Oh, NBC.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/09/business/media/09leno.html?ex=1386478800&en=354a8bf86d9b0d33&ei=5124&partner=facebook&exprod=facebook

Following the announcement, Ben Silverman hopped onto his white tiger and, playing the NBC chimes, shouted, "SILVERMAN OUT."

WEB INFINITY

I am going to punch the next person who dares to use the term "Web 2.0" in my presence.

This summer I think I've heard that term more times than I can count. And you know what? It didn't mean anything the first time, and every time an editor mentioned it after that the meaning got more and more garbled. Eight weeks of spin about an idea so silly I couldn't believe it got greenlit in the first place. I couldn't discuss it for a long time, and it killed me to have to keep my mouth shut about such a potentially colossal mistake.

Thankfully, the cat is finally out of the goddamn bag.

BusinessWeek has decided to throw its hat into the "Web 2.0" scene. To them, this means creating what basically amounts to an aggregator with a LinkedIn tie-in. They spent millions of dollars on this, dollars that would be so much better spent on expanding their online team and better meshing the print and online divisions. Instead, they're going to have writers, editors, and regular ol' businessmen waste their time coming up with these topics, moderating them, updating them daily.

Why?! Why would anyone want to spend that amount of time doing something when, arguably, they could look over their RSS feed and then go about doing the million other things a CEO does. Who gives a shit what everyone else is reading? If you really care, you can go see the "most read" on the site (except for BW's, because for some reason we make the "Most read" box a fucking Easter egg on a DVD) or go to Digg. (Side note: I have never used Digg. Is it really that useful? Do that many people use it? This is coming from a "young person," mind you.) Why would you want your competitor to know what you're reading? You'll disable that capability, and so will your competitor, so we're back to square one, which is...an RSS feed. With a LinkedIn tie-in.

Guys. This is not "Web 2.0." There is no such thing as "Web 2.0." Technology evolves, and the way people use it also changes. There's no need to make up a pointless word for a process that's been going on since the dawn of fucking time. Facebook and MySpace were lightning in a bottle. You cannot duplicate them. I don't know if they'll ever go away, but whatever this bullshit hybrid thing you're trying to sell is, it's not new.

Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe every goddamn CEO and his mother wants to use this thing, and Terry McGraw will sit in his office on the 49th floor laughing and throwing piles of money in the air because the ad revenue will be coming in by the truckload.

I could also be right, too.

Harry Potter and the Stupidly Delayed Movie

Oh, come on.

Warner Bros., you greedy, greedy bastards. You saw how well The Dark Knight did in July, and now you want another piece of that. Nevermind that Goblet of Fire did pretty damn well in the same late-November spot and that it would have killed any other movie it went up against. Other studios had even moved their films away from that week.

And my poor future employers even put the Chosen One himself on their cover last week.

(I started writing this last Thursday, but got incredibly distracted and then Blogger crashed and everything just went all to hell.)

Holympics

Of course I have to do an obligatory Olympics post.

So, I was a swimmer. For 10 years. My best events were the 200 fly, 500/400 free, 800 free, and the mile. These are brutal, brutal events. Watching Michael Phelps fling himself through the water at 20 mph is easy. Having done it God-knows-how-many-times, I understand his pain.

All those glowing, sickening profiles don't get to the real heart of Phelps. Nor do any of the pieces about the other swimmers. (Wait, are there any pieces about the others? I mean, I love Phelps and all, but I feel for the others.) Swimming isn't just about winning. Thrashing that annoying flyer from Lake Highland is great, but that's not the only reason we get up at 4 a.m. three days a week (if not more). That's not the only reason we push through those two-hour practices that threaten to break our will.

We do it to beat ourselves. To beat the clock. Even if you haven't won 9 gold medals, that's the real goal. So for people to be annoyed with Phelps' reaction after the 200 fly is ridiculous. He didn't do what he really wanted to do. He was disappointed. I would have felt the same way--and I have.

Peaches are vastly inferior to nectarines...?

I was trying to come up with a clever play on peaches and how much Georgia sucks and ended up with that. Oh well.

So, the preseason polls are up (college football, for you heathens out there), and ESPN has Georgia sitting pretty at number 1. I've already confessed that I'm not the most knowledgable person when it comes to college football (though I am trying), but I will eat my own fingernail clippings if Georgia keeps that spot longer than three weeks (I think South Carolina can topple them, but that's just based on a hunch and my undying hatred of Georgia). We'll see if we end up with another Gator-Buckeye showdown in January.

O Emmy! My Emmy!

Blogging is difficult when you have a full-time job writing and want to do nothing more when you get home than sit and watch episodes of Firefly on Hulu with a beer in your hand. 'Cause I can do that now. 'Cause I'm 21. (This is still a new and exciting state, bear with me.)

So, real quick thoughts on the Emmy noms:

So glad they finally recognized the genius of Dexter.

I really need to get through the first season of Mad Men, apparently. I wonder when Vincent Kartheiser is going to finally get his due.

That's right, Robot Chicken is nominated. And if it loses to dreck like King of the Hill, I will break something. Or maybe just impotently blog about my anger.

I don't watch The Wire, but it certainly seems like a pretty egregious snub.

Okay, the rest has pretty much been covered ad nauseum, blah blah.

I'll make more of an effort to update more. Things have just been...crazy. I will start working at EW soon, though, so that's exciting.

Impomptu hiatus

Sorry for the impromptu hiatus. Work's been absurdly busy, I've been trying to find another job, and I've decided to finally live in my apartment, i.e. buy furniture and get my shit out of boxes. So, after spending $600 at Ikea (I know, I know) and countless hours building it, I finally feel a little more settled.

That certainly hasn't stopped my wanderlust, though. Is that something that all young people have? This urge to be somewhere, anywhere but here, even if "here" isn't really all that bad a place? I want to go to Yellowstone. Just camp out for a few days. I miss wilderness.

I finally turned 21. It hasn't quite hit me yet, though. Obviously I did the requisite (and fun!) going out, but I still look in awe at the alcohol section of the grocery store. "I could buy this," I tell myself. It's like...

UNLIMITED POWER!

(Start at 3:45 to get to that part.)



Thoughts on Emmy nominees to come. (Or, TK if you're as big a journalism tool as I am.)

Popular

Apparently everyone wants to read about the top 10 design cities in America, since it's the most popular story on the BusinessWeek website.

Oh yeah, disclaimer: I wrote the story.

Boo. Yah.

Sniff...sniff

Smell that? Smells like college football to me.

Now, don't get me wrong. Summer vacation is great. (...When you have one.) There's nothing like that sense of anticipation that slowly builds over those long, hot summer months, but the best part is that first game's kickoff. From then on, you can be sure the season will be a complete shitshow. (Thanks, BCS!) At this point, we're just two months away from the season's start. Already all the usual pundits are starting to make their predictions. I guess it's not really that hard--all you really have to do is look at the teams' records from last season, compare their new recruits, and you've got maybe a 50% chance of not being horribly wrong. I don't really plan on doing that, though, because I'm usually horribly wrong, probably because I don't do college football analysis for a living.

However, I did get it right in 2006. About a quarter through the season, as Florida began its inevitable rise to the top of the Top 25, I started to tease Steve, Mr. Buckeye himself.

"You just watch," I said. "The championship game is going to be Ohio State and Florida, and Florida is going to stomp your ass."

(It sounds like I hate Ohio State. I don't. I only root against them when they're playing Florida or Northwestern--otherwise, I think they have a great team that makes for some amazing games. I do hate their fans, though. Thugs and assholes, all of them.)

After a few weeks of eye-rolling and "Whatever, what do you know about football"-s, my prediction began coming true. Of course, there was a bump or two along the way (Fuck you, Auburn, and way to fuck up that game, punter Eric Wilbur, with whom I attended high school). My Gators came to the championship game with two losses. Steve laughed, confident that the undefeated Buckeyes would slaughter Leak and Tebow. I don't know why he thought that, exactly, but whatever. We won, I won, and I still get to hold that over all those annoying-ass Buckeye fans. Then they lost against LSU this year, and I laughed some more.

God, I can't wait for September.

Feed the Bear

One of the most remarkable stories I've read in a while is about a subject I usually detest: finance. (That might sound funny coming from someone who works at a business publication, but, you know, sometimes jobs pick you, not the other way around.) Reading "Bringing Down Bear Stearns," I learned how the art of business writing can actually be an art. Granted, my very own BusinessWeek helped break the subprime mortgage story wide open, but while that story (and the subsequent ones) were all fine examples of journalism, I don't know if I would qualify them as "art," necessarily. This takes the collapse of a financial institution and turns it into drama. It gives its characters--whom I would normally find utterly reprehensible, billionaires cushioned against the crushing blow of an elevator freefall by the bodies of their own employees--depth and pathos.

Also, for someone who works at a business pub, I know a surprisingly small amount about the business world. Yeah, I remember a bunch of stuff from AP Macroeconomics. But that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of what's going on in today's world. Hedge funds, options, derivitives. These things make no sense to someone like me. Of course, I know much more now than I did before, but it still boggles my mind, the amount of money these Wall Street people win or lose on a daily basis. Most of it isn't even money. It's the promise of money. That's what's most confusing. How can betting that the price of corn is going to fall gain you money? That...is kind of fucked up. You are not providing a service to anyone. You're like a hyena laughing as a zebra gets taken down in front of you. But you somehow profit. It's patently ridiculous.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a hippie or anything. I know this is the way the world works now, and there's almost nothing we can do right now, save wait for all the other hedge funds and the like to collapse under the weight of their own cleverness. (This might never happen, but hey, you never know.)

Perhaps the best (and worst) thing about the Bear cautionary tale is that nothing was really wrong with Bear. How did it get taken down? Probably by a group of people very similar to those working within the company. They started a rumor, a rumor that Bear was "having liquidity issues." Bear didn't have enough cash. They did (at least, according to Bear execs, they did), but those rumors are just as poisonous as the ones on Gawker, apparently. Addressing a rumor like that only makes it worse. $18 billion worse, sometimes.

Someone made a lot of money betting Bear would die.

So, for all the business world's talk about nothing being personal, I bet I could find 14,000 former Bear employees who would strenuously disagree. And I bet they'd say something about accounting for human instinct and emotion in your business model.

(Also, can you imagine calling up the Fed and asking for a $30 billion loan? Jesus Christ.)

Beverly Hills what?!

Oh, you have got to be kidding me:



The only appropriate reaction to this trailer: "What the fuck, Disney? What. The. Fuck?"

Twenty-one

You know, I never understood the drinking age. 21? I suppose I understand the reasoning behind it. Cut back on the number of immature kids getting trashed and driving home, reduce the percentage of DUI-related crashes. The problem is that this is not real reasoning. I turn 18 and I can drive, vote, and die for my country. But I can't buy some beer to bring to a party. I've lived in two places now where a car is more of a hindrance than an asset. No drunk driving in Chicago or New York. Just walk or take the train. But when the government decided to withhold funding from states who didn't increase their drinking age, apparently they forgot about major cities and public transportation.

I have yet to stumble across a person who doesn't drink because she's not 21. And, let's face it, this is fairly ridiculous. I just graduated from college, and I'm not allowed to drink. I've been a productive member of society for a while now, in fact, and have lived on my own (not in a dorm) for over a year. But I can't join my fellow coworkers for happy hour.

Maybe I should just carry my diploma around, all "How's THIS for an ID, motherfuckers?"

Congrads

First of all, airline travel has become absolutely unbearable. Unless you're the first flight out of a New York airport (meaning an ass o'clock departure), delays are likely to be several hours. And for no real reason other than massive cockups on the part of air-traffic control. My flight from New York (JFK) to Chicago (O'Hare) was scheduled to leave at 8 p.m. last Thursday. The weather in both areas is beautiful. I get to the airport the requisite hour-and-a-half-ish early, after checking Delta.com to make sure my flight is indeed on time, and see the departure time is now 8:40. Great. Luckily, I brought a book.

9:00.

10:25.

We board at 10:15. The cabin doors close at 10:35. I am wedged between two people who apparently have not bathed in several days and spent those days exclusively outside. Every time they shift, a new wave of odor hits my nose.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. I'm not sure what number in line we are for takeoff, but it'll probably be about an hour."

I look out the window to see a line of airplanes stretching out to the horizon.

Takeoff comes at 11:25. I arrive in Evanston a little after 1 a.m. There has got to be a better way to travel, people. It's just absurd at this point.

The weekend itself was...interesting. Sad, for the most part, but it wasn't all bad. I know I made the right decision, choosing to get out a year early, but it was a lot harder than I expected. I never fit in the the class of '08, not really. They had a whole year of bonding before I even appeared, and once they all turned 21, that just opened one more door I couldn't walk through. Then there's the thought of leaving behind all those good friendships I so carefully crafted. Sure, there's Facebook, there's IM and Gchat and the phone. But that doesn't negate the fact that I might never see some of these people again.

So, sure, it was a practical decision. My life is easier without that extra $25,000 tacked onto my already impressive debt, and Steve and I are on the same level now. But for me, graduation wasn't one of the happiest days of my life, nor was it especially exciting. Most people I know don't seem to grasp the why, and I wish they would, so I would stop having to lie every time someone asks, "How was graduation? Aren't you so excited to be done with school?"

"Haven't you heard? I'm the crazy bitch around here."

As much as I love Gossip Girl (which I truly do, unabashedly), having to deal with those kinds of people in real life is just not fun. Luckily, even though I went to a prep high school, the girls were generally pretty nice. Well, they were nice to me, because I was pretty much just wallpaper. Obviously there was drama, because duh, it's high school. But nothing too ridiculous.

Thus the appeal of The N's "Queen Bee." At least, it sounds appealing. Ten Bitches (that's right, with a capital "B") get dressed down by some Top Model winner and attempt to change their evil ways for $25,000. Per the press release, here are the contestants:

Shavon, 20, Brooklyn, NY
This self-proclaimed diva is not only loud but very demanding and always makes herself the center of attention wherever she goes. She's blunt and doesn't like to sugar coat the truth. Nominated by her own sister, Shavon will finally face what others truly think of her demanding ways.

Camille, 19, Bedford, TX
The petite blonde credits her hair and make-up as her best traits and feels that only true confidence can come from your looks. Camille praises herself for being good at making people cry including her fiance who she says cries at the "snap of her fingers." Nominated by her fiance, Camille will face his final ultimatum, change or we're over!

Stassi, 19, New Orleans, LA
While in high school, this college sophomore nicknamed her buddies, "Stassi's Posse." A natural ring leader since birth, her personal motto is "When you're powerful and attractive you get great perks in life." Nominated by her mom, Stassi will finally hear what her mother thinks of her demanding ways and her mom's concerns for her future relationships with friends and family.

Brittany, 20, Tampa, FL
This self-described socialite wants everyone to know that she is not your average girl. She loves to brag about partying in the Hamptons and will often remind you that she has met Brody Jenner and Paris Hilton...in case you haven't heard. Nominated by a childhood friend, Brittany will hear that her looks aren't enough to keep this friend around forever.

Gisbelle, 19, Bronx, NY
This flawless diva is confident and outspoken and believes that the world revolves around her. Nominated by her boyfriend who is tired of working two jobs to support her ridiculous spending habit, he will finally tell her enough is enough. But will Gisbelle get the message?

Kiana, 18, Bronx, NY
This fashion trendsetter will have an unwelcome wakeup call when she is nominated by a friend who is sick and tired of her rude and obnoxious ways. Kiana admits that she has a bad attitude but only credits herself as a good person for telling it how it is.

Michelle, 18, New York, NY
Michelle has never had an after school job in her entire life, but gets anything she wants including her new Range Rover -- courtesy of mom and dad, with a bat of an eye. Nominated by her mom, Michelle will hear how her rabid spending is affecting her family and her mother's concerns for her future.

Note the plethora of contestants from New York. This should be wildly entertaining.

Gold digger

I'd like to take this time to announce that I will not be submitting my name for Emmy consideration this year.

(Pause.)



I know. It's such a shock. You all were expecting me not only to be nominated, but also to win. You didn't care that I hadn't even appeared on a television show. And for your faith, I thank you. But sometimes, you just need to wait another year or ten for the time when you're given the right material. Or any material.

Kisses!

(Photo ripped from the Salt Lake Tribune's blog.)

United: Sucking Just A Little Bit More Every Day

"United Airlines Announces New Checked Bag Policy for Domestic Flights

CHICAGO, June 12 /PRNewswire-FirstCall/ -- United Airlines today announced two changes to its domestic checked bag policy. The service fee to check one bag for domestic travel will be $15 each way and the fee to check three or more bags, overweight bags or items that require special handling will increase from $100 to $125 or from $200 to $250, depending on the item."

I rest my case.

United Sucks

I'm calling right now for a boycott of that most shittiest of airlines, United.

I've always hated United, ever since I almost missed my flight home for Thanksgiving freshman year because their security line was out the airport doors. It was 20-something degrees, and we had to wait outside. Since then, I've avoided flying with them, instead going with the superfabulous Southwest or the previously superfabulous JetBlue.

Unfortunately, when ATA folded, so did Southwest's flights to LaGuardia. So intead, I took to flying into and out of JFK on JetBlue, because tickets were fantastically priced. Life was good.

Then came oil at $134 a barrel, and I got fucked over to the max.

I didn't want to take a cab from JFK to Astoria, my current place of residence. A cab from LaGuardia to Astoria is, like, $8--much, much less than from JFK. JetBlue's flights into LaGuardia are terrible. And, lo and behold, United's flights into LaGuardia were cheapest.

I have a history of overweight baggage. Usually, though, it's only a couple pounds. The JetBlue people, angels that they are, let me slide. The last time I had to pay was, surprise surprise, with United. It was $25.

So I figure, $25 for a little extra weight, plus $25 for an extra bag, sure. Doable. I check in, and my big bag shows 56 lbs on the scale. However, the agent doesn't say anything, hands me my boarding pass, and I walk away.

Oh, but then. She calls me back, and I stupidly, stupidly turn around, even though I know she's going to charge me for the bag. But I say to myself, "Hey, not that big a deal. It didn't say on the website that they've changed the price." (It really doesn't say anything about the price of an overweight bag, see for yourself.)And since I'm moving, I have zero room to move shit around, I'll take the $25 hit.

Ha. $25.

It turns out, it's $100 for an overweight bag. Six pounds. $100.

THE TWO ARE NOT EQUIVALENT IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM.

Sorry to yell, but the situation, quite frankly, requires the use of all-caps. It also requires everyone to stop flying United, because the airline has now officially stepped over the line. Not only did I have to sit on a shitty aircraft with little room for more than three hours waiting for takeoff, but there was no food whatsoever on the plane. And then they charged me $100. That's $100 that could go to, say, me being able to eat something better than peanut-butter sandwiches for the next few months. (Yeah, just peanut butter. Can't afford the jelly.) Or, better yet, take that money and give me some goddamned snacks on the plane. Some crackers! Something! Jesus Christ, United!

Here's hoping they fold within the next two quarters.

Smurfing smurf smurfs

I just ran across a press release saying Sony and Columbia just bought the rights to a Smurf movie. And they're going to make it; apparently what the newest generation needs is exposure to to tiny little blue freakshows.

Don't get me wrong, I love the Smurfs. (Though to be honest, I love the "Robot Chicken" parodies much, much more.) But is a CG/live action movie really the way to go? And not just one movie--the people behind the project apparently see a whole series of movies in the mix. Check it:

Said [Producer Jordan] Kerner, "It all began with a holiday conversation with Michael Lynton and then another with Amy Pascal. Michael was raised with the "SCHTROUMPFS" in the Netherlands. He relished them as I do and suggested that it should be a live-action/CG film. Amy felt equally that there was potentially a series of films in the making. I knew that the dream would come true when we started working with Doug, Bob and Hannah. It all became very Smurfy! I have been working with Veronique Culliford, the daughter of Peyo, the author-creator of the Smurfs, and Hendrik Coysman, CEO of Lafig Belgium to bring this franchise to the screen. They have captivated me for years with their great humor and huge hearts."

(Via the Sony/Columbia press release.)

So, does this mean they'll be killing yet another relic of my childhood (unironically, unlike "Robot Chicken")? Or will this "series" merely go gently into that good night, kind of like the Garfield movies?

(Yes, shut up, I loved the Garfield comics from ages 5-10. We all have our vices.)

iWant

Oh my God, it's beautiful.

When word first reached me of the iPhone last year, I was pretty excited. Then, I saw the price tag and tech specs, and I was less excited. The plan with AT&T was pretty fairly priced, but $600 is rather a lot of money.

This is a marked improvement. It even looks a little sleeker.

Hmm. It does come out a week before my birthday. Let's see if I can con someone into getting one into my hands.

You there, up front!

I started writing this post about a week and a half ago, so it's a little dated. I just found the time to update, so bear that in mind when you read this.

The UpFronts have been going on for a little bit now, and I didn't realize until now how much of a fucking bummer it is that Northwestern gets out so late. If we got out at the same time as most regular schools, I could be there, making my mark and actually getting news firsthand, for a change.

Mais, non.

So I'm forced to scour Variety for my information. And in my scouring this morning I happened upon Fox's pilot slate. From there I stumbled across a pilot called "The Cleveland Show." I was confused until I saw the producing credits. "Seth Macfarlane?!" Really? They're really making a "Family Guy" spinoff? About Cleveland? So now the viewing public has to deal with a painfully unfunny "Family Guy" ripoff (Macfarlane ripping himself off, that is, with "American Dad"), but also an entire show centered around one slightly marginal character. If I cared more about "Family Guy," I'd be worried. However, there are bigger, stranger pilots afoot.

NBC hasn't presented its pilot slate yet, but rumor has it there's a "The Office" spinoff in the works. Last I heard, though, they hadn't chosen the character they'd spin off. Of course, this could be a brilliant, successful move. Perhaps we'll get to see Ryan (BJ Novak) in prison, trying to fend off other white-collar criminals in a bizarrely humorous, toned-down Oz.

That idea, though, would probably crash and burn. I have a lot of faith in the show's writers, but most of "The Office"'s characters are...caricatures. Will we follow Meredith (Kate Flannery) into rehab as she finally confronts her alcoholism? The office drones are at their best when dealing with Michael (Steve Carell), whether he's on- or off-screen, so it's hard to see how this would work.

Apples and such

So, with my relocation to New York City fast approaching (and I do mean fast, like, Goddamn, slow this motha down) and my senioritis crippling my productivity, I've been thinking a lot about what to do with myself once I get to the city.

New York (magazine, for the uninitiated) has a cool guide to the movies shooting in the city over the summer, which is a good start. I won't be 21 until a month and a half after I move, which limits me significantly. While I found a lot of good places to go last summer, I noticed toward the end they were cracking down on the under-21s, and I'm tired of skulking in the dark, back corners of shitty East Village bars. I'm not sure if my future roommates now about my "condition" (it really is like a disease, this "under-21"-ness).

There's also the question of who's going to be there with me. I have a few friends that will be there at one point or another during the summer, with a bunch more coming in September-ish (I hope), but other than that it's looking like slim pickins. Of course, I could somehow...make new friends there. I suppose. It's nice to have a firm base, though, in a big place like that.

The ultimate firm base would be Steve, but you can't always get what you want, as they say. This might be just what I need, on the other hand. Do whatever I want, be whoever I want, for a few months (or four). Make connections I wouldn't otherwise make with a boyfriend around to be the default hang-out dude. A few months more should be sufficient--I've already had a couple. They've been nice, and a good chance for me to take care of myself, lick my wounds and soforth. I had forgotten how much I used to rely on myself, and how nice it felt to be...stable. A bipolar bear such as myself rarely achieves any real enduring stability, granted. But without constantly worrying about him, and myself in relation to him, and others in relation to him, one giant knot has been eased out of my shoulders. I don't have to try so hard right now, and that's a great relief.

I do miss him. A lot. Dozens of times every day I wish he were there with me experiencing certain moments. I just want a hug or a kiss, or a reassuring touch. At the end of the day I just want to burrow under the covers next to him. But I know this time apart is good. And I get to go to sleep and wake up to the idea that someone out there loves me, and will continue to do so for a long, long time. That's something.

In the beginning

I can't even imagine how many blogs have that title for their first post. Oh well.

This blog has been sitting here, empty, since October, apparently. I had completely forgotten about its creation, even to the extent of not knowing how the hell I'd come up with its name, or what it meant. Yes, I preemptively out-witted myself. According to dictionary.com, "supervenous" does not exist as a word. However, there is a verb form, "to supervene." Here follows the definition:

"1. to take place or occur as something additional or extraneous (sometimes fol. by on or upon).
2. to ensue."

So there you have it.

I created this thing at a tumultuous time. You know, one of those times when your life gets blown to hell and you sit there for a bit, looking at all the pieces floating down. That was a while ago, and I'm pretty sure I've gotten everything back together now, but this will probably be a good diagnostic.

So, here you'll find:
Commentary on entertainment news
Musings on the state of television
Musings on Life Itself (I promise not to wax pretentious...or at least try not to)
Tidbits and eavesdroppings

I can't promise regular updates for a few weeks, since I'm still in school. After that, game on, Internet. Game on.