe they thought phone lines didn't cross the big ole Atlantic Ocean. Only a thought that stupid could keep them from doing something so simple.

Oh, and don't get me started on the media. They are just as bad. In everything I read about the remake, it was all about Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright. Not only did the articles imply that they were actually involved, but they totally ignored Jessica Stevenson. Yes, Simon and Edgar are more familiar to American audiences but it's unfair to leave out a third of the creative force behind the show. It just proves that neither the media nor those behind the remake really have the respect for the original that they claim.

I could easily go on (OMG did you see who they cast as Tim and Daisy? Blasphemy!) but I'll put the issue of McSpaced to bed for now.

And then, while it's sleeping, I'll sneak up real quiet and hack it to death with an ax.

Geek Chic

Believe it or not, I'm a geek.
Please, hide your surprise. Pick up your jaw from the floor. My last post should have made this painfully clear to you. And if you're reading this right now, odds are you're one, too.

But let's talk about me and how I fell into geekdom.

I've always considered myself to be an obsessive personality. When I love something, I just don't love it. I drink it up and eat it for breakfast. Case in point: NSYNC circa 2000. My collection of CDs, merchandise, memorabilia, and posters would certainly astound you. But that obsession was more teenybopper hysteria than geekiness.

I'd have to say that I first dipped my toe into the geek pool in the summer of 2003. The summer before the final Lord of the Rings movie came out. I immersed myself into the world of Middle Earth and there was no turning back. I read the books, purchased the DVDs, listened to the commentaries and even went to an exhibit on the movies in Boston at the Museum of Science. When Return of the King came out, it didn't matter that I was deathly ill and coughing up a lung. Oh no. I was at the theater at 10am sharp. And I went back to the theater another four times before the movie bowed out of theaters.

As things quieted down on the Lord of the Rings front, a whole other storm was brewing on the Hawaiian islands. There, a new show was being filmed. A show that just happened to star my favorite hobbit as a drug addicted rock star.

And that, my friends, is how I came to know and love Lost.
You know, what they say is true. One thing does lead to another.

And a similar thing is happening now: I read the books, buy the DVDs, listen to the podcasts by show runners Damon and Carlton, and debate and theorize after each episode with my partners in crime, my fellow Lost fans.

At the same time, my geeky tendencies led me to the stronghold of geekdom: Harry Potter. I was a bit late to the wizarding party, it's true, but that didn't stop me from reading all the available books in the summer of 2004. And I joined right in with the other muggles on two hot and sticky summer days in 2005 and 2007 to welcome the release of the last two books. While I never stood in line at midnight to get my copy, I did wait with bated breath for the mailman to arrive with my package , "do not open until July 21, 2007!" written all over it. I devoured that book in two days.

Told you I was geeky.

And it doesn't end there. In two weeks time, British television staple Doctor Who is back. Everyone's favorite time traveler (well, besides Desmond Hume) is once again saving the world and destroying aliens one Dalek at a time.

If I didn't lose you at time travel and Daleks, then you truly are a geek! Congratulations!

Let's reread Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, watch episodes of Lost where the the craziest thing was a hatch in the ground, and plan our trip to New Zealand.

Fantastic Four

What happens when an anthropologist, a drunk, a head case and a ghostbuster crash-land on a not so deserted island?

No, this isn't the premise of a so-bad-it's-good reality show where producers throw together a motley crew of characters and see what happens next. And neither is it some wacky remake of the Breakfast Club where high school is swapped for sandy beaches and leafy jungles and the biggest enemy isn't a principal in Barry Manilow's clothing but a monster shrouded in smoke.

No, this is what happened in the second episode of Lost's mindbending oh-my-God inducing fourth season.

And that was just the start of it.
But a lack of time and brain cells leaves me unable to untwist and lay flat to dry for you the recent clues to the island's mysteries. All I can say is this: don't think of time as a straight line, but as a big ball of wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff. Or something like that.

I can, however, tell you that Charlotte (the anthropologist), Frank (the drunk), Daniel (the head case) and Miles (the ghostbuster) are some of the most compelling yet puzzling characters ever to be introduced on the show.

What makes them interesting, you ask?
Well, they were assembled by a dodgy man in a suit named Matthew Abaddon to stage some sort of intervention (read: hostile takeover) of head Other Ben Linus.

Add to that their knowledge of the survival of the passengers of Flight 815, despite the fact that to the outside world they are dead at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

Figure in their leader Naomi, who, after being knifed by the island's It Boy John Locke, used her last breath to covertly tell her teammates that they weren't in Kansas anymore.

But what's most important is what we know about the characters themselves:

On an archeological dig in the desert, Charlotte finds the skeleton of a polar bear
curiously wearing a Dharma Initiative collar.



Frank, now a spitting image of a drunken Nick Nolte, was once a pilot for Oceanic Airlines and was supposed to be behind the wheel of Flight 815.



Miles uses his six sense to finagle money from dead people. And it's not only on the dead he works his magic. Oh no. He's also blackmailing a very alive Ben Linus out of 3.2 million dollars.



But my favorite of the bunch is bumbling physicist Daniel,who, after a series of experiments involving electromagnetism and a rat named Eloise, might just possess the answer to that old age question: is time travel possible?



Whatever the final answer might be, I know these new characters, along with the original group of island misfits, will make the crazy journey that is Lost worthwhile.

What happened to Andrae?

Dear Project Runway,

As your darling Heidi Klum would say, you're out.
Auf Wiedersehen.
Goodbye.
Go and clean your workspace.
You will not be showing your collection at Bryant Park.

But enough with the catwalk cliches.
The truth is, your forth season blew harder than Hurricane Katrina.

What happened to all the drama of the previous seasons?
No one melted down after a permanent marker moustache mysteriously appeared on a picture of a loved one a la Wendy Pepper. Not one designer pulled a Keith and broke the rules by bringing in contraband material. No one was accused of cheating like Jeffrey. Everyone stayed under budget, unlike Kara Saun and the adventures of the fabulous but overpriced sparkly shoes. Eggs stayed in their baskets and didn't end up on couture dresses (sorry, Michael). No sing-a-longs and no Red Lobster jokes and most importantly, no Tim Gunn impressions (but, to be honest, if they aren't done by Santino, then are they worth doing?)

Don't get me wrong. Your forth season had its moments. Christian is the fiercest bitch ever to grace my television screen and I love David Brent lookalike Chris and his infectious laugh. And I was totally bummed when Jack left for health reasons.

But other than that, you bored me.

Your challenges were uninspiring. Come on, WWE female wrestlers? They ended up looking like Bunny Ranch workers. No wonder the usually poker faced Michael Kors couldn't keep it straight.

You barely used the models. Isn't it a competition for them, as well? How about we see them instead of some bratty high school girls prepping for prom?

The product placement is over the top. I've dealt with hearing Elle Magazine, Tresemme Hair Care and Banana Republic on a loop. I get it. They're your sponsors. But Hershey's? At least the others are fashion related.

Speaking of Hershey's, stop with the wacky concepts for challenges. Let's make something out of Twizzlers and Kisses wrappers! That would be amazing! Where will it stop? Dresses made out of tampons?

It may seem like I'm being harsh on you, Project Runway, but I'm only doing this for your own good. Get it together and make it work!

Forever yours,
Nicole

1girl1post

Good news! Put a fork in it, the writers' strike is over!
Our favorite tv shows will soon be returning. No longer must we turn to lesser quality outlets for our entertainment. Namely, the black hole that is the internet. You're probably saying, "How can she knock the internet? She is writing a blog, isn't she?" And you're right, nameless internet user. I enjoy using the internet and I love to communicate with people all over the world. But let's face it. We don't always surf the web with such noble intentions.

Case in point: the shock site.
Specifically: 2girls1cup.

You know you've seen it.
A video so revolting that our generation of unshakable and seen-it-all teenagers are losing their lunch at the mere mention of it. A video almost too vile that even a vague description here might cause you to run screaming out of the room.

For the uninitiated, let's just say that after you watch it, you'll never be able to eat chocolate ice cream again.

What's most amazing about the video is not that it's spawned two sequels (4girlsfingerpaint and 1girl1pitcher) or that other sickos have released their own videos (don't even get me started on BME Pain Olympics). It's the onslaught of reaction videos on YouTube which have proven that even the disgusting can be hilarious.

This shouldn't be news, though. Toilet humor has been around forever and you'd be hard pressed to find a kid who doesn't laugh at the sound of a fart.

But what does our sick obsession with the strange and weird really mean? Why do we forward these kinds of things to all our friends? Are we that masochistic that torturing ourselves is not enough? We must inflict mental harm on our friends as well?

Whatever the case may be, next time you open your email and see "Check this gross video out!" in the subject line, delete it right away. Or, if you're adventurous, watch it and make your own reaction video. YouTube users are waiting.

Diagnosis: Anglophilia

I have to confess.
I'm an Anglophile.
My love for all things British knows no bounds.
Though I'm pure blooded American (born, in fact, in America's birthplace, Plymouth, Massachusetts) I compulsively listen to British music, gobble up Polo mints, say things like bloody and chuffed and dodgy, all while planting myself firmly in front of the tv for BBC America's Friday night of comedy.

But where did my obsession with the Brits come from?

When I was younger my great aunt always had Are You Being Served? playing in the background of her parlor room. I remember vividly the old hag with the multicolored hair always causing trouble. I thought it a bit silly, but the accents tickled my fancy.

Then, PBS served up another fine dish of Brit tv: Mr. Bean. To me, Mr. Bean was a childlike yet unusual man who bumbled his way through everyday events, always coming home to his faithful yet inanimate best pal, Teddy the teddy bear. It was simply endearing.

Nowadays, it's not much different. British tv still fascinates me. It's not unlikely to find me watching reruns of The Office (yes, it was British before it was American!) or patiently awaiting the return of Doctor Who or hoping Spaced is finally released on DVD in the good ole US of A.

Don't get me wrong. I love American tv, too. Thursday nights at 9pm I'm stupid with excitement waiting for the next installment of Lost. Who gets to go home? Who's left behind? Who's the guy who just parachuted onto the island?

But, I digress.
I guess my love British tv can be narrowed down to this: the accents.
Just kidding.

What I love is its quirky characters, the dry humor, the ability to not take itself too seriously, the awkward silences and even bigger guffaws, and ... okay, the accents. But who could blame me?

Attack of the Viral Marketing

You would think Lost, a critical darling and object of fan obsession, wouldn't need help drumming up excitement for its season 4 premiere. Even eight months without new episodes failed to deter fans from seeking clues to that flashforward featuring a suicidal Jack desperately seeking a way back to the island. So to complement the sometimes knotty but intriguing storylines, the show's marketing team created an elaborate advertisement campaign to coincide with the premiere. Part story and part scavenger hunt, Lost's viral marketing enticed hardcore fans and gave them (some) clues to the island's mysteries. Yet, is such a complicated endeavor worth the risk? JJ Abrams, creator of Lost and producer of Cloverfield, another viral sensation, would definitely say yes.

Lost's viral marketing began when fictitious Oceanic Airlines released a statement announcing their reopening after the disappearance of Flight 815 forced them to shutdown. Soon enough, billboards advertising the company began popping up around the world. Each included a url for the company's website. But all wasn't well for the once defunct airlines; both the website and the billboards were soon hijacked by someone promoting another site, find815.com. What followed was a mad dash by fans for clues as to what exactly was going on with their beloved show.

A similar scramble for clues occurred last summer after the release of a monster movie trailer which featured the shocking image of a beheaded Statue of Liberty. Given only a release date and JJ Abrams' name, moviegoers flocked to the web for answers. What they found was viral marketing that included everything from fictitious company websites to MySpace profiles. Once the movie was officially titled Cloverfield, a buzz reminiscent of The Blair Witch Project had built up to a fever pitch and didn't let up until its release last month.

Abrams and crew had succeeded with what had previously been a hit and miss game: creating a colossal "must see" quality around a project without saying much. Letting the audience participate created buzz from the inside out. Both projects debuted to large audiences, all hungry for the next clue.